"The trouble with noble houses is that the extents of their influence oft lend them a robust health that's quite damnable to those who wish 'em ill. Not t'mention the bit where they backtrace your efforts and then set their own men t'slitting your throat. Gettin' it done in one night, though - and I'm assumin' without preparation time - well," The former assassin grinned. "that's why you find yourself a few rival houses and set them up to do your dirty work for you."
He started counting off on his fingers, extending each digit as he did so.
"Three things a noble house has goin' for them: coin, allies, and 'respectability'... let's be honest and just call that last one 'reputation'. You hit all three hard and fast, and they rarely recover. No need to tear their halls down, or stick each 'n' every pig livin' in 'em. Make 'em look too big for their britches, and they do that to themselves."
Osric threw back the rest of his glass, then turned it upside-down and placed it back on the table. Then, from beneath various layers of fabric and leather, he drew knives two at a time, pinning each point-first into the wood around the tumbler.
"You get enough houses to turn on your target, and they're as good as done. Find out which houses they're on the outs with, then send a different messenger 'round t'each house, tell 'em the messenger's from another o' those same houses, and that a mutual interest is shared in putting a rival out o' business. The proposal put to each is simple: a series of failed assassination attempts on the household heads, staged in concert, will do in the target's reputation, evidence of guilt to be planted by an anonymous party, that bein' yours truly and his friends' 'friends' in the Blades and other such establishments. Best part is, the rival houses won't even care that the messengers ain't from their fellows, so long as the effort is real and there's profit to be had."
The sergeant shrugged.
"Course, that evidence I mentioned won't be limited t'just us sneakin' in and leavin' behind forgeries and such, oh no. Research the job ahead o' time, that's always the way, and that'll be enough t'approach the target that mornin' with some bauble or another that they'd be willin' to part with coin for. Some knickknack for their child, perhaps, or some quantity of goods they go in for as commodities. Simple transaction... 'cept that'll look all kinds o' suspicious in hindsight."
He poked at the knives' hilts, one by one, and listened to the wood creak.
"Suspicion breeds fear, 'n' fear brings out the claws. Those 'allies' of theirs might stand aside - understandable, no noble wants that much pressure on their own neck for the sake of another's, especially when a few o' those assassinations weren't staged save for their paperwork - or they might stand together. Might even turn on the target, with the right incentive, that bein' coin or rights to trade routes or whatever the case might be. Don't matter in the end. What matters is that the target comes out the lesser for it, and trust me, if they're having t'splurge on expenditures t'keep from goin' under, they'll lose that weight in coin. Hells, it doesn't even matter if they win out against their rivals; they'll still come out the aggressors, and that'll ruin them, unite others against them."
Â
Melkire raised his eyes to meet Lazarov's again.
"Ain't nothin' so devastatin' to a house o' nobles as bein' turned on, and havin' nowhere and no one t'turn to. My contacts and I - Blades, Flames, beggars, huntresses, and more, dependin' on how much time y'give me in advance, and no, I ain't giving you names, you know how this works - we can execute somethin' on this scale in a night. The damage and repercussions will persist forever."
He started counting off on his fingers, extending each digit as he did so.
"Three things a noble house has goin' for them: coin, allies, and 'respectability'... let's be honest and just call that last one 'reputation'. You hit all three hard and fast, and they rarely recover. No need to tear their halls down, or stick each 'n' every pig livin' in 'em. Make 'em look too big for their britches, and they do that to themselves."
Osric threw back the rest of his glass, then turned it upside-down and placed it back on the table. Then, from beneath various layers of fabric and leather, he drew knives two at a time, pinning each point-first into the wood around the tumbler.
"You get enough houses to turn on your target, and they're as good as done. Find out which houses they're on the outs with, then send a different messenger 'round t'each house, tell 'em the messenger's from another o' those same houses, and that a mutual interest is shared in putting a rival out o' business. The proposal put to each is simple: a series of failed assassination attempts on the household heads, staged in concert, will do in the target's reputation, evidence of guilt to be planted by an anonymous party, that bein' yours truly and his friends' 'friends' in the Blades and other such establishments. Best part is, the rival houses won't even care that the messengers ain't from their fellows, so long as the effort is real and there's profit to be had."
The sergeant shrugged.
"Course, that evidence I mentioned won't be limited t'just us sneakin' in and leavin' behind forgeries and such, oh no. Research the job ahead o' time, that's always the way, and that'll be enough t'approach the target that mornin' with some bauble or another that they'd be willin' to part with coin for. Some knickknack for their child, perhaps, or some quantity of goods they go in for as commodities. Simple transaction... 'cept that'll look all kinds o' suspicious in hindsight."
He poked at the knives' hilts, one by one, and listened to the wood creak.
"Suspicion breeds fear, 'n' fear brings out the claws. Those 'allies' of theirs might stand aside - understandable, no noble wants that much pressure on their own neck for the sake of another's, especially when a few o' those assassinations weren't staged save for their paperwork - or they might stand together. Might even turn on the target, with the right incentive, that bein' coin or rights to trade routes or whatever the case might be. Don't matter in the end. What matters is that the target comes out the lesser for it, and trust me, if they're having t'splurge on expenditures t'keep from goin' under, they'll lose that weight in coin. Hells, it doesn't even matter if they win out against their rivals; they'll still come out the aggressors, and that'll ruin them, unite others against them."
Â
Melkire raised his eyes to meet Lazarov's again.
"Ain't nothin' so devastatin' to a house o' nobles as bein' turned on, and havin' nowhere and no one t'turn to. My contacts and I - Blades, Flames, beggars, huntresses, and more, dependin' on how much time y'give me in advance, and no, I ain't giving you names, you know how this works - we can execute somethin' on this scale in a night. The damage and repercussions will persist forever."