The clerk waited patiently outside for them to finish. They could take all the time in the world for all he cared. They could even come to a draw, for all he cared. He just hated these stupid recon missions. For he was not even a Harmonium. He was an Anarchist, and he had been sent on a mission to see who would be the next factol so they could get to him first.

The Revolutionary League, commonly called the Anarchists, were a rebellious lot. They said the only reasons the factions exist is because they want power. And they were determined to disband them all so the REAL truth can be found.

But that didn't matter right now. All he needed was the name of the man who would be factol. He knew it would be either Arctur or the Lieutenant, but he didn't know which. He only wanted to get back at them for killing the League's best assassin and hanging him over the wall of the barracks. It was time for the decline of the factions, and this would set it in motion.

He also knew that it was because of them that Sarin was killed. His main bodyguard was also an Anarchist. He just stood there while the assassin crept above him in the air duct. It was so obvious it was almost funny. Not only that, but because the guard was his friend, he said he heard the assassin kill Sarin, but he didn't even flinch. The assassin was simply a moron.

The door opened slowly and he turned around, startled from his deep thought. The chairman stood there with a rolled up sheet of paper with a seal stuck over it.

"Take this directly to Hashkar himself. This is the name of our new factol. Neither read it nor share it with no one. Understand?"

The Anarchist clerk nodded and took the sheet of paper. "I shall deliver it personally," he said and walked off.

About halfway between the Barracks and the Courts is a meeting place for the major League informants in The Lady's Ward. It is a small decrepit pub that served only cheap ales. But the owner has sworn to secrecy and let's them use the basement for their meetings. And to make sure that he never does tell, they've sown his mouth shut.

The clerk walked in to find the place empty as usual, except for the barkeep. "Have they arrived yet?"

The barkeep nodded and pointed to the basement. He stared at the clerk with cold, unforgiving eyes, which spooked him. He almost regretted sewing his mouth shut because of the contempt the keep had now harbored for them.

"Right, thank you." The clerk went through the swinging doors that led to the basement, but kept his eyes locked with the barkeeps emotionless stare. This guy is a nutcase, he thought.

Downstairs there were three men waiting for him. All three were dressed in black clothes and hoods. He wondered who they were, but it didn't matter. On the table was a pile of clothes and a small chest. The clothes looked like something a Guvner would typically wear, but he didn't know what was in the chest. Perhaps it was money, or maybe it was a gift.

"Do you have it?" said one man in an odd tone, but he couldn't tell which one. It was obviously altered by magic. I suppose that people have become so untrustworthy now that they needed this kind of supersecrecy.

"Yes," said the clerk. He set down the message on the table. One of the men tore open the seal and began to read it. After a moment, he nodded.

"Take this message on to The City Courts. Change into these clothes right now," said another man as he gestured to the pile of clothing on the table. The men huddled together as the clerk began to change his clothes. He tried hard to listen but couldn't make out what they were saying.

He finishes dressed and the men turned to face him again. The message now had a new seal on it, exactly in place of the old one. "Take the message to one of the clerks there and drop it off. And take this chest with you," said one of the men.

He opened up the chest and inside it was a wrapped up bottle of something and various other devices: a hammer arranged so it will obviously break the bottle, and what looked like a timer with a key next to it. The clerk put the pieces together and figured it out; it was a bomb.

"Put this in the office of the judge that handles their Anarchist cases. He has convicted many of our numbers and now he shall pay for his mistakes. Wind the timer all the way around and leave the building as soon as you can."

The clerk nodded slowly and took to chest. He didn't want to blow up offices and possibly kill people on this mission. But he realized he had no choice. He placed the chest in his backpack and slowly walked back upstairs.

He tried to walk into the City Courts as casually as he could, knowing that he might kill people with the bomb he had in his pack. He looked around at every manner of man, woman, creature, fiend possible moving about their business. The place was jam-packed. It was a feat in it's own to try to move without bumping into everyone.

After dodging what it seemed to include every fathomable creature in the multiverse, he reached the clerk's desk. Panting from being out of breath, the clerk looked at him while he stopped to catch it. After he was able to speak again, he said "I have a very important missive from the City Barracks."

The clerk took it from him and began to open when he said, "For Hashkar's eyes only." The clerk then nodded and thanked him. Well, mission one complete, he thought. But now comes the part that would give him nightmares: Bombing such a crowded place like this.

He darted away from the main part of the building into the court area. He looked around for the office that he was to bomb. A few Fraternity people wondered what he was doing peeking inside every office, but they went about their business.

Drops of sweat now formed on his head. His mind began to race with paranoia. What if I'm caught, he thought. He stopped for a moment and leaned against one of the doors to catch him breath. When he turned around, there it was, in bold lettering: Revolutionary League case office.

