Red Death

[NicTei]

One man hopes to atone for his sins, but how?

Well, that's where you come in.  I started this to dispel some Writer's Block, at the suggestion of a fellow Tomeian who seems to have kicked some Writer's Block ass herself, though I had to take a few days to narrow the ideas down to this one.

I've written the prologue (which will be up shortly) and I'm going to do Chapter 1 today as well, and I hope to get this one written up on a weekly basis.  That depends on suggestions, though, so I have relatively little say.

Without further adieu, I present to you, my fellow Tomeians, Red Death


Chapters
Prologue - Click Here
Chapter 1 - Click Here
Chapter 2 - Click Here
Chapter 3 - Click Here
Chapter 4 - Click Here
Chapter 5 - Click Here
Chapter 6 - Click Here
Chapter 7 - Click Here
Chapter 8 - Click Here
Chapter 9 - Click Here
Chapter 10 - Click Here
Chapter 11 - Click Here

[Angel]

Ah all caught up, I won't vote because you seem to be set to blast the next chapter out. As a point, which I don't think I've ever mentioned before, I'd definitely buy your writings should you ever be published.
Anyhoo, I love your character Dupin, brilliant creation right there and I liked your descriptions of character, time and place if that makes sense. It was very vibrant and the way it flowed together was particularly interesting. One thing which I find stands out in your writing, notibly here I would say, is your ability to use different sentence structure in a way that engages the reader in what you are describing. You tend to pack a lot into the one sentence without overloading the reader.
To conclude, very engaging!

Actually, in Chapter 2 RD said a prayer over the dead body in the church and I was wondering if that was actually a proper prayer that's said? I only ask because it forms the words for 'The Lord Bless You' a song/hymn composed by John Rutter. My school's choir sings it all the time. it's the school's anthem, sort of, and I love it.

Okay, so long winded I know, but I'm enjoying this!!

[NicTei]

Actually, that's the general benediction I hear just about every Sunday.  I think it's from Numbers 6:  24-26; a bunch of different places use it as a blessing.  I wasn't sure it really made much sense as a funerary verse, but I think since it's a general blessing, it should do the trick in a pinch.  Much easier than trying to come up with something else on the fly.

Anyways, glad you're liking it, Angel!  And with AZA out of the way, I've nothing else to write at 2:30 in the morning, so this may very likely take the vacancy!  Unless I decide to do HeartEater.  In which case this will still probably take the vacancy.

[Angel]

Ah right, I see. No I would think that it would work, with the line 'May the Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you and give you peace' I think it works out pretty well for a death blessing. Besides, having grown up hearing it sung and singing it myself I want it sung at my funeral whenever that may be.

I'd say do both but it's never easy working on two at the same time!

[NicTei]

Brief Synopsis:
   After being more or less kidnapped from his job as a priest, the legendary mercenary Red Death returns to an old employer, Roderick Price, who wants his assistance in locating his lost daughter and, more importantly, the Spear of Destiny, both of which seem to have been stolen.  Red Death is aided by a former flame and partner-in-crime (sometimes literally) Black Lotus, another well-known mercenary.  Before they can get very far with their investigation, they're ambushed at Price Manor by the Secret Brigade, a military organization with an unknown agenda.  After losing one of Price's other hired hands, Red Death and company set sail down the river, escaping the Brigade.


   After the harrowing escape from the Secret Brigade, Red Death had collapsed onto the floor of the small boat and fallen asleep, exhausted by his bout with Pierre.  Every muscle in his body ached from the continuous clashing of their blades, though during their battle the soldier hadn’t seemed to be swinging his weapon very hard.  When he finally woke up, it was to the sensation of the front of the boat knocking into a dock, and Price and Edgar arguing in a hushed whisper about their current location.  Edgar seemed to believe they had gone further downriver than Price had intended, while the old man was certain they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

   Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that Black Lotus had placed his head in her lap, her legs crossed, and her own eyes were closed in the state of meditation she often assumed when she had nothing better to do.  He recalled a morning a long time before when he had awoken to the same sight after one of their more memorable battles against a small army of bandits they’d been hired by a nearby village to take care of.  He’d been more heavily wounded then, of course, and so had Black Lotus, but the same sensation enveloping him now had encompassed his entire being then as well:  total serenity.  With great reluctance, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Ah, good.  You’re awake.  I’ve a new task for you,” Price announced as Edgar tied the boat off.

“Lucky me,” the mercenary muttered.

“You’re to scout the town ahead for any signs of the Secret Brigade,” Price went on, ignoring the sarcastic response. 

“We traveled faster on the river than they should have been able to run on land, but there is the chance they arrived here before we did.”

“Oh, and as a final note,” he added as Red Death started to climb onto the dock, “I need you to ascertain that we are indeed in Bram.  Edgar seems to believe we passed Bram several hours ago.”

“We passed several towns; any one of them could’ve been the place you were looking for,” the swordsman muttered irritably.

   With a sigh, Red Death threw off his signature red coat and removed his mask, placing them with one of his blades beside Black Lotus, who had also opened her eyes.  She nodded, understanding that she was not to let them out of her sight.  Securing his other sword to his waist, he retrieved his fake spectacles from a small wooden case he’d hidden in the deep pocket of his coat and slipped them on.  Instantly, he had shifted from Red Death, legendary mercenary, to Erik Leroux, one-time priest.

   A short walk down a well-worn path through the long grass from the dock took him to the main road.  While he could’ve simply cut through the grass to the visible cluster of houses and other buildings, approaching from the main road would seem far less suspicious than entering via someone’s back yard.  He strolled down the dirt highway at a leisurely pace, taking in the trill of the blackbirds down by the river and the cool breeze that brushed past his face.  If it weren’t for the weight of the sword at his side reminding him of his true nature and inescapable past, he would feel at peace.

   As he approached the main entrance of the town, he looked for a sign of any sort that would identify his current location.  He found one, but his heart sank; a man in a military-style uniform was leaning on it, watching him carefully.  His colors were different from the Secret Brigade’s, and he wasn’t armed beyond a pistol at his side, but that didn’t set Erik any further at ease.  Pushing his discomfort to the back of his mind, he put on a disarming smile, summoning memories of his peaceful years in Usher to help sell the expression.

“Fine morning for a walk, isn’t it?” he asked as amiably as he could manage.

