Entries tagged with “violence”.

It was a bizarre mix of new and familiar. Kob had never set foot in this inn before, yet it was just like others he’d been in – comfortably warm, dimly-lit by candles under tinted glass globes at each table, the furnishings plush and well-carved rather than the ramshackle benches and trestle tables at most common inns. The bartop was gleaming, polished mahogany; the patrons held quiet conversations under the strains of the bard’s lute and her soft singing.

Rather than being a place for the masses to come for a decent and affordable meal, this was a place where people of means could conduct discreet business – and in any big city, there was some business that was discreet by nature. Practitioners of the sort Kob had sought out knew of each other; even across sea and desert, the token of the Silver Serpent of Sharktooth Bay carried some weight, when its bearer knew the right names. And while Kob had never acquired a taste for ostentation, he’d long since passed the point where a meal at a place like this was an expense worth noting; he could afford the polite measure of treating his contact to a good meal.



<– First | << Previous | Next >>

Trellig’s quarters were generously appointed, and came complete with full plumbing, right down to heated water. I was able to bathe in something approaching luxury, complete with a conspicuously-placed scented soap that in no way resembled a scent I’d actually smelt on her person; I could only guess that it was there specifically for her “guests” to make use of, and was thus a scent that pleased her.

It was as I was drying myself afterward that I became aware of some additional time pressure: criers going through the streets, announcing that the Duke was to be wed in the capital within four days’ time. The thought of such haste was impressive; he’d not be riding in any great comfort, to reach the capital in time for that.

But Trellig had also revealed that she’d not be leaving him much time to enjoy his marriage before it was cut short. And that the assassins would somehow implicate his other principal rival, against whom he’d already been stirring up whisperings of misdeeds in the form of her deploying the Army without a Queen’s right.

Either the plan would cement Wafret’s hold on the throne, or it would plunge the nation into war. And there I was, stuck in a woman’s bedchamber, waiting for her to come and be pleasured by me, unable to bear any word of all this to anyone who could prevent it from happening.