The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin

Our next magic lesson focused entirely on theory. The teachers had decided that letting me and Felipe be outside at the same time in an exposed area was a bad idea. It was an entirely reasonable judgement to make. The only person who had reasons to suspect that something was amiss was Claudius – though him finding something suspicious was like the sun rising in the morning. The staff didn’t know where or when the attacker would strike next.

The problem was what they were doing to try and find the culprit. It was evident that they had been going above and beyond to search the building for where the gun might have been hidden after the shooting, but the campus was so large that it was a hopeless endeavour. They could have easily dug a hole in one of the gardens and buried it for later. People imagine themselves as being more perceptive than they really are. Who would wander behind a treeline and actually investigate a patch of disturbed soil?

There were just too many places to hide it. I was also happily concealing a weapon inside my dorm room. It was almost worrying how easy it was to smuggle things in and out of the campus. I looked at the suitcase in the bottom of my wardrobe with a terse frown. I had decided to bring the gun with me just in case something happened while we were out and about. It was strange to go back to wearing my casual clothes after being in uniform for weeks. The students were allowed to wear their own clothes during the weekend, but I rarely left my room on those days regardless.

With money and a firearm hidden on my person – I walked down the long hallways and headed towards the first of the two gates that controlled access to the academy. It was a small exterior booth occupied by a private guard and a wood-fired furnace to keep them warm in the winter. They also had a large logbook which they used to keep track of who was coming and going during the day. If the culprit had decided to leave and dispense with his weapon, one of the guards would have noted it down for later and asked to inspect the inside of whatever they were carrying. That was why I believed the gun was still hidden on the property, or at least brought through a subtler route. My first thought would have been to throw it over the fence both in and out. That would stop me from leaving a paper trail to follow.

The guard sat up straight in his chair as I became the first person to visit who wasn’t delivering food for the kitchen. I presented the signed slip of paper without a word. He scrutinized the signature and date, before stamping it with a small, red ink seal to show that it had been used. I immediately caught that he had neglected to cover the signature with ink. That meant I could keep it and reuse it later.

“Okay – Lady Maria, you’re all clear to head out. Please remember to be back on the campus by half-six this evening.”

“Thank you.”

I walked through the pedestrian entrance and was greeted by the sight of the family’s blackwood carriage. A pair of horses brayed and pulled on their restraints as the driver tried to keep them calm. Rather than sending him alone, Father had seen fit to also dispatch a servant I had become very familiar with. His name was Franklin, and he tended to take on important responsibilities when the other heads of staff were occupied. He bowed and crossed his hands in his lap.

“Good morning, Lady Maria.”

“Good morning, Franklin. I see that Father elected to dispatch the both of you.”

He nodded, “Aye. It’s no bother to us. The Master was worried about you heading into the city without two pairs of eyes.”

I had only asked for one. My humble side had intended to make as little noise about my visit as possible, but clearly, my Father thought differently. It was more convenient to have the driver stay with the carriage. They could stand by in a parking area and make sure that nobody tried anything funny while we went about our business. A horse was still valuable enough to be worth stealing. I’d also seen many a carriage with one or two wheels missing.

“I suppose it will not hurt to have you for company. Shall we be away?”

Franklin smiled and opened the small door. I clambered up into the cabin as it locked shut behind me. The interior was nice and comfortable, with cushioned seats and glass windows to keep the wind out. I cracked my shoulders and prepared for the twenty-minute journey down to the city. Franklin decided to sit up front with the driver. I would have offered him a seat inside, but he would have turned me down out of concern of cramping the good lady’s space. It was bizarre. I had never once seen the carriage filled to capacity. You could squeeze eight people into the seats if you really wanted to.

I kicked back and let my mind wander.

Eventually, the bumpy streets started to roll the carriage back and forth with me huddled up inside. I peered through the window and out into the city. It was a bustling hive of people going about their lives; it was amazing to consider that the nation had been on the verge of total collapse a few years before I was born. The will to march on as things had always been was strong. Nobody wanted to see their regular lives suffer from such upheaval. It was a large, modern city where hundreds of thousands of people had been forced into a relatively small space. Rural cottages had been swallowed whole by the rapid urban development, creating a patchwork of new and old.

There was only one side that would win and overtake the other in the end. Higher-density buildings were always being constructed to house more people. Heavy black smoke billowed in the distance where the industrial areas dominated the riverside – using it for transport and as a water supply. Occasionally a flight of fancy would cut through the grim realness. A shop that sold items for mages, or an unusual-looking creature standing bedraggled by the side of the road.

