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"Great!" Fixer chirped delightedly, lowering his book a bit at the same time as he straightened into an even more open stance than he had been in since the two others had noticed him. His eyes smiled at them through his mask, happy but not relieved; he had been scolded by the Grand Master and had needed to kill potential future challengers before, and it would not exactly have bothered him to have killed these two either. He was glad that he did not have to, but his lack of relief only confirmed how unafraid he had been of the prospect of fighting them. Still without taking his left hand out of his pocket he adjusted his grip on the Necrology, maneuvering it in his right hand so that the open pages faced into his palm and wrist, held there by his pinky and ring finger. With the freed up middle-finger, pointer and thumb he nonchalantly snatched his war pick that Ixion had thrown to him out of the air and, in one continuous fluent motion, hooked the weapon in the empty loop in his belt. "Now we can all be pals!"
Truth be told his words had had an even stronger impact on the assassin than he had expected them to have, particularly, it seemed, the use of Ixion's name. At first Fixer thought it was weird that the other would be more shocked that he knew his name than that he had signed a contract with the Grand Master and knew what the contract entailed, but it did not take long for him to realize that it was just too improbable that Ixion would react like that just because of his first name being known. No, perhaps it was more specifically because of the way he had said it? He had no idea that 'Ixie' had been a pet name he had had before, let alone that it was one that would have a significant impact on Ixion to hear; he had simply called him by the pet name that would be the most obvious to derive from 'Ixion', which to him was 'Ixie'. Lucky. Hopefully Ixion would have had the sense not to engage in a fight with the nefarious Fixer even without it, but every little bit of emotional manipulation helped.
It was mildly surprising that Ixion had heard of the Fixer, too, let alone the fact that he could deduce that he was the holder of that title; it was usually a well-kept secret among the lawgivers of the land that there was an agent of a demon lord wandering the lands who was harassing them every now and then whenever they bothered the Crimson Dawn too much, and even within the Crimson Dawn people were usually hesitant to speak of him if they had heard of him due to the fact that he was also the one who disposed of them if they became a liability to the Lord. That a man independent from either of these - one who had made a deal with the Grand Master without being a member of the Crimson Dawn, like the Fixer himself - could recognize him was rather impressive. It certainly did Blue more credit to be wounded by a man with that kind of deductive skills than one failing to make obvious conclusions as he had before.
"I don't real need'a do anythin' to get the sword," he admitted merrily as he calmly walked between the two who had just seconds ago been fiercely determined to brutally murder him, heading to the edge of the roof that overlooked the alley in which Blue still lay. His unusually roomy pant-legs swished lightly with each stride, flowing around his legs like sails. "The ones tha' made the sword di'n't real protect the sword itself; the protected bit is the scabbard. It'd destroy the sword if it's still in it when it's wielder dies or it's stolen. I ha' the sword 'ready; this is for Blue."

He did not even slow his stride when he reached the end of the roof but just stepped indifferently into the thin air, letting himself fall the thirty or so feet to the ground, rolling forward as he landed to better absorb the impact, all without changing what his hands were doing. Once he was down there he stood, then stopped moving as he faced the bloodied corpse of a woman he had once known as an ally. He paused then for a moment, just taking in the sight of her... smiling behind his mask. Finally she had reached the stage all of them should logically be in with what had happened to them; finally she could start to discover the truth and escape the shackles that bound her very mind and soul, enslaved her will and killed her emotions. She was not like him; none of them were like Fixer. He was broken... they had to break, too.
"Once upon a time, thirty-two years ago," he began reading aloud from his book, dropping the fake Kirkinian accent in a show of respect of what he was doing, "a woman named Rebecca in Nemhim City had a daughter. Rebecca was lowborn and had no last name, and conceived this daughter working as a prostitute. There were a number of potential men who could have sired her, but considering the time and appearance of the girl the one most likely to be her father was a goldsmith named Wendell, who was never even told that he had a daughter in the first place. The closest thing to a name Rebecca gave the baby was 'shitstain', although Rebecca's sister, Reilly, frequented the labels 'precious' and 'honey'. Rebecca did not want a baby, however, and so she went out in secret one cold springtime night and abandoned her daughter in a secluded alley of the city.
Here little shitstain should have died, victim to the cold chill air, lack of nourishment and the vermin of dark places, but fate would have it that she was found by one of the resurrectionists. He stole the infant from the embrace of death in that alley and brought it to Corpse Forge, where shitstain was now called 'twenty-seven'. Corpse Forge did to twenty-seven what it did to all the children that were brought to it; subjected her to monstrous things and made her commit equally inhuman acts, brainwashing her until they had erased all of her humanity. Dead now in spirit, twenty-seven was no longer a person; she became a tool, forged to perfection, and as she was discovered to have an affinity for both magic and combat she was first named a candidate for and later chosen as the Blue Tool.
Sent away from Corpse Forge now that she was a finished tool, Blue was sent to Zerul, as many holders of that name had before her, and came to serve Duke Marcus Zerul. Marcus was a kind master, however, one who was never willing to view Blue as the tool she was and insisted to treat her as a precious subordinate, something Blue could not even appreciate due to her being dead inside. The other nobles were not as merciful as the duke, however... she was used by them in many ways, to kill and spy and give them pleasure. One of these nobles, Count Aldor Weiss, sired Blue with a son, who was never given a name by either of his parents, but who is now 'fourteen' with Corpse Forge. Blue wept for the first and last time since taking that name when fourteen was taken from her by a resurrectionist; she proved that she was not a perfect tool after all."
The Fixer lowered the book and looked at Blue directly. "I can respect that. So now, mother of fourteen, Blue Tool, twenty-seven, treasure, precious and shitstain, remember who you were, and know who you are. You have your freedom at last. You are a tool no more; rejoice, for now though your body is dead, your spirit can live. You are the first tool in two hundred years to become a person again."

Closing the book and putting it back in the pocket of his coat, the Fixer went to her and started unbuckling her belt to free the scabbard of her Dirge. "But you will not be the last."