“Alright, that’s enough,” said a new man in an exasperated tone long worn with repetition, standing up from his table. He was wearing civilian clothes, dull and drab, and unlike Sevas, was unarmed. He was decidedly average-looking and nondescript, both in appearance and stature. The sort that one’s eyes would overlook on any given day. However, he had a way about him that spoke that he was not a stranger to violence. A fencer’s grace if I was to put a word to it. Outnumbered, I began to have second thoughts about resorting to violence to resolve this situation.
“Sorry, Laman, for the trouble, we’ll take him out of here now, see that he gets back to his room…” the man apologized, giving us an embarrassed smile as he tried to drag Sevas away.
“But… you! You just had to ruin it! You had to ruin everything!” complained Sevas as he struggled against them.
Kaila took one last pull of her drink, draining what was left in her cup before she told the man with a sigh, “Basilio, see to him. ”Sorry about Sevas, he is usually a reliable sort. A good boy and his heart is in the right place,” she offered contritely to me.
“Not a boy!” screamed the young man childishly as he burst free from Basilio, drawing the fine blade at his hip with surprising swiftness.
As the blade descended with the swiftness of a lightning bolt cleaving the sky, time itself appeared to slow. Instinctively, my shield arm rose of its own accord, interposing itself between me and the sharpened steel. I braced for the blade's bite, anticipating a grievous cut, deep to the bone. Yet, to my surprise, his sword clanged off, as if it had encountered something other than just flesh. Was this the work of my Mimic? Convenient, to say the least.
Unbalanced by the sudden movement, I fell off my stool with an unmanly squawk of surprise, hitting my head against the floor. Humiliated, I reached for the knife at my waist as I struggled to get up. Hot anger fuelled by a sudden burst of adrenaline. The bastard had struck at me, and I would have satisfaction.
As I began to rise, still disoriented, I looked for Sevas, but felt a sharp pressure at my throat. It was the same blade that had struck me, but now wielded by Kailas’ crony, Basilio. I felt trepidation and fear sink their claws into me as I eyed the blade and stilled. His sword was steady, as were his eyes, which were a harder gray than even the steel of the blade he held, and set with professional calm that promised an ending for me.
“Sorry about our friend, but I don’t think you will be drawing your steel,” he stated matter-of-factly, in a calm, superior voice that only caused me to seethe on the inside. You did not apologize with a threat.
Laman's growl cut through the tense atmosphere from behind the bar. "Basilio, there's no need to be brandishing a blade at our guests. You know the rules." The common room plunged into an unsettling silence, broken only by the sound of a few patrons who, sensing the brewing storm, quickly left their payments on the tables and hurriedly made their exits.
Having found myself in similar, if not deadlier, predicaments before, I chose to set aside my concerns. Fear had not yet left me, but it was not the sort that renders one into a state of nonaction, but rather the type that sharpens the mind and grants a desperate yet clear focus.
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I cast an Identify on Basilio even as I planned my next move.
Basilio Sanseverino - Warrior (Human lvl.17)
Health: 259/259
Stamina: 34/39
Mana: 9/9
He had a common as muck, basic class. I would have laughed at the raw impertinence of his threat if there wasn’t a sharp blade at my throat. But such was life.
Slowly, I got to my feet, reluctantly moving my hand from the dagger at my waist. Basilio totally ignored Laman, and the thin blade followed my rise as I stood up.
The group of adventurers had begun to make their exit, with Kaila shooting me a wry grin and a quick wave before she left. She was helped by a new companion, a portly man of middling height, to keep a struggling childish Sevas in tow.
I remained perfectly still, counting the moments as Basilio backed away with a slow and confident stride, the tip of his sword still pointed at me. In the halls of my mind, I prepared myself, opening up to the sibilant voices that hungered, the voices that fed, and the power they represented.
His eyes remained fixed on me as he crossed the threshold of the inn and stepped outside onto the street. It was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when he was no longer protected by the guest right of this society's culture. They had not left gifts as they should for their host as amends for breaking the peace of their roof. Thus, they had forfeited their protection, and Naira’s responsibility for them. The moment they left the establishment, doubly so. I had them by the very crude laws that bound them. Not to mention they had been rude. Very rude, the lot of them.
Not wanting to cause trouble for Laman or the inn's mistress, Naira, I had decided to rein in my more violent urges until this moment to adopt the local cultural norms. Realizing that I had grown as a person, I gave myself a pat on the back.
The moment was upon me, and so, with savage glee, I unleashed Rust. My will sped the spell along as I directed the voracious energies at the detestable blade. From the outside came a surprised shout of pain that turned into an agonized shriek. Returning my stool to its upright position, I sat down again and took another sip of my drink. I savored the moment as yet another scream rang out from outside, adding depth to the taste of the beverage. It was followed up by the shout of “Basilio” and I imagined the sudden heat released, fusing flesh to metal, as iron was superheated to an incandescent level.
Life was sweet, and I could feel the silent gaze of the remaining guests upon me. Inside, I was grinning, but I made sure not to let that sweet feeling show on my face. Some things are best savored in secret. Sweet justice had been served, and I found it much to my taste.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
The added point to one of my more stubborn attributes only added to my smug satisfaction of a deed well done.
“Laman, pour us another,” I asked cooly, noticing his quizzical expression. He poured me another glass, his silence an unspoken question that I had no intention of answering.