(For Leiley and Symbol) Of Love, Blood and Revenge
"The Viper" Dante Valeron
The target was Hugo Van Rauken. He was a dutch trader that had based himself in the City of London after a series of very rich, very lucrative... very behind-closed-doors deals that had made him a powerful man. He lived in a luxurious apartment in the city centre and liked to entertain young boys more nights than not. His routine was mechanical and tedious. Everyday he would leave his apartments at 9am to begin his rounds, visiting all the properties in which he had a share. He'd stop for lunch at noon, just after visiting the bakery, taking some buttered bread and meat in the Fox and Hound Inn, where he'd sit at the same table he always sat at. Here he would receive any business appointments he had and collect any protection taxes he was due. He was never anywhere without his three bodyguards in tow. His paranoid habits even extended to his suspicion of fraud. Whenever he received any money, he would, without fail, sit and bite every single coin to make sure it was real. He would leave the Fox and Hound at 5pm, when he would drop in on a few various associates. He was back in his apartment by 7pm.
Dante Valeron sat on a bench by the canal, one ankle rested on his other knee, one arm across the back of the bench. Taking a deep breath, he itched his nose and refocused his concentration on the front entrance to the Fox and Hound inn. The afternoon had all-but passed by, the autumn sun making an early start on it's descent to the western horizon. Dante welcomed the change in the seasons. Cold weather made his job much easier. He'd been taught that accident and death generally spiked in the cold seasons, which gave an assassin more easily accessible cover-up opportunities. And there was also the point that a heavy, hooded cloak would not look so out of place as it would with the sun beaming down.
5pm came and as sure as the wind blew, one of Van Rauken's guards emerged from the inn, followed by Van Rauken himself and his other two bodyguards. Dante stroked the bit of black fuzz on his chin as his eyes followed his target down the street. He did not get up. After tailing this tubby dutchman for two weeks, he decided that he'd seen enough. A good plan of action had come to mind during this day, one that would enable him to strike with the hand of death without being anywhere near the merchant. But for the plan to work, he would need a catspaw. And a good one to boot.