“’Tis,” the officer responded, relaxing visibly.

“Oi, ye’ll not be gettin’ far with that thing on ye,” he said as Erik started to walk past.

“I’m sorry?” the mercenary asked, puzzled.

“We don’ like people carryin’ weapons here in Bram.  I’ll have t’ ask ye to leave th’ sword with me ‘til ye’re leavin’ town,” the officer explained in a friendly but firm tone.

   Erik looked at his sword.  While in Usher, he’d left both of his weapons in the church, hidden behind a wall.  Parting with one of them shouldn’t have been a problem.  Then again, circumstances were different in Usher.  Though the Secret Brigade were unlikely to recognize him if they were indeed here, he didn’t want to take   the chance something else would catch him off guard.  For all he knew, word from Usher that the mild-mannered Reverend Leroux was in fact an infamous mercenary could have spread as far as Bram.  He’d never come this far away from his church, even on his occasional visits to other congregations, but even so he’d have to use a different name while he was here.

“So what’ll it be, boy?” the weapons inspector asked, eyeing him more carefully now.

“What?  Oh, that’s fine.  I’m a little reluctant to leave it behind, but I shouldn’t be here very long.  Just passing through,” he answered quickly, unbuckling his sword belt and handing it to the inspector, who nodded.

“I’ll send ‘er along t’ th’ guard ‘ouse on th’ other side o’ town, then.  Ye can pick ‘er up there when ye leave,” the officer promised.

“Thank you,” Erik responded, moving to walk away.

The inspector stopped him.  “Hold on, I’ll be needin’ yer name!”

“Er…Harker.  Abram Harker,” the mercenary responded quickly, blurting the first name that came to mind.

“Be havin’ a nice day now, Mr.Harker!” the inspector called after him.

   Now devoid of a weapon, Erik felt both more and less at ease.  While the oppressive weight of the blade was no longer slapping against his thigh with each step he took, he felt strangely naked, and couldn’t help but glance down every alley for a potential threat.  Every oncoming citizen was met with suspicion first, and a kind smile second.  It was this attention to detail that alerted him to the presence of the very last person he thought he would see:  Lenore Price.

   Wearing a hooded cloak despite the weather, he wouldn’t have recognized her if he hadn’t been assessing her as a potential threat, staring at her as discreetly as he could manage until he caught a glimpse of her face.  At first, he couldn’t place where he’d seen the golden curls and unusually bright blue eyes before, but when she smiled at a young girl attempting to sell her a bouquet of flowers, he realized she was identical to the portrait of Price’s daughter that had been hanging in his ‘trophy room.’  Already, half of his job was done.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t carrying anything remotely spear-shaped, so that still left him another misplaced possession to track down.  He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of Lenore as a possession, but he was absolutely certain that was how Price felt about her, daughter or not.

   As he was about to approach her, three other men wearing similar cloaks swarmed her as if out of nowhere, pulling her away from the flower girl and herding her towards a small building a few yards away.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he followed after them at a safe distance, making sure to stop and purchase a small bouquet of lilacs from the girl.  Ascending the steps onto the porch of the building, which turned out to be a pub, he pressed in through the doors carefully and quietly, aware that Ms. Price and her possibly unwanted company could be just inside.  Once in, he located them quickly at a table in the back corner, as far away from the door as they could get.  He seated himself a few tables away, leaning back in his chair in a position that looked natural and relaxed but also allowed him to hear what was being said.

   Not a single word was exchanged between Lenore and her companions.  The entire table was silent.  When he glanced back, he was relieved to see that none of them were looking up, either; they were all staring intently down at the table, as if willing themselves to become invisible.  In all likelihood, they hadn’t seen him come in and sit down.  Picking up the bouquet, he put on his best smile and strolled casually over to their table.

“Excuse me, Miss?  I believe you left this with the girl outside,” he said, moving to hand the flowers to Lenore.

   The moment his hand extended toward her, the two hooded men closest to him were up out of their seats.  One grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, slamming him onto the table, while the other snatched the flowers away, scattering them as if expecting to find something hidden in them.  The temperature in the small corner of the pub seemed to plummet as Erik glared up at the man holding him onto the table, forgetting for a moment he had neither his weapons nor his coat and mask.  Even so, he was released, his assailant taking a step back.

“Please, don’t make a scene,” Lenore pleaded in a small voice.

   Both men looked at each other, then back at the third, who was still seated.  He shook his head under his hood, and they both sat down.  When Erik didn’t leave, he slowly turned to face him.  Dark, brooding eyes stared out from the shadows of his cowl, and a black beard that was graying at the roots stretched to the collar of his cowl.  His voice, when he spoke, rumbled deep in Erik’s chest.

“I would suggest you leave us alone.  I will not stop my associates next time,” he warned.
Instantly, Erik was docile again, putting on an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, sir.  I was just trying to be friendly.”

   He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks.  Officer Dupin was standing in the doorway, staring straight at Lenore.  A wide, oafish grin was plastered across his face, and he started to run towards her.  Erik shook his head frantically until he remembered the nitwit of an officer wouldn’t recognize him without his coat and mask.

“Lord, have mercy,” he groaned.

What an unexpected turn of events!  Devoid of his weapons, in the presence of three dangerous individuals, and facing the untimely return of Officer Dupin (who was probably followed, the bumbling oaf), Red Death has his work cut out for him here.

...actually, he doesn't.  You do.  What is his course of action?  Suggestions!

[Chinaren]

A nicely written chapter Nice!  Good to see this one moving.

As for the espee.  Mmm, the problem with resurrecting a long dormant story is I've forgotten the characters.  Dupin and the girl and so on, so I'm not really able to offer much in the way of suggestions here.  So a slightly 'generic' plan then...

Maybe stumble out and see what happens with Dupin and the others, interceding later on when the timing is better.

[Angel]

Perhaps Dupin's appearence works RD's favour. Being the bumbling oaf that he is, he provides enough of a distraction to the dangerous individuals that RD can speak/whisk away Lenore. Alternatively, Dupin doesn't provide enough of a distraction and RD has to fend off said individuals who somehow have concealed weapons! 

Glad to see some new work on this, very well done as always.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

If I get time I'm going to catch up with this one Nic.  So, no comment for you yet.

[NicTei]

A poll is up, with three tantalizing options!  Pet the evil kitty of voting.