He slowly turned the knob and crept inside. No one was there. He removed the backpack and silently crept over to the shelves stacked full of books over by the judge's bench. He removed the chest and opened it. He closed his eyes as he got butterflies in his stomach. What if someone comes in right before this thing goes off? He shook his head and reopened his eyes. He looked at the make-up of it again. Hammer device set up by a timing device that will strike a bottle of who knows what. He then thought about how much time he would have to get out. Would he have 30 minutes? 10? 5? Or even less? He then tried to clear his mind again. He nodded and wound up the timer, which began clicking. He closed the back and replaced it inside the backpack. He opened up one of the desk drawers and placed it inside. He closed it then stood back up.

But at that moment the door opened and he managed to get down just in time. Someone, but he couldn't tell who, walked in. His step came closer to the desk, and he closed his eyes, trying to roll up into as tight a ball as he could manage. The man's footsteps got very close and he peeked open an eye to take a look.

The man was turned around and browsing throw the shelves looking for something. He watched carefully as the man looked through shelf after shelf. Then he pulled out a small tome, and with it another small book dropped to the floor. He closed his eyes and knew it would be over. The man would get the book, se him, and drag him off to who knows where. But the man simply picked up to book and placed it on top of the desk. He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps leaving the room. The door opened, and then shut.

He shot out from under the desk to stand up and look around. The room was once again empty. He fell to a knee and uttered a short prayer to the Gods to thank them for sparing him. Then he got back up and ran out of the office.

The hall was empty. He sighed with relief. It seems he would not be a murderer after all. Checking once more to see it was empty, he ran down the hall towards the building's exit.

Meanwhile, Hashkar was sitting behind his desk, waiting for the decision. He went over some new cases to pass the time, but he couldn't get it off his mind. If he didn't get the name of the new Factol today, he would have to put the Mercykillers in charge of policing the city.

Now nobody likes the Harmonium to patrol the city. If you are even on the wrong faction, they will scrag you. But it would be even worse with the Mercykillers. Their idea of justice doesn't exactly match everyone else's. In fact, no one else's. The only thing the city let's them do is punish, and the love doing it. If you had the executioners playing police, things would get real nasty real quick.

At that moment a clerk walked in carrying a rolled up scroll. Hashkar almost jumped out of his seat from surprise. The clerk chuckled as he tried to recompose himself. "A message from the Harmonium sir," said the clerk.

"Oh? Is it their decision?" asked Hashkar.

"I know not. They didn't say."

"Well give it here." Hashkar snatched the message out of the clerked hand and un-rolled it. His eyes scanned down the message, and a large smile crossed his face from ear to ear. "Excellent! They have made their decision!" He walked over to his coatrack and removed his robe. Checking to make sure it was perfectly straight, he draped it over his shoulder. The clerk looked at him oddly and said, "What are you doing Hashkar?"

"I am going to make the announcement myself," he said as he walked to the door.

"But sir!"

"No buts. The future of the Harmonium is at hand and I shall proclaim it to the city personally!"

Without listening to another word, he walked out the door.

The Anarchist clerk was now back into the main hall of the Courts. He looked around for the exit, darted in front of behind, and under various creatures. He had the exit spied when he heard loud voices calling out. "Excuse me, could I have everyone's attention! Excuse me, I need everyone's attention!"

He turned around to face the voice. It was a burly Mercykiller security guard. He then knew he had been found. The man had to have seen him, he just left without saying anything and told one of the guards. And without thinking, he bolted towards the exit.

However, the guard didn't even notice him, for right after he had most everyone's attention, from out behind him stepped Factol Hashkar. Everyone gasped at the sudden very public appearing of the little dwarf Factol. But he raised his hands to call to crowd to silence once more.

"Fellow citizens of the City of Doors…I bare excellent news! The future of the Harmonium is at hand, and I shall exclaim it here and now. They have chosen their new factol. And the name of their new leader is…"

Just as Hashkar was about to proclaim the new leader, a huge explosion erupted form the back halls of the Courts.

Outside, the Anarchist clerk spun around as he heard the explosion. A flood of people had begun to pour from the doors of the Courts. Mission number 2 successful. He sighed a large sigh of relief that he had not been caught. But when the turned around, he ran into a rather large roadblock.

He looked up at see a face shrouded in a low hood. His voice was low and deep, obviously touched by magic. "Excellent work," his voice rumbled. "But now you have outlived your usefulness to your faction."

Before the clerk could utter another word, the burly man grabbed him by his neck and lifted him high into the air. It took only a few seconds for his neck to make a sickening cracking sound. The hooded figured turned around and tossed the body into one of the alleys behind a building. And since most of the Hardheads were rather busy in the Courts at the moment, he walked away without even being noticed.

A few blocks away, the man turned around to look back at the alley where he dumped the messenger. He chuckled for a moment, and then pulled of the hood, revealing the face of Arctur Bonifest.