Threat

"I have. A small village two days West from here. If memory serves me right their standing isn't one worthy of note. They don't have a strong source of exports, nor does their position hold any strategic value. It's just a small village with a dozen or so families of colonists living almost at the very edge of the region and, thus, civilisation. I must confess, master Alastor, that your question leaves me puzzled; why would the Church be so interested in that place?"

"Aye. It is true that Yrsogam isn't either commercially nor geographically valuable. But it is under the protection of both the Kingdom and the Church. And they are in dire need of help. Reports have reached our ears that they've been attacked in recent times by strange and harrowing beasts. We are going to liberate them from their plights. In addition, the Church fears that something far more sinister might be happening there: heretics. Despicable creatures."

"Please, I bid you speak no further. Naliam was right, such topics do in fact ruin such a fine evening. May the Divines guide our every step and deliver us from such wretched evil."

"Well-spoken good mister Ichabod." Approved Alastor. Naliam nodded in concurrence even though I his heart he looked down upon the cleric.

"I shall send a sizeable donation to the Church as appreciation for its work in helping us poor country bumpkins. I shall also endeavour to help in whatever way I can. Holy master Alastor, go enjoy our fine establishment whilst I come to an agreement with good mister Leyes on as to how I can be of service."

"The Church appreciates your devotion. I take my leave." With that, the old cleric got up from his chair whilst still clutching the half-emptied flask of liqueur and stumbled towards the door. Somehow a maid was already on the other side waiting to help him down the stairs. No doubt that this wasn't the first foreign emissary to walk out of that office completely inebriated.

"I may be a country man, but I am no fool." Said Ichabod as soon as the heavy door shut behind Alastor. Gone was his friendly demeanour, leaving behind a stone-cold expression that Naliam could have sworn he'd seen on the gargoyles adorning the great city cathedrals. "What in the name of the Abyss is going on?" Ichabod's office had been built soundproof, making it impossible to eavesdrop on conversations from the outside. That gave them ample leeway to discuss matters of a more delicate nature without fear of repercussions from Alastor.

"Pray tell, whatever do you mean?" Responded Naliam cheekily.

"Don't start Nal. We both know these games won't get us anywhere."

"Aye, we do." Resignedly said the mercenary leader, rubbing his sore scar. "I see you haven't changed. Holy master Alastor? Divines damn him, he completely fell for that!"

"Yes, well, in my experience there's little a man of the faith likes to hear more than the appellative of holy." Explained the wise innkeeper. "And I see you haven't changed either. Always beating around the bush even though you've been cornered."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, Nal. Don't insult my intelligence. After what happened last time I hired your services, I warned you of the consequences if you ever came near this place again. You believed me and for two years stayed well away of the Groam pass. Now you return and come here without so much as a single breath of hesitation." He paused for a few seconds to see what reaction his words were getting, but Naliam remained impassive the whole time. "What, did you think I wouldn't recognise you because of that scar on your face? No, you're smarter than that. Maybe you hoped I wouldn't realise who you are, but that would never be a fully-fledged belief. Not with such a sceptic as yourself."

"Now you're the one beating around the bush, Ichabod. What's your point?"

"My point is that this expedition isn't just to liberate a Divine-forsaken village at the edge of the region. I've lost count of the number of times I've had to send men for that particular task to villages in the area when the Duke and the Church refused to aid them. There's something bigger going on and I want to know what."

"Let's assume for a second that you're right and something of such an important magnitude is happening that warranted the Church's and the Duke's intervention. What could possibly compel me to reveal that information to you?"

"Nall, you're familiar with how I work." Countered Ichabod with a strange expression on his face that Naliam didn't like one bit. "Let's assume you don't give me that information even though I asked nicely. In that case, and hypothetically speaking, I would refuse to give you the antidote to the mild poison you and Alastor have been gorging down like water."

"You wouldn't dare!" Exclaimed Naliam with eyes wide open.

"Oh, don't worry. This hypothetical poison won't kill you. No, it would just impede your locomotive faculties to the point of making you slump like a ragdoll. Tomorrow morning, Alastor would wake up with a severe headache and attribute it to a massive consumption of alcohol. You, however, would be taken away by a trio of very efficient soldiers of mine that would proceed to shave your head, cut out your tongue, and disfigure your face. I assure you, in this hypothetical, you would be left in such a state that not even your whore of a mother would recognise you. Then these men would carry you off to the mill for you to spend the rest of your rather pitifully short life cutting trees for us. Of course, you would be allowed to leave whenever you wanted as long as it wasn't between sunrise and noon. Then again, I've seen what happens to those who try and, well, I wouldn't recommend it to my worst enemies."

