"Then let's hear what each of our clients demanded again."
"Guuuuk. We need both hands of Nia Calagon."
"Hmm. We don't exactly have a client. It's more like an order from the higher-up we serve... We need to bring Nia alive... But, you know, bringing Nia with both hands chopped off would look a bit messy, wouldn't it?"
Koolt grimaced, looking troubled as they spoke to the Grong. After a moment of pacing, lips pressed tightly while staring at the ground to solve the issue, a new idea seemed to spark. Koolt turned back to the Grong.
"How about just one hand? Or, if you prefer, you can take an entire arm, shoulder and all. It's easier to explain as a little accident during transport."
Koolt tapped the opposite shoulder with the edge of one hand, mimicking the act of severing an arm.
"No can do. There are two clients, so each needs one of Nia Calagon's hands, Gwoook."
"Tch. If that's the case... we'll have to cut off both hands, then. Haa... Alright, so the three Grong will take the two hands, and that leaves the rest to sister Reru and us. Unless, of course, you need an arm or hand too, Sis?"
Koolt let out an irritated sound, as if resigned, then dragged the conversation out, glancing at the other comrades for silent agreement. The others nodded toward Koolt.
Turning toward the tree where the Reru stood, Koolt faced the figure shrouded in darkness.
"Stop yelling Reru this, Reru that. At least call each other by name when you're flapping your mouths. Any name's fine. I'm Weirara."
"I'm Koolt."
"Walrong. Grrrook."
"Yeah, that's much better. So, I'll tell you what my client wants. It's simple. I just need the head of that little Droko brat."
Weirara flashed a fanged smile.
"Hmm... That's a bit tricky... We need to bring Nia alive... but you, Weirara, need to chop off the head... What to do... What to do..."
Koolt dropped their head, pacing in place again, muttering alone.
"Uh... Maybe... we could bring Nia alive to our higher-up first... and then, afterward, you could take the head..."
Koolt cautiously gauged Weirara's reaction.
"No way. Your higher-up or boss or whatever isn't going to hand over that Droko in pristine condition. And I can't exactly tell my client not to touch the head since someone else is coming for it."
"You're absolutely right. But it's a problem. One side needs the head... the other needs Nia alive..."
Koolt spread their hands toward the comrades, signaling them to hold back. Some had shifted their hands to the hilts of their swords after Weirara referred to their leader as "that guy."
"How about this, then? We may be a small, low-ranking group, but we're part of one of the Walls of Ixtarn. So, claiming priority..."
Koolt trailed off, referring to the Wall—one of the nine factions that rule Ixtarn.
Given the size of Ixtarn, comparable to a small kingdom, the wealth and military might of these nine factions, known as the Walls, were immense. This allowed Ixtarn to exist as an independent entity within the territory of the great Esteta Kingdom, defying the kingdom's rule due to the power of the Walls.
One of the nine Walls, the Tinker, holds sway over Ixtarn's workshop district, maintaining its influence there.
The Empress, boasting the greatest power in Ixtarn, has connections with royalty and nobility across the continent. Rumors claim she conducts maritime trade exclusively through deals with her, showcasing her vast influence over the port district.
The Roof Crow operates atop Ixtarn's towering buildings. It's said no place in Ixtarn escapes their eyes and ears.
The Carriage Dogs control all land transport in Ixtarn. Every wagon entering or leaving the city's walls knows their name.
The Ravine Rats, also called the rats of the gorge, rule the labyrinthine underground waterways of Ixtarn.
The Three Kings, a faction in southern Ixtarn, are led by three brothers.
Krankra, a single-species faction of the Droko autonomous district, bears the name of their supreme leader. Their power has allowed them to maintain neutrality for ages, earning recognition from other factions.
House Pastro, a family with exclusive airship technology, operates fleets across major cities and capitals, amassing vast wealth to become one of the nine Walls.
House Marz dominates Ixtarn's commercial district, wielding significant influence over the city's western regions.
By invoking the name of the Wall, Koolt tried to assert dominance over Nia's fate, using power and status.
It was a threat directed at Weirara to resolve the irreconcilable situation.
For assassins, fixers, or watchers—whose titles shift with the nature of their contracts—revealing affiliation with a Wall carries immense weight. Koolt had played their final card.
