Business and Pleasure

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Closed to Lye and Philomel. 18+ only. Adult content.

"What 'appened?"

The bouncer shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact with his boss as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation without getting himself killed.. or worse - sent to the chambers everyone knew the boss kept deep in the bowels of the building for his own personal fun and games. The walls weren't thick enough to mask the screams that emerged from down there..

"Well, Russ was always a little sweet on the Akashimans and I know he'd bedded a few of them since they came in, but this little bitch saw a chance to try and make a run for it.. and she got the drop on him."

He gestured at the corpse on the floor, the broad-shouldered hulk of a Salvaran looking almost as if he were sleeping. Well, he would, if not for the knife protruding from his left eye socket. The guard swallowed thickly seeing the complete lack of emotion the bouncer's death caused their employer. As he stood there, idly twirling the titanium cane in his fingers, he might as well have been looking at a dead dog in the street. Though it was hard to tell with the boss' inhuman features. He held back a slight shudder of revulsion, still not sure what manner of devil now ruled the brothel. His gaze roamed around a little, spotting the same thoughts on the faces of the rest of the guards, as well as the whores who were permitted slightly more freedom from their chambers.

Aurelianus Drak'shal, the devil in question, glanced at the deader, stifling a sneer at the entire situation. He had only been in charge of the place for two weeks now, but already the brothel was proving to be an irritation in as many ways as it was a blessing. So many little problems cropping up that required his attention. Case in point, he thought with a grunt. Still, every night he made sure to personally.. train the girls in all manner of perversions and degenerate pleasures. The fact he would occasionally lose one or two when he got particularly in the mood didn't bother him in the slightest - his benefactor would always send more. Word was already spreading, and there were patrons both rich and poor emerging from the darkest corners of the city to come slake their most depraved thirsts under Aurelius' roof.

The House of Sin was officially open for business.

Running a hand through the crest of sharp quills running down the centre of his scalp, the tiefling turned to look at the scrawny little chit gripped in the brawny fists of a pair of bouncers. She looked scared, but only just. He slid closer to her, his movements fluid and graceful. He barely broke stride as he knelt to tug the keen-edged stiletto blade from his dead guard, his ophidian eyes never once leaving the scared chit's.

"So, you're the whore who thought she could fly my cage?" he asked, leaning in close and locking eyes with the girl. She spat in his face, but the half-demon didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled - it was every inch a predator's grin. Razor fangs glinted in the soft light coming from the iron braziers set around the foyer as his tongue slid out to clean the saliva from his alabaster cheek. The girl tried to turn away from him, but he forced the dark amethyst at the top of his cane under her chin, craning her face up to his. They were almost touching, but she never backed away. The Akashiman's almost almond-shaped eyes glared up at the tiefling, full of hate.

"Spirited, eh? I like that," he almost hissed, his voice soft and sharp-edged. "I'm goin' to enjoy breakin' you, luv."

"Go to Hell, you bastard!" she snapped, trying in vain to shake off the two men holding her.

"'Ave done," he chuckled, cocking his head to regard the whore. Pretty, but definitely shy of gorgeous; pale skin, marred by some dirt, her face almost hidden behind locks of sable hair; a slender body, leaning towards the too-skinny side after her weeks of travel from where the brothel's patron had collected her. In short, she was dime a dozen in the group Ulroké had sent in from Akashima. The word 'expendable' danced through Aurelianus' mind, and the warlock was on the verge of penning her in the dead-book then and there... when inspiration struck, and he decided she could still serve some purpose.

"Take 'er outside," he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him clearly, "stick 'er in the stocks for a week. Any man that wants can 'ave her as many times as 'e likes. Post a pair of guards to make sure the sods don't start killin' each other over 'er arse. She can have a mouthful of water and a bite of bread for every twenty men she services."

He flicked his snake-like eyes to the girl, not even attempting to hide his delight at her obvious horrified revulsion.

"But before you go, luv, we 'ave to make sure you don't get 'urt takin' all those pikes. 'Ere, let me 'elp loosen you up a little," he smiled almost kindly.

