"The crops milord, the yield is far from last year milord, the harvest could be our worst in ten winters milord. I beg ya help milord."
Ethelston let loose a large yawn as he watched a toothless farmer explain how the crops of the last year had suffered because of a combination of tragedies. The war meant he had no help from his sons, the taxes meant he couldn't pay for help and the Black Knife Syndicate stole most of his reserves. In short, Ethelston's uncle had done all he could to destroy this elderly farmer's livelihood.
This, however, had been the tenth sob story of a similar case today and as a result, Ethelston's interest in such matter had waned significantly.
"How many more do I have to see today?" Ethelston leant over to Jarendrud so only he could hear the question, ignoring the farmer's continuing grumbles.
"At least ten my lord." Jarendrud's gruff voice responded.
"Surely there must be more to running this city than dealing with crop issues." Ethelston complained.
"Considering the state that your uncle left the city, my lord, it is somewhat unlikely."
Ethelston let out a loud sigh of desperation, loud enough that it stopped the farmer in his current tirade of grumbles.
Looking around, Ethelston realised that all eyes were on him.
He wished he could be anywhere but here at this moment. A brothel in Ruvia, fighting orcs in Uthengard, insulting Elves at Gryffinfall, hell, even fighting the Manticore again in that God-forsaken desert. However this was the path he had now chosen, and he would fulfil the role the best way he could.
"Umm, " he stuttered. He looked down to his left to see the goblet of wine he had poured himself before the man entered. Taking a large gulp, he hoped it would make his words seem more sincere. Instead it just made him recall places he would rather be.
Again Ethelston sighed. "As you are aware, we currently support the Emperor's war."
Jarendrud coughed conspicuously.
"Sorry, we are in full support of the Emperor's war, " Ethelston corrected himself "Therefore I can not promise you for when your sons will return. While we can not return the grain that has been stolen, our men are working hard to ensure that security is in place to prevent future thefts."
Despite Ethelston displaying a fake smile, the farmer seemed only to frown back. He knew this farmer was after compensation, but there was no way that Ethelston would provide him with what he was after. It would set a dangerous precedent. Besides, money would be needed for the dark days that were undoubtedly around the corner.
"Thank you." Ethelston responded somewhat more harshly than he intended.
With that, the farmer turned and hobbled out of the hall continuing to grumble to no one in particular.
"Please kill me." Ethelston sighed as the next person entered.
"Unfortunately, my lord, but that is completely against my job description." Jarendrud responded, straightening his jacket for the next person's arrival.
Just as Ethelston was to respond, he spotted the young woman heading down the hall towards them. Instantly, he stopped slouching in his seat and sat as upright as he could.
The young woman, probably just over twenty winters, smiled as Ethelston repositioned himself. Stopping about ten steps from Ethelston and Jarendrud, she kneeled down to the floor, her long blonde hair covering her clean and pleasant complexion.
"Please rise for Lord Ethelston Darke, son of Edric Darke, Duke of Ravenscourt." Jarendrud called out quickly. It had been so well-rehearsed, now, that the words just rolled off his tongue.
The young woman, dressed in peasant garb stood and smiled towards Ethelston, in which he smiled back, a little too enthusiastically.
"It appears my lord's lust for life is as true as they say." she pointed out clearly.
Ethelston's smile quickly disappeared. There was something very off about this woman. Her etiquette, her cleanliness, the way she spoke, this was not some typical peasant that he was used to facing.
There was silence in the room as Ethelston just watched her without responding, his smile now fully turned into a frown.
It appeared that she too was quite surprised by Ethelston's lack of response.
"I wonder if the other rumours are true?" she goaded, trying to gain a rise from the Duke of Ravenscourt.
Once again, Ethelston didn't respond.
"State your business young lady." Jarendrud assertively called.
She quickly glanced to Jarendrud before focusing once more on Ethelston. "I am the honey, take it before you receive the sword."