"Ha! A lowlife... and yet you're proud of being part of a Wall? Looks like your boss is pissed after losing big at the arena. Are you with the rats... the crows... or the dogs?"
"Watch your mouth, you cat!"
One of Koolt's comrades drew a sword with a sharp rasp, shouting.
"Guess I hit the mark with one of those three? Should've skipped this negotiation nonsense and settled it with blood from the start. Too late to turn back now, but if we're avoiding bloodshed..."
Weirara, now twirling a long-bladed dirk in hand, stepped toward Koolt and the others.
"What if I'm acting under orders from one of the Empress's commanders?"
At Weirara's words, everyone froze. Balancing the dirk's tip on a fingernail, eyes fixed on the blade, Weirara continued walking and talking.
"Haa... Is the name of a Wall scarier than the blade in front of you? Kihihi."
"That... That's..."
Koolt faltered, unable to respond. They had only recently joined the Carriage Dogs, escaping a life of scavenging like wild dogs. If Weirara's claim was true, the opponent was formidable.
An Empress's commander was on another level. A single gesture could erase Koolt's entire group.
Even if Weirara was bluffing, verifying it would mean risking their lives.
There were no options. The Carriage Dogs wouldn't back them up—there was no justification or profit in it.
"Oh, and my higher-up sent me for a different reason than your client, who's throwing a tantrum over lost bets, or your boss, who wants Nia alive to beat up personally. Keep that in mind."
"Yes... We'll do that. Then, first, Walrong and... their companions will take the Droko's hands..."
Koolt paused, clenching their jaw to suppress rising anger. Regret lingered, too.
If only the Wall hadn't been mentioned... Swallowing rage and regret, Koolt continued.
"To Weirara... we'll give the head. The Droko is behind that tree, so follow me."
"No more calling me sister, huh? Did I scare you by mentioning the Empress? My higher-up doesn't know we're meeting like this. If it comes to it, you've got five people. Send the frogs off with two hands, and even if you all jump me, I don't care."
"Haha... No need for that over one little Droko."
Koolt forced a smile, brushing off Weirara's taunting, and led the group with their comrades toward the tree.
Behind the tree, a large boulder covered in dark green weeds and moss sat in a sunken patch of ground. Two thick iron spikes were driven into the rock, connected to heavy chains that bound the wrists of Nia, a red-scaled Droko, slumped beside it.
Nia's condition was pitiful. Deep sword wounds marred multiple parts of the body. One eye was crusted shut with dried blood, while the other was barely half-open. Arms and legs twitched occasionally, convulsing. Leaning half-upright against the boulder, Nia breathed shallowly, slowly shifting the half-open eye toward the approaching sounds, trying to discern what was coming.
"Got too rowdy when the paralysis wore off early, so we used another feather from an Aldeed bird. Looks like the paralysis hasn't fully worn off yet."
Koolt crouched low, inspecting Nia's state as they approached the boulder.
"Lucky break, right? Hands and neck are about to get chopped, so going out painlessly... I'd be grateful."
Weirara mimicked slicing a throat with sharp claws, showing the gesture to Koolt.
"Shall we start with the hands, then? Will you do it yourselves, or should we?"
"Gwok! I'll do it."
Before Koolt could finish, Walrong strode toward Nia. Drawing a sword from its leather sheath with a soft scrape, Walrong signaled two fellow Grong with a finger flick to follow.
The three Grong moved to their positions.
Walrong approached Nia's right arm from the right. Another Grong moved to the opposite side, toward the left arm. The yellow-scaled Grong pulled two boxes from a bag on their back, setting them on the ground and opening the lids to prepare for the items to be delivered to their clients.
"Delicate work for frogs. I just brought a leather sack. Not bad for your kind..."
Weirara leaned against a tree a short distance away, watching.
"Starting now, Graak."
Walrong nodded, signaling the other Grong, who lifted Nia's left arm with a clank of chains.
Nia's eye trembled violently, realizing the sword was aimed at them. The Aldeed bird's poison coursing through the body stifled even a scream.
The moment the long swords held by the two Grong were about to sink into Nia's limply raised wrists...