1866-06-06: Security
Summary: A few loose ends from the machinations of Cardinal Lucien Ramius are tied up. Somewhat literally in a couple of cases.
Date: Juin 6, 1866 IA
Related: None

The door to the hovel just outside the gates of Ostvor is kicked open, and in rush four warriors bearing the tabards of the Lightning Brigade, pulling the man they sought from the bed he was sharing with a prostitute that was well past her middle years. She screams and huddles in the corner, but the men all but ignore her, instead binding the fellow's hands behind his back, and throwing a cloth sack over his head, blinding him to the world before they haul him out despite his feeble protests.

"You've an appointment with the Gallows…" One of the Brigadiers grumbles derisively as they moved back through the door.

A man wearing the black armband steps out of the shadows of an alleyway on the fringes of the market district of Lonnaire, striking swiftly and silently. With a dry "snap" the target's neck was broken and he collapsed to the ground, his last breath leaving him in a slight wheeze.

A few miles outside of Murnord, a swat sends the horse scampering, leaving the bound rider swinging from the thick tree branch to which the noose around his neck had been affixed. He struggles mightily as death claims him, but in the end swings in the breeze, his arms and legs hanging slack until someone cuts him down. A man in full plate, bearing the tabard that marks him a member of the Argent Legion nods in grim satisfaction as he bears witness.

In Pacitta, a t'Corbeau assassin cuts the arm of the body before her, making sure that the poison has fully done its' work and ended the man's life. Seeing no sign of reaction, nor breathing, she nods, and kicks him over into the canal he lay beside.

"That's the last of them." The Blue Cavalier notes as the body is tossed upon the pyre, a few miles outside of Rovilon, just outside of a small farming village. There had been seven of them, but the battle had been mercifully swift, largely in part to the Wraiths of Lonnaire that accompanied them. "Foul business all this." He lifts a scented handkerchief to his face to try to block out the stench of burning bodies.

"Foul, but necessary." Master Corvin Fremont watches the flames impassively as he replies.

"Why didn't we question them?" The Cavalier queries.

Not an unfair question. Corvin thinks, before answering, "They wouldn't have had anything useful to say. These are the stragglers, the deserters…the foot soldiers. We've already rounded up the surviving officers." Corvin glances towards the Cavalier now, grinning in that manner that he knew was mildly unsettling, "How do you think we found out where all these others were hiding out?"

"Remind me again why we're putting up with you lot?" The Cavalier growls, a touch of disgust entering his tone as he regards the Wraith before him, and though the question was largely rhetorical, Corvin answers anyway.

"Because your King commands it. And because we're good at what we do." Corvin speaks once more, watching the black smoke curl towards the sky, "This group is the last. All of the Cardinal's Guard has been accounted for."

"So we're done then?" The Cavalier looks a bit hopeful behind that handkerchief now.

"It seems so. Thankfully few of the Cardinal's Guard were the type to settle down with families." Corvin replies, turning away from the pyre and starting back towards the path that led to Rovilon.

"Families? Why would that mat-" The Cavalier cuts himself off, his face paling a bit as the implication strikes him, "God! But you're a cold bunch."

Smarter than he acts. Corvin makes a mental note to himself and nods, "We are what we have to be. For our Duke, and through him, our King." He looks back over his shoulder, to the pyre once more, "It could have been worse. All told, I would say this bit of unpleasantness is a pittance to pay for a bit of security." He tilts a brow to the Cavalier, and then gives him a bow, adding a touch of that off-kilter grin, "Until next time, Sir Cavalier." They hadn't exchanged names. It hadn't been necessary, and neither had any illusions that fast friendship was likely to be the result here.

"God willing not too soon." The Cavalier all but snarls, and then turns to walk in the opposite direction, towards where the horses of he and his men had been tethered. Killing men for the Crown was a business all Blue Cavaliers knew they might have to undertake, but that didn't mean they had to enjoy it. Those Wraiths though…they seemed to revel in it. Still…they had been…efficient, if nothing else.

The Cavalier pauses his reverie, shaking his head in protest at the slight glimmer of respect that had threatened to form. "Here's hoping we won't need their kind in the days to come." The Cavalier notes to his second, who just regards him a bit sadly.

"There's always a need for their kind, Sir…."


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