Kaspia and Tillian ran on, leaving the tenements of Valium's slums behind as they entered the warehouse district down by the Gray river, ready to keep searching throughout the night. However, in the depth of night, right before dawn, fortune finally blessed them..
It was a worn down old inn at the edge of the territory controlled by Redhand and his crew. Tracing symbols carved on a wooden post that would mean nothing of note to most, scratches looking little more than marks cut haphazardly into wood to everyone else, Kaspia and Tillian rejoiced. The mark was one familiar to her and it meant the Redhand or someone from his crew had used the inn for shelter recently.
“I'm going to go in there and get the coin owed to me from the heist,” Kaspia told herself, thinking maybe this was a turning point.
This could be the night that changed everything. She could get out, leave Valium behind and start a new life with her earnings. Leave the city and the disturbing power inside her behind, seek out a new beginning, a new life.
The only question was; could she abandon her pursuit for power?? What would her family think had they seen her sacrifice so much just to give up?
“Would they even recognize me anymore?”
The strange power given to her by the Redhand, it had cost her everything. A life of extortion and robbery, preying on those weaker than her. What would her mother, father and brother think?
Coming down from her dreams, for that was what they were, she knew for this wasn’t the first time she’d contemplated running away from the crew and deep down she knew that this time would be no different. Her cut of the heist was just too small and the money she made in her day to day activities were barely enough to keep her from begging on the streets as it was. Who was she trying to fool, in no way did she have the skills, contacts or funds to start a new life somewhere else.
With a deep sigh she turned to look for Tillian. He looked miserable as he huddled behind an old crate, ears hanging low and eyes hollow. “Tillian,” Kaspia said, doing her best to sound a bit cheerful. “The sign says Redhand or one of the others has been here, let’s get moving before someone notices us.”
The pair snuck up to a side door in the back of the building. Opening it slightly Kaspia peered inside, it was dark with no movement. Maybe it was too late and everyone slept, she reasoned as she opened the door and went inside.
They stood in a short hallway with several doors leading from it. It was obviously a back entrance for the staff that worked the inn. The doors most likely lead to the kitchen, cellar and other such places. The hallway itself was sparsely decorated with only a couple of fixtures for oil lamps and with a rough carpet that had seen better days, likely decades ago on the floor. The smell from the rest of the inn was palpable as a stench of cheap wine and rotten food drifted through the air. Who in their right mind would pay to sleep in a place like this?
“Well, I have, many, many times,” she reminded herself but no one with any kind of money would do so if it were up to Kaspia.
Walking down the hallway she opened a door, revealing a kitchen on the other side. They entered expecting there to be at least a few people working inside, preparing for the breaking of dawn. This was going to be an awkward conversation but she knew what code words to say so that anyone would recognize that they were part of Redhand’s crew.
“It's empty, how strange,” Kaspia whispered back to Tillian who remained at the front door.
Glancing at each other with confused looks in their eyes Kaspia made her way into the kitchen. The room looked strangely abandoned, dilapidated like no one had been there in quite some time. Utensils lay strewn about among molding food.
“This place is getting on my nerves,” Tillian whispered as he crept up behind her. “Can we get out of here?”
“And do what, where would we go? We have no contacts and little to no money. We need to find Redhand again and get what’s ours from the heist.”
“Alright, alright. I’m just nervous that’s all,” Tillian said as he fidgeted with a frying pan. The kid was trying to put on a brave face but he was way too young for this.
“Look, let’s just go to the common room and see if we can find anything there. Maybe they left a sign.”
Carefully, Kaspia moved across the kitchen, her fingers gliding over pots and pans left as if in a hurry. Reaching out for the door on the other side, ready to push it open she glanced down, seeing something at the edge of her vision behind a kitchen table. It was a pair of legs, behind the table lay a corpse. A head with brown hair lying face down in a puddle of blood.
“Shit, there’s a body over here.” Fright spread through her voice. She wasn’t quite so sure this was a good idea anymore. “Why didn’t I listen to Tillian?”
Tillian’s golden skin turned pale as she looked up at him. What were they even doing here? Maybe they should go back to the place she and Tillian had been laying low in. No, they couldn’t. They need to find Redhand and the rest of the crew if they were to have any kind of chance in the future. Looking back at Tillian who stood timidly in the corner of the kitchen Kaspia bent down to examine the body. It was a man, slim of build, he wore high boots, green pants and a leather belt, his shirt was tucked in. It had been white before, but now it was more red than white. His dark hair mattered in blood from a skull caved in.
Kaspia adjusted the body’s head. “It's Silvertongue,” she said to Tillian. “He’s dead.”
“Shit, shit, shit, what is going on? This is messed up, we should just let the Redhand take care of it.”
The boy was trembling as he spoke. The Redhand had taken them through dangerous times before, Kaspia herself had brawled over territory, beaten up shopkeepers and even mugged a yellow shirt or two in her time with the crew. Deaths however, especially to the Redhand’s right hand man, that was not something she was used to. It was said Silvertongue could talk himself out of any situation, yet here he lay, dead in a pool of his own blood.
