Nameless, faceless, voiceless... heartless?

8 Tease

At that time people believed a lot of the things they heard. And Bangkok also created a lot of fear on the part of the men. Kongpob'd found about it as soon as he came back.

It happened partly out of ignorance, partly out of hope and partly because there were people who enjoyed spreading lies.

Kongpob knew this well. Ironically, he himself was now one of those who enjoyed spreading rumours.

However, it was not a mere pastime. One of the duties of the contact of the Bangkok's base was to monitor the information entering and leaving the brotherhood. In particular, he had to make sure that the incoming news were as complete and reliable as possible. The output ones, instead, were meant to be misleading enough to confuse even the very best Templar and disturbing enough to discourage civilian's curiosity.

Kongpob soon discovered that the most effective way to spread advantageous misinformation was to exploit popular rumours. Nothing spread as fast as rumours.

It wasn't easy to keep voices under control and in line with the needs of the Order. But he was holding up well enough. To do so, it was necessary to have the ability to assume different identities at different times, depending on the result he wanted to achieve. Officially he was a humble scribe and bookseller. Less officially he was a contact person for the Bangkok's Assassin leader. And finally, only a few knew he was himself the mysterious and feared "Assassin Head" of Bangkok.

Who would have thought that a once insignificant and ordinary lad would become a key man in town?

This reminded him that it had been a while since he had last seen the man who had made that possible.

That afternoon Kongpob was busy serving a group of clients when a group of guards entered his shop. Unfortunately, their attitude was certainly not that of someone looking for books or maps.

After chasing away and scaring away all the customers, one of them locked the door.

"The store is closing early today, bookseller." Snarled the Captain.

"But Captain, I don't understand..." Kongpob paused to swallow the hateful words that sprang to his lips. He passed the counter and asked in a tone of fake plaintive protest. "What's the problem? I haven't done anything wrong "

To them, he was just a bookseller, and as such he had to act. They didn't even know that he himself had once been one of them.

The wiry soldier grabbed him by the collar, twisting the sturdy fabric into a tight ball at his neck, slamming Kongpob's body against the wall.

"But I say that we have found the right rat." He hissed threateningly: "I know for a fact that you are entangled with the Assassins, and if I have to smash your head to get to them, I will."

"I tell you; you have the wrong person." He exhaled trying to sound terrified and confused.

"Oh yeah? I saw you talking to Danai... and I had a chat with him." The captain drew a dagger from his belt and angled toward his victim's throat, enjoying his victim's surprise. "I know that some guards are getting tipped off to stay out of trouble when the Reaper is in town. Now, you'll arrange a meeting with the guild leader to get me into the business, otherwise..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence; Kongpob knew exactly what he meant. His threats didn't frighten him, but rather he was surprised at the turn events had taken. Did he really want to become one of the Assassins' informants? The initial approach was not one of the best, but he might be useful. Moreover, Kongpob had an idea on how to turn the whole thing in his favor.

Where the hell was Arthit when he needed him?

Just then a silver flash passed with the rapidity of thought between his face and the captain's one. It took them a few moments to realize it was a classic assassin dagger, about eleven inches long, whose blade was driven into the door. The dagger had undoubtedly been thrown with great force to have entered the hard mahogany wood so firmly; and it was obvious that if one of them had been only an inch forward at the time it was hurled, he would have received the full brunt of it somewhere in the throat.