The half-demon moved almost faster than anyone present could follow, the slender stiletto ramming up between her thighs and deep inside her. Drak'shal shuddered with lust seeing her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, her shrieks struggling to tear free from her throat as her mind failed to function under the sheer amount of pain he could almost taste in her. He whipped the blade out and twice more it found its mark in her before he dropped it at his feet. The guards, recovering quickly from their own shock, dragged her away to carry out their orders. If they felt any pity for the Akashiman, they knew better than to show it in front of the half-breed sadist.

Running his forked tongue over his fangs and forcing his lusts down with sheer willpower, Aurelius turned to the rest of the gathering, making sure to meet the gaze of everyone present, guard and whore alike.

"Now, I 'ope no-one else is goin' to try anythin' this barmy again. I'd 'ate to really 'ave to start punishin' you. Any chit tries to escape me, she gets a week in the stocks if I'm feelin' generous. Any bloke tries to cross me, 'e gets two - we know the locals ain't fussy what they stick their pikes in. And for those of you who really piss me off.. well, I'll deal with you myself in the pain chambers, and in a way I can only describe as deeply pornographic, you'll be killed. Consider that your one and only warnin'."

Someone had once written 'respect has to be earned over time, and is a fickle beast, but fear is instant and eternal, if you want it to be.' Aurelianus nodded to himself in agreement with the sentiment, and dismissed the crowd with a lazy wave of his hand. They disappeared, wandering back to their chambers or their tasks in small groups, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Scratching one of the hydra tattoos on his head with the tip of his cane, Aurelius turned to the remaining bouncer, the poor sod picked to deliver him the bad news in the first place.

"Take the deader downstairs, dump 'im in the furnace," he snarled, his patience waning.

The bouncer hesitated for a moment, his voice croaking out from a throat that was suddenly dry.

"What did you say, cutter?" Aurelianus asked entirely too calmly for the guard's liking, like a snake about to strike. Coiled, that was the word he was looking for. The base of the plane-touched's cane tapped gently against his hobnailed boot.

"I.. I said he had a wife, boss.. maybe we sho--"

"Did I pikin' stutter? 'e's in the dead-book, an' bleedin' all over my soddin' carpet. Burn 'im."

The man nodded, avoiding eye contact like the plague as he went about his appointed task. The half-breed brothel-master turned away, making for the stairs up to his office when something darted at him from that direction.

In the firelight, the thing looked rosy and pink, but Aurelius knew the thing's flesh was as pallid as a corpse. Junior glided down the stairs, landing smoothly on its master's shoulder and bringing its lipless gash of a mouth to his ear. Flapping its black wings in agitation, the familiar chittered to the warlock, squeaking out a rapid series of syllables in the tongue of the Nine Hells, needle teeth clicking together in a stacatto rhythm.

"Is that so?"

The Cager sighed to himself, seeing he wasn't getting a break any time soon. Resigned to the remainder of his day dragging on, Aurelius took out a hand-rolled cigarette from the silver case in his pocket, clamping it between his pale lips. He made his way up the winding stairs, lighting the tip as he went. On the third floor of the building, overlooking the main foyer below, sat the half-demon's office. It wasn't his usual lair in the House of Sin - the pain chambers below had that honour - but it was still deemed necessary for the malevolent serpent to have somewhere to conduct business. He shoved the door open, and strolled in, barely acknowledging the figure already in the room.

Blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, Aurelianus crossed the room to the dark wooden desk. He ignored the three demonic faces emerging from the coiling green mist inside the mirror above the fireplace, and dumped himself down into an already scarred and torn leather armchair behind the desk; his armour wreaked havoc on any form of furniture. Propping his heavy boots up on the desk, the tiefling malcontent finally turned his gaze to the human standing before him.

"Well, I'd say I was pleased to see you, cutter, but sod the pleasantries. I imagine you're 'ere to check up on me, make sure I've been a good boy? Well, your slave stock ain't bad for a shag - one or two problems 'ere and there - but if you want to expand your eyes and ears in this neck of the woods, I need willin' recruits."

He smirked, taking the cigarette between two fingers as he fiddled with his cane. In a few seconds, he had separated it out into several pieces on the tabletop, sitting the almost-black crystal orb aside. From its mount, he extricated a silver chalice, before tilting the cane itself, allowing a steady stream of amber liquid to pour forth and fill the vessel. The man before him quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing else, simply observing the bizarre display. Aurelius was done in a moment, and finally settled back in his chair, a chalice of brandy held casually in one hand, his smoke in the other. As far as he was concerned, he looked every part the lord and master of his domain.

