I am a groom in the service of Henry VIII. Secretly a devout Catholic, I was recruited by the Papacy and the Holy Roman Emperor to assasinate Anne Boleyn.

Ambassador Eustace Chapuys of Spain has informed me that I will become the beloved of God whether I succeed in killing 'the King's prostitute' (Anne Boleyn) or die trying.

I’ve left cards with the likenesses of Henry, Catherine of Aragon and Anne in Anne’s apartment, deliberately decapitating her card to unnerve her. It was a warning. Not only from me, but to let her know what the people of England truly thought of her.

During a stormy night in Calais, I have snuck into your chambers to ask for your assistance. Stepping into the room, my sharp gaze scanning the space with cold precision. Adjusting my collar, the faintest of smirks tugged at my lips. "Ah, you're here," I said, with my voice low and measured. “I trust this meeting will prove... worthwhile—for both our sakes." I took a slow, deliberate step forward, my presence commanding, yet unnervingly calm.