Naliam had gone ghostly pale. He was so stiff that Ichabod wondered whether he was going to pass out of shock. Immediately and without prior warning, he jumped up to his feet, drew his jewelled dagger from its sheath, and called out for someone to help him. Regrettably for him, his pleas for aid wouldn't get through the walls of the office. Ichabod understood that he was going to try and force him to surrender the antidote. Just as he'd expected.

A pair of gloved hands appeared before Naliam's face as they struck him hard at both sides of his head. A powerful blow hit him in the back of his knees and a hand on his shoulder pulled him down to a kneeling position. Instinctively he reacted by slashing at whoever was manipulating his body against his will but his strike was stopped at the forearm. Before he knew what had happened, a very strong man had placed his arm in a painful hold behind his back and forced him to drop the dagger. Two more men appeared from behind him and pointed dangerously sharp swords to his neck. Naliam had been rendered defenceless in a matter of instants.

Ichabod Hare slowly raised himself to his feet and approached Naliam with deliberately slow movements. His next few actions were of imperative importance. Killing Naliam wouldn't be hard, but was it worth the trouble? He couldn't decide. For a few minutes he stood in absolute silence with his arms crossed before his chest.

"You won't get away with this!" Suddenly screamed Naliam, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Oh, I won't?" Replied a visibly annoyed Ichabod.

"My men will wonder where I disappeared to. They'll look for me! And when they find me, you're going to pay!"

"Yes, I have absolutely no doubt that they'll look for you. Eventually. Tomorrow morning by the earliest time. You see, I could send someone to inform Alastor that the negotiations for aid have been successful and that to celebrate you're enjoying a rather pleasurable night between the arms and legs of one of my female employees who serve that particular purpose. By dawn, a letter left behind by you will read that you've fallen in love and escaped your duties to be by the side of your girl. It wouldn't be the first time you've done something similar."

Naliam went even paler and his face began showing hints of green. It was true, he'd done that very same thing in the past before. But then he realised a very crucial bit of information.

"That won't work unless I write that letter and no way in thirteen Hells am I doing that!"

"Don't worry about that particular hindrance; under my employ is a troupe of former forgers that won't find it hard to provide me with such a document." Smugly said the innkeeper. "Now, turning to the matter at hand; Leah, would you kindly let mister Leyes go and come forward?" The person holding Naliam in place released him and he fell to his hunches. Before he could regain his composure a hard kick to the chest sent him sprawling on his back. The two men pointing their drawn swords to his throat held him in place with their boots. "If I could please have your attention Nal, this here is Leah. A formidable member of my security corps." Struggling to look up, Naliam saw that Ichabod was pointing to a woman standing beside him.

Leah wore hardened leather armour and had two short swords strapped to either side of her hips. She was athletic and muscular, clearly the body of one who was familiar with combat. Her face was hard and devoid of any affection. She had loose blonde hair tied back in a ponytail that reached her shoulders. Her cold green eyes were fixed on his in a deathly expression that caused the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand on end. Leah must have been the one to disarm him so easily. Naliam made a mental note of not underestimating her.

"Leah here is a master of all blades. She started off as a doctor's apprentice at a city far away from here whose name is probably unfamiliar to you. Anyway, life, as it often does with its unwavering cruelty, forced her to abandon that profession and ply her trade as a mercenary. Her martial skill is unmatched by any other fighter I have ever known. This isn't unfounded praise, believe me, I once saw her go through four highly trained men in a sparring match as if they were mere children. She's a whirlwind, and one that strikes with surgical precision, at that."

"What's that got to do with me?" Naliam asked as his voice went up a few octanes.

"Everything. Or nothing. That depends on how much you want to cooperate. You see, Leah here has an understandably strong distaste for those who try to impose themselves on unwilling waitresses and other women of Groamburk. During her stay at 'The Wishful Hare' she has perfected the noble art of castration for the purpose of adjudication." At an unseen beckoning, she pulled out Naliam's jewelled knife from behind her back and proceeded to point it towards his crotch. "So if you refuse to cooperate she'll expertly excise both your testes. I'm told it's an excruciatingly painful experience from which some men go completely mad."

The full weight of Ichabod's words hadn't sunk in fully when Leah sprang into action. She used her knees to hold down Naliam's thighs and started pulling off his breaches. He began writhing and screaming for her to stop but the two men above him used their boots to hold his torso and arms in place. The tip of the swords hadn't left his neck either. Overall he was completely at their mercy.