"But, enough of that, chief. What is it I can do for the infamous Lichensith Ulroké today?"

[Lye]

"Not many women fancy the kind of sultry you and your shop specialize in," Lye stated as he loosed the crimson scarf from his lips and exposed the scowl upon his features. "Should I come across a fem fatale suited for your niche, I'll send her skipping your way."

The leader of the assassin order shifted his weight in the ornate, cushioned chair of the tiefling's office. This quality of luxury was odd to him. It was uncomfortable. He shifted again, and took a posture that held an awkward medium between regal and nonchalant.

"Aside from making sure my hospitality has been put to good use, I'd like to discuss with you a concerning matter." The assassin gave up his effort to remain seated and lifted forward from the exquisitely crafted chair. He sorely missed his crude throne fashioned from the bones of his victims.

"The Ixian Kinghts," he continued as he turned his back to his comrade and paced to the window overlooking the foyer. "I was personally confronted by Sei Orlouge after collecting long needed information from his daughter Kyla."

Lye looked down through the one way glass panes as he spoke. A lone man, dressed in tattered leather armor waltzed in the entrance of Aurelianus's House of Sin, and two stocky men greeted him with haste. Lips moved, arms waved, and the unkempt client spread a grin ear to ear. Orders were barked to the main floor beneath the overlooking assassin's black boots and a voluptuous female emerged. Her clothes were slightly tattered and dirty but did not spare the eye much creativity. The prospective client nodded and advanced further into this lair of false pleasures. Lye tugged at the arctic fur cloak which hid his usual black attire and took a deep breath. Though not intended, the furs fashionably matched to his long, platinum hair.

"He wants us to leave his precious Orlouges alone, both Caito and Kyla," the assassin turned to witness Aurelianus push the chalice to his lips once more. A momentary lapse forced Lye to divert his attention to the twisted faces in the mirror behind the half-demon. "I do not take kindly to threats, and this hero of the people has grown far to comfortable in his role."

The assassin approached his recently appointed Master of the Word, and placed his gloved hands on the hardwood desk. Lye's emerald stare lit ablaze and met the eerie watch of the tiefling's serpentine pupils.

"I want to bring Sei and his Knights to their knees," the assassin stated darkly. "I want their supply chains destroyed, their reputation poisoned, and their members thrown into chaos. I could not think of anyone else more suited to assist me in this task."

Lye rarely exposed his face in the presence of others, but around this twisted entity, he felt a near brotherly connection. Though entirely aware that a knife in his back was a possibility, the assassin found himself fond of the trickster's methods, goals, and purpose. No one thus far fit better within his Order's ranks.

"What say you Aurelianus, are you willing to take a break from these mundane tasks and help me cause some discord?"

He spread a chesire grin, for Lye already knew the warlock's addiction to anarchy.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

A soft smirk curled Aurelius' lip as he raised his chalice to his mouth once more.

It was true, the tiefling had no love for the Orlouges. Their stranglehold on Corone was no secret, and their reputation alone was all it took for the Anarchist to despise everything they stood for. He had had few dealings with the blue-bloods themselves, but he had no doubt that would change. And soon.

Aurelianus drank deep, draining the last drop as his mind began to turn over, faster and faster with every word out of Ulroké's mouth. Leaning back in his chair, the half-breed allowed the brandy to burn the tip of his tongue before it slid down his throat, spreading its fire through his gut.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tsk tsking.

"I'm disappointed you even need to ask, cutter," he grinned, the scar-tissue bisecting his pale lips standing out starkly against the virginal-white of his skin. A soft chuckle bubbled up from his throat, emerging with the lungful of smoke.

Kicking his boots back off the hardwood and laying down his chalice, the blade-clad warlock stood up from his plush, albeit mangled chair, his cigarette clamped between his lips. Slowly, the he started pacing around his desk, nimbly snatching up the amethyst sphere in passing as he made his way over to the windows covering the far wall. Idly scratching his jaw, the half-demon surveyed his domain, marking the cutters manning the doors, and the whores drifting from room to room, some just hollow-eyed, others bow-legged, bleeding and weeping. Not that he particularly cared about their misery; as long as he was bringing in coin from their suffering, the sadist could fund his own goals. And those were worth far more than any whore's self-respect or will to live.

