Chapter 20: The Implock – Chapter 18 – “Shady Deals with Shady People”

∼ Shady Deals with Shady People ∼

Chapter - 018

During the fall of night, the commotion of men and carriages could be heard outside the township of Aemsburg, waking the farmers and guards stationed by the fields just beyond the walls.

A caravan had come to Aemsburg in the dead of night. A body of carriages, wagons, riders, and many more seeking the comfort and safety of others when traveling through the inhospitable world outside the walls of their towns and cities.

But not all were roused by the racket as some had already been long awake.

"What do you mean; he's gone!?" An old and hoarse voice rasped with indignation. "They stole from me! And now you tell me the boy is gone?!"

"My Lord, accept our deepest of apologies, but the culprits be treacherous and conniving - they be hindering our utmost of efforts to recover the stolen item and seize apprehension for justice," said Miller, the senior head guard of Aemsburg.

From across a large oaken and polished desk, dim green eyes stared daggers at the ragged man. Sitting behind the desk in a large leather chair that nearly could be considered a throne, the owner of those old eyes, the baron, shook from anger and also what hinted at being panic.

"Good for nothing, sons of whores! Caper sea-drunk dogs! What do I pay you for?! Take everyone! The recruits too - you have to retrieve the item this instance!"

"Everyone, sir?" Miller echoed hesitantly.

"Yes, everyone, you imbecile! Do it now!" The old baron raged, the wind taken out of his old lungs as he slumped back into the seat of his chair.

"And Eric, what be of the lad?"

"Just-" He gnashed his teeth, "forget about the boy and get back what they stole..."

Miller was about to turn and leave the office of the baron when the double doors were practically kicked open. Waltzing in like it was his own house, a tall dark-haired man clad in finely-made leather armor with a cloaked figure following along from behind. The stranger sighed dramatically.

"Now-now, what's all the commotion fore? Are ye having a party in here, old man?" If his thick dialect wasn't enough to go by, his blue eyes told you everything about his origin. A man of the north, born of iron.

Miller barked, fixing up a storm. "So brazen, to be invading Lord Joseph cham-!" However, the senior guard was interrupted by the old baron as he held his hand to silence.

The unknown man merely quirked a brow at the guard, a smirk on his lips.

"You're... Elijah?" The baron asked slowly, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he hid them underneath the desk.

"Aye, I am." The stranger responded. "So, let's get this over with, have traveled many a day to reach this shit hovel you call a town. Where's our... eh- friend?"

"Ah, uh, I see... wonderful-" The old man said, averting the man's eyes as he looked all around as if in search of something. "Come, have a seat and let's have a drink. I trust the journey must've been weary on the bone."

Elijah frowned as he looked at the fretting baron, the nervousness and panic evident despite the old man's best efforts to hide it.

"M-Miller, you can go, do that thing I've asked of you - now," Joseph said, motioning to guard to get moving.

"Now... there's no need for you to be leaving, be there?" Elijah said as he stopped the guard. "Let's all get a drink in us, we have a long journey traveled, and we could use some company, sure - right Lord Baron?"

Elijah's blue eyes narrowed, fixated on the paling complexion of the old-timer behind his oaken desk.

"M-my good friend, please allow for my subordina-" The baron tried.

"Is there something you want to tell me...? friend?" Elijah asked dangerously. Crossing the distance to the desk, Miller moved to stop Elijah but was stopped dead in his tracks when a polished blade was pressed to his throat. The cloaked figure had stepped in without making a sound, as silent as a ghost.

Pulling out a vial from the inner pocket of his fine leather jerkin, Elijah placed it in front of the baron.

Freezing in place, the old man could not tear his gaze off the small red vial, a look of intense greed within those dim green eyes of his flaring as he wrung his hands nervously.

"Is-is that...?"

"It is, as agreed." Elijah nodded with a sickening smile. "The remedy for all ye troubles; a bottle o' years, filled with the vigor and virility of a bull in its prime."