[Chinaren]

~licks the pussy of voting~

That's right yes?

 

[NicTei]

~licks the pussy of voting~

That's right yes?

 

...

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?

[Chinaren]

I assume that's Scandinavian for 'yes'.

[NicTei]

I was all prepared to come back home from Europe and start writing the next chapter.  My fingers ached with anticipation, ready to fly across the keyboard as the words flowed onto the screen before me.

...and you [expletive] sons of [expletive] caused a [expletive] tie.

...fan-[expletive]-tastic.

...

...[expletive]!!!



* In all seriousness, though, this 'drought' can go [expletive] itself.

[NicTei]

“Lenore, my dear!  Lenore!”

   As Dupin shouted and ran, Erik decided it would be best to wait and see how the situation panned out, so he made a quick retreat to his seat.  Though he knew Dupin wouldn’t recognize him, he instinctively looked away as the officer rushed past his table, still calling for his fiancé.  As inconspicuously as he could, he shifted in his chair to see how the cloaked men would handle his oafish acquaintance.  If he was lucky, Dupin would provide enough of a distraction that he could assist Lenore in escaping.  If he wasn’t lucky, the officer’s lack of a spine would give him no advantage, and he’d have to find another way.

   He didn’t have to wait long.  The moment Lenore’s companions stood in his way, Dupin began protesting loudly, calling down curses and threats the likes of which Erik would never have imagined coming out of the officer’s mouth.  With some difficulty, the two cloaked men grabbed an arm each and dragged him out of the bar.  Unfortunately, their leader, the bearded man, stayed behind with Lenore.  What’s more, Erik had the uncanny feeling the bearded man was watching him from underneath his hood.

   Sounds of a scuffle outside the bar came through the door, and Erik saw the bearded man’s head move almost imperceptibly.  He probably didn’t want his associates drawing too much attention, a concern Erik could understand.  Outside, he could hear Dupin’s shrill voice shouting something at the bodyguards, but he couldn’t make out any clear words.  The bearded man shifted in his seat, as if getting ready to go outside and intervene.  Erik was simply surprised Dupin was putting up enough of a fight to keep the two bodyguards busy.  Or, more likely, simply wasn’t shutting up while they beat him mercilessly.

   Suddenly, a loud gunshot rang out beyond the doors.  Muttering something to Lenore that turned her face even paler than it had been before, he stood up and swept out of the pub, throwing the doors open dramatically as he stepped out into the street.  Erik waited for a few seconds before heading straight to Lenore, keeping an eye on the door while he did so.  No doubt he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near Price’s daughter when the bearded man came back, more so if he had his two companions with him.  Ignoring Lenore’s protests, he took the seat closest to the wall, which happened to be hidden from view by a large withered plant.

“I’m with your father,” he said quickly, “and if we hurry, I can get you back to him before your new friends get back.”

She simply stared at him.  “You’ve got to be joking.”

He smiled apologetically.  “Sorry, but that’s the best I’ve got.  I don’t much like him myself, but I can’t imagine your current company is any better.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.  “I can’t leave, not now.”

“Why not?”

   Lenore was silent.  Erik could no longer hear any sort of conflict outside, and checked the door nervously.  He didn’t have time for her to avoid his questions.  If Dupin had been the one to fire the gun, there was a good chance the weapons inspector had missed something on the men in cloaks, too.  Unarmed as he was, he did not want to be here when they returned.  Even if they didn’t have weapons, he was understandably rusty after his years in retirement, and he’d never been all that great with bare-handed brawling anyways.  He couldn’t fight back, not if he wanted to avoid getting hurt or causing a scene.  Glancing once more at the door, he turned back to Lenore.

“Then help me understand!” he said urgently.  “I’m a friend; I just want to help you!”

   Lenore seemed to sense the truth in his words, and nodded slowly.  Resting her head in her hands, she began muttering to herself; the few words Erik caught were foreign to him.  The rest of the pub seemed to grow silent, the voices of the other patrons growing distant.  Erik had the sensation that he and Price’s daughter were being cut off from the rest of the world by unseen walls, the thought unnerving him.  He wished he’d brought his sword.

“Okay,” Lenore said, lifting her head, “ask your questions.”

She seemed suddenly drained, but Erik didn’t want to waste any time.  “Why can’t you leave yet?  Who are those men?”

“They call themselves Magi,” Lenore replied, her eyes half closed, “and they’re trying to teach me.”

   Magi.  Magic.  Erik remembered what Price had done in the tunnels beneath his manor, and once more in the river.  Had his daughter inherited some sort of gift from him?  Were these men training her under his command?  If they were, that would make this whole job a test for her.  Black Lotus and Red Death had been hired to track her down, only to test her ability to escape detection.  But no, that didn’t make sense; Price wouldn’t have come with if he didn’t genuinely want to locate his daughter.  Unless…  Unless the Magi had taken the Spear as payment, and he wanted it back.

“So where does the Spear factor into all of this?” he asked.

Lenore opened her eyes and looked at him.  “Spear?  What spear?”

   Her confusion was genuine, of that much he was certain.  Well, there went his theory.  However, now the motives of the Magi could be called into question.  Why kidnap a girl to teach her magic for no pay?  As far as he knew, Price had received no ransom letter from the cloaked men.  This was all turning into one big headache.

“Okay, forget about the Spear,” he said slowly, backtracking.  “Why are the Magi teaching you if they’re not being paid to do so?”

   Lenore sighed again, and Erik had the feeling the answer was going to be a long one.  “The Magi are practitioners of Guardian Magic, one of the last remaining arcane arts from the ancient times.  While other forms of magic began to die out, the Guardians retained their abilities into the new age.  However, now it’s beginning tp wane, dying out like the other forms of magic before it.  Even the noblest bloodlines among the Guardians are losing their ability to wield spells, so any newborn Magus is considered a treasure.”

“But what do they gain from teaching you?  I understand that educating you will keep the magic alive that much longer, but you can’t simply pass it on to someone if a new Magus has to be born,” Erik pointed out.

“Just like you, they want to help me.  If they don’t teach me, I’ll die.”

