- Business hours are 9:00 to 5:30
- Please deposit last will and testament in box below
- Knock and remove shoes before entering
They say that life is cheap on Ghiisham, and they are correct. Life is cheap. You get one for free. Living can be expensive and death, though inevitable, is much more expensive than taxes.
Especially if you want it tailored.
Junior assassin Mykoss looked up at the client. They were all over sores and dressed in the bare minimum of charity clothing.
“Beggar’s Guild is across the road,” she said.
“Already in there,” said the misshapen wreck of a human. “I want t’ hire…” A wretched, wet, array of wracking coughs. “Someone t’ deal…” gasp wheeze.
Mykoss took pity on them. “The Charity applications are down the hall.”
“I’m already dying,” said the beggar. “Wanna kill th’ bastard as caused this.”
Oh. Mykoss brought up the short list of assassins who would work pro bono. It was a very short list.
“All the assassins willing to do the job are… booked… for six months.”
The shaking hand of the beggar slid across a single, printed image. “This was me… before the accident.”
A beautiful and vivacious lady smiled out of the paper. Youth and vigor turned into a corrupted monster about to die.
The transformation had taken, according to the date on the photograph, three months.
Mykoss scanned and filed the photo, as well as an image from the kiosk. “I can put you on the Extra Credit and Free Time roll. That means that every assassin on the planet who wants to buff up their resume will be going after your target.”
A shaky and weak nod. “Good. Good. That will have to do, won’t it?”
“For the records, I need your name and the name of the target.”
Wheeze. Cough cough. “My name,” she said, trying to remember it. “I used to be… Lilandry. Pessimer. Yes. That’s who I was. And your target is… Fortune Pessimer. My father.” A shaky smile, showing that she only had three teeth left and all of them were bad. “He never liked what I was doing with my life. Never wanted a daughter.” Cough cough cough cough. “Got all that?”
“Yes,” said Mykoss. Pessimer. That family was one of the high-rollers who paid assassins to not assassinate them. “I’m going to need a fee.”
Lilandry dug into her filthy clothes and produced a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. “My life savings. Thank you.” And without any further fuss at all, she died.
Mykoss unwrapped the bundle, expecting weathered and worn single Snifter notes. Instead was a thick wodge of Ten-Thousand Keg notes. The highest denomination on the planet.
It was almost enough to buy the services of the Head Assassin himself.
Mykoss added it to the bounty notice, properly counted and added to the Assassins’ Guild funds. And added the fact that the client was recently deceased. Then she published it.
She was due to knock off in an hour… She could probably have a go at earning those Kegs, herself.
 Ghiisham was originally a penal colony with no guards. Therefore the economy is based on alcohol.