Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Konlot doesn’t have memories of his childhood. Whatever it was, it was far below the prissy nobles and knob-polishing knights gathering to determine the fates of thousands of lives they treat like nothing more than numbers.
The irony is, for all of their prim and proper etiquette, rules of engagement, education, chivalry, and social gatherings, people like Konlot will always be needed by nobles and knights.
Two otherworlders were brought to Zenkon by a so-called Divine Summoning ritual in the kingdom of Mornistae, and the only thing that changed by them arriving is the face of the war that has never ended.
For those who know how to leverage their strengths, war is an unending supply of money, resources, and outlets for the most core of every man’s unspoken urges; to destroy the things that inconvenience them.
As a half-demonkin, half-humankin, each side being of an unknown race, Konlot has never had friends or allies. Both sides of the mountains see a monstrosity, even though his face isn’t that different from a human’s or gatonines, his horns and hooves aren’t much different than a boruan or an oni’s, and his eyes are plain by most race’s standards.
He learned early on to take what he wants, and that his skills gained in doing so make him a desirable contractor for nobles to do what they can’t be caught doing.
The unknown mixed-blood waits patiently in position where he was told to wait. The cliffs overlooking the road through the valley that leads to Fort Peony provide a great deal of cover for ambushes.
And, as if a true blessing from God came down for those in the field of work Konlot finds himself in, the otherworlder king Rikuto pushed for the development of a weapon that changes battle forever.
The graceful touch of the God of Death can now reach far beyond the range of an arrow, presenting no warning as with magic, and, if the rumors are to be trusted, capable of slaying even a dragon.
Konlot looks at the sketch he was given. His target is the human emperor of the Fievegal, but the source said there will be an illusion-hidden body double in his place.
The target is the tallest known human in the world, and he possesses no magic of his own.
This combination of information should be plenty for the chimeric assassin.
Konlot has killed many people in his life, since killing people comes easily to him, and people will pay a great deal for his combination of talent and discretion. To call him a legend would be the height of foolishness, since speaking his name is a sort of curse.
Konlot himself has ensured that anyone who tries to verbally or otherwise officially tie him to the business finds themselves buried right alongside the person they hired him to deal with.
After all, a legendary assassin is a failure of an assassin.
The first of the Fievegal’s ‘carriages’ appears around one of the mountain faces, about a mile up the path from Konlot’s current position. He already has his point of engagement planned out, so he needs to observe and try to find the Emperor. Even if he must compromise and launch the attack on one of the Empresses, the goal is highly likely to succeed. The problem will be determining who he can take out most effectively in order to keep tensions high.
The chimera man doesn’t know who is the source of the intel, but they have proven reliable before. He even needed to shift tactics when a message arrived from his contact known as ‘the Mendicant’ informing Konlot that the Fievegal would not be travelling with their airborne vessels, but instead, with self-propelled carriages. The flying carriage would have been easier to create a catastrophic obvious attack, but the ground carriages are vulnerable enough.
Thankfully, Konlot is a bit larger than a human, so the ‘rifle’ that he has is the heaviest one the Mendicant could provide. He carefully pours powder into the barrel, and then slides the ridged, acorn-shaped bullet in. He uses the ramrod to drive the combo down and pack it cleanly against the back of the barrel in preparation.
The chimera has fired the rifle several times for practice, so he knows how the bullet is going to travel based on his aim, which is much easier to deal with than a bow or crossbow at the range he’ll be attacking from. He only gets one shot, but the bullet is carefully made such that only a grazing touch will accomplish the desired goal.
He watches the carriages as they move forward. Several have obvious comfortable designs clearly meant for the ‘better people’. While the Mendicant is hardly a different sort, it’s proof positive that all nobles are the same, including the leadership of the Fievegal. They present their ‘Haves’ as somehow greater than their ‘Have-not’ counterparts.
In Konlot’s experience, they all bleed the same when they’re wounded, and they all die when they lose enough blood.
And, they cry and beg when their lives are about to end.
Konlot sights down the length of the rifle, getting his positioning correct. He can see the body-double, as if the self-proclaimed Emperor
him to be killed, standing out with how obvious his appearance is. He doesn’t even have any kind of curtains or other shutters on the carriage to hide his presence during such a contentious time.
