Nial's eyes flickered open as lightning cracked the sky, leaving only pain and the luminescent memory of its passing. As his other senses returned, he felt the hard rain soaking him to the core, pain in his limbs, the smell of fire, the roar of thunder overhead. He was on his back, he realised, the flashing sky filling his vision. His breathing came in shallow gasps, and he had no strength with which to move. Rolling his head to the side, he made out the image of a man retreating into the rain before the weight of his wounds dragged his eyes closed.
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The high sun scattered thousands of glinting crystals amongst the gentle waves in the bay of Verine. The early autumn breeze blew through the sails of the many tall galleons and heavily laden trading ships in the harbour, on through the city itself carrying the scents of sea salt, street food vendors, and spice merchants. The people of Verine went about their daily lives, the murmur of conversation as well as the occasional shriek of playing children accompanied the hustle and bustle of merchants selling their wares, and labourers transporting goods to and from the various ships and warehouses.
The summer heat had yet to fade, and the inhabitants of Verine still wore their colourful, short, summer garb as they mingled amongst the streets of the Middle Star district, home to wealthy business owners and purveyors of many of the goods brought in by the city’s reputation as the chief naval trading hub this side of the Pentagen Sea.
Among the colourful inhabitants, one figure stood out. Clad in a dark grey travelling cloak with the hood covering their face, they strode through the streets gaining little attention from the citizens of Verine, distracted as they were by their own lives. After some time they arrived outside of a single storey building constructed of pale stone. The sign above the door proclaimed this building to be the establishment of “Windle, Kaird, and Trellum. Traders of fine goods.” The observer watched as several people entered the building through the front door, all dressed in the current fashions and of obvious means.
Nial removed his hood, revealing the face of a greying man with slicked back hair and a neat, pointed moustache. It had been some time since he had visited Verine. The trappings of city life had never appealed to him. However, a city run by pirates and a well renowned hive for scoundrels, rogues, and other ne'er do wells? He could possibly make an exception for Verine. Here we go, he thought. Letting himself into the building, he strode to speak with a young woman behind a sleek, wooden counter.
“Good afternoon.” He flashed a winning smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Windle. Is it through here?” He pointed and began to move towards a door to the side of the room, flanked by two men in leather armour armed with shortswords who immediately blocked his path. Grumbling rose from the clientele sat in wooden chairs around the room.
The woman started “Sir! I’m afraid we can’t let you in without an appointment. There are others ahead of you.”
Nial feigned shock “Oh, I am so sorry.” Still smiling. “Were you not informed? I’m Mr Windle’s old business associate. We used to work together in Hubbard and he invited me to speak with him about a very important trade deal. I simply must get through; I believe I’m already running late.”
“Mr Windle has asked not to be disturbed this afternoon.” the woman insisted, looking Nial firmly in the eyes.
“Perhaps Mr. Windle has asked that because he does not want our meeting to be interrupted.?
“Well I haven’t been told to expect anyone.”
Nial laughed softly, “That’s Windle for you. Always a busy man. I imagine he’d lose that scar under his left eye if it wasn’t a roguish yet permanent feature.” The woman looked shocked, Nial hoped mentioning the scar Windle had received in that narrow scrape with those Ashaxi relic hunters would buy him some credibility. He grinned inwardly. They’d be even more livid if they found out he’d since lost their precious relic on a bad hand of cards.
“Mr. Windle does occasionally forget to tell me things.” The young teller mused.
“We’re none of us perfect. If there’s any trouble, I will assure Mr. Windle that you defended his door with honour and ferocity,” he said solemnly. The clerk still looked uncertain. Nial lined up another of his tried and tested lines.
“Very well, Sir. Let him through.” The guards nodded and moved aside. Pleased, Nial bowed slightly as he thanked the young women. He sauntered casually up to and through the door, shooting the guards a cheerful smile as he passed into the corridor beyond. Roughly halfway down the richly decorated hallway, a sign informed Nial he was standing outside the office of Gerric Windle - Senior Partner. Nial braced himself, beyond this door were answers a long time coming. He knocked twice and a voice from inside called “Enter.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
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The office was well appointed. Deep red carpets and rich furniture including a large, dark wood desk, behind which sat a small, middle aged man peering closely at papers spread before him under his bushy greying eyebrows. "Yes, what is it?" the man said without looking up. “Hello, Windle.”
The man stopped and slowly raised his head, eyes growing wide as recognition dawned "Nial?" Windle exclaimed.
“Yes,” the tall man paced slowly around the room, stopping in front of a shelf of colourful ornaments and lifting one to inspect closely. “I can understand why you’d be surprised to see me, after leaving me for dead and all.”
Windle stared incredulously, “What do you mean?” the trader mopped his brow with a handkerchief pulled from his cuff. “The last time I saw you, you were face down in the mud covered in blood. What was I supposed to think? How are you here?”
“I suppose I’m just lucky.” Nial sneered, all traces of humour gone from his voice.
Windle shrank under Nial’s gaze, “Nial, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps I should call for a drink and we can discuss this.“ He began to shuffle inside his desk drawer, watching with a rising panic as Nial crossed the room to him. Producing a small bell from the drawer, he was unable to ring it before Nial’s arm shot out, faster than he would have expected, gripping Windle's wrist in his black armour-clad left hand.
"Let's cut to the chase, Windle.If you think I believe that you being a fancy businessman now means you've gone straight, then I've got news for you. Why do you think I’m here?"
