Image Maker/Life Taker

Best put away that charred stick, friend. How many years have you been in this city? Two? And you don't know yet that drawing is strictly regulated? You might slide past with a drawing of a house, or an animal if it doesn't belong to anyone... but I know full well what you were sketching out there before I smudged it. That was a figure. A human figure. And drawing people is definitely forbidden in our fair city. Well, forbidden to all but the prince's artist-assassins, of course. Funny thing about that- no one ever asks where those assassins come from, or how they are trained in their arts- people prefer not to know.

But I know.

I know, because I provide a very valuable service to a few select individuals in this city. No, no- it's not what you're thinking. Not even I have sunk so low as Madame Cardamom. I might not be the most pure of of souls, but even I have some moral standards.

What? No, no, not that. Why should I care about paying for a little warm companionship? Swiving for silver doesn't bother me at all. But friend- that brothel of hers is just a front- her true business is providing live models. Haven't you ever noticed the high turnover there? I don't care what she says about the luxury in which they live out their all-too-short lives: it curls my hair just thinking about it. Which is why I operate at a slightly less refined level.

I provide corpses.

Oh, don't look so green. I don't kill them, and the way I see it, if you're already dead you have no more need of your body, do you? So why shouldn't a grave-digger's assistant supplement her paltry income? After all, they only pay us to bury the bodies, not to keep them in the gorund once they're there...

And so these young hopefuls come to me, and we strike a deal- because before they can hope to become artist-assassins, using their pens and brushes to leach away the souls of our prince's enemies, they must first learn the mysteries of the human body, understand the science of proportion and scale.

You know, I hear there are other countries in which assassins kill with knife or poison- how inefficient. What if you miss? What if the poison fails? Messy business. And how many lives must you take before you become a master? How do those countries retain a decent population? I take it your country must be like that, given your cavalier attitude towards mark-making. But friend- it's not casual, here. Not drawing and not death. Our artists do not make mistakes, and no one escapes them. And so precise! They can make death take as long or as little as you need it to- although our prince is not, of course, known for his patience.

So now you know why I've disrupted your work here, this very public work that our oh-so-respected men in bronze might have seen at any moment. And if it just so happens that a talented boy like you turns out to be one of the select few... well. My mask may change from one week to the next- but now you know where to find me.