"How dare you threaten my lord." Jarendrud reacted angrily.
Ethelston raised his hand before Jarendrud could react any more. "You are from the Black Knife Syndicate." he deducted.
She smiled. "The rumours of your intelligence may be slightly off the mark though."
"I care not of the rumours of me, " Ethelston replied, "state your warning and be gone."
She turned her head to either side, examining the positions of all the guards in the room before focusing on Ethelston once more.
"The Black Knife Syndicate are putting forward an offer for you; an offer I suggest you take." she reacted. "Leave Ravenscourt and place your uncle back at its helm. Failure to do so will see a level of death and destruction that you could not possibly imagine."
Ethelston chuckled.
"Take the honey, my lord, it's sweet in taste" she responded curtseying and smiling "or take the sword."
Ethelston let a small smile appear on his face as he analysed the threats that the young woman had just released. He quickly glanced around the room to all that were watching. The guards, the other peasants, even Jarendrud; all were focused on how he would react.
While he had not ruled before, he had been given plenty of lessons from his father for the first ten winters they were together, followed by studying various different leaders through his mercenary travels. Some had ruled with a helping hand, some with a clenched fist. Few rarely succeeded in being strong, respected rulers.
He looked up to her again and smiled, she smiled back with an arrogance that was rather off-putting.
Amazingly, before she knew what happened, Ethelston had sprung up from his seat and was resting a knife which he plucked from his boot squarely on her throat.
A fear painted itself on her face. She tried desperately to comprehend how he made up that distance so quickly.
He frowned at her as he held the back of her head, pushing it forward so a small trickle of blood slipped from the blade. "I am the Duke of Ravenscourt, before that I was the Manticore Hunter, one of the most infamous mercenaries in the realms of men. I do not take threats kindly from anyone."
There was a stunned silence in the room with only the panicked breathing of the young woman audible.
He looked at her fear-stricken eyes and relaxed the knife just enough that the blood trickle started to flow a little more loosely.
"You tell the Black Knife Syndicate that I reject their honey and I welcome the sword, and make sure that they know that the devastation that I can wreck is far beyond their comprehension." Ethelston warned.
Pushing her to the ground, he carefully stepped backwards, returning to his seat, watching her closely as she refused to instantly stand up. Instead, she rubbed her neck where the blade had left a small, but noticeable, cut.
Two city guards stood either side of the young woman and assisted her to her feet.
When this woman arrived she was full of arrogance and suave, now she was full of anger and bitterness. "So be it, Manticore Hunter, you shall have the sword." with that she pushed away the guards turning away in frustration.
"Guards!" Ethelston called, instantly encouraging the guards to grab hold of her and return her to where she originally stood.
Her anger had started to turn her cheeks a reddish-purple.
Ethelston smiled, "You leave when I say you can leave." With that he raised his hand and waved it towards the guards. They reacted by taking hold of her and almost carrying the young woman out of the hall to everyone's bemusement.
With all eyes now focused on the young woman and the shame she was enduring, Ethelston leant to Jarendrud. "We will need to work quickly, we need to find out who leads the Black Knife Syndicate, and find them with haste."
"As you wish, my lord, I shall get working on it right away." Jarendrud replied.
With Ethelston's spymaster turning and walking from the hall, Ethelston plastered his fake smile on his face, summoning the next peasant to complain about the current state of their crops.
The rest of the day's events had been uneventful compared to the encounter earlier with the Black Knife Syndicate member. With plans in motion to bring together the local lords, the evening was duly spent discussing finances with Jarendrud.
When time came to sleep, it didn't come easy with the various issues splitting his head. He couldn't remember the moment he eventually did hit sleep, but he remembered being awoken from it as the banging of the wooden door echoed throughout his room.
"My lord, are you there?" the voice came from behind the door.
He instantly recognised the voice of his new captain of the guard, Arminell, he also knew that it must be serious, based on how fervently he was banging on the door.