Konlot feels a little bad for the body double. Because of their greed and shortsightedness, his life is put on the line so that he dies in place of someone ‘more valuable’.
The emperor will be buried in the same dirt as the body double no matter which one of them dies today.
The chimera scans the other carriages, finding one that has two children that are peculiar to him. He recognizes the tiny girls from their light green skin tone as goblins. They are the only children present, and they are dressed as extravagantly as the other noticeable Empresses in the large middle vehicle, which makes sense for an Imperial family carriage.
And, only a single man is present in the carriage, though his appearance doesn’t
match the sketch.
Konlot smirks. The outfit of the human male is extremely simple, like a stablehand or a blacksmith, rather than a nobleman accompanying his multiple wives. Considering the rumors, the two goblins might actually be among the ‘wives’ instead of ‘daughters’, alongside the petite black-haired girl known as Hekate.
The assassin settles in against the stock of his rifle.
“I’m glad you used sulfur-heavy powder,” remarks a voice, which startles Konlot. He whirls, aiming his rifle. The man standing behind him has a full suit of armor with almost no weak points other than the joints, but his metallic grey reptilian tail and distinct graphite-grey horns protrude from the armor, giving him away as not only a demonkin, but a dragon having taken humanoid form.
Konlot reacts instinctively, firing the rifle directly into the dragon’s chest, and the rifle booms loudly, spitting a cloud of white smoke forth as a metallic shriek pierces through the echoes of the otherworldly weapon. Konlot starts to scramble to his feet to escape, now that his position is compromised, but horror grips him when the smoke clears.
The dragon casually brushes off a cleanly polished mark on the chest of his armor. It didn’t even dent.
“There are a lot of metals, actually,” remarks the dragon, as if he read Konlot’s mind.
“Aren’t we?” asks the dragon, rolling his neck on his shoulders. “I have failed my Emperor more than once, so I’m glad I could capture you well before you could even attack.”
Konlot drops his rifle in favor of his dual combat daggers, which are laced with highly deadly paralytic and lethal poisons. “I’m not captured yet.”
“In the words of my Liege;” The dragon lowers into a combat ready stance. “Who do you think you are? A suddenly-shounen villain?”
***
Hekate’s ears perk up, and everyone looks at her. “Hekate?” asks Gwenesphia.
“A rifle shot… It was pretty far, but it sounds like it was a big one.”
“Onii-chan better not have been killed so easily,” grumbles Geirahoel. “If he does, I’ll never forgive him.”
“I’m sure he’ll always return to you from now on, Sweet Geira,” teases Ryuogriar.
Geirahoel immediately whines, “Don’t say that! That’s gross!”
Those who know snicker at her, though Daniel is thoughtfully quiet.
“Sir Neith has engaged the would-be assassin. It seems the rifle is as you said, Daniel. It appears to use a flint-lock muzzle-loading design with a pre-rifled bullet, though Neith is doing his best to disable and capture the assassin alive.”Xyreko’s voice speaks in the large, stretched lounge of the oversized ‘bus’, which is housing the bulk of the Fievegal’s upper ranks, from Hekate to Veiranoei, as well as the Stalvaltan family, as well as Gold, Magnir, and Rose.
“Pre-rifled?” asks Treia. “Does that work?”
“Uncertain,” replies Xyreko.
“Do you have visuals?” asks Daniel. “Are the grooves perpendicular to flight?”
“Neith said the view he got of the spare bullets seems to suggest in-line with the barrel, rather than grooved like the Minie ball you thought Rikuto would use.”
“I’m a little surprised he knows about it,” replies Daniel. “But, he must have hoped to combine the advantages of modern rifling with the simplified technology of a muzzleloader.”
“Y-You’re saying… Rikuto’s people have rifles now?” asks Wenlianna nervously.
“More importantly,” starts Treia. “I thought we were assuming Rikuto
attack us like this.”
“He wouldn’t!” exclaims Heralesse.
Thymeria points out, “Those who benefit from the war would happily make it look that way, though, wouldn’t they?”
“It’s a cold-hearted approach, but it could also be any number of a group that wants to see Daniel dead,” replies Aramellianna a little coldly. “After all, he partially represents the true strength of the Fievegal.”
“Still, it seems pretty brazen to use a rifle either way,” remarks Thymeria. “It’s almost like they want Daniel, specifically, to-...”