Sucking on the hand-rolled coffin-nail again, he flicked his eyes to the orb in his hand, rolling across his serpent-quick fingers; if it had been any normal gem, he would have had a distorted and dark reflection of the room, and its only other occupant. But as with Drak'shal, the object was more than it appeared. In its black depths, the warlock could see Lichensith's desires; his burning hatred for Sei Orlouge and his kin; his almost palpable need to sow pain and to tear the Ixians apart one bloody strip at a time. The blood and the breaking bones and the fire...

Aurelius reveled in the visions for a moment, running his forked tongue over his fangs as he soaked up the carnage shown to him. But after a moment, he let out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding, another streamer of smoke sliding into the air.

"Well, mate," he said, his voice soft and low, almost a purr, "you came to the right cutter."

The cigarette shone out from its cherry tip one final time before the tiefling stubbed it out on the wall. He strolled back across the office, dropping the stub in an overflowing ashtray and glancing back at the assassin before him.

"But you knew that, didn't you."

It wasn't a question.

He pondered the task at hand for another minute, absent-mindedly reconstructing the cane on his desk, twirling the heavy baton in his dexterous hands. A slow grin split his mouth, fangs glinting as his devious little brain-box settled on a course of action.

"If you want to 'urt the fox, first you strike at the cubs."

As he spoke, the half-breed sat his cane down and opened the drawers on his desk, bringing out his armaments and laying them out; the arsenal of knives, cleaver and shurikens glinted viciously on the dark wooden surface. His twin Baatorian blades, his first and favourite playmates, were sheathed at the small of his back, nestled snugly, followed by the other weapons that were never far from his hands. Instantly, he felt more comfortable: despite his grasp of the Art, he had grown up armed to the teeth. As the old adage went, old habits were hard to break.

"Chant 'as it Sei's little girl's takin' over the family business soon enough. Don't know as to 'ow true it is, yet, but I say we get our arses down to Radasanth anyway," he said, glancing up at Ulroké's sharp, green eyes. "Got a few bloods there can whisper some darks in my ear."

Aurelianus plucked his coat from the floor beside his chair and flung it on, barely even noticing the leather sealing itself back together as quickly as his armour's barbed and blades sliced through it. The final part of his attire, the wide-brimmed, red-leather hat, was laid atop his horned brow and with that, the Brothel Master was ready to instigate some true mayhem. Reaching out to the wall next to his desk, Aurelius tugged on a small rope mounted there - it was one of many, and while it didn't have any immediate effect, a few moments later a man entered the office, sweating lightly from running up the staircases, beads of sweat trickling down his neck and under the leather jerkin he wore. He looked more than a little nervous to be in the room with the two natural born killers.

"Cadin," Aurelius nodded. "You 'ave the run of the place 'til I get back. Might be a week or two. You already know what t'do."

The man shifted his weight in that all too human show of discomfort and uneasiness.

"Boss, I have a wife waiting at home. I sho--"

"I 'ave a goldfish," the tiefling said nonchalantly, interrupting.

"I.. boss, what?"

"Oh, sorry. I thought we were talkin' about shit that doesn't matter."

With that, the warlock nodded to Lichensith, and strolled from the room, lighting up another cigarette as he went. Puffing a few small clouds of smoke as he went, he called over his shoulder.

"An' Cadin, mate, unless you want to see your wife in 'ere as my.. personal guest," the human could almost hear the sadistic delight in his boss' voice, "I suggest you keep my kip ship-shape."

[Lye]

Lye watched the tiefling ponder and go about his devious routine. He imagined whatever sinister thoughts stirred in his inked skull, they would all prove useful. The half-demon had a knack for invoking despair that rivaled Lye's own. While Aurelius stood to survey his domain and finger his unusual crystal orb, the assassin returned his attention to the mirror.

Its purpose as a reflective surface did little for its value. Instead, the framed glass did more to serve intrigue over vanity. Within its blackened hues swirled smoky wisps of green. Like a stirring cauldron, the smoke ebbed and flowed. Occasionally, a burst of verdant mystery would fill the frame. Then, faces. It twisted and writhed into the likeness of horrid expressions - women, children, men. Some faces even seemed familiar.