   Any further conversation was cut short as the noise levels in the pub returned to normal and Erik noticed the three Magi standing at the end of the table, all glowering at him.  Somehow, they had evaded his perception, even though he was being careful.  Was that a side-effect of the ‘walls’ he assumed Lenore had put up, or was he just rustier than he thought?  He pushed the question to the back of his mind and tensed himself to fight, but Lenore shook her head.  The bearded man was looking at him, dark eyes locked onto his own from underneath the cowl.

“I think you have talked to Ms. Price long enough, Mr. Leroux,” he rumbled.

“Bela, he just wanted to help,” Lenore said quietly.

“And in doing so, he cost you a great deal of strength!  You are not yet powerful enough to cast such a spell!” the bearded man snapped.

“She just did,” Erik pointed out, not masking the annoyance in his voice.

“Yes, but look at what it has done to her!  We will have to stay the night and hope she has recovered by tomorrow,” Bela retorted, his own irritation just as transparent.

   Erik glanced back at Lenore to see that she had indeed turned quite pale.  When he returned his attention to the Magi, the two flanking Bela had their hands on the pommels of daggers that had been hidden in their cloaks.  Their meaning was clear.  Raising his hands in surrender, Erik stood and pushed the chair in before addressing Lenore one last time.

“I can’t say that your father loves you; I doubt he’s capable of that sort of thing.  But please, be careful.  Not everyone is as they seem.”

“A lesson I’m sure you could teach her with ease, Red Death,” Bela interrupted.  “Now leave, before we are forced to take action.”

   Erik nodded and left without another word.  As the Magi had said, Black Lotus, Edgar, Dupin, and Price were waiting for him outside, along with the weapons inspector.  Edgar had been relieved of his sword, but Black Lotus still carried her own weapon.  He wasn’t surprised; he would have paid to see the officer attempt to relieve her of her katana.  Additionally, she carried his coat, and both of his swords.  For the second time that day he was reminded why he was relatively certain he loved her.

“Ye shoulda told me yer friend was Mr. Price hisself, Mr. Harker,” the weapons inspector said casually.  “Ye’d have saved yerself the time of turnin’ in yer sword.”

“I didn’t expect to run into Roderick,” Erik replied, careful to keep his voice calm.  “I doubted you would believe someone as simple as me could be affiliated with such a great man.”

The inspector’s eyes twinkled at the sarcasm.  “All th’ same, ye can have yer weapons back.”

“What about me?” Edgar asked, not bothering to mask his anger.

“I don’ like th’ look of ye,” the inspector said sharply.

   Before the situation could escalate, Price thanked the inspector and sent him on his way, displaying a kinder, gentler personality than Erik had ever seen from him before.  As soon as the officer was gone, however, Price’s usual demeanor returned as he grilled the mercenary about everything that had happened leading up to Dupin bursting through the door.  Erik fought a brief internal battle over whether or not he should reveal what he had learned, but decided Dupin had probably already shouted over and over at Price that his daughter was just inside.  He left out what he had learned about Guardian Magic, however, deciding that Price didn’t need to know he was up to date on his daughter’s gift. 

   When he mentioned Lenore would be remaining in Bram overnight, both Dupin and Price were in agreement:  they, too, would remain in town.  Luckily, Price owned the only proper inn in town (which explained why he had been so eager to arrive), the Rosalie.  As they strolled towards the inn, which happened to be all the way across Bram, Dupin turned to him.

“Mr. Harker, was it?  Pleasure to make your acquaintance!” he beamed, extending his hand.  “You know, after meeting those dreadful mercenaries, I was afraid my fiancé’s father only associated with that kind of person, but I’m glad to find an honest man amongst his circle!”

   Erik and Black Lotus exchanged glances.  The temptation was to see how long it would take Dupin to figure it out, given that Erik was not only the proper height and build as Red Death, for obvious reasons, but also that Black Lotus was carrying the mercenary’s affects.  For once, the former reverend gave into temptation and shook Dupin’s hand.

“And a pleasure to meet you as well,” he said kindly.

   Right up until they were handed the keys to their rooms in the Rosalie, Dupin regaled him with stories of his heroism.  How he had single-handedly protected his future father-in-law from the Secret Brigade while the mercenaries Price had hired were being driven back.  How he had tracked his companions down to Bram by following the tell-tale sound of the river along, all while fighting against the Secret Brigade’s scouts, and how he assumed the mercenary in the red coat had decided to flee like a coward when they finally docked their boat.

“I can’t say I blame him, really,” Dupin said as they were ascending the stairs.  “After all, not every man can handle the mental stress of being hunted by the military!  Why, if I were a lesser man, I’d have fled myself, but with Lenore’s safety at sake, I couldn’t!  I tell you, it would be downright improper!”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very interesting,” Erik interrupted as the officer took a breath, “but I really must be getting some rest.  I had a very long day today.”

   Erik closed the door to his room in Dupin’s face, effectively ending the conversation.  Outside, he could hear the officer make a rather disgruntled noise before leaving, his footsteps receding down the hallway to where his own room awaited him.  Sighing, the former priest began to unbutton his shirt.  By the time he’d finished explaining to Price what had happened in the pub, answering several of the rich man’s questions repeatedly to clarify even the most minute details, hours had passed.  The walk to the inn hadn’t been a trek of epic proportions, as Bram was more of a large town than a proper city, but it had been enough to make him long for a bed and a good night’s sleep.  What sleep he’d managed to get on the boat had been restless and light.  Though the sun had not yet dropped, he was certainly ready to go to bed.

“If you’re really that tired, I can leave.”

   The voice made him whirl around to find Black Lotus already reclining on his bed, her coat, boot, and hat on a chair in the corner.  She had slipped in while he was distracted by Dupin, and in his thoughts he’d failed to notice her until she spoke up.  His fatigue seemed to slip away as his eyes traced the curves of her body, right up to her face.  A small smile played at the corner of her lips; he’d seen that smile before.  He continued to unbutton his shirt, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he dropped it to the floor and crossed the space between them.  She stood to meet his approach, hands at her hips.

“Well?”

“Why don’t you stay a while?” he suggested mischievously, placing his hands on hers.  “We have quite a bit to catch up on, after all.”

Hey-diddly-ho, there, readerinos!  Another new chapter for your viewing enjoyment!  And it ends on a high note (for some characters, anyway)!

Anywho, sorry for the unclear SP, but I figured this was as good a cut-off point as any; not doing a full-on sex scene, as I don't want to have to clean up after Chinaren.

