You need to understand what I know. Man is inherently bad. Opportunity creates trouble. Trouble is only held in check by perceived retribution. Retribution is governed by the Law.

The Law governs everything.

I am an instrument of the Law and I know two things: No one is above the Law. A Slinger can only fail when he abandons his discipline.

Discipline is the only thing that governs the light of reason. Holds the darkness of ignorance and deceit at bay.
 

To be able to articulate what I have seen. The injustice I have felt. The inequality. I understand that there were many who hates us. Hated our bright swords and the fire that drove us. Hated our ability to believe in the Law.

They worked hard to quench us.

One day, in the City. Musashi himself led us to town. Six strong. ‘Say nothing,’ he said. ‘Just watch.’

We went down narrow streets and dark alleys. Past places where ambushes could have been set with ease. Musashi walked like he had been there many times. Swords sheathed. Head down. His feet moving with purpose.

Then, we came to a hut. Apart from the rest, little more than a hovel. And Musashi did not bother knocking on the door. He braced himself and put his shoulder to it and knocked it down and beckoned us all to squeeze in.

It was a small room and it smelled bad and we all pressed in there, eager to see what the Master wanted us to. And he had a peasant dressed in rags by the throat, pinned against the wall. Questioning him.

There was a narrow bed in one corner and a girl, naked. Tied up was lying on it. Her body badly bruised, one eye shut and swollen. Lips beaten many times in agony.

We looked at all this. Too stunned to say anything. Pressing against the walls to give the Master room to move. Not sure what we should be doing.

The Master asked the peasant his name. Asked him where he’d been the day before. The man was defiant. He spat into the Master’s face. Tried to ward off his choking hold.

In vain. The Master increased the pressure until the peasant blacked out. Then pulled back his shirt to reveal a strange black mark. A crow, inked black, pecking at a heart.


“He abducted the girl. Held her for two days.” The Master said. “He does the dirty work of a City Official. He thinks that gives him immunity.”

We understood. The peasant was an instrument too. He did work that was unsavoury. But he lacked discipline. He felt there were no restraints. We looked at the girl then. She was young. No more than sixteen. She had been raped many times. There were fresh scratches and bruises on the inside of her thighs. Her eyes were wide and she was in shock, her body trembling like a leaf.

The Master nodded towards her. “He asked her as reward. His last job,” he said. Then with almost casual disdain he bent down, took hold of the unconscious man’s foot and twisted sharply. There was a snap that made us all tense. The man’s body jerked as his knee gave way and the cartilage was torn and there was a scream and a groan and the body momentarily came to electric life and became limp again.

We knew he’d never walk right again.

“No man is above the Law. No life is more precious than another.” The Master’s words sounded strange to our ears. Strained with suppressed emotion. We realised then that he was angry. Angry not because of what this wretch had done, but angry that something like this had happened. Angry that there was such disregard for the Law that it made human life cheap and living dangerous.

“The City Official lives not far from here. A villa in the outskirts. Well guarded,” the Master said. “An hour’s walk form here. This is why I brought six of you.”