Titus Balbus appeared to agree with Storm’s final assessment.

“It’s clear to me as well. Sudi is trying to kill you, Boss,” He said, in his rich booming voice.

“There!” Storm snarled. “I should have you flogged right now or even killed. I’m leaning heavily on the latter,” Lord Nattas paused to suck some air in as he was turning blue in the face. “I knew you’ll betray me one day. You piece of dry shit, shame on you!” He thundered finally.

Titus nodded in agreement, his many days vacationing on his coin in Cartagen guarding the woman, having done wonders for his skin, Lord Nattas noted sourly. He made a note to cut the soldier’s salary in half.

“Just hear me out, before killing me,” Sudi said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He seemed surprisingly cool about the whole thing. “You’ll see, it makes sense.”

“It does?” Storm asked, lips pressed into a thin line. “How does me poisoning myself help in not being assassinated?”

It sounded ever more foolish saying it out loud.

Outrageous even.

Was he taking him for a fool?

“You will follow the Dottore’s orders, to the letter,” Sudi paused and pulled a small piece of paper from a pocket he had on the side of his long tunic. Proceeding to read from it, but having some difficulty. “One… fourth of a small spoon, every morning. Plenty of water and fruits, but nothing bitter. Or another variety of toxins,” He finished more confident.

“Evidently,” Storm sneered.

“Aye. Says it clear,” Sudi replied, not catching his tone or pretending he didn’t. “Right there,” He showed them his scratching’s on the small piece of paper. Nigh impossible to read. “See?” He finished with a small grin.

Storm snorted and stared at him blankly.

Titus standing on his right side, made an impressive effort not to laugh. The sound escaping sounding like a weak fart.

“You paused a bit at the start,” Storm noted, determined to get to the bottom of this, for better or worse. For Sudi that is. “Linking it with your earlier ‘to the letter’ comment, I’m justifiably concerned.”

“Well, I wrote it on my leg so… Was in a bit of a hurry as well, but it’s clear to me, it says four,” Sudi explained, squinting his eyes hard, to read the tiny scribblings.

No man or god, could ever hope to read those with any amount of certainty.

Abrakas the abhorrent could use it more like to wipe his hairy black arse, instead of reading it.

“You would at least agree, getting the amount right is important?” Nattas asked, tone mocking.

“Perhaps, but it is a small difference, whether it’s a four or… ahm.”

“Nine?” Storm offered, only half joking.

“Aye, could be…”

Fuck’s sake.

“What’s the name of this dottore?” He asked, seeing he was getting nowhere.

“Baro. Numerius Baro,” Sudi replied, still trying to read the instructions.

Lord Nattas let out a deep disappointed sigh, then turned to the former soldier.

“Will she escape or run away, if you come with us?” He asked.

Maja, the merchant’s fiancé, was his meaning.

The young woman, possibly implicated in the attempt to have him murdered in Alden some month’s back and still held in his villa, was a matter he hadn’t had the time to address yet. Properly.

Titus frowned. “Like jumping the wall? Where would she go?”

“I take that as a firm no, while holding you solely responsible, in the event she does,” Storm decided. “You’re coming with us. Let’s go visit this Dottore.”

----------------------------------------

Dottore Numerius Baro, was a small bodied Lorian with short and greatly thinning blond hair, auburn eyes and a straight nose on an elongated face. He wore white and blue robes and had a silver ring on his right hand’s middle finger, the yellow stone on it pretty impressive.

He looked around once for a way out, found none, as they had him cornered in the alley behind his house in the Merchant District.

“Hello Doc,” Sudi said pleasantly, keeping the hold he had on the man’s collar firm.

“You were leaving?” Storm, having just caught up with them, asked. “Is it a bad time for a visit?”

“No, of course not!” The man replied, eyes ogling in panic, when he recognized Lord Nattas. “I live alone… was going to the restaurant.”

“Which one?” Storm asked. “I happen to live a couple of blocks that way myself, so I know the area.”

“I don’t,” The Dottore replied, with a failed smile, “But I like to walk around, enter any venue that catches my eye.”

“Even if it isn’t a restaurant?” Storm probed, not convinced.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“I eat light,” Numerius said, then started crying, a good amount of tears running down his cheeks. “Please don’t kill me, it is not my time. I beg you, Lord Nattas,” He said as fast as he could. “I studied under Dottore Marcus, he can vouch for me.”

“Epolonius?” Titus asked. It was the Palace’s Dottore that was last seen in Riverdor for the tournament.

“The same,” Numerius said, wiping his eyes.

Storm frowned, taken aback from his outburst. It didn’t last very long.

“You admit it then? It was a ruse, to murder me?” Each word fueling his rage even more.

“What?” Numerius asked startled. “Of course not! Why would I?”

How could Storm know that?

“You got paid?” He chanced.

“I didn’t get a single coin, my lord. I told your man, if it doesn’t work, no payment was needed,” The Dottore seemed much better now.

“You mean, if I’m dead,” Nattas asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No, I mean… if no attempt is made,” The Dottore explained, trying to stand a little straighter. Titus glanced at Nattas bored.

“I can knife him in the kidneys, throw him in the river,” He offered casually.

“Uher’s heaven’s no!” Numerius cried, eyes ogling terrified.

