Shinsou Vaan Osiris had been expecting a much different night.

The message had reached him hours earlier. His bodyguard, Raine, had been worried. Her brother Philisandre was a low level minister in Corone's Assembly, and had caused quite a stir for campaigning against organised crime on the island. It would seem that the wealthy crime-bosses that had so far evaded both the Brotherhood and the Assembly had taken this personally, and had decided to pool their considerable resources to silence the young upstart. Using her contacts, Raine had gotten wind pretty quickly and had immediately begged Shinsou to intervene.

All he had was the name of the place the hit was allegedly taking place, and the name and quick description of her brother. The place was easy enough; The Lion's Paw in Stonevale. The brother, though? The Telgradian had never met Philisandre, and a brief physical rundown had done nothing to help him identify the man in a crowd. Dark hair, middle aged, no scars or tattoos. Usually dressed in finery.

He could have been anyone.

That being so, Shinsou had devised a plan to pick him out of a crowd. He could sense life forces, and relatives tended to be similar in their spiritual signatures.

Just look out for a signature similar to Raine. Easy work, assuming he's in there. Then kill the hitman before he or she gets a chance to get their hands dirty.

The musing of plans past was suddenly interrupted. A horrific void of silence had suddenly enveloped the tavern, and only moments passed before an emergency was heralded with a wild yell from the gathered crowd. A short man, with dark hair, was slumped against a table, as if leaning.

He was dead.

Shinsou felt his heart beat like a bass drum in his chest.

Fuck. Dark hair, dressed in finery and middle aged. I think this is our guy.

How had he not sensed Philisandre's presence? The thought ran around his mind as the crowd went taut around the man's corpse. He remembered walking past that table a few minutes ago when everything seemed fine. There hadn't been a commotion or even so much as an exclamation from that direction. Shinsou's eyes quickly looked for any sign of what might have caused the minister's demise, but the gathering was blocking his view of the source of the blood that now pooled at the man's feet.

The spellsword meandered his way to a better vantage point, pushing his hip and side through the gaps between people and elbowing enough space to move. When he eventually caught sight, Shinsou felt immediately confused.

Philisandre seemed to have been attacked from behind with some sort of garot; the wound in the man's throat consistant with a thin, razor wire or blade that had sawed through skin and flesh. Thick blood poured down the front of his dress shirt and, from his posture, it would seem that Philisandre had not known about the attack until it was too late.

This posed serious questions for the Telgradian, whose eyes were now sweeping every inch of the room, albeit hopelessly. Whatever or whoever had done this was long gone.

How the fuck did anyone do this, in broad daylight with all of these people around, and not get noticed?

It defied belief, but however the hell it had happened, it didn't matter. The Telgradian had failed to keep his promise to Raine. Instead of delivering her brother to her safe and sound, Shinsou was now going to be asking her to make funeral arrangements. As he wrestled with this, the crowd around him hesitated. The two hapless and ineffective bouncers marched in from outside and started blasting questions – a natural reaction in a moment of abject shock and fear, before barricading the door and making it clear no-one was leaving until answers were forthcoming.