CHAPTER 2

MONTH OF CLANS: CHANGING

"So what happened to Mr. Higgins? Did you kill him? Did he cry?"

"I didn't kill him. He did cry a bit though." Emily swung Corvo's hand as they walked. "I left him on an island off the coast of Serkonos. They still mostly speak Serk there- it'll be a while before he comes back."

"If he comes back."

Corvo chuckled. "That's the thing about letting folks live. They always come back. Might be a bit humbler this time around, though."

Emily smiled. "He was a bad guy, right?"

"Of course." It could've been the truth- he never paid much attention to politics. The man could've been a saint, for all he knew. Getting rid of the man was a job. Nothing more. But Emily didn't need to know that yet. Until she was old enough to run the gang with her mother, she didn't need to know too many of the specifics.

"Mom says the new guy has a boat. Do you think he'll give me rides?"

"Emily, I don't want you going near him until we're sure he's actually on our side."

"But if he is."

Corvo sighed. "If he is, then yes, I'm sure he'll give you rides."

Emily was still chattering away when they made it to the tailor's. Jessamine was a common patron of theirs, thanks to a (distant) blood relationship, so they knew Corvo and Emily well.

Custis was sitting at a desk that had been shoved in the corner, idly scratching away at a log book. His twin and his younger brother were busy in their own corner, stitching long pieces of canvas together.

"Are you making boat sails?" Emily asked.

"Winding sheets." Morgan muttered. He had three pins shoved in his mouth, and seemed very intent on his work.

"Here for your new outfit?" Custis didn't even look up as he asked.

"And a new coat. For Corvo."

Morgan elbowed his brother. "You go deal with the customers, Treavor. I'm busy."

Treavor sighed, but did as he was told, shoving the needle sideways between pieces to hold his place. He waved them over to the window and disappeared behind a door. Emily stood on the raised platform they had installed there, arms stretched out expectantly. Treavor returned with a neatly folded stack of blue and white fabric. Emily's eyes widened.

"You got the color! Did you make the sailor's collar, like I asked?"

Treavor nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Calm down, calm down, let's see if they fit first."

He helped Emily pull the shirt over her day clothes and button it, but stood back to let her pull the pants on herself.

She spun around. "How does it look, Corvo?"

"Beautiful."

"Hold still, the hem needs to be taken out a bit." Treavor grabbed her arm and lifted it. "Hold it out, please. And stop bouncing."

He deftly slit the thread and shuffled the hem of the sleeve down to the appropriate length. Meanwhile, Emily resumed her chattering, asking about uniforms and ball gowns and what exactly was a winding sheet? While Corvo glanced around the shop.

The Pendletons were not the best tailors in Dunwall, but they were efficient, and reasonably priced, provided you didn't request anything too elaborate. Their shop wasn't too far away, about three streets East of Bottle Street. The building was small, bordering on cramped, and only two stories high. It was old, and badly heated in the winter, but it had been in their family for as long as the Pendletons could imagine. There was one massive window on the first floor, which allowed passers-by to look in and observe the brothers at work.

"All right then, Corvo, what are you looking for?" Treavor flicked and stretched his wrist, as Emily hopped down and started shucking the clothing.

"Something long, and -"

"Don't throw those on the floor!" Treavor screeched, horrified as he scrambled to gather up the clothes Emily had just removed. "They'll wrinkle." His brothers sniggered as he started folding the outfit and setting it carefully on an empty stool.

Corvo continued. "Something long and light. Preferably with a lot of pockets."

Treavor frowned. "Didn't we make you something like that last month?"

"We had to burn it."

"You-" Treavor covered his eyes with his hand and made a number of exasperated noises. "You burned it."

"Sorry."

"That was my finest piece of work."

"I had a run-in with a..." Corvo stalled. The hell were they called?

"Weeper!" Emily chimed.

Treavor's frown deepened and he sighed dramatically. "Well if that's the case." He sounded hardly forgiving, but he grabbed his measuring tape and gestured for Corvo to get up on the platform. "Arms up. You said you wanted this for summer or winter?"

"Summer. Lots of pockets."

"It'll have to be a bit thicker than usual, then. I'll do what I can. Color?"

"Black."

Treavor tightened the tape around Corvo's chest, and inspected the tick marks. "It doesn't matter how thin the cloth is, you're going to be roasting in black."

"I'm from Serkonos. I'll manage."

"Ah, yes, I was wondering where that accent you picked up was from." Treavor looped the tape and set it aside. "Well your measurements have changed much. I should have it done within the next few weeks."

Corvo raised an eyebrow. "Getting lazy, are we Treavor?"

"I am not!" Treavor snapped, his face flushing. "It's first come first serve, Corvo, and you know it! We got an order for fifty more winding sheets just yesterday, and thirty two days before that! I'll have you know we've been working day and-"

Corvo held up his hands, choking back laughter. It was a bit hard to take such a small man seriously when he got flustered like this- he turned beet red and started wringing his hands so badly Corvo swore he was going to tear the skin off. "I'm sorry, Treavor, calm down, it was a joke."

"Very funny."

"Two weeks then."

Treavor didn't answer, but huffed back off to his stool. Morgan tutted. "You need to be more careful, Treavor. You can't keep leaving your projects in such a mess."

"I didn't, I-"

Rather despairingly, Treavor discovered that his winding sheet was in ruins. The stitches had become loosened and tangled. The whole thing would have to be re-done. Morgan just shook his head and sniggered.

