Nothing new to report in relations to this post, at least as far as we're concerned with. Editing both here and on paper is continuing, and you'll see a shift toward Saul's PoV, mostly as a design decision. Motives are being fleshed out a little be more as are characters.
I'll be getting to reading everyone's stuff tonight and tomorrow.
Summary: Saul Rawne and his Dragon, Mert Asherban are talking to a sylthanian tactician in hopes of recruiting him.
Chapter 2 Cont.
“So the two of you deserted?” Saul asked.
“Fah. How could I desert them? They deserted me. To lead in battle, fight the enemy, and die a shrieking corpse on the field of battle was all I asked. There was nothing left for me there. Were anything different now, I would go back immediately. But change comes slowly. It was only three centuries ago we sylthanian men were nothing more than chattel. Bred like common animals. I fear I may never see my homeland again in this incarnation.”
Sargoth paused as Kazarranar put a big mug of whiskey in front of him. “My point is this: I am not some drunken layabout drinking beer, and dreaming of a return to glory. I am not some washed-up advisor who has fallen on hard times and turns to drink. I am a bored tactician, looking for something entertaining.”
The Sylthanian popped his knuckles and then rested both hands under his chin. “You want me to help you get revenge on those who wronged you? Who killed your wife? As callous as it sounds, I have no care for your problems. The only enticement that can rouse me now is the opportunity to go against insurmountable odds.”
Revenge? Callous or not, that is everything. It is all that matters. Saul leaned back. “I’ll give you that.”
Sargoth laughed. “I figured you could. At first I might refuse your offer. You haven’t tempted me with anything in return. You thought you could get the old Prelate’s attention by enticing him with the thoughts of a grandiose revenge that belongs in legends told around a campfire”
“There is always that,” Saul said.
“Quite. I was always partial to bold plans. I’m in,” Sargoth said.
“Just like that?” Mert said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, there’s always more to it. Come walk with me. This isn’t a conversation for other ears to hear,” Sargoth said. The big sylthanian pulled himself out of his chair and started for the exit.
Saul followed him. Kazarranar, the Life-ward fell into step behind them.
“So if you’re not here as a washed-out drunk, then why are you drinking by yourself in a bar?” Mert said.
“What can I say? I love whiskey,” Sargoth said.
Chapter 3
Saul followed Sargoth out into the rain, and the smell of unwashed bodies vanished replaced with the crisp smell of the downpour that had washed away the pungent stink of the cockatrices. The large birds, tethered outside, gave them quizzical looks as they passed by, but quickly returned to preening their feathers with their long narrow beaks.
Sargoth paused and turned to Kazarranar. He spoke crisp, sharp words in Sithar that Saul tried to follow. Far too long had passed since he had heard Sithar, the sylthanian language and his sense for understanding the words had dulled.
“You’re not keeping something from us, are you?” Saul asked.
Sargoth looked towards Saul. “The streets in any city in Lorhal are never safe, Master Rawne. I counted at least three druid informants, plus seven other spies for other factions. Shintaur. Blackwell. One for the Empire of Heaven. You’d be surprised how many significant events start in taverns. We’re proof of that.”
Sargoth continued a moment later. “I have my own secrets, Saul. I am not working for you. I am working with you. Many of the native Lorhalians are veterans of the wars perpetrated by Blackwell, and they see me as an enemy. Reputation on my part is the only reason that they haven’t succeeded in killing me.”
He turned back and led them out to the edge of town. The Life-ward faded back, watching for anyone trying to listen in on them. The rain became a dull roar around them, pattering off the rooftops and tuning out the noise several paces beyond them.
“I assume you already have some plan in place? This isn’t going to be something you just do overnight,” Sargoth said.
Saul paused. He hadn’t set anything vital in motion yet. He had never been able to manipulate anyone worth a damn. Too blunt for that, but where you can’t manipulate, you predict. “Nothing is set right now.”
Sargoth grunted. “You’re probably looking at a multifold plan to start. Establish popular support. Erode official support. Install yourself or someone else as the person in control. I know all sorts of people who could support what you’re doing, but no one ever works for free. I’ve noticed you have little in hard currency. “
“You just have to find something they’d be willing to do for nothing,” Saul said. “You’re already proof of that, Prelate.”
“You’re talking about making Thorozean your own,” Sargoth said. “Civil ordinances and governmental nonsense doesn’t interest me. If you want me to play world builder, you’re out of luck. I can knock it down, but I’m not going to rebuild it. Unless you two have an army somewhere that I don’t know about, then we’re going to need specialists to crack this nut.”
“What kind of specialist cracks nuts?” Mert muttered.
“Sod off, Mert,” Saul said.
“Sodding off, sir,” Mert said.