"But you knew that, didn't you."

Lye smiled.

He broke his gaze from the artifact. Lye instead watched the Tiefling continue on. The half-demon was a man of many knives. His weapons spoke to his tastes in the trade of killing. He liked it slow, savory, and thrilling. Though it was literally dancing with the devil, Lye enjoyed the thrill as much as his counterpart.

"I've heard the same as you in regards to the daughter. Her and I have had a few chance meetings."

Aurelius finished his ensemble and beckoned his lackey to the office. Their few lines back and forth quickly put the look of dread into the guest.

"I have a steed for you out front," Lye stated as the two began their descent. Lye smirked as he passed the poor bastard left in charge of this place. Surely one mistake while Aurelius was away, and a musical song of agony would be Cadin's last breaths.

"After Radasanth, I have a few swords for hire standing by on the highway to Underwood. They're a nameless bunch with varying skill. Pawns if you will. I'll discuss more as we make way."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius sauntered out of his personal little pleasure-palace and headed for the stables round the side of the building. The small shelter was full of the animals, he noted with satisfaction - business was already booming as word spread. Any desire, any fantasy, any decadent little perversion was not only welcomed inside the premises, but encouraged. The tiefling had personally witnessed some of the depravities. He allowed himself a small shiver of lust and followed Lye to the two horses tethered to one of the posts meant for the poorer customers, or the ones not intending a long night.

The tiefling approached slowly, eyeing the mount warily. He didn't have the best luck with horses once they got a whiff of him. It must have been the inhuman side of his heritage he had long ago decided.

This horse proved no different, shying away as he neared, bucking against the ropes holding it. It was an awkward affair mounting, Aurelius managing none of his usual grace as he clambered up on the fidgety animal, much to his companion's obvious amusement. But, after a few trying minutes they were on their way through the city. Sitting uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to avoid stabbing his mount with the plethora of razored adornments he wore, the half-breed glanced at the cold-eyed assassin next to him.

"We'll 'ead East out of the city. Make our way down by the coast. Got a few mates sent word they're in the area if I needed 'em."

As he rode, he took a cigarette from inside his coat, clamping it between his lips as he lit it. He offered one to Lye as well, but the blade-for-hire politely declined.

"Suit yourself," Aurelius shrugged, turning his collar up against the omnipresent chill in the Salvaran air.

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. Two of the gate-guards Aurelianus kept in his employ with under the table bribes waved the pair through, and once they were in the wilds, most of the time was spent quietly. The assassin kept his thoughts to himself, while the guttersnipe turned his brain-box towards the playtime to come. Dozens of plans drifted through his brain-box as to exactly how they were going to pike off the Orlouges, each one more fully formed than the last.


***

The next day they were out on the water, hidden safely in the relatively cramped cargo hold of a small vessel.

The ship itself belonged to Harmin and Samael - a pair of smugglers hailing from Scara Brae. The tiefling occasionally purchased the brothers' services to keep some of the smaller Anarchist cells he had founded well supplied with weapons and other contraband, and there were none better at it than these Braeans. Negotiations had been brief, the pair knowing better than to ask what the pair of killers had planned. Samael had quietly accepted the pouch of coin, and with a shrug of tattooed arms like tree trunks, he had shown them into the hold where they would stay for the next four days or so. Harmin, the stockier of the two, busied himself preparing the ship for casting off.

It was usually just the brothers and maybe one or two other sailors who worked the ship, so there was only one cabin for Samael and his taciturn brother - everyone else slept in small pallets down with the cargo. It was here, sprawled out quite leisurely that the half-demon finally laid down the book he was reading - a relatively interesting little grimoire on the subject of ritualistic sex magicks - and turned to Lye. He seemed to be more comfortable in the relatively enclosed space than the warlock, who despised being cooped up for the most part.

"When we land, Samael an' Harmin'll slip us into Radasanth quiet as you like. Best we keep our 'eads down when we're in the anthill - I'm none too popular with the scarlet-coats," he grinned darkly, recalling his bloody encounter with the city's guard force.

Ulroké allowed himself a smile; he had heard the story from Aurelianus before.