Ethelston clambered out the bed, sitting upright to gain his bearings. Still wearing the same breeches from the night before, he determined he must have been pretty exhausted to not dress correctly for his sleep.
Out of habit, he slipped the knife from under his bed and held it in his left, subdominant, hand. Clearing the gunk solidified in his eyes he stood and edged to the door.
"I'm coming." he called, as Arminell continued to bang on the door.
Pulling the door open, he held the knife behind it as to keep it concealed from anyone else who may be standing behind it.
"I'm sorry my lord for disturbing you at such a god-awful hour, but something serious has come to my attention." Arminell explained.
Ethelston yawned not even attempting to disguise it. He looked out the window to see the sky was showing various stages of orange. It was likely that he had only slept around four or five hours.
"Give me a minute," he replied abruptly slamming the door in a frustrated manner. Etiquette could wait at this time of the morning.
Having got himself fully dressed in the official apparel of the Duke of Ravenscourt, he opened the door to Arminell, as Jarendrud had now joined him. Jarendrud's face showed his displeasure at also been awoken at this early hour.
Walking along the corridors of Ravenscourt keep, Arminell led the way towards the courtyard and into the upper town.
"Why have you awoken us?" Jarendrud asked, a little sharper than he intended.
"It's best I show you." he replied walking briskly towards a set of guards who had cordoned off an area within the upper town.
Pushing passed the guards, they walked into a muddied area which sat only a few houses and a barn. The barn had more guards stationed outside and as Ethelston passed them, he noticed that their faces were white with anxiety and disgust.
"I wish for you to look now, as we will need to clean up the area before the local townsfolk get wind of this, my Lord." explained Arminell, his face also looking a little paler and his voice somewhat more tarnished than usual.
Stepping into the barn, it felt colder than expected, the sound of crows congregating into the roof of the barn drew Ethelstons attention to the figure that was stationary in its centre.
Strung high onto the central beam, a man, probably no more than twenty-five winters, was left there cold and lifeless. Large red gouges were left where his eyes once sat, leaving the tears of blood starting to crust on his face. His torso was cut open from neck to belly, his rib cage torn apart for his organs to be tarnished by the outside world. A space was left gaping where his heart once beat.
This man wasn't just murdered, he was made to be a spectacle.
Ethelston placed the back of his hand on his mouth and nose. He had seen some horrific fatalities in his time, but never took joy in viewing them up close. As he looked up to the man, there was something about him that appeared familiar.
"Have I seen this man before?" he asked.
Arminell refused to look up at the corpse but nodded, "Aye my lord, he's one of the guard. This was left around his neck."
Handing Ethelston a wooden board, Arminell seemed reluctant to talk further on the matter.
Immediately Ethelston, with Jarendrud looking over his shoulder, read aloud the white chalk scrollings on the board.
Ethelston Darke,
You took the heart of Ravenscourt, we will repay you with one every day until Millendahl Darke returns.
The all seeing Black Knife Syndicate.
"If you don't mind my lord, if we could take him down before the local folk get wind?" Arminell responded with reluctance.
"Absolutely not, " Jarendrud responded empathically "I need to investigate this area fully."
Ethelston walked up to the young man who only the night before was likely doing his duty protecting Ethelston and his home. Placing his hand to his lips, Ethelston brushed the dead mans feet in respect. Looking once more towards the wooden board he turned towards Jarendrud and Arminell.
"Jarendrud will take charge of the investigation so provide him everything he asks for. Arminell, spread the word to the city guard that all soldiers must remain in teams of a minimum of two, absolutely no one will be on there own." Ethelston ordered.
Stepping forward with purpose, he placed the board in Jarendrud's hand and headed directly for the exit.
"Where are you going my lord, I need to organise a detachment for your safety?" Arminell asked.
Turning towards his captain, Ethelston's face was full of rage, with one flick of the wrist he responded "No detachment is required, I need to speak with my uncle!"