With a suddenness akin to lightning, the bus is slammed with a powerful impact that causes everyone inside to scream from surprise. The massive vehicle tumbles, and bodies flop around haphazardly, completely at the mercy of the vehicle’s tumble, which is prolonged by rolling down the mountain cliffs towards the river.
The bus slams into the riverbed, which is shallow enough that it doesn’t sink very far, but the wreckage will likely never be recovered to a workable state. Dust rains down from the vehicle’s walls and floor, which is now the upward direction.
Thymeria shakes herself clear of the daze, feeling the water filling part of the vehicle. “Everyone!” she cries out.
However, when she pivots to look at the others, she finds a horrifying sight.
With the exception of Vaergraes, Aoloan, and Daniel, all of the ‘bodies’ are instead golems, twisted and mangled as they landed.
Vaergraes and Aoloan are unconscious, wounded from the tumble, but Daniel seems to be fine, crouching in front of the Uhl’tall priestess with his revolver aimed directly at her.
“D-D-Daniel? Wh-What are you doing?”
“Did you think I would believe that, if you were in the vehicle, we wouldn’t be attacked as a group? Or, was it Vaergraes that I was supposed to believe you would care so much about?” Daniel looks over his shoulder, remarking, “You did put a barrier over her, which I suppose counts for something, but you were ready to let Aoloan die.”
“What are you saying!?” exclaims the shocked young Uhl’tall woman.
Daniel looks at her again, adjusting his revolver’s aim to point directly at her. “Is it because Vae is still useful?”
“D-Daniel, you’re not making sense! Do… Do you think I had something to do with this!?”
Daniel isn’t wearing the outfit he was wearing when he was sitting with the girls, and in fact, there are two tiny golems tangled amidst the mess of destroyed artificial beings. His helmet is hiding his expression, but she can tell that an ice-cold anger is rolling off of him.
“I can’t say I’m any kind of counterintelligence agent,” remarks Daniel, still ignoring Thymeria’s pleas of innocence. “But, I have been bamboozled, scammed, and tricked many times in my life. You had to be careful with Vaergraes, because you needed her honest sincerity to rally people behind, and Aoloan’s own mind was susceptible to hypnosis, which is an irony, because she is the strongest amongst us in that regard. So, why not hypnotize all of us? Well, all but me?”
“Daniel, put the weapon down and let’s discuss this. You know I couldn’t have done anything. I was one of the first to push for allying with you, and you’re great for my sister. I’d love to have you as a brother in law, so…”
“I noticed something,” interrupts the human. “I could forgive never asking about your sister while she was out on missions, put in danger. She’s powerful, so you wouldn’t need to worry about her. Even when her magic would disappear from being too close to one of my weapons, you knew she was fine as long as her mana appeared again for your senses. But, what I noticed was exactly that. My weapons. You never took
interest in my weapons. You never spoke against me making new ones, you never tried to ask me much about them.”
Daniel points the revolver away from her for a brief moment to inspect it from the side. “It’s almost like you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
Her face twists in determination as she throws her palm forward towards Daniel, channeling her energy into a quick offensive spell.
Except…
Nothing happens.
She looks at her hand, and Daniel scoffs. “Another problem is that, after I started looking for it, I noticed Aoloan suddenly had this.” Daniel holds up a small trinket, which is contained within a glass jar.
Thymeria glances at it, but scowls at him, unsure what to say or how to respond. She’s upset that Daniel isn’t believing her, but she can’t act rashly, since he can easily kill her with his firearms, especially with mana being blocked.
Daniel, for his part, isn’t surprised that her expression didn’t change at all. The trinket has a small cameo of a bald man’s head with the elemental symbol of earth, or more accurately ‘ground’, in one of the non-standard Eastern languages. He continues, “I remembered what I saw on that maid’s trinket before I was cursed seeing this on Aoloan. She didn’t even miss it when I removed it from her person, meaning it wasn’t that important to her. Or, it was a second attempt.”
Thymeria is still locked in place with swirling thoughts and not a single change in her face.
Daniel sets the jar down between them, adding, “I once saw a movie that made a point out of something. When the unexpected happens, and actor’s facade is likely to falter. After all, an actor
for the script to continue forward. An actor about to be part of an evil act; they have to focus so much on their role to appear natural, that they struggle to react to the unexpected. In this case, me not being a broken mess on the floor, drenched in the blood of my daughters.”