So, the SP:  What is their next move?  Do they return to the pub and question the Magi about the Spear?  Has the Secret Brigade caught up with them once again?  Or does something completely different happen?

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

There's a lot to take in in this chapter Nic, but it was certainly of good quality, and there's some major back story going on there, which is intriguing.  Good writing.  When you aren't trying to go over the top, as Chinaren says: uber, you can really do some nice stuff.

For the suggestion, let's try and stick with the spear for now, I think that all this new information is going to overwhelm him a bit, and it's not really in his 'field' anyway.



Oh, and caught up.

[Chinaren]

Oh good chapter sir!  Nicely written. 

I'm going to agree with the Petch here, keep on track and look for the spear.

[NicTei]

   By the time the sun finally rose in the early morning, Erik was already awake to meet it.  He and Black Lotus had spent from late afternoon to early morning ‘catching up,’ and where it had tired her out, he’d been revitalized.  For the past half hour, he’d sat awake on the bed, watching her chest rising and falling underneath the thin sheets, once again taken back to mornings long ago when he’d done exactly the same thing.  As the golden rays of daylight crept through the curtains, he reluctantly slipped out from underneath the covers, locating his pants with some effort.  His shirt appeared to have fallen into hole into the abyss, however, so he settled for his red jacket, taking his mask with him after some debate and strapping both swords to his waist.

   With a final longing glance back at the bed and Black Lotus’ sleeping form, he buttoned up his jacket and opened the door as quietly as he could, stalking out into the hallway.  The floorboards were mercifully quiet, though he ended up startling the rather tired-looking nightclerk in the front room as a result.  Given how heavily he was armed, he wasn’t surprised, but he apologized anyways.  No sense in being rude.

   Outside, the roadways were empty.  No carts rattled past, no one rode past on a horse; the entire town seemed to be yet asleep, and not for the first time, he considered going back upstairs, undressing, and settling in beside Black Lotus once again.  Instead, he donned his mask, once again becoming Red Death, and set off down the empty street towards the inn where Lenore was staying with the Magi.  He had a few more questions he needed Lenore to answer, and after that he was content to let her go on her merry way.  Price was unlikely to have been a very good father, of that he was certain, and it would be better for her that she get the training she needed to avoid being killed by her own gift, rather than living out the rest of her life as a part of her father’s little collection.

   On the other hand, the Magi didn’t strike him as trustworthy.  Granted, he wasn’t a shining Paragon of Goodness and Innocence himself, but that was exactly why he could tell there was something off with the Magi; they all felt like killers to him, and judging by their actions the previous day, they didn’t want him anywhere near Ms. Price.  Murderous thugs were bad enough, but these murderous thugs apparently had magic on their side as well.  He’d have to be even more careful than he had been yesterday, as there was little his swords could do against the arcane, and he doubted he’d be lucky enough to have Dupin provide a distraction a second time.  Upon reaching the pub where the four had been staying, however, he discovered there would be no issue.

“They left a few hours ago,” the barmaid told him when he asked.  She was a rather large woman who looked like she hadn’t washed for weeks, and she certainly smelled like it, too.  “The girl left a letter for a young man she met here last night, and something for some officer whatshisname.”

“That would be me, then,” Red Death said.

“You don’t look like any officer I’ve ever seen,” the woman replied dubiously, scratching one of her numerous chins.

“I’m the young man,” the mercenary explained curtly.

“Hm…well, let’s have a look at you then.  I’d remember someone looking like you coming in here yesterday,” she shot back.

Sighing, he removed his mask.  “Mm.  A handsome one, for sure,” the woman teased lustily.

“The letter, please,” Red Death replied, trying in vain to keep the disgust out of his voice as he replaced his mask.

The woman scowled.  “Here.”  She slammed two envelopes down on the table.  “You can take the one for the officer, as well.  I’m a barmaid, not a postman.”

   Without a word, the mercenary took both envelopes and left promptly.  As soon as he was outside, he tucked the envelope with ‘Officer Dupin’ scrawled on the front into his jacket.  The other was addressed to ‘Mr. Harker.’  Making note to remember that alias for future use, he broke the red wax seal and pulled out the letter inside.

“Dear Mr. Harker,

   I must apologize for the actions of Bela and the other two.  I know you just want to help, but the Magi are reluctant to trust anyone who may cause me to stray from the path that lies before me.  If you are with my father, you know he would not let me continue to learn without gaining from it in some way, either demanding payment from the Magi or using my gifts to his own advantage.

   You seem like a good person, so I will tell you what I know concerning the spear you mentioned yesterday.  Before the Magi took me for training, I overheard him discussing with a ‘Mr. Karloff’ a group who wanted the Spear.  I cannot remember what they were called, but the name struck me as military in nature.  I hope this helps you.

Sincerely,
Lenore Price”

   He knew immediately who Price had been talking with his associate about:  the Secret Brigade.  No wonder they’d attacked his mansion.  They wanted the Spear of Destiny, and thought Price still had it.  Unfortunately, while this cleared up their motivation for attacking Price Manor, whoever had taken the Spear was still at large.  And who exactly was ‘Mr. Karloff’?  Something about the name was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

   Stuffing the letter with Officer Dupin’s envelope in his jacket, he returned to the Rosalie.  Price was obviously hiding a great deal from him, but that was nothing new.  Even before, the collector had been very secretive even when it came to his own hired hands.  That had never sat well with Red Death, and being subjected to the same feeling of cluelessness he’d felt working for Price before had him feeling suddenly disoriented, as if his years as a priest in Usher had never happened.  The events in the church seemed so far away, from William and Edgar’s interruption to the death of one of his own congregation.  He shook his head; that was not what he wanted to be thinking about, not now.

   When he reached the inn, he could smell breakfast being prepared in the kitchen.  Clearly, Price made sure his establishments were held up to a certain standard.  Instead of checking the small dining room to see if any of his comrades were awake yet, he went straight up the stairs.  The only person he would tolerate right now was Black Lotus.  Dealing with Dupin this early would probably send him over the edge, and Price was no better.  Edgar was more of a gray area; the swordsman was obviously loyal to Price so long as the old man was paying him, but it remained to be seen where his allegiance would lie if his paycheck was taken out of the equation.  Red Death fully expected him to simply walk away if that were to happen, and he wasn’t sure if he was fine with that or not.  He had, after all, killed an innocent man in cold blood.

