Assassination attempt in St. Helena

A young Divinian Scout sat primly in uniform in the corner of a St. Helena thermopolium, picking at a plate of dolma. His legs swung lazily back and forth, brushing up against the satchel at his feet. Men walked past on their way back to work from their sexta, typically paying no mind to the boy. As the hour crept to a close, the child began to fidget. What if he never showed up?

Finally a large, barrel chested man with a thick auburn beard walked past, too close, and tripped over the scout’s legs. With a clatter his briefcase fell to one side, and his cigar skittered across the floor. In an instant the boy jumped, but was tugged swiftly off his stool by his victim. “Damn whelp! Mind your manners! Help me collect my things!” Instead of reaching for the briefcase, the tall man grabbed the satchel. He opened it, eyed the contents, and threw one more look to the child. “Get lost!”, he shouted, causing the scout to scramble for the door.

On the docks, Florin and Archduke Estrana were standing with the Divinian Merchant Marines. Traditionally, the monarch handed garlands to the men in remembrance of their service throughout Divinian History. Happily the boy stood on tiptoes, reaching up to give the representatives their wreaths. It was never an occasion full of particular pomp, but tradition was tradition. As the young emperor stooped to pick up another garland of flowers, a sharp crack broke through the calm sound of the waves lapping against the harbor walls. A bullet smacked the stone to Archduke Estrana’s left, sending the Praetorian contingent into immediate action. They raised their thick shields in unison, rushing forward to form a wall against the incoming gunfire.

Too late, another crack, and the Archduke cried out, clutching his upper arm in agony. Somewhere, someone had fired on the Emperor's uncle, and the praetorian guard was not equipped to do more than form a wall around the injured man. Had they not been distracted, they would have noticed the odd movement of a large, barrel chested merchant marine with an auburn beard as he stepped forward from among his men.

The men pounced on him too late. Far too late to stop the swing of his pugio toward the boy. Petals fell from the garland clutched in Florin’s hands as he stared down at the crimson line spreading across his chest. “Oh! I think…” was all that he squeaked out before also collapsing to the stone.

Had anyone but the Archduke’s men conducted the following investigation, they might have noted the odd interaction between the man and the Divinian scout earlier that day. They may also have noted the surprising dullness of the dagger used to injure the emperor. Or how odd it was for the praetorian guards to rush to the Archduke instead of their emperor. But none of that evidence would ever see the light of day. What was made abundantly clear upon initial reports, was that this man who boldly attacked the emperor in broad daylight, was an Ostrean. But to which western nation did his allegiances lie?