"Now," said Cyanis. "We go [i]now[/i]."

Cyanis had always been a creature of instinct, and above every other instinct: hunger. Once the tunnel was complete and she was amongst the hens then came time for savagery. Every careful lie, every patient breath, every moment pretending to be a good girl came apart the moment that she caught the scent of blood. Beneath the coat of angel fur, fangs.

Archer was the same.

He folded his angel's wings and dived towards the earth.

*

The talents that make a good killer are not the talents that make for a good soldier. 

An affinity for lurking in the shadows becomes cowardice before the battle howl. A short blade does not have the reach of a greatsword. Padded civilian clothes are no proof against weapons of war. The highwaymen die like dogs, and with each one the great abacus of coin, favours and mana clicks lower and lower.

"I only need one," murmured Assassin, signing the next letter and all the price it represented. "A king must be lucky every time."

Another wave - the shudder of crossbow bolts. Again Opalis is the target. She writhes free of Saber amid the battle and scrambles for cover. Interposing between her and the assassins is Diaofei, bleeding freely, whirling and striking quarrels out of the air. She is no mean warrior, but even devoted entirely to defense she cannot keep pace with the onslaught. Where she falls short she takes the bolts to her own body. A second bolt joins the first. Then a third. That is all she can take, and she falls.

*

"What are you doing!?" said Actia.
"Finishing what you started," said Assassin mildly, looking up from his desk. 
"I left [i]nothing [/i]unfinished," snarled the fox.
Assassin had enough experience with kings not to question that tone. He held up his hands.
"Everything has played out exactly according to my calculations," said Actia. "I have it under control, and I do not need you going behind my back -"
"I only desire to serve you, Master," said Assassin, standing up and bowing. "I will, of course, call off my men."

*

The killer stands above Diaofei. The knife is in his hand.

He raises it without hesitation and goes for the kill.

*

"That was uncalled for," said Assassin, sounding politely hurt.
"[i]Was [/i]it?" snapped Actia. Two command seals burn on her wrist.
"A waste of resources," said Assassin. "I offered my obedience freely, there was no need to compel it. Regardless, my ability to influence events has come to a close - Archer will conclude things from here."

*

Diaofei pulls herself to her elbows. Three bolts. But the killing blow had not come. Saber must have reached her in time...

A valkyrie stands above a scene of slaughter. An angel of the raven god, sent to judge the worthy dead. She finds none here. They died without valour or skill and there is no place for cowards in Valhalla.

And then, a vision descends from the heavens. An angel of the lamb god, sent to judge the worthy dead. He finds plenty here. They died in service to the Lord, and there is no sin that a Crusade cannot wash away.

"Ho, honoured ancestor!" calls Archer, haloed in light. "It does my heart good to see our people were as fierce in your day as they were in mine!"