by Pdmac
“Yes, Sir.”
As the guard dashed off, the Administrator turned a kind eye back to Karl. “How is our Lady?”
“She is resting,” Karl answered. “I don’t know how long until she is back to normal, but we are obligated to stay here until she is whole.”
The Administrator regarded him with both surprise and satisfaction, dipping his head in understanding. “I’m sure she will appreciate that. Until then, you are to be guests here at the castle, where you may roam at your pleasure. You have done a great service to the kingdom. I’m sure the Lady will reward you appropriately.”
“She already has by the healing of our friend. We are indebted to her,” Karl gallantly replied.
“Well spoken, my friend, if I may call you such,” the Administrator said with a polite smile before turning to the assassin. “And what should we do you with you?”
Karl watched the assassin stare up at the Administrator and for a fleeting moment, he swore he saw a glimpse of a smile.
“If you will allow me,” Karl proposed, “I’d like a chance to interrogate him.”
“We have our own very capable interrogators,” the Administrator rebuffed.
“No doubt you do, but if I might ask the favor of having the first shot. If I fail,” he shrugged, “then your men can take up where I failed.”
The Administrator folded his arms and gave Karl an indulgent smile. “I’m intrigued. Just how would you interrogate him?”
Karl focused his attention of the assassin, keenly studying the body language as he spoke. “First, I would ask for the finest butcher in the city, one skilled in removing the thinnest of fat and skin.”
“A butcher?” the Administrator chuckled. “That’s a new one. Then what?”
“I would have the butcher remove the man’s eyelids.”
“My God,” the Administrator choked. “Why?”
“Because removing the eyelids wouldn’t’ kill him, but the inability to shut out light will eventually drive him insane.”
The assassin’s breathing grew labored and his eyes widened as he jerked his head to stare up at the Administrator who seemed interested in the Vikings’ approach.
“Then what?” the Administrator inquired.
“Then I would shave a couple layers of skin off his feet and hands.”
“You are downright diabolical,” the Administrator grinned.
“And then I would toss him over the wall. He’d still be quite alive, but the pain would be intense and ever present. If he was lucky and the animals or monsters didn’t get him, he might make it all the way back home. Of course, that implies he was very lucky for once word got out that he was an assassin and everyone told to leave him alone, it’s just possible he might starve to death before he made his way out of the kingdom. But, if he did survive, he would be forever branded as an assassin, a failed assassin.”
“I like your approach,” the Administrator smiled. “But there’s still the problem of getting information from him. All these marvelous tortures and no results.”
“Do you really expect him to talk?” Karl replied. “He expects to be tortured to death. He accepts that. However, to be allowed to live, deformed and broken… that he has not accepted.”
“Interesting… perhaps you’re right.” The Administrator leaned down placing a knuckle under the man’s chin and forcibly lifting his head to face him. Though looking at the assassin, he spoke to Karl. “So be it. He’s all yours. Do with him as you wish.”
Hatred filled the assassin’s eyes. “You bastard. You really think they’re going to let you rule? You’re a dead man as soon as he gets here. And then I’ll be the one gloating.”
“Gloating?” the Administrator mocked. “You’ll never have anything to gloat about the rest of your short life.” He straightened and turned to Karl. “If you need anything, simply tell one of the guards or servants and they will provide you. If you have any problems, come get me.”
“You are most kind, Sir,” Karl said with a polite, yet slight, bow, wondering what the assassin meant by ‘You really think they’re going to let you rule.’
“I leave it to you then,” the Administrator smiled. “I’ll send someone for your butcher. The interrogation rooms are in the lowest levels, for obvious reasons.” He grinned and leaned in, lowering his voice but ensuring the assassin heard. “Very few like listening to screams, although I’ve known some Inquisitors who rather enjoy their work. In fact, I just might come down myself to watch.” Turning on his heels, his robe swirling, he strode through the door and was gone, his guards in orderly file behind him.
An awkward silence filled the room as Ross frowned at Karl. “Are you really going to torture him?”