Junior squeaked happily from where he sat curled up in its master's lap, wings wrapped around its fish-belly white form like a funeral shroud. Petting his familiar, the warlock flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette and leaned back against one of the wooden ribs of the ship, trying to relax with the soft rocking of the ship as it cut through the waves. It alleviated some of the feelings of confinement, albeit barely. The blade-clad deviant was eager to be about his business.

"First thing we need's to scan the chant," he continued, but paused as he marked the slight look of incomprehension on the human's face. "Listen to rumours, gather information and the like," he explained.

Pikin' Hells, you'd think they'd 'ave tumbled to proper speak by now, he thought with only mild irritation. He was used to people not understanding him where he travelled by this point.

"And what's the best way to 'ear the darks of any body in the 'verse, you ask?" he asked Junior rhetorically, smirking as he blew a prodigious cloud of bluish smoke into the air. The foetus hissed softly in response. "That's right, wee man - ask the whores they've shagged."

He turned his attention back to Lye, inhuman eyes flicking over the human's body out of habitual paranoia. "Pillow talk, mate. The number of wars that 'ave been won or lost 'cause of some prozzie rattlin' 'er bone-box."

He shook his head softly with a chuckle, idly scratching at the sides of his blood-red crest and feeling the familiar prickliness that heralded his quills growing back in. Junior coughed weakly, its tiny pale tongue sticking out between needle fangs, eliciting an indulgent smile from Aurelius as smoke streamed from his nostrils.

"We need to find us a shag-bag with a little somethin' up top," he grinned wryly, tapping a finger to his temple, "and plenty more down here," he finished with a crude gesture at his chest.

"I imagine you're quite familiar with their kind," Lye returned without missing a beat. He almost sounded amused.

"Powers' balls, was that a joke from you?," Aurelius laughed, cigarette dangling between his lips. "Wonders'll never cease, chief."

Though there was no-one alive Aurelianus would ever trust, he found himself in good spirits around Lye. The bastard's mean-streak went a long way to endearing him to the tiefling, and the jink he gave Aurelius to ply his own sadistic brand of fun was just the icing on the cake.

"Aye, I've dipped me wick in more whores than there are names in the dead-book. But not a-one I'd consider all that bright. Not pikin' 'em for their brains, cutter," he added lasciviously.

"Don't worry," Lye said softly, green eyes almost shining in the dim light of the hold. "I have the perfect candidate in mind."

[Lye]

The air of the sea brought back fond memories of Torin Raikiri and his fellow ocean lords of the Black Sails Armada. Though the assassin's stint with them did not last, there was something about the sea that stirred the smoldering embers of his core. Perhaps, once his goals had come to fruition on land, he could once again take to the sea. It was fortunate, however, that this fare did not involve nearly as much bloodshed, cannon fire, and mutiny as those days. A scrap between deck hands, a few drunken nights sharing accomplishments with the tiefling, and one poor bastard losing his face to hellfire marked the highlights of the journey. Alas, they had made landfall and caught the first wagon into town - another arranged luxury by Drak'shal.

"Your reach is impressive," Lye commented to the demon as the wagons wheels chattered against the crude path. "I'd even venture to say you had a jump start on this proposal. Either you already had this idea, or you have an uncomfortably close eye on my actions."

Aurelianus adopted new attire on board the vessel to help with avoiding local do-gooders. Lye had similarly done so, but when the tiefling turned to address the comment, he only bared his needle like teeth from the shadow of his garbs. His pet abomination added a chitter, but the trickster did not sway to confirming either suspicion. The assassin smiled in admiration.

"The means has no consequence so long as it justifies the end. I'll be sure to traffic more coin your way once this is through. I'm sure you and that cretin would enjoy a few new toys in that playpen of yours."

Junior flapped the raven wings upon his back with a chittering squeal. Lye assumed this meant approval; he could never really tell.

"I appreciate the charity, cutter." Aurelianus replied as he brought a pale hand to his shouldered pet. "Can never have enough tools in my occupation." His tone hinted toward an implied meaning. The assassin smirked without eye contact, for the implication grated on his nerves. Surely the half blood didn't mean to label his benefactor as one of these "tools".

Luckily, the driver cut the tension by sliding open the window to the cabin. "Gate's comin' up. Keep yer heads down. Looks like the stiffs are runnin' cargo checks fer some bloody reason."

