The Royal Palace, Tamworth - Capital of Mercia
King Burgred of Mercia sat in his private solar, a heavy silver goblet in his hand. Across from him stood a man who looked like he had crawled through a swamp to get there. It was one of the few surviving assassins from the York operation.
"How did it go?" Burgred asked, his voice low and dangerous. He swirled the wine in his cup. "Did the Builder fall? Is the factory burning?"
The assassin flinched. He was missing an ear a souvenir from a close encounter with a 'Broom' canister.
"Your Highness," the assassin stammered, sweat dripping onto the expensive rug. "It was... a catastrophe. The Builder knew. He had traps inside the traps. He dropped fire on the berserkers. He used... machines that spit iron like rain."
Burgred just stared at the man.
"And the gold?" Burgred asked. "The chest of pennies I sent to Jarl Einar?"