“Wait,” Nattas told Titus, then turned to the sweating Dottore Baro. “What happen’s if an attempt was made?” He asked interested.

“To you? Nothing. You’ll built resistance to small doses of the poison for a month or two,” Numerius explained quickly, eyeing with scared eyes the visibly bored Titus who was humming some sort of pirate song. It went something like, ‘Seven merry menfolk, wearin’ a bloody blindfold’, so Storm assumed that’s what it was. “When the attempt is made, the usual amount assassins’ use will not even bother you. Perhaps a visit to the lavatory, worst case,” Baro finished in the meantime.

Storm scratched his groomed goatee with his hand, thinking on his words.

“One fourth of a small spoon,” He started.

“Ninth,” The Dottore corrected him, with a frown. “A fourth would kill you.”

That fuckin’ idiot!

Sudi pulled away and out of his reach smartly.

“If you’re wrong, Titus will kill you and then Sudi. Impalement for both,” Nattas decided, after a long deliberation on whether to go ahead with it or not. It sounded reasonable and potentially deadly on the same hand. It wasn’t an easy decision.

“Wait!” Sudi snapped. “How it is my fault, if he’s wrong?”

“You suggested it,” Nattas explained, deathly serious. “Putting my arse on the line in the process; so it’s only fitting you take the iron cock, wit a fuckin’ smile.”

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Storm spend the rest of the day expecting to drop dead any moment, but other than a mild disturbance of the bowels, he was fine. A bit tired perhaps, so he spent the night relaxing, keeping Sudi near, in case he lapsed into a coma.

“My stomach is a mess still,” He complained, just as Maja came outside to join them on his balcony. The warm nights of Cartagen, were keeping her thinly dressed, which was pleasant to look at in the moonlight.

“You can put some honey into your wine, helps the bowels,” Maja offered, with a pleasant smile on her freckled face. It created dimples on her cheeks, very stimulating to look at, Storm noticed, a stir in his pants.

“It’s a Flauegran bottle,” He said, trying not to sound angry.

“Oh, can I have some?” She asked, not noticing his tone and Sudi, who was drinking from a cheap carafe what the servants had, stared at her surprised.

“Sure,” Storm replied and the Issir’s eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. “Sudi, go get her a glass and leave us.”

“Are you sure, you don’t need me? And there are glasses on the table,” His man said, then offered lamely. “I can wait downstairs.”

“I can’t,” Storm explained and Maja bit her lip all naughty, catching his meaning. She sashayed her way to the empty glasses and helped herself to some wine.

“Sirio was talking with a King’s man earlier,” His man insisted interrupting his visual stimulus, as if intent to ruin his evening.

“What about?” Storm hissed, his patience pushed to its limit.

“He didn’t say, but I heard gossip in the docks today,” Sudi continued, Storm keeping his eyes on the blushing blonde, drinking his wine in a voracious manner, some of it spilling and running down the sides of her lips. “Antoon’s men left with the fleet, from Caspo O’ Bor.”

Oh, crap.

God darn it!

Abrakas, I just need one day.

One!

His face fell, Maja catching his expression frowned, a crime to see it on her face, he thought, surprising himself. He wasn’t a poetic man.

“Where’s our scholar?” He asked tired. “Is he asleep?”

“Still writing I reckon,” Sudi replied, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Shall I call on him?”

Lord Nattas let out the biggest of sighs and nodded.

“Call our scholar Sudi. Let us get this over with.”

----------------------------------------

“Six thousand men,” Sirio informed him, almost an hour later. The night half spend over a map of the Realm, eyes hurting from the flickering lights of the oil lamp, stomach a right mess and his cock as hard, as it was furious. “First Royal Foot, plus a thousand cavalry. Thirty heavy transports, five Barques’ as escort, under Lord of Badum, Joep Van Durren. They are expected to reach Raoz in three weeks. Another one for the Khan to learn about it, if we’re fortunate. After that, we will have to wait for his response.”

“Gods, he just can’t help himself,” Storm said, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Maybe he can’t,” Sirio noted, checking on his papers.

“We don’t have evidence for that, dear Sirio,” Storm insisted. “It is suicide to bring the King a wrong report on this, trust me.”

“If we eliminate all other logical explanations,” The young man said, “Then the unlikely, becomes the most likely.”

Storm smiled at his stubbornness.

“War is a slothful beast, difficult to rouse, but once you do… once we do,” Lord Nattas shook his head disappointed. “Best to work on preventing it, my friend.”

“You’ve taken the Dottore’s advice?” Sirio asked, without looking at him, busy writing something on a piece of parchment.

“I did. Time will tell, if I made the right choice,” Storm commented.

“And history,” Sirio added, with a smile of his own, finishing what he was writing. “Since we are a part of it, Lord Nattas.”

“Aye, you’re right, I suppose,” Storm replied with a nod. “What are you working on?”

“Keeping notes,” Sirio explained. “Like Dottore’s orders, so I don’t forget them. What you said before for instance. I liked a lot.”

Storm snorted, staring at the mostly sleeping city. Where had the day gone? He yawned something fierce and reached for the almost empty bottle, to refill his cup for a last time.

“Stick around, young Veturius,” Lord Nattas said, eyes drowsy. “It may surprise you to learn that I may have more, where it came from.”