Biding time

[The past that haunts]

Over the borders

That had not gone as expected. A quick job the man had said. A careful one for skilled hands, yes. So he had handpicked his crew. 7 men, one woman. The tactics had been simple, observe patiently, find the weak spots, then strike. Instead Marie was dead. Hugh was dead. And Daziel had dissapeared without ever reporting back. Couldn't say he blamed them. There were reports of him being caught. Sloppy. Strangely enough there were reports too of him, though wounded, walking away.

Escaped? Let loose to sniff them out and betray them in exchange of his life? He'd not risk it. If he saw Daziel, he'd finish him himself. In the mean time, retreat was the best choice. That cursed black rider on his giant horse kept patrolling the lands, sniffing out too many of their hiding spaces. But there was such a thing as borders. They'd go over the river, bide their time and await new orders. If the job still needed to be done, it would cost more. A lot more. Only four left beside himself, men he knew. Men whose skills he trusted though he wouldn't trust either of them not to sell their own mother to the devil if the price was right. Peter, Gurnod, Benedict, and Peter the wily. A good crew. It still could be done. But not for just another purse. This time, revenge would take a whole lot more.

For now, they would bide their time. Taking their time had saved them from the noose in the past. Any fool could storm in wielding a blade. It took a sharp mind, to kill and get away with it.

[The past that haunts]

They had been patient. And Peter's idea had been sheer brilliance. During their earlier reconnaissance of months they had done nothing but gather information on Kyle, on the queen, on Cara, on all those that needed to be dealt with. The queen was a creature of habit, so her movements had been easy to predict. Rising early, going to mass, breakfast in the hall. Visitors, needlework and affairs of state during the morning, prayers and more work in the afternoon. Tea and embroidery in the hall in the evening, while she received again. And that tea.. a brew of elderberries, made for health rather than taste.
With the guards vigilant after their last attack, getting into the castle had become a problem. Hanging out for a longer time in forest or close by on the lands had become a problem as well. So stealth had been the solution. An intriguing stranger, some coins and the easy distraction and trust of children had been used, as well as a liberal dose of foxglove. Only Peter had gone over the border for it, and when it was done, they returned and waited. Waiter for a mourning period to be announced, waited for the neighboring lands to start paying their respects, for any of the signs or rumors of a royal death. None came. Weeks later now, there still had not been even a sound of anyone dying, and a swift visit to an inn on the road that would see merchants travelling had given them barely any news as to what happened. The queen had been ill but recovered, further there was no more news, save for visitors and a calf that had been born with five hooves if you would believe it!

Eyes glowed with hatred that evening. There never yet had been a contract that had not been fulfilled, and to be withstood like this, blocked at every movement, made it personal. Oh yes, it was personal. If he had to hire more men from his own pocket, he would do so. They were dead. They just did not know it yet.

[The past that haunts]

Durkin paced. They should be back. A quick jaunt in. A quick journey to see if there was an opportunity. The scouting had become a problem. There were questions being asked, so their own questions could not be too obtrusive. Peter had gone. The man could think on his feet. And it had seemed amusing. One Peter to think of the plan, one to act it out. But now.. Peter had not returned. And Benedict who had gone with him had not either. Where were they? What more could be going wrong in these blasted lands.

It wasn't as if he cared for their lives, but he did care for what they could spill. He could find another crew, but not as long as he did not finish the job here. His name would not be worth a farthing, even if Fzoul could not find him, his reputation would be in shreds. No.. they would see this true. He'd burn the whole castle down around them if need be.

[Lady Edfeil]

Why the two men have not returned:

www.roleplayoasis.com/filestore/faerieeva/Dieterpoisoner.pdf