   Of the four people he was traveling with, one was a coward who turned tail and ran unless his ‘beloved’ was involved, another was a decrepit old man who was hiding one detail too many, the third was a cold-blooded killer, and the fourth was the only person on this earth he felt he could trust.  From a different perspective, the records of four of the five were so stained with red they’d never be clean.  Dupin was the only ‘innocent’ in the party, and the only one to show any sort of respect for the law.  As he pushed open the door to his room, he sighed; thinking this way wasn’t helping his mood any.

“Wake up feeling world-weary, did we?”

   As he’d suspected, Black Lotus was wide awake, and wearing little beside his shirt draped over her shoulders and the impish grin that made his pulse race.  At least he didn’t have to search for it anymore.  With a slight, mirthless laugh, he took off his mask, threw off his coat and sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands.  She leaned forward too, so her head was level with his.

“I feel like it was for nothing, you know?” he said quietly.

“I’ll need some context here, Red,” she replied flatly.

He raised his head and stared out the window.  “The only reason I left—put ‘Red Death’ behind—was because of us.”

Black Lotus followed his gaze.  “I remember that well enough.”

“Was it really so inevitable that we would be hired by opposing sides in a conflict?” he asked.

She looked at him.  “With how fast and far our reputations were spreading?  Yes.  Someone would hire you for a job, and his opponent would immediately spring for me, or vice versa.”

He nodded.  “I still can’t help but wonder…”

“That’s not the only reason you left, though,” Black Lotus pointed out as his sentence trailed off.

When he looked at her, bemused, she scoffed.  “Don’t try playing dumb.  I knew you were getting tired of it.  You didn’t like the killing, and hell, neither did I.  It seemed like that was all they were hiring us for in the end.”

Red Death laughed again, just as mirthlessly as before.  “I remember when I used to be paid simply to intimidate the random unwanted suitor, or constant debtor.”

“And then someone had to go and ruin your fun with a war, I know,” Black Lotus retorted, rolling her eyes.

   Red Death was taken back for a moment to that fateful contract he’d signed, his first ‘real’ job as a mercenary, not just hired muscle.  That was where his reputation had been born.  The conflict he’d been hired to assist in was rumored to be the beginnings of a revolution, with commoners fighting against their government.  Ultimately they’d lost, of course, but he’d already made his mark as the lone survivor of a battle where his employers faced seemingly insurmountable odds.  The survivors of the opposing army brought back tales of the ‘Red-Coat Demon,’ a moniker which eventually gave way to ‘Red Death.’  Invincible, merciless, the embodiment of sin itself; he’d once tried to compile a list of the descriptions of him in the early days, but eventually lost interest.

   Black Lotus hadn’t been a factor until after he’d become a regular employee of the collector, who would take him along to exotic locales as a glorified bodyguard while he broke into tombs and delved into ruins to find more and more exciting treasures.  From the moment they laid eyes on each other, they knew they had met a fellow predator, but the sparks that flew between them had done the opposite of ignite a romance or even a close friendship.  In the early days, they’d been bitter rivals, often so violently at odds with one another that they would regularly come to blows.

He couldn’t help but grin.  “You certainly gave me a run for my money back then.”

“Excuse me?  I still give you a run for your money!” she sniffed haughtily.

Red Death’s laugh was genuine.  “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“Anyways,” Black Lotus retorted, “you really shouldn’t waste time wondering if your little ‘vacation’ was worth it.  What’s done is done, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that.  It’s not as though you can magically jump back in time and warn yourself not to leave.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Red Death agreed, rising to his feet.  “And as much as I hate to say it, I think you should get dressed.  The others will be awake by now, and I want the first thing Price hears this morning to be that his daughter has escaped him again.”

Black Lotus gave him an appraising look.  “If I didn’t know any better, Red, I’d think you were trying to piss the old man off.”

The mercenary shrugged.  “What can I say?  I hate old rich hoarders.”

   Before Black Lotus could respond, the door burst open and Edgar stumbled in.  A thin red line trickled down his face from a nasty gash bordering his hairline, and he was clutching his limp left arm tightly.  Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the floor, and his sword was missing.

“The Secret Brigade,” he gasped before he collapsed onto the floor.

Well, that doesn't sound good!  I guess when you're being chased by a military organization, you don't want to stick around in one city for more than a day.  True story.

Anyways, what is Red Death's (and company's) next move?  How will he escape?

[Angel]

Regroup and escape by a daring rooftop chase! Dupin makes it awkward by tripping and shoving his leg through a roof. That is the start of a series of problems which leads to their capture at the gates of the city.
 
That's all I got.

[Chinaren]

Good one!

“Mm.  A handsome one, for sure,” the woman teased lustily.

   This is practically porn for a NiceTea story!

Anyway, I was going to say out the window and down the drainpipe, but I like Angey's idea of the old rooftop chase.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Mmmm, maybe there's a secret hiding place, for when rebels in the olde civil war used to hide there.  Though I'm not sure how they would know about this. 

[NicTei]

Just set up the poll, as I'm eager to get something written!  Get to it, guys!  Really counting on you here!

[Chinaren]

Voted and winning. 

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Also voted and also winning.  Well, tie-ing.

[NicTei]

...why do you guys do this to me?

[Chinaren]

You can vote yourself, or maybe merge the two somehow. 

[NicTei]

I haven't forgotten this one, promise.  In fact, I'm mere sentences away from completing the latest chapter of this one, but I've had a sudden outbreak of the dreaded...-gulp- schoolwork. I'm attempting to rectify that as I type this, but the fact that I'm here posting this rather arbitrary post shows how badly I'm failing at getting my work done.

Anyways, hopefully you should have a new chapter to peruse before the weekend hits, and after that updates may be thin on this one as NaNoWriMo approaches and I begin gearing up to write this year's [hopeful] winner, Under Pressure.  If all goes as planned, I should wrap up November with a new manuscript and post that up in the following months while keeping Red Death updated, as well as a few other projects I've had stewing in the back of my mind.

I'll keep you all posted.

[Chinaren]

I iz wayting.

[NicTei]

Ironically, I'm just now starting work on the very same paper that kept me from completing the next chapter of this on Friday. >.>  I really hate college writing assignments. -_-;;

[Chinaren]

 

[NicTei]

Off-Topic:

Yeah, yeah, I know; I promised this in October.  Well, count it a near-Christmas miracle (since it was technically finished on December 26th).  Just enjoy it.