“Of course,” her replied, the answer obvious. “Why wouldn’t I? He came here specifically to kill Lady Gwen, and anyone else who got in his way. Are you OK with that?”
“Of course not,” he bluntly stated. “But torture? Why not just kill him and be done with it?”
“What do you suggest?” he tersely replied. “Feed him dinner and give him a warm send off? If you haven’t noticed, we seemed to have landed in the middle of a war.”
“I noticed,” Ross tartly answered. “But torture… it’s so… medieval, so beneath us.”
Karl stared at him. “So your solution is to kill him outright, a sword thrust through the heart, a nice clean kill, an antiseptic approach. No one has to feel bad about what you’ve done because it was quick and he didn’t suffer. Is that it?”
“No, well yes,” Ross mumbled. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Come here,” Karl commanded and walked over to stand inside the doorway of Lady Gwen’s bedroom. When Ross stood beside him, Karl quietly spoke, his voice cold and hard. “Don’t ever question my authority again. Understood?”
Ross’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “I wasn’t questioning your authority,” he growled.
“You were questioning my decision, which is the same thing,” Karl shot back. “Do it again and you’re out, on your own. Am I clear?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Ross snarled.
“What I am is your boss, your commander. If you have a problem with that you’re free to find another outfit. No one is forcing you to stay here. But if you do stay, remember your agreement when you first signed on. I am the unquestioned leader of this group. Now which is it? You staying or leaving?” He folded his arms and narrowed his stare at him.
Ross pursed his lips and twisted his head to look over his shoulder at the rest of the company who were watching the interaction. Realizing he had little choice, he said, “Guess I’ll stay… for now.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Karl replied, standing to full height. He turned and walked to the center of the room, Ross slowly following behind. “OK everyone, listen up. Ross here is not sure he wants to belong to this group. As I said to him, I tell you all now. No one is forcing any of you to be part of this team. However, once you make a commitment to the team, you are forever a part of it. We have each other’s backs no matter what the circumstances.”
The assassin snickered, shifting a derisive glance at Karl. “Trouble in paradise?”
Karl slowly turned to glare at him. “One more word from you and I cut your tongue out. Not only will you never be able to close your eyes, you’ll never be able to talk again, so choose your next words wisely.”
The assassin swallowed hard and looked away.
Karl turned back to the group. “This isn’t a democracy. While I look for input from time to time, I make the decisions that affect the group. If you are unhappy with that, then you need to find another group or set out on your own. Questions?”
Dieter curled a lip and stared at Ross. “If I can’t trust you to have my back, you can just leave right now.”
Ross bristled then looked at the rest of the team, rapidly realizing they were completely loyal to Karl. If he left now, he would truly be alone.
“Aw hell,” he grumbl
ed. “What kind of soldier would I be if I didn’t complain every now and then?”
“I accept complaints,” Karl said, “but that’s about it. What’s your decision?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he lightly replied. “You have my word.”
Chapter 5
Felix Hubach sat at the head of the table in the conference room in the ITL headquarters in Chattanooga. Located in a nine story Art Moderne style structure looking much like the old Federal Office Building in Seattle, Washington, the ITL headquarters overlooked the South Chickamauga Creek to the front and the Tennessee River to the rear. The view from the wall of windows in the conference room that overlooked the Tennessee River reached all the way to Signal Mountain.
Seated at the other eight places at the table was the design team for the Misted Isle part of Bridge Quest. Felix rested his elbows on the cushioned arms of the plush chair and interlaced his fingers as he listened to Scott Carleson, the Design Manager, talk about the latest developments.
Scott, sitting to Felix’s immediate left, brushed an errant strand of blond hair out of his face. “Viking Karl has some, um… rather unusual means of dealing with various situations. The first is disaffected team members.” He looked at Felix and then at the others siting at the table. “You’ll remember that we initially chose Karl based upon his credentials of leadership and military experience. So far he’s been what we had hoped. Ross the ranger, whom we had chosen for his intellect and potential leadership skills, came into conflict with Karl in a sort of power struggle. Karl made it quite plain that he was in charge and if Ross didn’t like it, he could leave.”