Panicked eyes ran from the gauntlet and along the rest of Nial’s fully armoured arm. "What are you doing? How would I know?" Windle had to resist leaning backwards away from Nial's unwavering stare. "I've not seen you in years."
"Two years." Nial stated flatly, his expression stern "though with you not looking back as you fled I can see why you'd think it was longer." Nial plucked the bell from Windle’s grasp with his unarmoured right hand, releasing his wrist after he had done so. Windle fell back into his chair, massaging his aching wrist.
"That's hardly fair, Nial. I could have died!" A gauntleted hand slammed onto the ornate desk, gouging out a small piece from the wood, "I very nearly did!"
"Nial, calm down.” Windle stammered, holding up a hand “Please. This is all a big mistake. Tell me why you’re here and I’ll see if I can help.”
NIal pushed off from the desk and returned to pacing the room inspecting the various contents of the shelves. “I’m here because I have reason to believe that you know where Paedran is.”
Nial watched the emotions flicker across Windle’s face. Confusion, shock, and briefly, was that sadness? Before becoming flat. “I haven’t a clue where Paedren is.” the trader stated “We cut ties years ago.”
“That’s not what I hear. As I understand it, Paedren’s a key part of how you managed all this.” Waving his unarmoured hand to the room in general, Nial approached the desk once more, “Now, Windle. We don’t have to do this the hard way. Consider this a courtesy in respect of our old friendship.” moving his armoured hand to his hip, Nial revealed the hilt of a sword strapped to his waist.
Windle’s eyes lingered on the pommel “A strange courtesy to break into my office and threaten me. That doesn’t seem like you.”
“Times change. Now, tell me…” a knock at the door cut him off.
“Sir?” a muffled voice from outside the door, “I’m here to get your approval on these invoices.” Nial turned to the door and back, locking eyes with Windle, the threat implicit. Approaching the door, he crouched beside it.
Windle opened his mouth but hesitated. “Come back later, I’m busy.”
“But Sir,” the voice came again, “you asked me to come now.” Nial placed his hand on the grip of his sword.
“You must be mistaken!” Windle's voice was now increasing in pitch as the panic rose in him “Come back later, Sothar take you!.”
“Sir, if I could just…” the door opened a fraction before Nial slammed it shut from the other side. The voice cried out in surprise but the door rattled again. “Sir, is everything alright in there?”
Nial turned back to Windle to find him standing over him, dagger in hand. Damn it, I really am getting old. Nial threw up his left arm as the dagger descended, causing it to skitter along the black metal. Beginning to stand and swinging with his right, Nial’s fist connected with Windle’s side, driving the smaller man to the ground in front of the door. “Tell me where Paedren is or this gets ugly.” Nial growled. The door pushed open into Windle as the person outside tried to get in.
Windle wheezed on the floor, the breath knocked out of him “Can’t… tell you. Paedren would… kill me.”
Nial sighed, “She may not get the chance if you don’t start cooperating.” Dragging Windle to his feet, Nial pushed him against the door. The voices outside became louder and more frantic, he was running out of time. “I’ll ask one more time, Windle. Where is she?” holding on to Windle’s collar with his armoured left hand, Nial drew back his right, fingers spread. Windle struggled to get away, pulling at the metal with both hands, kicking weakly against Nial’s legs as he struggled to breathe. His eyes shot up to Nial’s right hand as lines of blue-white energy began to flicker around it.
Eyes wide, Windle redoubled his efforts to get away trying to choke out cries for help. “Tell me, Windle.” Nial moved his hand closer to Windle’s face, soon Windle’s vision was completely taken up by the energy and its afterimages, Windle could feel the hair on his neck standing straighter as his death approached, the clamour behind the door still boiling. He managed a nod, pleading with his eyes. Nial drew back his arm, and slightly relaxed the grip on Windle’s collar. Trying not to appear too desperate he said “Go ahead, quickly.” .
Windle spluttered and cough, sucking in air. His hands still grasping Nial’s arm. His face became hard, fixing Nial’s gaze he took a deep breath.
Nial reacted too slowly, his hand darting forward as Windle bellowed “Binder!” as loud as his weakened state would allow. Nial’s fist connected and knocked WIndle to the floor, but too late. The cry of Binder was now taken up and echoed down the hallway outside.
Nial grimaced. Glancing at Windle he growled “This isn’t over.” and, after lifting his hood, made for the door. The hallway outside contained several panicked looking men and women in professional looking attire. At the far end of the corridor, a pair of figures in armour rounded the corner, swords at the ready, and began pushing their way towards Nial. Retreating along the hallway, Nial reached a plain-looking door. Pulling on the handle, he found it open, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. A quick glance revealed a store room full of crates, some closest to him revealing folders of paperwork inside. He spied a door on the other side of the room, daylight leaking in around the frame. Holding on to the metal handle, Nial waited. Surely enough, soon the handle was grasped from the other side. At feeling the movement Nial sent a jolt of energy into the handle. A scream came from behind the door followed by a thud. A brief pause before the handle was tried again. Once more a jolt followed by a scream and a thud. Nial waited for a few seconds, listening, pulse racing. When no further attempt to open the door came, he turned, rushing towards the outside door. The handle held fast as he tried to exit. Locked. Swiftly, he drew a thin metal rod from inside his cloak and inserted it into the keyhole. Closing his eyes, he moved the rod slightly as a gentle humming began from the lock followed by a click. Nial grinned in triumph and fled from the building, turned down the alley to the main street, and disappeared into the crowd once more.