Duke Marshal sat low in his chair, staring into the empty fireplace. A few lonely embers still burned in the remains of that evening's fire. In his hand he clutched a folded up piece of paper.

The Duke had never actually made use of the services of the Unseen Rain before. Not personally. Not directly. But he was well aware of the proper procedure.

Marshal tapped his foot impatiently. The night was wearing on, and Duke Marshal was not a patient man.

There was a knock on the door.

Marshal stood up and readjusted his coat before stepping forward to greet his guest.

When he opened the door he was surprised to see, not a hooded assassin, but the Crown Prince, clutching a bottle of wine in his hand.

"Hey there, you walking curse upon the earth," said Sebastian. "How's your night going?"

"Your highness," said Marshal, flatly. "You're drunk."

"Not yet." Sebastian pushed his way past Marshal while taking another swig from the wine bottle. "But I'm working on fixing that."

Sebastian flopped down on Marshals' bed, and Marshal took up his seat by the empty fireplace again.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" asked Marshal. He clutched the paper tighter in his hand, attempting to hide it.

Sebastian didn't answer for a long moment, just staring up at the ceiling, the hand holding the wine bottle hanging off the side of the bed. A band of moonlight from the window shone across his tired face. Marshal had never seen Sebastian like this before. He usually at least pretended to be cheerful when they were together.

But a lot had changed between them lately.

"If you don't have anything to say, then I really don't have time for—"

"It's just kind of sad, you know?" said Sebastian.

Marshal sighed. "What's sad, your highness?"

"For a lot of my life, you were my only friend," said Sebastian. "Or I thought you were. Things were always... kind of weird with Corvina, even when we were really young. Even before... well, you know. And with the servants and the other nobles it was like I was always playing a role. Like I wasn't Sebastian, I was the Crown Prince. That's how everyone saw me. When I spent time with you... that was the only time I really felt like I was just being myself, you know? I had fun when I was with you. Was that stupid, or what?"

Marshal didn't respond. He didn't see any point in responding.

Sebastian sat up on the bed, so quickly that he spilled a bit of his wine.

Marshal stood up. "Hey, be careful with—"

"If our friendship ever meant anything at all to you, will you answer just one question for me?" asked Sebastian.

Marshal stared at Sebastian for a moment. "What is it?" he asked.

"Do you think I'm useless?"

Marshal looked away from Sebastian and took a deep breath. Then he walked to the window, staring out at the moonlit gardens beyond. They were quiet and unmoving. At this time of night there were only infrequent guard patrols.

Marshal didn't have time for this.

"I wouldn't have tried to blackmail you if you were completely useless," said Marshal.

Sebastian's mouth hung open. "What? But—"

Marshal turned around to face Sebastian again. "You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss your role. Your imperial blood. Your position as the Crown Prince. No matter what else you do, no matter how weak or stupid you are, these things alone will always make you a useful pawn to whoever can manage to control you. That's something that's always infuriated me, standing by your side all these years. You're always so busy feeling sorry for yourself you can't see what an important role you play in the game of imperial politics."

"Oh," said Sebastian. "Right."

"Now if you would kindly get the hell out of my room," said Marshal.

Sebastian stood up. "Sorry for bothering you," he said. On his way towards the door he placed the mostly empty bottle of wine on the mantle above the fireplace. "There. A thank you gift for answering my question. Enjoy."

Sebastian paused in the doorway, his hand on the door frame to steady himself. When he spoke again in a small voice. "Even when you're reassuring me, you still find a way to insult me, huh? But I guess that's just what you were thinking all along, wasn't it?"

"Goodnight, your highness," said Marshal. He had followed behind Sebastian and now had his hand on the door, ready to close it as soon as Sebastian was out of the way.

"Hey, Marshal?" said Sebastian, still blocking the doorway. "If I was ever really, truly in your way, you'd probably just have me killed, right? Send an assassin after me?"

"You asked me to answer one question," said Marshal.

Sebastian laughed. Finally, he pushed himself away from the doorframe. "See you later, bosom friend," he said with a mocking salute.

Marshal sighed and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Marshal felt an unexpected breeze against the nape of his neck. He quickly turned around to see the curtains blowing in the wind from the open window, and a figure standing there, backlit by the moonlight.

The figure wore a cloak, so Marshal couldn't make out any of their features, but even under the cloak they were clearly smaller and more slightly built than Marshal had been expecting.

This was the famed assassin, the Unseen Rain? Rumored to be as deadly as a sudden and unexpected storm?

Marshal knew better than to speak his doubts out loud. If it didn't work out, Marshal would simply find another assassin.

Duke Marshal held out the folded piece of paper, which was now a bit crumpled from how tightly he had been clutching it. "Your target," said Marshal. "Payment on delivery."

The hand that reached out to take the paper was small and so pale it almost glowed in the moonlight.

The Unseen Rain unfolded the paper and examined it closely. They nodded and tucked the paper into their robes. Then they were gone again in an instant, disappearing back out through the window..

Marshal rushed forward to look out at the garden but the Unseen Rain was, well, nowhere to be seen.

Nothing to do now but to wait for the good news.

The thought occurred to Marshal that he should maybe go check on the Prince, make sure he had made it safely back to his own room. Or at least send a servant to check on him.

Marshal hated how years of close contact could trick you into having those sorts of thoughts on instinct, against your own will even.

Marshal scoffed and muttered to himself. "Friends? Ridiculous."

Marshal wasn't a child anymore. He had no need for friends.