The driver weaved through the foot traffic and found a good place to stop. Franklin’s movement up front disturbed the balance of the carriage, and a moment later the door was opened for me. He took my hand and helped me climb down the steps. Several other carriages had been pulled into the same yard. The smell of horseshit was overpowering, and this time it wasn’t the fault of me putting on airs. “Good lord. They really ought to tidy this place up a little!” the driver griped. He knew better than us what a model mooring area looked like. I took his word for it. Franklin handed him some money for the parking fee and followed me out onto the street.

“What are you looking for, Ma’am?”

“I’d like to purchase some personal items for my stay at the school, and a gift or two for Father.”

“I see. I do believe that the shopping district was in that direction,” he said – pointing eastwards. I had already observed as much myself. I had a very good memory when it came to locations. He followed my lead as we struggled to navigate our way through the huge crowds that occupied either side of the road. There were too many horse-drawn carts passing by for them to use the centre as well. Franklin stuck close to me, with a vigilant glare being directed towards people he suspected of being pickpockets. Again, it was a fruitless exercise. I was aware enough to keep my own pockets firmly unpicked. They’d lose a few fingers for even trying.

As we approached some of the civilian shops in the middle of the city, the crowds became more affluent in terms of dress. Brightly coloured dresses had become something of a trend as dyes became more affordable and widely available. A swelling middle class had opened new markets and opportunities for those willing to take the risk. I wasn’t in the city to shop for dresses – just some extra underwear. I had packed too few to last and cleaning them by hand twice a week was driving me crazy. For all of the luxuries that we were given as students, we still had to do our own laundry.

Before we could find a shop to do just that, we stumbled upon one of my other targets. A hunting goods store. Not only did they sell a select few guns, but also everything that you needed to look the part while posing with them outside of your multi-million-Walmark mansion in the countryside. A poser’s paradise, if you will. Or you could even cut out the middleman and buy an already stuffed animal corpse to mount above the fireplace. The front window was filled with ducks, beavers and other ‘pests’ that had been mounted on wooden plaques.

“I’d like to buy Father a gift from this shop.”

Franklin observed the front façade, “Hm. As long as the shopkeeper is okay with a young lady being inside.”

He walked up and opened the door, allowing me to enter. The smell of leather and gunpowder hit me like a brick wall. Even as a gun nut, the smell wasn’t a good one. It was a confined space and every last inch of it was being used to display various items. Clothes, animals, accessories, and most importantly – books and registries. Printing presses had resulted in an explosion of books covering just about every topic you could think of. A lot of stores liked to print catalogues that explored a list of products that were available. It was exactly what I was looking for. I could use it to find guns that used the calibre of the bullet I had retrieved from the clock tower. The shopkeeper spared a glance at me before returning to his business. It didn’t seem like there’d be an issue.

Franklin was going to ask more questions if he saw me screwing around. I peered around the edge of the aisle and saw him standing guard by the front door instead of following me. Perfect. I headed to the reference area and opened one of the books that covered the small selection of rifles that the store offered. That was where the convenience ended. None of the guns were organized into their respective calibres, meaning I had to scan over every single page to try and find what I was looking for. I came away with three different candidates that all used the cartridge I had found.

One of them was a lever action rifle produced by Burs called the five-six. There were also two others produced by the Blackwell Hunting Company. Both were chamber loaded and could only carry one round before needing to be reloaded. They were very much intended to be used for hunting wild animals and not in a military context. The more advanced mechanism in magazine-loaded guns made them more expensive. Most would be just fine with a lever action rifle for clearing their farms of pests or protecting their property. The difference between the guns was not significant in terms of size – but at least I knew what I was looking for now. I made extra sure that there were no other guns that used those bullets by checking the other books until I exhausted my options.

With that done, I hurried to complete my other tasks before Franklin grew suspicious. The leather section contained everything that I was looking for. A selection of holsters for firearms small and large. I had already memorized the size of my own pilfered gun, and my Father would find something to do with whatever I bought him. I grabbed the nicest-looking thing I could spot and brought them to the register. The towering man who stood behind it had to lean forward over the edge to see me standing there.

“I’d like to purchase these as a gift.”

I stood on my toes and placed them down for him to process. He chuckled and started to hammer numbers into his register, each press of the buttons releasing a loud click; “You’ve got a good eye, little miss. I’d easily recommend both of these to anyone looking for something nice. That’ll be three-ninety.”

I handed over my Walmarks and took the holsters into my arms. “Thank you.”

Only one of them was intended to be a gift. I could drum up an excuse to Franklin about why I was keeping one of them for myself. He smiled and led me back onto the road. He already had a good idea of where we needed to head, “Let us go and purchase some new clothes.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

The easiest part of the trip was over. Now to find some good underwear.

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