by Warhammer
'He's the one!' shouted a pikeman, pointing at Reiner. 'He's the villain who lead those little horrors into the brothel.'
'And he the one who talk me into putting up sick people in first place,' said Madam Tolshnaya, bustling up importantly.
Deiter glared at Reiner. 'After I turned them away?'
'And I saw him earlier today,' said a handgunner. 'He kicked a body off a cart and it exploded with nurglings.'
'Actually, it exploded, then I kicked it off,' said Reiner weakly, but nobody was listening.
The burly acolyte of Morr pushed through the crowd. 'And he left a corpse at the mortuary that birthed a swarm of monsters!'
Deiter looked at Reiner in disgust. 'It becomes clear that it was you, not the sister, who meant to spread disease and confusion, that it is you who is the servant of Chaos.' He raised his voice. 'Reiner Hetzau, in the name of our benevolent Emperor, Karl-Franz, I arrest you for the crimes of murder, treason, sorcery, and consorting with the enemy.' He turned to his men. 'Gentlemen, take him away.'
Reiner sighed as the guardsmen marched him to the street. It was just as Ranald taught. No good deed goes unpunished.
The hangman checked the lever again. The trap dropped and the sack of earth twitched at the end of the noose. It was late afternoon. The long shadow of the gallows touched Reiner's face. He turned away from the brig window. There was no laughter in him now. The sunset behind the gallows would be his last. No more dice. No more cards. No more women. No more fine food and drink. He hung his head. It wasn't fair. His life couldn't end like this. He had to escape. There must be a way!
If he could get out of the camp - out of the cell - he could make his way to the Sea of Claws. Then he might sail south to... anywhere really anywhere the Empire's shadow didn't fall: Tilea, Estalia, the Border Princes. There were always opportunities for men of adventurous nature to be had there. All he had to do was get out of here.
He looked around with eyes refreshed by desperation: thick walls, iron bars, narrow windows. He couldn't break through all that, not by tomorrow morning, certainly. He stepped to the cell's heavy oak door. The lock looked simple enough, but picking locks was not a skill he'd learned, and smashing the door down was a foolish fantasy. It was as thick as the walls.
He looked through the door's tiny barred window. The turnkey sat on a stool just outside, picking his nose. Reiner brightened. He knew the man: a dull, stolid trooper he had diced with on many occasions - and taken many a reikmark from. It had been like stealing alms from a blind man. There was hope after all.
'Vassendorf, my lad,' he whispered through the bars. 'A word in your ear.'
Scanned, layouted and proof-read by Mon
Version 1.0