Third, and most importantly, the formation of a dungeon started and failed. She had sent furious reports of its growth but her superiors ignored her, insisting the miasma would dissipate naturally; how ridiculous.
What truly confused her was that she received no orders to further investigate these incidents. Instead, the mission changed from observation to active collection. Alta had a king for the first time in centuries. He called himself a prime minister, a simple head of state. He was playing his cards deftly; his people would reject a king but accept a steward of the country.
Sheena waited in an alley for her contact in the prime minister’s court. A courtesan, a fancy name for a whore. She had nothing against those who used sex for advantage, it was half of her job. But why did people feel the need to dress it up?
“The sun rises down,” the courtesan said. It was the code to prove it was her.
“The moon sets up,” she replied. Gods this was silly, but it was also protocol.
The woman revealed herself. Her clothes were of a fine cut fitting her figure perfectly. She should have worn something more modest for this meeting.
“What do you have to report, number 8?”
Sheena named her spies numbers to fool them into thinking she cultivated more spies than she truly had to let them know they were replaceable. Too many spies got self-important. Sheena did not mind spies using their position to advance their own interests if it didn’t conflict with her own.
She did things differently than other agents by not throwing away assets when they were no longer useful or inconvenient. Keeping old assets was how she recruited. All potential spies feared being disposed of. Sheena was able to bring old assets to testify to her legitimacy. It gave her an edge and soothed the remainder of her conscience somewhat.
“The king, the prime minister, is a mystery. He comes from no major house, in fact, people assumed his noble family no longer existed. The truth was that his family withdrew from politics selling almost everything, their lands, titles, and positions.”
“Odd behavior indeed. What of his personality?”
“Smart as a whip, without being condescending. He is well liked, even by his enemies. I saw him tell a lord to his face they would never be friends, but he hoped they could keep their conflict civil.”
“Do you believe his enemies want him dead?”
“No, they are jealous of his position but they do not covet it.”
It made sense. Past leaders of the country did not last long, having gained their positions by being pawns of larger nations. And Alta had few lords to help enforce their rule to start with.
Sheena renewed her questioning. “Weakness?”
“Women.”
“Naturally. Have you formed a relationship?”
“No,” number 8 said, disappointed. “He does not keep a mistress, choosing to rotate between several women. I have gotten close to one of his generals instead.”
“The general of the army camped outside Ridgehill.”
“Yes.” Number 8 paused for a moment. “What is our goal for this king?”
Spies did this sometimes, they wanted to know the bigger picture, to influence events, to be super spies. Sheena had no answer for what the cult wanted with the king.
“That is need-to-know for now. Focus your charms on the general, become someone he wants to show off to his friends. Alta has not had a real army in decades. If this general is skilled, he may become close to the king. This will be your path to the king’s court.”
Sensing the meeting was over, the woman left. Sheena would stay in Yorkwick. Something else was going on while this war was being waged and she would find out what and who was responsible.