Heir to the Empire

16. Darke Reunion

"STOP, PLEASE STOP!"

The screams from the wounded man pierced the quiet streets of Ravenscourt, so much so that various locals had vacated their homes to spy on the unusual events.

The Reaper lay on the muddy floor in agony, an arrow poked viciously out of his thigh which he was holding onto precariously.

His screams, once again, curddled the atmosphere as Ethelston nonchalantly stood hard on the area close to where the arrow protruded. The Reaper looked up towards Ethelston's two compatriots, who gave him no sympathy. Erdudvyl stood with her arms folded while Loldirr was to busy attempting to remove the hardening mud from her once red hair.

Kneeling down, Ethelston looked directly at the Reaper and smiled. "Look, all I want to know is a bit of information. I'm sure you would prefer having your leg looked at as soon as possible?" he smiled.

The Reaper nodded. They had only been in this situation for under a minute, but the pain searing through his body felt like they had been at it for far longer." What do you want to know?"

Ethelston patted the Reaper's bald head. "I knew you'd see reason. Tell me about the Black Knife Syndicate?"

"They run the Ravenscourt lower town." he spoke quickly in the hope the discomfort would disappear just as abruptly. "Run the taverns, armour and weaponsmiths, farmers, practically everything."

"The protection fee?" Ethelston asked.

"Everyone is expected to pay. If they don't, they are not welcome in Ravenscourt."

"Who runs the syndicate?" Ethelston asked while stroking his beard, watching the locals just in case any were considered hostile.

"I don't know." the Reaper responded.

Standing up slowly, Ethelston sighed. Gradually placing pressure on the Reapers wound, the screams from the defeated rogue were excruciating.

"I DON'T KNOW!" he screamed.

As Ethelston removed the pressure, he knelt down to the wounded man once more.

"I don't know," the Reaper panted. "I'm just a sergeant in the organisation, not many know who runs it. Rumour has it that there is more than one person."

Watching the defeated eyes of the wounded man, Ethelston remained silent, determining whether the words were indeed true. Eventually, he decided not to press the issue. He still had one more question, the most immediately important question.

"The guards, what's your arrangement. You answer satisfactory and you will leave with your life." Ethelston asked with a hint of malice in his voice.

"The protection fees, we split it with them. They get thirty percent to look in the other direction."

Ethelston looked away, his jaw appeared tense, his body stiff. "Is this arrangement with the Captain of the guard?"

"No, " the Reaper shook his head, "With Lord Darke himself."

Ethelston stood up briskly, an anger seemed to flash across his face. Turning towards Erdudvyl he stood next to her so only the two of them could hear each other. "This man speaks true, can you do anything to ease his pain?"

The Elf threw a uneasy glance towards Ethelston. "Not without personal risk. People can not know of my power here until we have established ourselves."

"What about a remedy, surely everything doesn't need to about fancy sorceressing!"

Erdudvyl chuckled at the obviously made-up word. "Sometimes I can not tell if you are of intelligence or if you were dropped on your head as an infant. I can give him something small to ease the pain."