“What happened?” Felix asked.
Scott looked across the table to an attractive red-headed woman in her mid-twenties who preferred glasses instead of contacts and was constantly pushing them back up the bridge of her nose. “Tell us Maggie.”
“Ross backed down,” she answered with a neutral smile. “I think he took one look at the support Karl had and realized he would be on his own.”
“And then there was the ingenious torture method,” Scott said with a sparkle in his eyes.
Felix noticed some of the others cringe. “Go on.”
“He had the man’s eyelids removed.”
Felix frowned and inhaled sharply. “Was that really necessary? Wasn’t the assassin programed to reveal some tidbit of information already?”
“Well yes,” Scott said, “but in this instance the PC took it upon himself to accelerate the process. In fact, we had to spend some time working up an additional set of algorithms to make it happen.”
“How does this impact the two warring kingdoms?”
“It doesn’t really,” Scott replied. “Yes, there will be some variations we’ll have to watch for, but for the most part, everything is going as planned.”
“We’ve taken into account the level of our PCs,” Maggie said, “remembering our objective is to get them to the next island. While some of the NPCs are higher levels to prevent PCs from leveling up too high, the majority of NPCs are within the skill sets of the players. For example, the trolls on Misted Isle are level 10s, with the king troll a level 15.”
“And what level do our PCs have to be to cross the bridge?” Felix asked, knowing the answer.
“10,” Maggie answered, using her middle finger to push her glasses up.
“And right now all of them are level 6 when they should only be level 4 by now,” Felix admonished.
“Yes, Sir,” Scott said, acknowledging the flaw in the programming. “That’s why we’ve spent time building in more complexity to the quest. This quest should be more difficult and place them where they should be when they cross the bridge.”
Felix templed his fingers and turned to Scott. “Let me know when they get to the bridge.”
Karl sat on the edge of Lady Gwen’s bed, intimating a familiarity of which the Administrator did not approve, neither did Annabeth or Raquel. During the past week, Karl and Dieter had spent most of their waking hours guarding the Lady, handing off the responsibility to others when they needed sleep.
As the days progressed, Lady Gwen’s skin lost its ash color and returned to the smooth porcelain whiteness, but it still required effort to move around and she made known her preference that Karl and Dieter were her preferred escorts as she healed.
True to Karl’s threats, the assassin’s eyelids were removed and several layers of skin were taken from him feet and hands. Word quickly spread throughout the city, especially when the assassin was paraded out of the city and dumped outside the far walls. Karl’s reputation as a ruthless commander grew and the people were both impressed and afraid of him.
Carole had regained a large portion of her health and had taken to walking around the castle and grounds as she continued to heal. The rest of the team enjoyed the exceptional cuisine and ale, Conrad and Wendell being the most pleased.
However, their time was not spent in idleness. News that Cyril’s armies were on the march reached the city by a fleet-footed messenger who begged Lady Gwen to send as many troops as possible to help her brother-in-law defeat the enemy.
Sitting at the edge of Lady Gwen’s bed, Karl listened to the messenger relay his instructions.
The messenger was a young man and wore the livery of the royal house of Bale. He was tired, dusty, and hungry as he had ridden without pause since the day before.
“My Lady,” he said, surprised at the Viking sitting so irreverently on bed. “The king, your brother-in-law, requests your immediate support by supplying 1,000 men and women at arms.”
“One thousand?” she gasped. “That is my entire army. What do I use to defend my own domain?”
“I do not know my Lady,” he awkwardly replied. “What am I to tell the king, your brother-in-law?”
“Leave us,” she commanded. “Let me think on this a bit.”
“Your pardon, my Lady,” he said, bowing his head, “but there is not much time left.”
“You will get your answer within the hour. Now go.”
“Yes, m’Lady.”
Waiting until he was outside the far door, she then turned to Karl. “It is now time to call in my favor.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he answered, standing.
“My favor is this; you and your friends will defend my domain until the enemy is slain or we are all dead.”