“I had nothing to do with that!” shrieks Thymeria, and Daniel squeezes his hand, which causes her to flinch. She knows what happens when one single finger moves a certain way. She sucks her teeth, frustrated and afraid, though not specifically of Daniel nor death.
“Let’s see how you like it,” remarks Daniel. Without warning, he aims at Vaergraes and starts to pull the trigger. The hammer flexes back, and something else surprising happens.
“NO!” screams Thymeria, diving forward and tackling Daniel with her full bodyweight. She wrestles him for the revolver, and it discharges with a thunderous boom that hurts her ears, missing everyone as she grapples him for control of the weapon.
The Uhl’tall priestess manages to grab it and pull it free of Daniel’s grip just as he’s pushing her to the flooded ‘floor’ of the upside down bus. She presses the barrel to Daniel’s chest as she screams, “DIE!”
She squeezes the trigger as fast as she can, and the hammer flicks back before snapping forward.
Each trigger pull clicks uselessly, and again, Thymeria is stunned.
Daniel coughs a little, having got water in his helmet. He grunts, “I’m genuinely surprised, Thymeria… I truly thought you didn’t care about her at all…”
Trying to take the new path out, Thymeria cries, “I keep telling you I have no idea what you’re talking about! Of course I love my sister!”
“Thymeria…” She flinches hearing the mature, soft voice, weary with the daze that caught her off-guard. It’s then that the younger sister notices the pungent, biting odor of a chemical, which makes her nose sting and her eyes tingle.
“Sister! D-Daniel! H-He’s gone crazy! Please help me!”
“D-Daniel?” asks Vaergraes, confused and nervous.
“She’s alive because I trust you, Vae,” replies Daniel. “I need you to trust me, now.”
“I…” The elder Uhl’tall glances between them.
Daniel adds, “Neith has already captured the Mendicant and the assassin, so it’s only a matter of time.”
Thymeria finally falters. It’s only a twitch in her own cheek, which she notices Daniel’s head tilt immediately after. No matter what he’s doing or where his helmet is pointed, he is watching her for even the smallest signs.
“I have no idea what a mendicant is,” replies Thymeria. “Please, Vaergraes, Daniel has lost his mind.”
“I can prove everything, Vae. I promise she won’t be hurt. If she’s innocent, she’ll go free with apologies, compensation, and anything else within reason. But, if she’s guilty,...” Daniel growls as he looks directly at Thymeria, “She is the perfect person to manipulate you, of all people.”
“Listen to him, Sister! He’s just trying to turn us against each other!”
“My daughters are on this trip,” remarks Daniel icily. “I may be reckless, I may be in over my head, but someone tried to hurt my entire family just to kill me and prolong a war. And, you still need to explain this;” Daniel grips her left wrist and wrenches it in such a way that her sleeve shifts, and Vaergraes gasps.
“If any of us takes it off, Vae, she dies. I need you to trust me.”
Realizing that she’s quickly being cornered and truly running out of options, Thymeria becomes desperate. She smacks Daniel with the revolver, but her real goal is to snatch her right hand towards her left wrist.
“Thymeria!” cries out the archpriestess.
Daniel carefully blocks her arm by smacking it out of the way, and he grapples to keep her left hand under his control while fighting to block her from being able to rip the bracelet off, which also bears a cameo of a man’s head with the elemental magic symbol.
“Choose, Vae! Hurry!”
“Get off of me!” shrieks Thymeria, bucking and writhing violently in Daniel’s grip. He is successfully blocking her, but she has the advantage in the simplicity of her ‘success’ condition, which is to rip the bracelet off.
Vaergraes winces as she is torn between the two realities she has to choose between. Either she sides with Daniel, and potentially betrays her sister, or she sides with her sister, and potentially continues the cycle of death that may have been orchestrated by a group with an unknown motive.
Thymeria uses her legs to try to buck, desperately using the last of her strength to try to end her role before anything worse can happen.
Daniel falls, and just as Thymeria’s hand slips past his arm, Vaergraes captures her free right wrist and pulls it away from her left hand, allowing Daniel to recover his posture.
“NO! Vaergraes! You can’t! Don’t side with him!”
“We’ll find out the truth, Thymeria,” insists Vaergraes. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”
“You have no idea! Let go!”
