Barbut? That’s Barbut?

Harlon squinted fiercely, blinking against the salt-crusted air, but his sight was nowhere near as sharp as Karlin’s in the dark. All he could truly discern was the harsh, flickering orange of the distant flame and the blurry, misshapen silhouette of a face bathed in the torchlight.

Still, instinct took over. He braced his palms against the pebbles, making to rise to his feet, until Karlin’s hand suddenly shot out like a striking viper, grabbing him firmly by the nape of the neck and slammed him right back down onto the stony beach. It hurt, the rough, unyielding stones clashing painfully against his cheek and scraping his skin.

"Are you mad? Stay down!" Karlin hissed into his ear, his fingers digging into Harlon’s collar as he dragged them both into a flat, prone position against the earth.

They both went utterly rigid, pressing themselves into the hollows of the rocks, their eyes fixed on the solitary figure down the coastline. The ocean wind howled fiercely above them, and for a long, agonizing stretch, the only sounds in the world were their own shallow breathing and the rhythmic, thunderous rolling of the waves crashing across the stones.

Barbut’s torch danced violently, spurred by the stiff sea gale. Harlon squining his eyes to get a better view. His eyes getting used to the dork.

He saw that the old man was fidgeting erratically, his leg twitching up and down with an anxious, relentless rhythm, looking for all the world like a panicked father waiting outside a birthing chamber for his wife’s delivery. Every few seconds, he would stiffen, casting his eyes nervously around the dark periphery of the cliffs.

"He looks guilty as sin..." Harlon muttered out of the corner of his mouth, shifting his eyes toward Karlin for agreement.

Karlin threw him a weary, dangerous gaze. "It is the dead of winter night, and he is standing alone in a restricted cove with a blazing signal fire. This smells as rotten as a clogged privy. Now shut your mouth and make no sound. The old bastard is clearly waiting for someone."

"Or... we could just do this," Harlon whispered.

With a slow motion, he reached behind his hip and unsheathed the small dagger tucked into the small of his back. Not a single glint of starlight betrayed the steel; the absolute blackness of the cove completely shrouded the blade. It was a ghost of a weapon in the dark, invisible to the eye, but Karlin heard the words all the same.

Barbut was alone out there. No guards, no retainers, isolated in the deep of the night in a treacherous, forgotten place. And there were two of them. Besides, Harlon didn’t think the old politician was nearly as skilled at wielding iron as he was at spinning his slippery deceits.

In the dim light, he saw Karlin’s face turn sharply toward him. For a fleeting second, Harlon wondered if his friend was genuinely considering the offer, or if he merely disdained it.

One sudden thrust in the dark, and it would all be over. No more Barbut. No more legislative tricks. No more midnight headaches for their faction.

To Harlon’s immense displeasure, Karlin shook his head, his hand coming down to firmly press against Harlon’s wrist. "Someone else will just step forward to take his place," Karlin whispered back, his voice tight with absolute conviction. "We do not want to bring cold-blooded killings to the Call’s floor, Harlon. Murdering an assembly speaker on our own docks is a box of plagues you do not want to open. It could go on civil war."

He could not see him, but he could feel the fear in his voice.

Harlon let out a slow, frustrated sigh, his chest deflating against the pebbles. He hated it, but the bastard was right. High-stakes politics was not something to be taken lightly, especially when one couldn’t foresee the immediate consequences. Sometimes, a single misplaced stone was all it took to trigger a catastrophic landslide.

He threw one last, yearning look at the old man silhouetted against the firelight, thinking bitterly that Barbut would never, in his entire miserable life, realize just how close he had come to dying on these rocks. Still, Harlon smoothly sheathed his blade back into its leather housing and waited.

They waited for what felt like an eternity. The only thing grinding down the dull, freezing ache of the passing hours was Karlin’s steady weight at his side, which somehow made the miserable stakeout bearable. Harlon had never been a patient man by nature, but he could force himself to be, especially tonight, with the stakes written so high.

He lost track of how much time had drifted past when suddenly, Barbut did something at last worth of notice. He raised his arm , waved it in two motions and then violently hurled his blazing torch straight into the sea. The fire hissed aggressively as it hit the surf, extinguishing instantly and plunging the entire coastline into a suffocating, absolute darkness.

"What the hell is he doing?" Harlon whispered, his muscles tensing.

"Do not make a sound," Karlin breathed, his grip tightening on Harlon’s shoulder. "If he threw his beacon away, it means he doesn’t need to signal anymore. Someone must be coming."

It was downright eerie to think how flawlessly right Karlin was. Just a few minutes later, the faint, ghostly glow of a small,torch materialized out of the dark path leading down from the upper cliffs.

Harlon strained his eyes, but from this distance and in the pitch black, he couldn’t discern a single defining feature of the newcomer. He trusted Karlin to memorize the man’s stature and describe the details to him later. He turned his head slightly to gauge his companion’s reaction, trying to see if the new arrival was a face Karlin recognized from the assembly. But Karlin’s face was an unreadable stone mask.

"Blow out your light, you fool!"

There was no mistaking that grating, aristocratic tone. It was Barbut, alright.

"Do you wish to announce our presence to the entire harbor?" the old man hissed into the dark.

The newcomer paused, and with a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled his own torch into the sea. The water hissed as it swallowed the last of the light, plunging the cove into an absolute, suffocating blackness. A low, muffled voice replied, the words carried away by a sudden, violent gust of wind.

"The area is secure," the stranger murmured, his tone dripping with an icy, professional boredom. "Your paranoia grows tedious. Did you bring the tallies?"

"Aye, the motion did not pass," Barbut spat, not even bothering to lower his voice to a whisper now. "Our little trick failed to take root, and now half of the Speakers are wrought with me for even suggesting it. I told you, abyss take you! I told you it wouldn’t work!"

Harlon snarked silently against the cold stones, his fingers itching as they hovered over the hilt of his dagger. Still in time, he thought darkly. He could bury the blade in the old man’s bald, egg-shaped neck right now, grab the other bastard by the throat, and squeeze the truth out of him. The whole affair stank like a week-old carcass. It didn’t seem like Barbut was in charge, either. But if he was not, then who was it?

"Do you really not understand?" the stranger murmured after a long, weary sigh. "I truly pity the fool. Do not question the intent behind what we ask; simply execute the task. Whether the motion passes or fails is none of your business, nor is it of any interest to your tiny political world. All you should care for, Barbut, is to do exactly as you are told."

"And what care I have for your grand designs?" Barbut huffed, jumping back slightly as a particularly strong wave threatened to soak his expensive boots. "My image is already ruined in the hall. My reputation is in tatters."

"It’s not like you are doing this out of kindness in your earth. I suppose you can read, can you not?" the stranger said. He extended a gloved hand, and the distinct, crisp sound of paper being rustled filled the salty air. An heartbeat later, the parchment was snatched away and safely stored within the Speaker’s heavy robes.

"The debt is cleared," the stranger continued, his voice receding as if he were already stepping back into the shadows of the cliff. "Now, go back to your home and fuck a whore, you are far too irascible. Know that we can easily take another if your prove to be unworthy of our time and effort.’’ He could hear the grinding of teeth ’’Abate for more orders; we will contact you as soon as you are ready.Mitigate the damage whatever way you can.You’ll be contacted for our next meeting. Don’t do anything rash.’’

With that he turned around and walked away leaving Barbute alone, and clearly seething. Though as he made way to leave, hurling out complains or insult under his breath, another idea bloomed inside Harlon’s mind as his eyes turned away from the Speaker to the newcomer.