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Reaching out for the vial, the baron flinched away as Elijah suddenly slapped the desk hard, causing the vial to tip over and roll across the polished wood surface. "This wasn't easy to acquire, you realize." He said, picking up the vial to inspect it. "Ambushing a shipment meant for one of the dukes and taking one of their precious red cloak potions. Difficult and costly endeavors, sure."

Elijah paused, "So, where's the warlock and what we were promised? What exactly is it that you not be telling me?"

"You see... there were some... complications."

"Complications?" Elijah's eyes hardened, turning cold as still iron.

"B-but if you can just give me the potion now," The baron reached out for the vial with starving eyes. "I'll have it solved before the morrow-!"

Elijah's gloved hand shot out, grasping the snide baron's collar and pulling him halfway across the desk, knocking off quills, paper, and various other miscellanies. "Who exactly do ye take me for - Baron?" He practically growled. "I did not travel a month's journey to listen to your gobshite - where's the warlock?"

"He's dead!" The baron whined, eyes closed as if he was expecting a punch, instantly wilting under the threat.

Elijah's expression froze. "Dead...?"

"Y-yes, someone killed him and stole the collars!"

Elijah's jaw clenched so hard that his teeth might crack. He pulled the baron close, barely an inch between their faces. "Who?"

"Another warlock, they-they killed him last night... ask him, he fought them..." The old man cried, having degraded into nothing more than a whimpering child. Elijah turned to Miller who was sweating profusely under the blade's cold touch pressed to his throat. "Is what he's saying true? Do me ears ring true?"

"Yes..." Miller said, before hesitantly adding. "sir..."

The baron piped up. "T-they should still be in the Heartweald, I-I can send all my men after them immediately if y-y-you could just-"

"Shut your gob," Elijah cut him off, looking like he was thinking through his options. With the wave of his hand, he suddenly had a small knife in his hand, little bigger than a letter opener. Stuffing it into the baron's mouth, making the blade clink against the old man's rotted and chipped teeth, Elijah stared into his eyes.

"Listing closely, my good friend, I'm going to cut out each one of your spoiled and foul teeth, one by one, slicing open your lying gob as I go so that some truth might spill out."

A figure clad in black leather burst into the office, looking the image of a mysterious rogue. Elijah simply gave a questioning eye. "Yes?"

"Sir, we've located the warlock's dwelling - but he's been killed and we cannot find what we came for."

"I know," Elijah grunted, casting the baron an eye filled with ire.

Dropping the pitiful baron on the desk, he wiped his hands as if he had touched something particularly foul. The baron could only whine as the sudden thump caused the vial to roll over the edge of the desk and shatter on the floor, spilling its contents onto the wooden floorboards.

"N-no!" The old man cried.

Elijah merely snorted at him. "It was just pig's blood." He turned to the cloaked figure, ignoring the baron’s look of disbelief. "Kill that one, and make our good friend here spill all the truth about everything we need to know."

Without the chance to react, Miller's throat was slit. Falling to his knees as blood spilled through fingers in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. He could only stare wide-eyed at his killer as his life ever so slowly left him.

The baron cried out in panic as the cloaked figure stalked towards him with an uncanny calm to their step. "No-no! You cannot do this! I'm the baron of Aemsburg, I'm nobility - you-you iron scum!"

Elijah simply ignored him as he was swiftly shut up when another blade was stuck in his mouth, making good on his previous promise.

"Sir, we've also found and secured six daughters, no male heirs." The man in black leather armor reported.

 "Good, at least six noble girls will fetch a prize. Regardless of their appearance, their titles will entice many, sure." Elijah nodded.

Shock, disgust, and fury taking aflame in the baron's eyes at hearing the fate of his offspring, he screamed incoherently around the knife in his mouth.

Giving him a glance, Elijah tsked. "I was going to kill you from the beginning, so don't get all pissy on me now - it's unbecoming."

Turning on his heels, he motioned for the man to follow him out of the office, letting the muffled screams of agony that could be heard through the double doors go deaf on his ears.

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