The Pig and Drum tavern was busier than usual. The hustle and bustle of the summer market had certainly caused a stir in the Dale-land village, drawing common folk from miles around to flaunt their wears and catch up on the goings on in neighbouring settlements. Unfortunately, it was not only farmers and blacksmiths that were drawn in, but those of a more unsavoury variety seeking an opportunity to enact their criminal activities. This did not go unnoticed by the watchmen, but what could they do? With so many people pouring through the gates it was made almost impossible to police the streets. Drunken brawls, thievery and mischief were all commonplace, but murder was another thing entirely.
Upon a small notice board just outside of the tavern flapped a piece of parchment caught in the light summer breeze. Upon it, was a rough sketch of a menacing looking fellow, with a pointed beard and long unruly hair. For those not in the know, he would appear to resemble almost any brigand in the area. However, to some, he was known as Emberfall, an alias used to strike fear into the local populus. This Emberfall and his men raided farms, slaughtered livestock and threatened villagers in the worst manner possible. Just a fortnight ago, Old Briar was beaten within an inch of his life for daring to stand up against the villain’s cohort. Emberfall was a wanted man, but who would dare stand against him whilst he was at large?
The crowd within the Pig and Drum were packed in together. The smell of ale and sweat hung in the air, mingled with tobacco rising from the tables in the common room. People were complaining as they were forced to stand, and seats were scares. One group almost started a brawl over a footstool at the bar. But nestled in the back of the common room, in a corner booth by the fire, sat a man guarded by two heavyset men with several vacant seats that nobody dared ask for.
“Three gold pieces and seventy silver coins” said the man, a portly fellow wearing hard, black leathers and a loose-fitting jerkin. “That’s half the amount promised… Did you hear that? I said half!” The man kicked one of the guards standing at the entrance of the booth who shifted from the impact. Though frustrated by this, he did not retaliate.
“I heard you, sir” said the guard.
“I trust you’ll make arrangements for a visit to be paid to his farm?” said the man, tugging on a drawstring purse and tossing it into a small wooden box.
“We’ll send the boys round tonight” replied the guard, his arms folded as he glared out towards the common room. The gathering seemed to be parting, making way for a tall figure who weaved his way through towards the booth where they were situated. He wore armour but carried no weapon. He was tall and broad in stature and seemed quite stern in his features. He approached the two guards who stepped forward to meet him, one raising a hand and placing it upon his tabard.
“Who are you?” the guard asked, whilst his counterpart raised a small wooden cudgel as a vague threat.
“Auron” replied the man, unfazed by the gesture, his one eye meeting that of the guard for the other was devastated by a wound. “Your boss is expecting me.”
“So he is!” shouted the man sitting within the booth, clapping his hands together and gesturing to have the two guards stand down. “Please, please! Come in friend, take a seat, I am sorry to have kept you waiting”. The man did not rise, merely pointed for Auron to sit. He did as he was bid, sitting down on a small pillow upon a wooden bench opposite him. It was a tight squeeze, but comfortable enough. He placed his arms upon the table and leaned in slightly, lowering his posture to appear more relaxed for his host. “Of course, you know who I am don’t you?”
“Kenilworth” said Auron.
“Precisely! I am glad to see that my reputation has spread. I have always said, if you wish to make a name for yourself you must be willing to… ah, push the boat so to speak!”
“Push the boat?” asked Auron.
“Oh, you know… A bit of this, a bit of that. Anything to get your name around and command a certain sense of… what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Fear” said Auron.
Kenilworth clicked his fingers and slammed his palm upon the table, causing the coin within the wooden box to shake. “Fear! Yes, exactly! Which is why you are here, is it not friend?”
Auron reached towards his belt and pulled from it a small coin purse. He raised it for Kenilworth to see before dropping it on the tables surface.
“Ah! Yes, the sound of coin is the gateway to a loose tongue. So come, tell me then, what is it you’re after?”
“Information” said Auron in a gruff, low voice.
“Very well, information it is! I can give you all sorts, Auron, all sorts indeed! I can tell you who’s fighting against who, plots, schemes of every kind imaginable. I can tell you who the mayor is sleeping with, how many watchmen are on the take. Anything you want, I can provide. So, come now! Don’t be shy, what do you want to know.”
Auron leaned back upon his bench, causing the wood to creek under his armoured weight. He smiled slightly, a crooked smile that revealed several corner teeth. It was not of mirth or humour, but of distain towards the man with whom he spoke.
“A farm was raided, not two nights ago just on the boarders of the nearby settlement. Rockery Haven.”
Kenilworth beamed at Auron, reaching out and taking the coin which he had provided and absentmindedly tossing it into the wooden box. “Ah, yes. Nasty business that. Very nasty. I hear a stable hand was wounded and two horses stolen.”
“The stable hand is dead” said Auron, cooly.
“Oh? A pity, a pity… But tell me, friend. What do you wish to know about it? I have eyes and ears everywhere, but they have their limits.”
“Limits, you say?” said Auron. “What sort of limits?”
“I… well, you know. Rumours and gossip spread like disease, but it’s not always accurate. Even I-”
“Wouldn’t go against the interest of your employer?” interrupted Auron.
At this, Kenilworth was taken aback. His mirth and bravado all but vanished from his face, replaced with something mixed between rage and a flicker of fear. The two guards standing at the entrance of the booth noticed this, turning their attention from the floor to their master. Kenilworth recovered from the initial shock, sat up and spoke in a much more sinister tone. “I would be careful if I were you, friend. My kindness has its limits.”
“Kindness?” said Auron. “You lack the capacity. I shall make this simple for you to understand. Tell me where I can find Emberfall.”
The guards drew small, concealed weapons from their belts. They moved in on Auron who sat motionless within the booth, his eye fixed upon Kenilworth who swiftly raised his hand to stay their attack. “You dare?”
“I dare” said Auron.
“You are bold, friend. Very bold. What is to stop me from having my men here take you out through the back entrance and cut your throat?”
Auron grunted. “That would cause some unwanted attention, for you. Not to mention a crime scene with your fingerprints all over it.” Auron gestured towards the tavern, the merrymakers drinking, smoking and talking, completely oblivious as to what was going on in the booth. “How many of these people saw me enter this booth? How many do you think will recognise me when my body is found? The locals aren’t as stupid as you think, they will put the pieces together and come to one conclusion.”
Kenilworth glared at Auron, his lip curled. “What conclusion might that be?”
“That you are a murderer, like your boss” said Auron.
Kenilworth sat back against the wall of the booth and weaved his fingers together, analysing his opponent as if they were playing a boardgame. This man knew his business, beyond the front that he put on for the locals, but his real business. This could not stand, he would have to die. But how to do it?
“Thank you for your visit, Auron” he said, returning to a beaming smile and heightened tone as if nothing had transpired between them. “Please, come back anytime! You would be most welcome!”
The guards returned their weapons but loomed over Auron. He stood, a faint smile flashing across his face once more before stepping past the guards and back into the crowd. As he left, Kenilworth’s face changed into one contorted with rage.
“Put everything on hold” he said, slamming the coin filled box shut. “I want everyone we have on that man. Tonight.”