A dunce in the room next door sent Tillian grabbing for her arm, tugging and almost making her lose her balance. Tillian, the boy who looked out for her no matter what. Side by side they scrambled for the door out, Tillian crashing headfirst straight into the immovable chest of an armored man.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our lost little birds.”
A short man with tan skin stepped out from behind the man Tillian had collided with, he wore a heavy brown leather coat with a thick belt with odd bladed weapons tucked in at his waist and a bandolier across his chest. Sudden realization crossed her mind as recognition dawned. This was the elf that had tortured poor old mister Fimius and he wasn't a summer elf!
“You barbarian!” Kaspia screamed.
Ripping her knife from her belt and charging at the interrogator, fear and rage, a potent mix, coursing through her body in an instant. She was vengeance, those before her had their fate sealed for she would dominate them all and bathe in their blood! This wicked man had caused her pain and suffering, he deserved to pay. She might not be able to take down the armored man behind him but that didn’t matter. If her destiny was to die ending this wicked man's life that was good enough. Somewhere deep down she felt at peace with dying, her own life was not worth living anyway. She knew that within her lurked a rabid beast, one that would one day consume her mind. Besides, everyone she ever loved had already passed on to the afterlife. Would she be able to meet them? Most likely not as she had done some horrible things in the last couple of years to survive but it didn’t matter, she had a job to do. Her rage consumed her last thoughts.
Closing in as she charged she saw the interrogator cast her a nonchalant look, he pulled out one of the sticks in his bandolier and pointed it in her direction. Before she even had a chance to take more than a couple of steps he had muttered a few short words. The stick in his hand lit up with a purple light and Kaspia felt her body change. Within a heartbeat she felt weak and frail like if she were an old woman lying on her deathbed. What was happening, what kind of wicked magic was this? As Kaspia fell to the floor right in front of the interrogator she could see the armored man bending down and picking up Tillian, holding him across his neck. The boy struggled feebly for a second before the armored man struck him across his face. His eyes rolled back in his skull as his body went limp.
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“Be more careful, you oaf,” the interrogator said to the armored man. “What if we are in need of the kid?”
“Sorry elder, I didn’t know he would be so weak,” the armored man replied, shrugging his shoulders as if innocent of the whole thing.
“Never mind, I might have gone overboard with my spell as well. That girl looks like she’s half way into the grave already. What do they make youngsters out of nowadays, straw?”
He chuckled at his own joke, stepping close to Kaspia, his face mere inches from hers.
“Hmm, I think she will be alright once the spell wears off. In theory it should not leave any permanent effects,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Pick them up for me will you.”
Walking into the common room with an unconscious young man on one shoulder and a girl who was young but at the same time appeared old as a withered crone the armored man made quite the scene as he unceremoniously dropped them next to a bunch of other people that Kaspia recognised as Redhand’s entire crew, with the exception of Silvertongue that is.
“Now that everyone is finally here I would like to say thank you. It has been too long since I got to do a proper manhunt. You know how it is, work takes precedence over hobbies and time just flies by so fast.”
“Now, let us get down to it. Who among you can answer me where our treasures are?” the interrogator asked the collection of bound elven men and women. “I have got to say, when I heard our property had been stolen before we could have them delivered I was quite surprised. To steal from a mercenary company of our unblemished repute takes some guts indeed,” the interrogator continued with an amused voice. He pointed to one of the prisoners sitting on the ground. “You, what might be your name my stumpy friend?”
“Cirtar,” the thug replied through clenched teeth.
Kaspian hadn’t known Cirtar long as he’d been recruited a few months back by Redhand during a feud over territory with another gang as hired muscle. However he stayed on after the fighting was done. Being a short but extremely muscled man with a short temper and a penchant for going too far when his blood was up he had been a big part of why they’d managed to take over Tin Street before things turned to proper bloodshed. The additional shops that now paid protection money to Redhand had kept the boss bragging for weeks afterwards.
Cirtar was lifted up by one of several armored men in the room and put in a chair in the middle of the room. His struggles to free himself from his captor's steady hands were utterly futile.
“Now my dear Cirtar, how nice that we could have a chat. How are you, is the chair comfortable? I can get you a nice cushy pillow if you wish. How rude of me to not consider your comfort before.”
The short man was blood red in his face and was clearly quickly filling with fury. Spit flew out of his mouth as he replied.
“I’ve been better, you mongrel wild elf!”
As he spoke, held down in the chair he was pumping his hands getting ready for an opening. Before he had time to do anything though one of the armored men put a hand on his shoulder and kept him firmly down in the chair. Damn they must be strong.
“Now, now. No need for this hostility my dear Cirtar. You see that girl over there? The frail one that looks like a great grandmother well into her second century? That’s going to be you if you don’t cooperate with me.”
Was he talking about her, Kaspia wondered. It was true she felt weak. It wasn't a feeling she could properly describe, not the weakness of exhaustion but more like she hadn't properly woken up yet, her body barely responded to her commands. However, if anyone was strong enough to fight back besides Beoria it was probably Cirtar. Strike him down, please, Kaspia thought to herself, feeling impotence at the absurd situation but unable to utter a single word.