Quest Alert: Save Lady Gwen’s domain of Westhaven from Cyril’s armies
Reward: Unlimited access to supplies, scrolls, potions, and weapons currently in the domain
Reward: Escort to the Bridge connecting Misted Isle to the next island
Reward: Reputation: increase from ‘Your name sounds familiar’ to ‘I have heard of you and I am impressed.’
Do you accept this quest? Yes No
Karl barely read the alert. With the messenger’s dire news, Karl knew what Gwen’s demand would be. Pressing the ‘Yes’ icon, he said, “How much time do we have to prepare?”
“Fetch the messenger.”
Karl crossed the room and to the main door to the apartment, opening the door. The messenger sat slumped against the opposite wall.
“She wants you.”
Despite his exhaustion, he pushed himself up and followed Karl to stand before the Lady.”
“I will send 500,” she stated. “To do more leaves me defenseless.”
“Yes, m’Lady,” he said with some relief. “When can they march?”
“They will be on the road tomorrow. Tell me, how does the king fare?”
“It is bad, m’Lady,” he answered. “Cyril’s forces have already invaded the outer lands. Trolls have been reported in Lord Martin’s domain and he has sent his wife and children to the king. His two oldest remain to do battle.”
“Can they hold out?”
The messenger’s shoulders dropped and he let out a soft sigh. “I do not see how, m’Lady. Cyril’s army has grown with trolls and orcs and even gnolls. Who can defeat such creatures?”
“But h
ow long can he hold out?”
“Who can tell, m’Lady? A few days, a week, perhaps two? What is stopping Cyril from bypassing Lord Martin and coming straight to Durness?”
Realizing she was going to get nothing more from him, she dismissed him. Throwing the covers off, she held her hand out.
Karl took her hand and helped her to a circular table set close to the hearth. Sliding a chair out for her, he helped her sit then pulled out a chair and sat next to her.
The top of the table consisted of smooth clear glass that reached almost to the edges. Beneath the glass was a terrain map in the shape of the Misted Isle skillfully crafted from various hardwoods. The kingdom of Montgrec was outlined in white oak. To the south, Cyril’s kingdom was etched in mahogany. Mountainous terrain filled most of the island except for the two arms and the coast along the southeast. Towns, rivers and farms were shown in the kingdom, while Cyril’s domains had just as many locations identified. At the tip of the lower arm, the bridge to the next island ended into the edge of the table.
“You can see that our knowledge of the world is not as great as it should be,” she said.
“Who is Lord Cyril?” Karl asked. “I’ve asked the Administrator and can’t seem to get a satisfactory answer.”
Lady Gwen gazed at him with a sad yet kind look. “He is my brother-in-law.”
“Pardon?” Karl blinked in surprise.
“He is the brother to the king.”
Karl sat back and chuckled. “So this is a family war.”
“You might say that,” she sighed. “Cyril and Coirthan have never been close. Coirthan was the oldest and obviously the heir to the throne. Cyril was… is your typical jealous younger brother. But make no mistake. His jealousy to prove himself the more deserving caused him to seek the battlefield where he earned well-deserved honors. His father was so pleased that he gave him half the kingdom. So long as the father lived, the two brothers kept their distance. When the father died, Cyril made no effort to hide his desire to unite the kingdom.”
“What happened?”
Lady Gwen offered a weak shrug. “We’ve been at war ever since. No, that’s not quite right. There was a ten year lull where we had all hoped life would return to some normalcy. Trade increased between the two parts of kingdoms and things seemed to be getting better. Then abruptly, six months ago, Cyril shut his borders and cut off all trade. Many of our farmers and merchants were ruined because they had put all their efforts in business and trade with his part of the kingdom. Then the border incursions started, not much at first, but enough to cause concern. We sent the usual diplomatic letters. The first time the letters were ignored and the raids across our borders became land grabs. The second time we sent letters, our messengers’ heads were returned to us, stuck on poles attached to a wagon. Their bodies were dumped in the wagon itself. That was enough and Coirthan declared war. Now we have learned that Cyril has formed an alliance with the mountain trolls, a tribe of nasty creatures we once kept at bay.”