1. Lachandro was at his workbench in the early morning light. Lachandro’s tower was in the square of the dawn, facing east towards the river. Lachandro looked at his workbench, the mess he had left in his fury when he was last here waited for him. The artifice had seemed so important hours ago. He looked down at his hand and idly wiped at some dried blood. It wasn’t his.
2.  
3. It had been a matter of honor, Lachandro told himself. It had been a matter of vengeance before long. In retrospect, his feud with Kalibos had mostly been silly. Kalibos’ pride as the King’s Magician had prevented him from acknowledging Lachandro’s obviously superior work. And Lachandro had been unable to resist the urge of needling Kalibos’ pride. Leandro shook his head, he would not do this. He would not commiserate for a murderer. Lachandro’s wife Ariel and his unborn child lay in his family sepulchre, lay dead.
4.  
5. Lachandro put away his materials, the ivory, the bronze, the sweet iron, His punches and chisels, his anointing powder, his divided notes of appearance. Each only a small segment of the whole to prevent unintended spell work. Kalibos’ pride as an artificer had been almost entirely unearned. His talismans weak, his fetishes uncompelling. It turns out that his position had been almost entirely determined by his fathers politicking.
6.  
7. Lachandro looked across at the staff he had wrestled from Kalibos. It was a thing of the old style, well made and contained spirits and hexes and boons aplenty. It had been Kalibos’ father’s who passed it down to his son. It was neat work and for a brief moment Lachandro wished he had known Kalibos’ father. Told him to keep his know-nothing son far from court.
8.  
9. But it didn’t matter now. Kalibos was dead, dozens of the king’s guards were dead, the king himself was dead. It was over for him, soon the people would find that he had committed Regicide and the fact that it had merely been a stepping stone to the murder of the man’s artificer would not save him from the wrath of the mob. He could keep fighting, but no number of devices, no amount of sorcery could guarantee his safety. There was always some bladesman, some archer, some backstabber that knew enough about artifice or were equipped to be dangerous.  
10.  
11. There were distant shouts now. His attack had been fierce, his weapon, the artifact sword Potere had been terrifying. It had far exceeded his expectations even if he had been repulsed at the ingredients. He would pay that debt sooner or later. But between his shield, his talisman and his sword he had been nearly unstoppable. He looked at his hands now, they shook slightly. The artifice had made his sword more then deadly, it made him deadly. It made him into a weapon. He started tidying his lab, trying to ignore the shaking in his hands. Whatever happened in the city wasn’t his concern. His life had been ruined and he had repaid the debt in full. It was all a man could ask for.
12.  
13. Lachandro went thru his materials by rote. Picking out the more valuable and lighter reagents he prepared to flee the city-state of his birth. Logna had been his home for his scant years. He finally looked at his home, his tower. Leandro was packed and prepared to leave. His sword and shield hung with his pack at his back. There was nothing holding him here. Not anymore.
14.  
15. Leandro turned and then froze as there was a knock at the door. It thudded thru his reverie with its heavy sound. His hand shook and reached instinctively for his sword before he stopped them.
16.  
17. ***
18. Inspector General Tiaget surveyed the ruin of the council chamber from the main entrance. Six of King Gorbine’s bodyguards were dead, two outside the chamber, four inside. His chief Magician was dead as well as well as the king himself. Already the servants in the castle were spreading the news. He did not have much time before the rest of the Royal Guard was alerted and the bodies removed to the care of the Criminalists.
19.  
20. Tiaget knelt beside the man’s body. Lean, but well-muscled, Kalibos lie on his back, arms thrown back palm up as if he were trying to stop something from hitting him, hazel eyes wide open as if he had realized something too late. A single wound spoke to the manner of his death, a shallow cut over his heart no more than an inch long and no deeper than its width. After years spent working the with the City Watch and decades in the royal service as Chief Inspector and later Inspector General, Tiaget knew Artifice when he saw it.
21.  
22. A quick glace under the council chamber showed told Tiaget that Kalibos’ staff was missing. It was a thing of beauty, dark ironwood intertwined with pale snowbirtch and decorated with small jewels and bits of metal. Tiaget recognized iron from the rust it left on the snowbirtch where Kalibos rested his hand, brass on a section of ironwood near the bottom tarnished from a lack of touch. The other materials he couldn’t name, but he’d always made a point to study the tools of the Artificers even if his own powers were too weak to draw their attention. Not that it mattered that Kalibos didn’t touch the brass. One didn’t need to touch the metal to draw on its power, that much he knew. Odd that that the staff would be missing here.
23.  
24. Tiaget stood up and looked behind him. Gorbine laid slumped on his side, the king’s long white mustaches stained with his life’s blood. When he walked over to the king’s side, he immediately saw the wound responsible for ending his life. He took a metal stylus out of his pocket, knelt down and lifted the flap of skin on the king’s neck. Deeper upon entry, shallower upon exit. The swordsman must have moved the blade low then high, left to right. The cut was not deep, just impeccably placed at the large artery on the right side of Gorbine’s neck. The king had bled out in moments. This was not the work of the Assassin’s Guild. Too obvious. It wasn’t the type of thing the military would do; they preferred to do their work out in the open where they had an audience. No, Taiget thought, this was something else entirely.
25.  
26. Wiping off his stylus with a handkerchief, Tiaget stood and looked at the king’s guards. Their bodies had fallen in front of the king, their wounds seemingly made by a more mundane weapon. One had been run though the throat, another through the chest, the third struck in the back. A thought struck the inspector and Tiaget turned and walked to the smaller door at the rear of the room. From that perspective it all made sense; the attacker came from the side entrance and worked his way towards Kalibos. The king was not the target at all.
27.  
28. “Lord Inspector, the Guard is sealing off the wing.” Raban seemed too handsome to be a Watcher, but he wore the amber ring of a lieutenant on the middle finger of his left hand. “You should go now.”
29.  
30. Tiaget turned to leave, but caught a sudden afterimage of Artifice. He had the unusual Gift of sensing when Artifice had been used, but he was not powerful enough to use it at will. “An Artificed weapon was used here. Who in this precinct is strong enough to make such a thing?”
31.  
32. Raban took a moment to think, “Lachandro is the only one with the training my lord.”
33. “Take me to him.”
34.  
35. The young officer nodded and he followed the man out of the council chamber. They would go alone, lightly armed. Taiget knew that any Artificer could kill him with little more than a Talisman and few choice hexes. There was no point in further bloodshed. Besides, the kings of Logna changed as often as the seasons. Artifice and Artificers, however, were forever and only time would tell what sort of war this incident foretold.
36.