   Black Lotus swore and dressed herself as quickly as possible while Red Death bent down to check on Edgar.  He’d lost a lot of blood from the gunshot wound on his arm, but he was still alive.  Conscious was a different story, however:  he was out cold, and probably wouldn’t make it without medical attention.  Tearing the sheets off the bed, Red Death ripped off a long strip and bound the wound as tightly as he could while Black Lotus strapped her sword to her belt and checked the hallway.

“It’s clear, but we need to move now,” she murmured to him from the doorway.

   Red Death nodded and hoisted Edgar up onto his shoulder.  Moving him around a lot probably wasn’t a great idea, but he didn’t have much choice.  On one hand, he could leave him behind to be found by the Secret Brigade, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do that.  He’d been out of the mercenary game for too long; he was growing soft.  Black Lotus raised an eyebrow when she glanced back and saw him supporting the swordsman, but didn’t say anything.  He knew what she was thinking, anyways.

“Where are Price and Dupin?” he asked, straining to support Edgar’s weight.

“Right here!” Price hissed as he slipped past Black Lotus into the room.

   Dupin was right behind him, looking as though he’d just watched a massacre.  Judging by the slight glow on Price’s cane and the smell of burned flesh clinging to their clothes, he had.  On the plus side, now the mercenaries didn’t have to track their employer and his soon-to-be-son-in-law down and warn them of the military’s presence.

“I see you’ve met our friends,” Red Death remarked dryly.

“And I see you’ve been taking poor care of my friend,” Price snarled, indicating Edgar.

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t take credit for this,” Red Death shot back edgily.  “Your General friend appears to be a little trigger happy.”

“If you two could stop bickering long enough to remember that we need to escape, that would be nice,” Black Lotus interrupted.

   Red Death glanced around the room.  Black Lotus was standing in the only entrance the Secret Brigade could make use of, and he knew from experience that no one would get past her.  But even if she stood there cutting the soldiers down as they came, they would still need to leave the inn eventually.  The only other option was the window, which overlooked a narrow alley between the Rosalie and the next building.  He found himself thinking he could easily jump the gap between the two, and before he knew what he was doing, he was kicking the window open.  Black Lotus caught on quick and smiled devilishly.

“Just like Thrushcross Heights,” she mused.

“Almost.  The rooftops there were more heavily guarded, there weren’t as many of us, and for a reason I can’t quite remember, we were both in our underwear,” Red Death answered with a grin.

“Good times,” Black Lotus sighed.

   Further reminiscing was cut short as a man in a military uniform suddenly showed up at the door.  He was young, and his jacket bore no ornaments, so it was safe to assume he was a rookie, probably assigned to scouting the buildings for the mercenaries.  Startled, the scout and the four fugitives stared at each other for a few seconds before the scout opened his mouth to call for help.  A quick flash of Black Lotus’ blade silenced him for good, but she needn’t have bothered; an older man in a similar uniform was on the second floor of the adjacent building, leaning out the window to look up at them and shouting into the streets for backup.

   With speed belying his age, Price crossed the room, raised his cane, and shouted a word Red Death had never heard before.  It had a very harsh, grating sound to it, as though it conveyed all the darkest perversity of the world in a single syllable.  A rune near the top of the old man’s cane glowed very briefly for a moment, and the scout was hurled back out of view into the room, screaming in agony.  Turning impatiently, Price waved Red Death towards the window.

“You first!  Just throw him across, he’ll be fine!” he snarled irritably.

   Ignoring him completely, Red Death stepped up onto the windowsill, still holding Edgar slung over his shoulder, and made the best jump he could.  Landing on the roof across the alley, he nearly lost his footing, but righted himself at the last moment.   Now fighting not only Edgar’s weight but the angle of the roof, he began to wonder if this was really the best way to elude the Brigade.  A loud thud behind him and scrambling on the roof’s tiles announced Dupin’s arrival on the rooftops, and a split second later Price floated over, a rune near the bottom of his walking stick shining brightly.  Black Lotus barely made a sound when she touched down, racing along the sharp apex of the roof towards the next building.

“Show off!” Red Death called after her, breaking into a careful jog.

   Dupin and Price soon outpacing the heavily-burdened Red Death in the race along the rooftops of the city, though the mercenary was quick to catch up when he glanced back and saw green-uniformed soldiers climbing onto the buildings behind them and giving chase.  He called out to Lotus, who had a decent head start on her companions, and she reversed course, charging straight at the pursuing soldiers.  Her blade flashed in early morning light and the Brigade’s men were cut down quickly and mercilessly, dead before they hit the streets below.

   The loud ‘crack!’ of a gunshot preceded the explosion of one of the shingles dangerously near Red Death’s foot, and he nearly lost his balance once again.  Through sheer luck he managed to regain his footing and continue on, shouting a warning to Price and Dupin that there were marksmen in the streets below firing at them.  Price didn’t react, but Dupin more than made up for his lack of response:  he shifted immediately from a cautious jog along the shingles into a full-on sprint.  Red Death cursed; this was not going to end well.

   A well-placed gunshot proved him right, exploding the shingle just beneath Dupin’s foot as he ran.  After a nearly-comical attempt to regain his lost footing, Dupin plummeted over the side to the streets below.  As they were only three stories up, he was probably fine, but the mercenary knew he’d have to check anyways.  With a grunt, he dropped Edgar unceremoniously on the roof and leaped down after Dupin, landing with a perfect roll to help carry the momentum.  In a flash he was on his feet again, swords in hand.  He’d landed right in front of a scout, who proceeded to let out a scream that was two octaves too high for a man and ran away, shrieking for reinforcements.

“Idiot!” he hissed as he pulled Dupin to his feet.

“Oh, don’t you start on me too!” Dupin snapped before he was cut off with a glare.

“Just shut up and keep moving,” the mercenary hissed, pushing the officer towards the main street of the city.

   In theory, running into the main street where they would be most visible by the pursuing Brigade would be a terrible idea, but Red Death knew better.  Out in the wider street, they would be able to dodge and weave better than if they were running down a side-street, making them harder to hit with a pistol or rifle.  More importantly, he’d found that the enemy rarely expects you to do something as brash and stupid as running onto the most blatantly obvious escape route while still being pursued.  With luck, this wouldn’t be any different, and there would be no soldiers to stop them.

