You think you're already dead inside, but I'll give you something to live for. You'll fight for me and kill people like the ones who've hurt you.

Daud lit a cigarette and turned toward the window halfway through his Whaler's weekly report, letting his talk of training injuries among the novices fade into the background. He trusted Ivan to handle those matters on his own; he did not need the level of detail the man always insisted on giving. And there had been one obvious omission to the earlier part of his report, when he discussed the individual novices he was working with.

He waited for the Whaler to fall silent before asking, "How is Lurk progressing?"

There was just enough of a pause before Ivan's reply to tell Daud he wasn't going to be entirely pleased with the answer. "She has the talent, as you said, sir, and she learns quickly, but…"

"Yes?"

Ivan shook his head. "She is a wild thing, sometimes. Like a cornered animal in a fight. I'm afraid she may be too unpredictable for the delicate work we do." He paused again, tapping his boot against the floor. "That's assuming she survives through the end of her training. She is making no friends, fighting with the other novices the way she does. Someone may try to put her down."

Daud leaned forward, resting his forearms against the windowsill as he exhaled smoke out into the night air. "She was being hunted for months before she came here. I don't believe she knows any other way to fight."

"Sir?"

He shook his head and flicked ash from the end of his cigarette before turning around. "Nothing," he said. "I'll look in on the training tomorrow and see for myself. Try to keep them all from killing each other before then."

"I'll do my best," Ivan promised, not sounding overly confident. He placed his fist against his chest in a salute and disappeared promptly, wisps of smoke lingering in his wake.

Daud let out a sigh as he turned back to the window. Assassination wasn't a line of work that tended to attract the most stable of individuals, and many that had the talent simply lacked the proper temperament to put any of it to good use. Training the novices was therefore often a complicated process, which is why he left most of it to Ivan. Daud had an eye for potential, but Ivan had the skill to mold it. By the time any recruits made it to Daud, the roughest of their edges had already been smoothed away, and those unwilling to change had either been driven out or killed.

It would be a shame for Billie Lurk to come to such an end. Daud had rarely seen such natural talent before, incredible potential hidden away beneath the dead-eyed despair of an underfed, desperate street rat following him across the rooftops. He would hate to see it all go to waste.

Perhaps she simply required more direct action.

Daud arrived at the training room in time to watch Billie Lurk take down her sparring opponent with impressive speed and skill. She then followed him to the ground with a savage cry, pinning him with her weight across his chest, and continued to attack with unnecessary brutality.

Around the room, trainees and observing assassins shifted and muttered angrily at the sight of this, a few clutching at the handles of their blades. Ivan sighed in exasperation and moved to intervene, but Daud stepped forward and waved him away before he had the chance. Everyone except the brawlers fell silent as he stalked to the center of the room.

Daud reached out to grab Billie by the shoulder and hauled her back and to her feet. "Enough, Lurk," he growled.

She whipped around automatically, a snarl curling her lips, but subsided immediately when she realized who had interrupted. She dropped her gaze meekly, tense muscles going slack in his grip.

Keeping a firm hand on Billie's shoulder, Daud glanced down at her unfortunate victim and found he recognized the young man as Thomas, another recruit he had high hopes for. He didn't look particularly impressive at the moment, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression and with blood gushing from his nose, but Daud supposed it wasn't fair to hold that against him. He shoved Billie forward. "Help him up."

To her credit, Billie obeyed immediately, grasping Thomas by the hand and levering him up to his feet. And to Thomas's credit, he resisted any urge to yank Billie to the floor and retaliate while her guard was down.

Daud stepped forward and took hold of Thomas's chin, tilting his head to either side to better examine the injury. After a moment, he let go. "It's not broken," he told him. "Get yourself cleaned up and back to your training." His hand shot out to the side to grab Billie's arm, halting her as she tried to edge slowly toward the door. "You come with me."

She grimaced but nodded, and Daud marched her from the room.

He led her out of the building and onto one of the small balconies, and then, holding her arms tightly to ensure she was brought along, he made a short series of transversals until they were standing on the roof. Billie swayed and shuddered for a moment, but she managed to keep her feet, better than most fared after their first trip through the Void. He nodded in approval as he released her. "Sit," he commanded, pointing her to the edge of the roof.

Billie sat, letting her legs dangle over the side and peering down at the hard ground far below. She took a deep breath and began, "Master, I didn't–"

"Quiet." Daud's interruption was spoken softly, but it was enough to silence her. He came up to stand behind her, close enough to see her shoulders tense and her fingers tighten against the tiles. "When you first followed me here, I chose to give you your life," he said. "Are you still so eager to throw it away?"

She flinched and ducked her head. "I'm not–"

"You're reckless. You let your anger get the best of you and take it out on people just as dangerous as you. You're not a fool; you know the kinds of enemies you're making here." He paused to let the accusations sink in, then propped his foot up on one of the metal ventilators dotting the roof and leaned in closer. "We had an agreement: I would give you your life and a reason to live, and you would learn to fight for me. If you'd rather get yourself killed instead, leave and do it on someone else's watch. Don't waste my time."

Billie mumbled something, too low for Daud to hear. He leaned forward. "What was that?"

She turned to face him, jaw set, eyes blazing with determination. "I don't want to die," she said firmly. "I want to fight for you. I want to be one of your assassins."

"You've done little to prove it so far."

"I will, sir," she insisted. "Give me the chance, and I'll do better. I'll be the best you have, I swear it."

Daud sighed and looked out beyond her, watching the sun slowly climb over the rooftops of Dunwall. He knew what it was to be young and angry, to be so full of hate that it rose like bile in the throat. He also knew such rage could be harnessed, honed like a fine blade in skilled hands, but that it had to be done carefully.

If his instincts about Billie Lurk were correct, it would be worth the effort.

He straightened up and fixed Billie with a sharp look, and he was gratified by the way she immediately pulled herself up in response, sitting tall and at attention. "From now on, you'll train with me," he told her. "It will be harder than anything else you've done before, and I won't slow down for you. This will be your only chance. If you disappoint me, that will be the end of it. Understood?"

Billie, her eyes wide, nodded rapidly. "Yes, sir," she said. She put a hand to her chest and bowed as deeply as she could from her seated position. "I won't let you down."

"Good," he said. "We'll start immediately." He turned sharply on his heel and transversed back down to the balcony before she could make any reply.

Daud counted nearly to ten before he heard Billie's alarmed cry, and he smirked as she began to curse loudly and look for another way off of the roof where he'd left her.

It would suffice as a first lesson.