Best laid schemes

He thought he'd prepared.

Daily observations. Transcribed communications. Routine Observations. Lists of daily purchases. Known accomplices. Stacks of personal information. Combat observations. Former instructors. Training reports. Personal holdings. Days worth of potential personnel and materiel calculations, including personal armouries. Interpersonal relations with other Spine and former Apothecarium members. Recreational observations. Full medical and criminal records, both living and dead (where available). Ditto for all immediate ancestors and relations, living, un-living and deceased. Service history. Contents of assigned Undercity bank vaults. Full psychological evaluations where possible. Known aliases. Accurate profile sketches. Distinguishing characteristics. Complete, sourced and indexed records on every single one of them, present and former, un-living and dead. Multiple copies ready to be delivered at moment's notice to all major Horde-aligned military, paramilitary and associated mercenary forces at all times.

He swept the papers from his desk, turning to the others.

Plans for emergency neutralisation/retrieval/interrogation in event of defection to Alliance, Crusade, Argent, opposed Horde, Scourge, Demonic, various Forsaken/Alliance/Horde secessionist and miscellaneous opposed forces. Plans for short and long term investigation on suspicion of formerly listed offences. Plans for rapid detainment in event of revolutionary activity, and short and long term investigation of the former. Multiple contingencies for all foreseeable scenarios, no factor excluded. Cross referenced with all collected information.

It would have taken a mortal man years, perhaps a lifetime, of solid effort, painstaking observation and ruthless research to achieve. Night and day, Hainricht Kaster managed in little over one. Updating information weekly was nothing in comparison, consistent personal observation trivial. Those he hadn't tutored personally, he'd known since the beginning. Some even trusted him. It was an odd blessing, that the need for such a preparation had been blindingly obvious from his earliest days in the Apothecarium. Mentally unsound misfits, recidivists and egotistic demonologists with more faith in their infernal minions than the Forsaken, representatives of the Undercity? Trusted servants of the Dark Lady's will? To him, it was unthinkable. A disaster waiting to happen, inevitable, and the formation of the Spine from the ruins only worsened the rot.

And all his work had been for nought.

Such a contentious lot. Of course he'd assumed they'd break away individually, too prone to conflict for any kind of co-operation even within the Lady's service, they wouldn't stay together a day outside it. Not a scrap of loyalty in half of them, least of all to each other. One by one they'd see an opportunity and take it, and Kastner would be waiting. He knew where they would run, what they would do, how they would fight. Like adding two and two.

None could have imagined a coherent, large scale betrayal. Such wanton destruction, no reason or rhyme. Perhaps the mistake was assuming they each had an agenda, the useless deficits assigned to the Spine over the years. Unmotivated, unpredictable or just plain dangerous to a man, but they all seemed to have their own interests somewhere in mind. Now they were lashing out, mad dogs free of a leash. But like dogs they were sticking together. No one could have planned for this, not even Kastner.

It was Black's doing, he knew. Only one Forsaken was twisted enough to control and drive them towards such an end, like his sister before him. Kastner had always known, always foresaw. They'd brought Nathan Black into this world without any heed for his warnings. But he'd made sure the first thing the wretch had felt was sharpened steel to his throat, the first thing he saw his hard grey face, and the first sound a hissed promise. No one would have taken that from him, not after Felucia.

Hainricht wondered if he'd be blessed enough to make good of his words, and deliver the Plaguemaster a nice little reprise of his rebirth on the way out. Wishful thinking.

In truth, despite his years of planning, of calculations and deductions, he had no idea what was coming. He new only when. He'd not become so lost in artificial prescience he'd lost touch with the present. The old spy knew many tricks, and heard plenty of whispers. Tomorrow. Kastner looked to his timepiece, and wondered what would become of him a day from now.

Too long he'd plotted, succumbed to his own fantasies. He would wait no longer. His sword was sharp, his mind moreso. Steel throughout, cold and unyielding. A great end was upon him, his own or the traitors he had helped create. He would not see the former without the latter. The sun broke, and in the pale light of dawn the best laid plans of Hainricht Kastner burned in a dying hearth.