A storm of profanities came from Cirtar's mouth as he struggled in vain to get out of the chair and get his wildly swinging fists to reach the interrogator.
“So unfortunate my dear Cirtar, I really regret that it has to come to this.”
The short wild elf pointed a stick at Cirtar and uttered a few words that Kaspia couldn’t make out as Cirtar screamed. The sound unnatural, beastly, filled with anguish and pain, far worse than what she herself had suffered from the mongrel's spell. The scream split the air but for a moment before it faded into a gurgling drool as Cirtar turned old and feeble.
“Well.” A cheery smile spread across the interrogator. “Who is next?”
Similar acts took place with two more members, the first one cried and begged and the second one withdrew, his gaze vacant as he stayed quiet. To some their reaction could have been interesting to some, the interrogator sure seemed like he found each of his victims special but in the end it didn't matter. Both screamed, cried, drooled and soiled themselves. The result was the same and Kaspia knew why. These men didn’t know where Redhand had hid what the wild elf interrogator sought. Likely he had kept the hiding spot secret from all but his most trusted men. That meant only three people knew, Redhand himself, Beoria and Silvertongue. Well the last one was dead so two people really. There were only a few people left for the interrogator to go through, Tillian who was still unconscious, Beoria and Redhand as well as Kaspia of course. Not that she knew what the interrogator could do to her besides causing some pain. She had already been turned into a frail husk and her life was over. She had no one who could take care of her as she lived her last few days in this state while waiting for some disease to take her. Ending her life like most that were lucky enough to live to old age. The interrogator pointed to Beoria as two armored men grabbed the gold skinned giant of a woman by the arms. She was truly a mountain of a woman, proud of her strength and not afraid to use it. Although if truth be told she wasn't as cruel as most thugs in her position. She had often taught the younger members of the crew her tricks to survive in this harsh place. Teaching them how to collect protection money from the businesses they ”protected” without having to resort to more than a show of force and tricks on how to intimidate victims they robbed into giving up without a fight. Now that she thought about it Kaspia realized that Beoria most likely didn’t even enjoy the thrill of the fight and the power of dominating a victim, a rare trait in the slums. Even Kaspia had on occasion taken out her pent up frustration on an unsuspecting target that happened to walk through the wrong alleyway but never Beoria.
“Well, you are a big fella, ain't you? These ignorant Elmaesta, summer elves as they call themselves, say I'm a mongrel. Insular, inbred vagrants as they are. Tell me, you're not just tall but also broad and strong, was your mother or father from beyond the mountains? Are you lost in the world, I wonder or have your tribe fallen so low as to conspire with this trash?” the interrogator said, looking Beoria up and down with a wicked grin. “How about it, will you give me what I am after or should we do this the fun way?”
Beoria, who had up to this point kept her face down, keeping Kaspian and the others from seeing her facial expression, looked up for the first time. Her golden skin had turned purple, her eyes empty, defeated. The huge woman looked so weak while being pushed down into the chair where member after member turned to frail husks. Kaspia had half expected the big woman to put up a fight, if anyone had a shot it was Beoria with her strength. But she just sat there, the seconds passing by. The small interrogator looked on with curiosity while the rest of the crew stared at her in shock. Everyone except the Redhand who looked as if someone had pissed in his wine.
“Don’t you dare, you cunt, I will end your cowardly life if you so much as open that filthy mouth,” he scowled in anger.
The large woman turned her face toward the Redhand, her eyes distant, as if she spoke whilst her mind was somewhere else.
“What in the Forger's hairy ass does it matter Redhand? The dead can’t use coins anyway, you're a scheming piece of shit,” Beoria said with a shaking voice. “If your plans were half as good as you thought, you pompous prick, we wouldn't be in this shit!”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up, you filthy rat! You’re no better than the rest of these little piss rats! You filthy scum!” Spit was flying out of his mouth in rivers as he yelled.
One of the armored men punched the Redhand across his face and suddenly the cruel Redhand was no longer someone to be fearful of, their leader's head falling back as he tipped unconsciously into the floor.
Chuckling the interrogator interrupted the spectacle by addressing Beoria once more.
“Now, now, my good lady. You were telling us where you put the things you took from us.” the small interrogator said.
“Caladir the blacksmith apprentice,” Beoria whispered.
“What, explain what you mean by Calandir the blacksmith apprentice, where may I find this apprentice?” the interrogator asked in a curious tone.
“In the cemetery by the eastern road, it’s a fake name we use to stash loot. It’s the fourth sarcophagus, it has a large gray stone on top with Calandir the blacksmith apprentice chiseled on it. Now let me go, I’ve given you the answer to your question.”
“Thank you for your cooperation my good lady but I am afraid letting you go is not in my power. Turns out the city is looking for you as well. Now I bid you all heartfelt farewell and I thank you all humbly for the entertainment. I would say see you later but somehow I do not think that is going to happen. Toodeloo!”
The small interrogator and the armored men left the inn and as they got outside Kaspia heard him say.
“Constable, they are all yours now. The hex keeping them weak will wear off in a few hours so I would not fiddle around too long before putting them in chains.”
The entire inn shook as Beoria screamed, “Son of a …!”