Daniel pins her left hand down while he retrieves bandages from a simple first aid kit nearby, and he wraps her arm snugly to ensure the bracelet can’t be taken off very easily.
“Is… What happened to everyone?” asks Vaergraes.
“I misled everyone,” replies Daniel quietly. “You three were riding with golems because we had to fool Thymeria, who I was still in doubt about. She used magic to signal someone.”
“You… didn’t trust me?” asks the Uhl’tall archpriestess.
“I do trust you, personally, Vae. However, she has been using mind-altering magic on Aoloan.” The Emperor of the Fievegal binds Thymeria’s arms against her sides using a complex tangle of knots to prevent her from being able to bring her hands together. She continues to squirm against them, but she is losing strength, screaming and bucking. He adds, “You’ve been with her for decades. I don’t know when she was compromised, but I did genuinely believe she might not be your real sister. I’m less convinced of that now.”
Vaergraes is saddened by this explanation, murmuring softly, “I see…” She looks at Aoloan, who is still unconscious.
“What… happens to us, now?”
“Right now, you can probably tell your magic is disabled. I’m going to secure you three in a safe location where none of you will be able to be mind-controlled to be safe. I’d like you to cooperate, but as long as Thymeria is contained, I think it’s safe enough for you to be free. And, I think Aoloan is safe enough as well, so long as she’s shielded from Thymeria.”
“And, everyone else?”
“I’m not sure. I had to gamble that they’ll be able to handle whoever attacked this bus, since they were in the one right behind it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be the only one here with you three.”
Vaergraes is quiet, and she watches as Daniel finishes by wrapping Thymeria in a blanket like a burrito, since he didn’t have a straight-jacket made. The bound Uhl’tall priestess tries to bite him, but his armor protects him fairly easily. “Thymeria, give up. You should have known the moment I survived the curse that I would be more readily prepared to capture any co-conspirators once I knew who they were.”
“Lies! These are all lies! You can’t do this! Let me go! Vaergraes! Sister! Please!”
Vaergraes looks away, ashamed that she had to choose sides.
“Are… What happens now?” asks Vaergraes quietly.
Daniel replies as he lifts Thymeria onto his shoulder, “We’ll try to get outside. We can’t be rescued with magic at the moment, but we’re also invisible to the attackers for the time being.”
Thymeria continues to wriggle and complain like an angry grub trying to escape, but helpless against her current captor.
Daniel approaches the back of the bus, which is slightly higher. The door is broken, and he tries to shove it open with his shoulder.
“What about Aoloan?” asks Vaergraes.
“If she’s injured, we need to secure a safe zone for her before we try moving her. It could make her injuries worse.”
“I can try healing… Oh…”
“Yeah. I’ll head back in for her in a moment.”
The door refuses to budge, and Daniel does his best to keep Thymeria from injuring herself against the hard surfaces of the bus, since she’s trying to ‘escape’. While mana is disabled around her, she has no way of fighting back, and she has no backup from her allies, whoever they are. He was bluffing about the Mendicant, but Neith successfully got the term out of the assassin’s mind using brute-force mind-reading.
The mechanic isn’t too keen on such invasive tactics, especially because a prepared individual like Thymeria can hide or create misleading thoughts. However, these people intended to kill Daniel with his first-born daughters and his other loved ones as acceptable casualties, if not secondary targets.
Part of him wants to continue the war now and conquer the entire continent, but he doesn’t have the resources to do that. And, he doesn’t want to be a conqueror. He just wants his family to be left alone, safe, and happy.
Daniel kicks the door, and it creaks as the hinges give a little bit. He kicks a few times, keeping control of Thymeria’s body such that her head can’t slam against anything while he’s forcing the door open. He’s not sure how desperate she is to end herself, but she doesn’t seem to have a molar poison capsule that was popular in movies and shows on Earth, so as long as she doesn’t bite off her own tongue, he should be able to keep her around long enough to ask some questions.
What she knows is another story, but they have to start somewhere.
However, Daniel finds a new problem once he gets the door open and can step outside.
There are three individuals that were approaching the destroyed bus, carefully descending the mountain pass cliffs leading to the river that flows along and below the road. Given their equipment and the situation, Daniel knows he’s not looking at a trio of friendly lumberjacks.