At that moment several hussars appeared out of the misty gloom beyond the city. Each rider held one of their long-barreled rifles close to their body, covering the fire-dust opening with a hand to prevent the powder from turning into a soggy mash. They passed by the three of them without a word, heading further into town at a quickened trot. The smell from the cockatrice’s passage invaded Saul’s nose before the pouring rain wiped it away. I’m never going to get used to that stench.
“Word has it that a legion of my comrades has infiltrated into the continent this far,” Sargoth noted. “The Khan is already dealing with it. The local commander has outriders combing the Steppes looking for them. Fate, it seems, always has a way of catching up to us.”
“You think your Shaman Queen wants her trophy back?” Mert asked.
Saul sneered down at him. “Perhaps. But I’m not going anywhere. I may be old, but I am not a mewling infant. And don’t let Kazarranar fool you. She’s incredibly good at what she does. I would have expected her to be the Shaman Queen’s own Life-ward by now.”
Saul could believe that. Watching the Life-ward gave him all sorts of new insights into personal protection. Life-wards weren’t just average bodyguards but soldiers bred specifically in sanctioned breeding ground back in the Pollos Expanse across the ocean. Conditioned from birth, Life-wards trained exclusively to protect their ward, and as a result, all ranking sylthanians had at least one. Life-ward’s honor was linked to the one they protected and, male or not, Kazarranar would protect Sargoth to her death.
“What specialists are we going to need?” Mert asked.
“You solicited my services less than an hour ago, and you expect me to have devised a brilliant solution? Either you flatter me or insult me,” Sargoth said.
“I know your reputation, Prelate,” Saul said. “You’re just having fun at our expense.”
“Then allow me to make it more fun. How familiar are you with the Dawnfire Guild?” Sargoth asked.
The Dawnfire Guild. Now there was a name that Saul hadn’t expected to come up. The guild of Blackwell Alchemists was the worst kept secret in existence. Everyone knew they existed and everyone knew what they did, but Saul had no first-hand experience with anyone who had even met a Dawnfire Alchemist.
“They do all the potion and elixir making for the Circle of Oak in Blackwell. Also deal with training Magi,” Saul said.
“More or less,” Sargoth said. He coughed several times and snorted, clearing phlegm from his throat. “This damn weather. I doubt you’ve heard of Malchanor Hamagesh?”
Oddly enough, Saul could recall the name, but he couldn’t recall the context where he had heard it. A distant memory from another time. “Sounds familiar.”
“Oh, he’s got a great tale to tell.” Sargoth said. “You see, he left the Guild.”
“I thought the only way out was death,” Mert said.
“Correct,” Sargoth said. He reached into his coat pocket and grabbed some of the bar nuts he had hid away. While munching one, he continued. “But he was gone when they finally uncovered his departure. The motive he claims as true changes every time you ask him. Alchemists discovered the philosopher’s stone and he stole it and ran. Alchemists remade dwarven fire and he stole it and ran. Alchemists remade dwarven fire; he burned the guildhouse to the ground, and ran off with the Guildmaster’s wife. He gave one of the Circle of Oak a potion that turned the druid into a striped-rot grub.”
“He lit an apprentice on fire just to watch him burn, and then ate the boy’s right foot,” Kazarranar added, walking up to them.
Sargoth chuckled nervously, “Ah yes… I forgot that one.” Saul’s nervous smile was replaced by one of mixed apprehension. “The Guild was about as amenable to his departure as you’d expect. Their constant pursuit has driven Malchanor crazy.”
“He’s what?” Saul said.
“You heard me. Years of inhaling toxic fumes and the constant paranoia of hired assassins following him have turned him into a paranoid maniac. If you want a favor to get him under your thumb, offer him protection and he’ll immediately accept. He has a particular knack with volatile potion making, as well as a decent skill with about everything else.”
“You said you had two in mind. Who is the other?” Saul asked
.
“The other I hired to keep an eye on Malchanor,” Sargoth said. “Local, this one, but she’s proven to be a diamond in the rough. She’s a mercenary, with one of the local raiding warbands that operates in this region. Or she was, until about a year ago. Evidently she shot the wrong person and has been on the run from his friends for the past year. Probably less likely to go for any free employment though. She takes all money up-front regardless of what it is you want. But she’s an effective sharpshooter and won’t give any of this ‘thrill of the chase’ nonsense you get with bounty hunters now.
”
“You expect for us to need a sharpshooter?” Mert asked.
“Would you feel better without one?” Sargoth said.
“Point,” Saul said. “Any other ideas?”
“Several, but nothing sure enough to be worth sharing,” Sargoth said. “I have business I need to deal with here. You go find the other two. Malchanor and the markswoman, Lilo, are holed up in a ranch about five miles straight north from here. Malchanor’s tendencies have the unfortunate effect of drawing attention so I had to move them a decent way away.”
“I do find it odd than in less than an hour you seem convinced to work with us,” Mert remarked.
Sargoth sighed. “You have the reputation and the means to get work done. Besides, it's been a long time since I’ve had to plan a proper war.”
