Paparazzi Rising
Part 2. Gaston's Story
“You could die on that very spot tonight.”
Gaston du Lac turned to face the man who had just threatened him.
“Knife in the back. Arrow through the heart. Rope around the neck. Poison in your drink.”
Gaston had just taken a swig of the bottle of wine in his hand and gulped hard.
“Fireball. Lightning bolt. Ice storm. Bitten by a vampire. Attacked by a werewolf. Or my favorite—”
“Plucked outta ze sky by a low flyin’ dragon?” ventured Gaston.
“No,” the man said calmly. “Pushed off the ledge to the canals below.”
Gaston looked down from the third story balcony of the brothel where he had arranged this rendezvous with this thief-for-hire. He had made sure to bait his “invitation” with subtle hints at the true identity of this Tirrek Horth. Tirrek’s attendance at that moment was proof that he had understood Gaston’s meaning.
“I could kill you for what you know…” threatened Tirrek.
“Au contraire, m’sieur, ye would not kill me becuz of ze things I know…”
The thief gazed down at the canals below, considering the truth in Gaston’s words.
“Is that what this Paparazzi deals in? Blackmail, rumormongering, and vicious lies?”
“Non, non, M’sieur von Drach—” Gaston intentionally let himself accidentally slip.
Tirrek Horth turned at him with sinister eyes. He took a foreboding step towards Gaston and stood dangerously close to Gaston—and the ledge.
“Pardon, M’siuer… Horth.”
Gaston summoned all his bravery and impunity and spoke:
“Ze Paparazzi Glantri is an ‘onorable organization wi’ only ze most respectab’ experts and we offer our services only to ze most respectab’ clients. We only deal in fact and truth.”
At that point in Gaston’s speech, Tirrek noticed that Gaston had his palm up in a certain gesture—like a beggar waiting for a ducat.
“Zere is nothin’ in’erently good or evil about truth. Zere is only truth zat must be known to all, an’ truth zat must be kept ‘idden…”
A few tense moments later, Gaston made no effort to disguise the jingling of coins in his pockets as he left Tirrek Horth at the balcony.
“Oh and m’sieur,” Gaston added, “don’ forget to tell yer father ze Prince ‘bout us…”
