Story #150 - Badged

Badged

“See this?” Chief Inspector Duggery held up a small metal badge.

“Of course I do, you simpleton – and you may address me as 'My Lord'.”

The Chief Inspector snorted through his mustache. “Not until your father tells me as much, Prince. I'm the best in the Land, and he needs my services more than he needs my flattery of his offspring. You will just have to endure my rudeness.” Flipping the badge to Line-Prince Tarlington, Duggery turned back to the scene. Five peasants had been murdered, each in a very specific and methodical way. It was a common tactic used by Nobles in conflict to try and assert their dominance, but since the time of the first Great War, an agreement had stood that prevented the use of peasants in such rituals.

A glance over his shoulder showed him that Tarlington was frowning at the badge, turning it over and over in his hands. The boy was bright enough, if he applied himself, but like so many of the upper class he had never needed to. One look at the raised fox-head and serpent crest on the metal insignia had told Duggery all he needed to know, and the fact that it had been pinned to the forehead of one of the victims was simply overkill. The assassin clearly did not know who he was dealing with – so much the better for Duggery.

“You,” Tarlington called out from behind him, “explain to me what this means.”

Duggery ignored the Prince. Twenty years ago he had helped the little whelp's father secure power in the Land – mostly because the current King was the least homicidal and insecure of the nobles who could have held the position. In exchange for his help, the King was forced to agree to a number of stipulations, including several about the use of titles in public. Duggery walked dangerous ground – as soon as the King believed his inspector was no longer needed, Duggery would be quietly killed. The key lay in letting smaller crimes go unsolved, but ensuring that the King's position felt secure. He could have moved on to other Lands, other nobles, but for the moment this suited his purposes, and the King and the Princes he was forced to deal with were easily managed.

Duggery ignored the Prince's words as he continued to sort through the rubble. In addition to the killing of those who lay outside the agreement, the assassin has also burned two houses to the ground. While not specifically prohibited by the agreement, the entire city could have gone up if the nearby river wasn't running bank-full. Someone wanted to send a message to King Philoben, and wanted to make very sure they were not misunderstood.

“Lesser one!” The Prince was screaming now. That was always the next step with his kind. “You will face me! How dare you turn your back on a Prince of the Land?”

“Enough,” Duggery said quietly, still refusing to turn. “You know the rules, and so do I. You will address me as Chief Inspector, and I will title you – or not – as I choose. If you wish to halt this investigation, travel to the palace, and consult on this matter with your father, then let us go. I would imagine he is eager to know which of your kind has chosen to break the agreement, but if you are convinced that your concerns about protocol trump the need to find the killer, then by all means let us proceed.”

A charred board, out of place away from three others of its kind, caught his attention. Kicking it over, he discovered a nearly identical badge to the first, save for the gender of the fox. Duggery felt his stomach twist – two assassins, and one female. The King had angered someone of great power.

“Fine.” Tarlginton's voice was low. “Chief Inspector, what can you tell me about this badge?”

“Not a great deal, I'm afraid,” he said, picking up the second marker from the ground. “but what I do know should be enough to send your father running for the hills. These are the insignia of the Swamp Walkers.”

Tarlington drew in a sharp breath; the Walkers had an unsavory reputation, to say the least, and were widely regarded as the best assassins in the all the Lands, and quite possibly beyond them.

“That's not all, Prince, so save your shock.” he said, pointing to the badge in his hand. “This one depicts a female fox, meaning that not only do you have two Walkers loose in your city, but that one of them is a woman.”

This time, the Prince simply stared at him wide-eyed. His father was remarkably backward when it came to notions of equality and functionality for those of the female gender, and the notion that a woman could hold any significant standing in any group, let alone be trained as a killer, did not sit well with Tarlington.

“That's -” the Prince started, but Duggery interrupted.

“Impossible? Not at all. Many Lands are not so backward as your own, and the Swamp Walkers are of no Land and no Creed. They go where they wish to and do what they want. Like mists on the water...” he waited for the Prince to finish the line.

“They cannot be caught.” Tarlington's voice carried a measure of awe, as well it should. Swamp Walkers were said to be unstoppable, in large part because they actually were.

Duggery nodded. “I've seen all I need to see here, Prince. Have your men ready the horses – your father must be informed of what we've found.”

“Chief Inspector, why would someone hire such monsters to kill peasants? Why employ a woman?” There was a grudging respect there, now. Duggery would take it.

“Someone means to break your father, Prince. Someone means to see him, and everything in his Land, burned to ash.”

The Prince's face drained of color, and he raised his voice. “Horses!” He screamed into the dawn.

- D