Aurelianus dismissed him with a wave, and the window shut. Lye leaned toward the side door and peeled a curtain back to assess the risk. Down the road, the Radasanth guard halted a line of incoming wagons, riders, and carriages. About a dozen or so men armed with pikes and standard issue broadswords ran the operation. Though the words could not be heard from their distance, the expression and conversations seemed heated. Their finesse in handling cargo looked... thorough. Lye returned the fabric against the door's pane.

"Pikin' red coats," Aurelianus muttered. "Th' gate checks are early this week. Somethin' must have them spooked." The tiefling lifted his jeweled cane from its position as an arm rest and tapped the head against the driver's glass.

The window opened. "Aye?"

"Try another route," the tiefling commanded.

"Too late, we've been boxed in from behind. I'll do what I can to keep them off ya." The glass slid shut. Lye watched Drak'shal's knuckles grow even more pale; a feat the assassin was shocked to witness.

"If they check the cabin, I'll take care of it," Lye stated, emotionless. Aurelianus returned his cane to rest between his knees and rest his hands atop with a deep inhale.

"Bloodshed this early in th' game is a straight ticket to the gallows," the half demon warned. His serpentine eyes narrowed to slits leaving fierce yellow irises to glow menacingly in the limited light. Junior clicked his razor steel claws and shuffled in place. This time, Aurelianus did not stifle it. Lye matched his caution with a flat expression. He grit his teeth under his own shadowy garbs at the lack of confidence.

"I am more than a glorified executioner," Lye reminded.

"Stow it," the driver whispered in harsh tones.

"Halt!" They had arrived at the checkpoint. "What is your business in the city?"

"What do you think?" replied the driver. "I 'ave a carriage. It carries people. Faster than walkin'. Perhaps I charge them for a sit and make some coin to put food on the table? What's it to you?"

"Sorry sir, we don't mean to invade, but given recent circumstances we must check your carriage," the guard replied. He approached the carriage while two other armed pike men circled around.

"No point in that. I'm running a dry load, just two baggers back there. In case you needed explanation fer that, they load the shite on top you don't want to for you. Another thing we common folk do fer coin. That's why I'm tryin' to get in. No money to be made without cargo. Unless you blokes fancy a ride."

"I apologize, but we will be checking regardless."

The guards' shadows silhouetted against the pale fabric curtains. Junior coiled himself. Lye held a finger to his lips and the tiefling gripped his cretin's head in the palm of his hand. The carriage door rattled as their gauntlets gripped the handle.

"Really boys, you're wasting your time. Better off checkin' that wagon behind me." The driver leaned over as to whisper. "I heard some chatter of gutterweed. Illegal stuff. Nasty for the youngin's."

"Good to know." Unphased by the attempt at distraction, he swung the door wide. Light poured within, illuminating crimson felt cushions, wrought iron fixtures, brass handle work, and the face of his fellow guardsmen on the opposing side.

"You said you had bag boys in here?" The guard questioned.

"Aye," the driver nervously replied.

"No one is in here."

"What?" The surprise was genuine, as was the confusion. The driver turned about in his seat, slid open the window to the cabin and glanced inside at nothing but two guards staring back at him through open doors. "Er... um. I just -- Guess those boys must've bailed."

"Mhmm..." The guard muttered with a raised brow. Simultaneously, they shut the doors. "Looks clean. Move along."

"Good help's hard to find now a days!" The driver gave a concerned look to the guard which returned an unamused expression. "Fancy you boys don't want to help a fella make an honest living?"

"Get going," another guardsman ordered with a slap on the lead horse's rear. The steed startled and jerked the carriage forward. The driver gripped the reins.

"You blokes have a good afternoon! N'don't ferget what I told you about the folks behind!" He turned toward them as he passed and mouthed the word "gutterweed". Then, with a smile full of yellow teeth, he turned back to the road ahead and continued into town.

"Well, color me impressed," Aurelianus stated to the assassin in the cabin across from him. He smiled with a jaw full of jagged teeth. "Didn't think that trick would work in all that light. Shadow magic, right?"

Lye nodded to his comrade.

"I learn to like you more and more, cutter."

"Well Thaynes be damned, you two are still back there," the driver remarked. "Good, we should be at the location soon, boss."

"Were to from here?" Lye inquired to the pale demon across from him.