The Fall Of Van Hildegard (Solo)

[Arden]

“So the scattered son returns to his master’s side, an obedient hound. Come, do not linger on the door, close it and let us do away with the formalities.” The Master of the Scourge sat neatly behind a large oaken desk in a small chamber set back from the main hall. He had his hands crossed in front of him with a quill held loosely between forefinger and thumb. The parchment and inkwell were the only items on the desk but there were countless knives and pistols hanging unseen on the back of his chair.

Blank had noticed long ago that there was only one way into the office, and one way out. It stood behind him and he was all that remained between an assassin’s dagger and a shot fired earnestly. He cracked a smile and walked into the office proper. The master waved at the small chair in front of the desk and Blank obediently sat, legs crossed and hair pushed back behind his ears.

“I trust the deed has been carried out?” The Master twiddled his moustache and glared over the rim of his glasses. He was much older than Blank, perhaps twenty years his senior but ever more youthful in enthusiasm and skill. “I would hate to send the carrion to do away with a half living corpse…”

Blank nodded.

“Good, then I believe,” he reached into a draw and pulled a small bag of coin, “your payment is due.”

Blank leant forwards and pocketed it. He did not count it, you never counted it.

“Were there any complications? The Scourge’s new direction is an officious one, you must report any untoward activity to ensure the process continues to…evolve.”

Blank shook his head and turned his attention to the three hefty bookcases that stood like monoliths on either side. Apart from the large collection of books and one or two small chests which rested on the shelves there was nothing else in the room. Two small rune lights hung over head magically, and there were no indents or obvious places for trap doors at all.

So how did he survive whilst never leaving via the main door? Blank strained to think, but gave up.

The Master scribbled something on a blank sheet of parchment and the sound of the quill in ink filled the awkward atmosphere with anticipation.

“The Thieves’ guild has recovered from your gambit against their betrayal. I should wager that a new master will be selected in short order. If we are to eradicate them and restore some provenance of power to the Scourge and our tenets, we must ensure that they are…permanently placed out of action. Here is a lead to one of the candidates, a thief by the name of Marcus Hammsonn, a butcher’s son I hear.” Blank took the paper as it was offered to him and sniffed it. It smelt of rose water and wine. He smiled, ticking off one of many culprits in his mind.

“When you are recovered find him. Get him to talk, and eradicate the potentials before order can be restored. Once you deliver this firm message to the Guilds-man, they will no doubt think twice about attempting to rise to power in our neighbourhood again. In our city.” The Master's voice was a heavy tone that told those who heard it to be weary. It had a gruff property that came perhaps with age, but most definitely through battle, hardship and strain. Blank may have been the Master's right hand in the war with the Thieves' Guild members, but he was not stupid enough to probe him for a glimpse of his history.

He had guessed military.

Blank smiled satisfactorily and shifted to the edge of his seat expectantly. The pieces of the puzzle which had started with the double dealings of his new nemesis were drawing together. He expected to continue that line of enquiry with as much vigilance as he could; he had to discover who this strange and enigmatic Magnarion was; who had so skilfully turned the two tides of war against the Silent Swordsman undetected.

The master waved him away and returned to his paperwork. Blank nodded and walked silently from the room, opening and closing the door like a servant; silent, unseen, unheard.

Blank stretched, yawned, and slothfully strolled into the apothecary's to fall asleep and forget his woes and pains.

Life in the city went on.