When they notice him and Thymeria, they come to a stop, gripping the hilts of daggers on their belts. The mechanic played video games a lot when he was young, especially during his high school and Navy days when he had an abundance of time to do so. He became rather good at assessing his surroundings. He’s certainly not any kind of movie super-assassin or secret agent, but he also happens to notice the distinct outlines of a leather holster and what he’s confident is a flintlock or other similar single shot pistol. Since their instinct was to reach for daggers, it’s likely the assassins in play are still new to the firearms that Rikuto seems to have successfully commissioned in order to counter Daniel even a little.
Of course, given everything happening, Rikuto obviously practiced a great deal less technology protection than Daniel and the Fievegal have been trying to keep firearms from becoming a cudgel of assassins and other nefarious actors.
Daniel did have the Citadel and an unfalteringly loyal ally in Xyreko, which made it far more possible for a lowly mechanic to have any control over anything. Regardless, in his reactionary responses to the events of the world, Rikuto has been rather reckless with the parts of Earth Daniel is trying to keep reined in as much as possible.
Unfortunately, the damage is already done. No fewer than four assassins have appeared armed with firearms, even if they are much more archaic than the ones Daniel has the Citadel producing.
And, three of them are facing off against Daniel at present.
“Excuse me, you obvious scholarly professors of the scientific arts, can you tell me if this is the shortest route to your mom’s house?”
This baffles the assassins briefly, who already have gruff and malicious-looking faces. Daniel knows better than to judge a person too much on their appearance alone, but they’re in the middle of an ambush and these are clearly not Stalvaltan Guards. Instead, they’re outfitted with inconspicuous robes meant to hide their equipment and faces when the hoods are pulled up, which includes many of the assassin staples; daggers, ropes, and a pouch that probably contains poisons.
“You have no idea who we are, do you?” asks one of them as the other two cackle. He has a narrow face only filled out by a ratty beard. The mechanic almost feels like his smell is visible from how messy and stained his robes are, as well as the greasiness of the man’s beard and hair.
The man directly next to him, the middle of the group, is the tallest of the three. He has a tattoo that has coiling, pointed shapes like a bundle of serpents’ tails that extends up his left cheek, and a scar across his right forehead and temple. “They said he had no mana, but I didn’t believe anyone would be so weak.”
“Yeah, and cocky on top of that. This should be a rather enjoyable one,” taunts the third one, who has a fantasy dwarf-like build; the shortest of the three, but bulky, like a near-literal block of muscle.
The three men draw a dagger in their dominant hands; left hands for the bearded man and pseudo-dwarf, and right hand for the lanky tattooed assassin. Daniel sighs, crouching as he sets Thymeria down. His own hand is gripping his revolver, but his bait to fool the Uhl’tall priestess was to leave all but one cylinder empty, so that she couldn’t kill him if she did succeed in gaining control of the revolver, which she did.
Vaergraes peeks around the side of the doorway of the bus, whispering, “Daniel?”
“Stay in cover, Vae. I have plenty of wives, so I intend to send these
on their way.” The mechanic intentionally says the word in a distorted way, though being as it’s an English word he’s distorting, no one present is likely to have any idea what he’s talking about.
The assassins spread out as they dawn nasty and malicious grins. “Do you think you can, otherworlder?” The tattooed man speaks viciously, and his tongue rolls out to hang from his mouth like a stupid looking dog.
Beard man grins as he licks his lips unnecessarily, as if he is some sort of predator getting ready for a kill.
And, as the brickhouse raises his dagger towards his own mouth, Daniel has only one real concern.
“Do I think I can exterminate suddenly shounen villains?” asks Daniel. He stands up and draws his revolver, which causes the assassins to flinch briefly, but they hold their ground. As far as they’re concerned, Daniel has to land a hit to incapacitate even one of them, and they likely have prepared for his weapons to some extent. And, since ‘he can’t kill all three of them with one firearm’, their confidence returns just as quickly.
As the standoff begins to reach its crescendo, a small voice behind Daniel catches his attention. He has been given a new option.
Daniel finishes his taunt, “I need to apologize to hoo-ors everywhere for comparing clowns like you to them.”
Daniel pulls the trigger, aimed at Beard man, and the assassin braces as the hammer snaps forward with an ineffectual ‘clunk’.
The assassins all laugh, but what they can’t see is Daniel’s face.
He, too, has a reason to smile.
***