   Luck wasn’t on his side. As they neared the entrance to the alley, three soldiers stepped out in front of them, blocking their path.  Red Death started to reverse course, but found four more behind them.  Both ends of the alley were closed off, and the soldiers all had their weapons drawn.  He and Officer Dupin were facing down two pistols and four swords.  The mercenary gave Dupin a quick look over.  Unfortunately, he’d dropped his own pistol in the fall, and Red Death didn’t feel good about his chances against two enemies with guns, no matter how inaccurate their shots may be in the dark.

“Hands up!  Drop your weapons and surrender!” one of the gunmen shouted.

   Dupin and Red Death traded a look.  To say the officer looked terrified would be an understatement.  He sighed; he couldn’t fight back easily, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to drop his swords and simply surrender.  But as the soldiers advanced, guns in hand, he realized he didn’t really have a choice.  They hadn’t shot him on sight, so they probably didn’t want him dead.  Probably.

   Slowly, carefully, he bent down and set his swords on the ground.  The two nearest soldiers ran forward and picked them up, backing up to a safe distance.  His arms were wrenched behind his back a moment later, cuffs clamped into place around his wrists.  Someone whispered something to the officer restraining him, and he was hit on the back of the head a moment later with the butt of a sword, sending him into complete darkness.

~

   When he came around again, he found himself tied to a chair in a dim room that smelled like stale rags.  He could see enough to make out a door in front of him, light coming in through the crack under the door.  In trying to move, he found his wrists bound to the arms of the chair with thick rope.  His mask had been pulled down off of his face, and was hanging around his neck, the long nose pointing straight down his chest.  Turning his head to take in as much of the room as he could, he froze when he felt something cold immediately start biting into his throat.  As best he could tell, a metal wire was circling his neck.  Moving his head backwards slowly, he felt the wooden post the wire was attached to, nailed to the back of the chair.  No doubt there was also a tightening mechanism for the wire.  Escape was not an option.

“Comfortable, Mr. Death?  Or would you prefer ‘Mr. Red’?”

   The Commander stepped out in front of him, fixing his steely gaze on his prey’s face.  Though he had a perfect poker face of his own, Red Death could still feel the aura of triumph radiating off of him.  As unimpressed as he may act, he was secretly thrilled that he’d caught a man who had once been feared across the nation, and probably the globe.  He was pleased with himself, and wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought he was.

“Please, call me ‘sir’,” the mercenary answered dryly.

   In response, the Commander nodded at someone behind him, and the wire immediately tightened around his neck.  Squirming in the chair, he fought against his bindings as hard as he could, but whoever had tied him down knew their way around a knot.  As his vision began to dim, the wire suddenly relaxed, leaving him gasping and choking for breath.  The Commander watched indifferently as he tried to regain his breath.  When he’d stopped coughing, his captor stepped closer, lifting his face so they were looking eye-to-eye.

“You are a very dangerous man, ‘Red Death.’  What kind of man would that make me if I let you run around causing problems?”

“You’re not exactly a model citizen yourself, Commander,” Red Death retorted.  “Youyou’re your men open fire on a home that could’ve contained dozens of innocent civilians.  Or did you forget about that little episode?”

The Commander scoffed.  “There were no innocents in that gaudy mansion.  Only graverobbers and killers.”

Red Death stared back evenly.  “Officer Dupin is neither.  I believe you’ll find the only blood he has on his hands is his own, probably from a papercut or other minor, self-inflicted wound.”

“Be that as it may,” the Commander retorted, “one innocent is nothing compared to four wanted men and one wanted woman.  I would hardly care if the entire staff of the house was composed of saints; I would have opened fire all the same to catch the lot of you.”

Red Death smirked.  “And you call me a dangerous man.”

The Commander stared him down.  “That I do.  Fortunately for both of us, you are also a very intelligent man.  Your survival to this point—especially your escape from our notice during your brief ‘retirement’—is evidence enough of that.”

“Did you bring me here just to flatter me, or are you just trying to butter me up?”

   Another nod from the Commander to the man standing behind him resulted in the wire tightening again.  This time, he resisted the urge to fight, glaring straight at the Commander until he started to gasp for air despite himself.  The wire released him as the shadows started to encroach at the corners of his eyes, his lungs burning as he breathed deeply.  Again, the Commander waited until he’d caught his breath once more to continue.

“I need information from you, boy,” he sneered, “and you will give it to me.”

“The risen Christ is the answer to all questions, my son,” Red Death shot back before the wire tightened once more; he figured if he was going to be tortured, he’d best earn it.

   When the wire released, the Commander pulled a chair over and sat opposite him.  “As it seems you’re the impatient type, I’ll cut to the chase:  I want the Spear of Destiny.  You know where to find it, and if you don’t, you soon will; of that, I have no doubt.  Now, Price may be offering you money, but I have something far more valuable for you.”

When he was quiet, Red Death simply raised an eyebrow.  “And that is…?”

The Commander grinned.  “Freedom.  For you and your little wench.  If you retrieve the Spear of Destiny for me, not Price, I can guarantee that you and Black Lotus will have your records purged and deleted, and any further escapades will be indefinitely ignored.  You will be free to live your lives as you wish, without fear of retribution from the authorities, the military, or the government.  All I ask is that you give me the Spear.”

   He stood, pushing the chair back into the shadows.  Waving his hand, he dismissed whoever was standing behind Red Death; the mercenary could feel the draft of the man walking away, the sound of a door closing almost silently behind him alerting Red Death to the position of the exit.  Making sure his pistol was clearly displayed, the Commander slashed through the bindings around the mercenary’s wrists and ankles with a large hunting knife before releasing the catch on the wire.  As Red Death stood, he faced him calmly.

“So?  What say you?”

Well, I apologize if this one doesn't seem all that great, or even much for an SP, but it's late, I haven't written in this one for a while, and it's Christmas.  Sue me.

Anyways, what does our favorite mercenary do?  Does he take the deal?  Or does he do something considerably more...drastic?

Suggest away!

[Burningplain]

Initially he's going to say no... but then General Fethwipe (Yes, I am going to call him that from now on) reveals some "secret card" that forces him to accept the deal... at least until he can think of a way out of it.