When at home, Corvo spent most of his time behind Jessamine. It was known that wherever she went, he followed. No one was entirely certain when it happened- when the renegade smuggler hitched his wagon to Blue Jess's considerably profitable train- but no one questioned it either. At least, not out loud. There were rumors enough, but anyone with half a brain made sure to discuss them well outside of Bottle Street. Jessamine did not tolerate rumors or undue slander against herself- a lesson the underworld of Dunwall learned first-hand when Marley Masters, a kingpin in criminal activities that had started moving in on Bottle Street vanished for nearly a year, only to be found undernourished and half-frozen on some uninhabited Tyvian isle.

Some might call Jessamine "soft." Those people were stupid.

"Things are going to get harder before they get better." She told him that night, at dinner. She made a point of taking meals with her crew- she claimed it fostered greater loyalty, and gave the impression that she was always watching. Corvo supposed there might be some truth to it. In her five years as a "Lady" of the underworld, there had been but a handful of challengers to her title, and only one of them had occurred during Corvo's time there. "We won't be in mourning forever, and people will only tolerate that crazy bat in power for so long." She took a bite out of some bread spread with potted whale's meat. "Things might get busy."

"Busy?"

Jessamine nodded. "There's going to be a shift in politics. Some new noble family will take the throne- the Kaldwin Dynasty is at an end." She wiped a bit of jellied eel slime off of Emily's face. "Mark my words, there will be blood in the streets before there's a proper Emperor on the throne again."

Jessamine had a way of knowing things. Corvo always wondered if it had anything to do with her... 'profession' beforehand. The people she'd seen, the people she'd spoken to, the people she'd...

Well. That wasn't a train of thought he liked to think about too much. And Jessamine never liked talking about it.

"And how much of this blood will we be spilling?"

"I'd start getting your sleep now." She said it jokingly. Corvo shook his head.

Things had changed since Corvo had been gone, and he hadn't been gone long. Serkonos was close to Dunwall, and it took perhaps a week to reach its nearest port. Two weeks to circle around the upper horn and find an island small and backwards enough to leave an upcoming politician where he wouldn't be missed. Two weeks again for the return.

It didn't occur to him to think much of the plague until he attempted to visit a pawn shop on Mare's Street, only to find it barricaded and blocked off. It was the first time he'd seen the tall iron walls- no way around them or over them, unless one suddenly discovered a means of shooting themselves twenty or so feet in the air. He'd have to find someone else to sell Serkonan knives to.

He couldn't help but feel as though it were an overreaction. He'd seen no sickly people since his arrival home, and when he returned to the alley the next morning the man he'd fought with was long gone. Even the blood on the wall had blended into the bricks. He supposed that was an overreaction on his part too.

There was a curio shop on the other side of the city, just outside of Jessamine's turf, and Corvo was halfway between lost and giving up on finding it when he spotted a familiarly broad set of shoulders half stuck out of an alley.

Jessamine's newest "crew member" seemed to be talking quietly with someone- Corvo wasn't close enough to hear what either of them were saying, and the conversation seemed to be over by the time he approached the bear-like man.

Corvo had to give the man credit- he was obviously shocked to turn around and see Jessamine's right-hand man standing behind him. But Farley didn't yelp or jump or lash out- he just stiffened, wide eyed for a moment, before speaking. "Hello, er..."

"Corvo." He leaned to the left and peered down the alley. Whoever Farley had been speaking with had vanished.

The two stood awkwardly for a moment, Farley looking like a dog in a henhouse. He didn't strike Corvo as a particularly intelligent man- strong and broad in body, perhaps, but not so much in mind. He opened his mouth to ask about Farley's 'friend', but what came out instead was "I'm looking for a curio shop that's supposed to be nearby. Bunting's place."

This seemed to shake the man out of his nerves- his shoulders squared and his face relaxed. "You're about two streets off. Here," he pointed at a street sign. "Follow Chamberlain until you find Barley Street. Take a right, it should be on your left."

Corvo nodded slowly. Chamberlain, right, left. Farley was already shuffling off. Knives could be sold at any time. Corvo fell into step with the giant, who raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more.

The two walked in silence for a few paces. Finally, Corvo cleared his throat. "Tell me about yourself."

"Why?"

"Most men don't usually just go looking for gangs to join."

"I thought it was a crew."

Corvo shrugged.

There was another awkward pause before Farley spoke again. "My name is Farley Havelock. Formerly of His Majesty's Navy."

"Formerly?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Corvo sidestepped in front of Farley, stopping the man in his tracks. "You're going to have to get over that."

Farley folded his arms and glared. "If you have a question, then ask."

What are you doing? What are your plans? What is your business with Jessamine? How high would I have to jump to snap your neck and be certain she's safe?

"Why aren't you in the Navy anymore?"

Farley stepped around him and started walking again. Corvo once again fell in step. "Kicked out."

"Why?"

"I made a poor call."

"Which was?"

"My own business."

"Which was?" Corvo was growing frustrated with this line of interrogation. The two of them rounded a corner.

"Let's just say I strongly misjudged someone's ability to shut their trap."

"Is that a threat?"

Farley stopped in his tracks. He gestured across the street. "I believe this is the 'curio shop' you were looking for." Without giving a farewell or even waiting for one, the ex-navy man shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked down his streets.

Maybe, Corvo thought, Not quite as stupid as anticipated.

Author's Note: I've decided to remove the switched religions aspect of this story. The prologue has changed, the Marked have been removed, and the Overseers and the Abbey of the Everyman are back in their rightful positions. Reading the prologue again shouldn't be entirely necessary, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I promise not to do it again. Thanks to Valerianus for helping me come to a decision.