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The day had finally come. Royston Spektor was on Anaxes, and he was there for one reason only...
To kill Andraste.
In the days since her most recent "outburst," Royston had been working like a man possessed. The plotting, the scheming, the new relationships to be formed with the power-players of the galaxy...in truth, there was still loads and loads of work to be done. Roy could have busied himself with backroom dealings and negotiations for months, but that was the old way. The old him.
No longer was he content to simply pull strings from the shadows. Today, he would be getting his hands dirty. It was, without a doubt, the most difficult endeavor he had ever undertaken. But there was no backing out now.
He'd been on the capital world for just over 24 hours at this point, and he'd been quite busy in that time. Getting planet-side hadn't been difficult, of course, thanks to his shapeshifting abilities. Once he'd landed, he'd immediately set to work re-acquainting himself with the palace's security protocols - many of whom he either A) helped instituted to begin with or B) still held access to thanks to his familiarity with the network. Being the head of the Ubiqtorate and the Empress' Spymaster held many benefits that didn't stop simply because he no longer held the official title.
Come to think of it, that's more than likely why most Spymasters ended their tenure in a body bag and not in a retirement ceremony.
Either way, the prep work was done. Time to do the damn thing.
As he walked through the passageways of the Imperial Palace in the skin of a guard, it took every ounce of his train to not recheck the bindings of his wrist holsters for the umpteenth time. Sporting one on each wrist, they each held a blade made entirely from ceramic and polymer, thus sidestepping any potential pitfalls via metal detectors.
In addition, just in case a sharp blade cutting through the carotid artery wasn't enough to get the job done, each knife was coated in a powerful and fast-acting neurotoxin. Just in case.
Of course, even that may not be enough to stop the monster that wore the face of Andraste - a face that he could not, and would not, ever fully stop loving.
You're doing this for her, Roy, just remember that. She died long ago, and what's left is...a monster.
He may not be anyone's definition of a white knight - in fact, most who knew Royston Spektor would laugh out loud at any such comparison - but shining armor or no, he was going to slay the beast who held so much of the galaxy in fear.
Or, of course, he would die trying. Yeah, that was a pretty likely outcome as well.
To kill Andraste.
In the days since her most recent "outburst," Royston had been working like a man possessed. The plotting, the scheming, the new relationships to be formed with the power-players of the galaxy...in truth, there was still loads and loads of work to be done. Roy could have busied himself with backroom dealings and negotiations for months, but that was the old way. The old him.
No longer was he content to simply pull strings from the shadows. Today, he would be getting his hands dirty. It was, without a doubt, the most difficult endeavor he had ever undertaken. But there was no backing out now.
He'd been on the capital world for just over 24 hours at this point, and he'd been quite busy in that time. Getting planet-side hadn't been difficult, of course, thanks to his shapeshifting abilities. Once he'd landed, he'd immediately set to work re-acquainting himself with the palace's security protocols - many of whom he either A) helped instituted to begin with or B) still held access to thanks to his familiarity with the network. Being the head of the Ubiqtorate and the Empress' Spymaster held many benefits that didn't stop simply because he no longer held the official title.
Come to think of it, that's more than likely why most Spymasters ended their tenure in a body bag and not in a retirement ceremony.
Either way, the prep work was done. Time to do the damn thing.
As he walked through the passageways of the Imperial Palace in the skin of a guard, it took every ounce of his train to not recheck the bindings of his wrist holsters for the umpteenth time. Sporting one on each wrist, they each held a blade made entirely from ceramic and polymer, thus sidestepping any potential pitfalls via metal detectors.
In addition, just in case a sharp blade cutting through the carotid artery wasn't enough to get the job done, each knife was coated in a powerful and fast-acting neurotoxin. Just in case.
Of course, even that may not be enough to stop the monster that wore the face of Andraste - a face that he could not, and would not, ever fully stop loving.
You're doing this for her, Roy, just remember that. She died long ago, and what's left is...a monster.
He may not be anyone's definition of a white knight - in fact, most who knew Royston Spektor would laugh out loud at any such comparison - but shining armor or no, he was going to slay the beast who held so much of the galaxy in fear.
Or, of course, he would die trying. Yeah, that was a pretty likely outcome as well.