Category: Farek

The table was set with plates of garlic seared venison, bowls of moist fruit, and a basket of fresh bread.  The aroma made Farek’s stomach growl and, he had eaten only an hour ago.  Long-neck flasks of cider and ale were companioned by pots of gravy and beakers of honey, while a small bowl of sugary jam cornered the main nourishments.

Lannon had been sitting in front of the table for nearly twenty minutes before Farek casually entered.  Farek chose a honeyed date from one of the small dishes and popped it into his mouth.  He smirked at its sweetness and settled into the armchair across from his starved captive.  Lannon regarded Farek dully and said nothing, so Farek leaned forward and poured a single goblet of red wine.  He leaned back again, sipping it. Continue reading Farek 59

Lannon was tied to a chair and gagged when Farek strode into the guardhouse.  The guards had given their space for Farek’s questioning.  He stood with Lannon alone, while one of his personal guards waited at the door.  Aside from a table and nearby armoury racks, the space was as undecorated as the sackcloth Lannon now wore. Continue reading Farek 58

It took only a day for the populace of Bogtown to find another family missing from their neighborhoods: this one was missing from next door to the Tenedars.  It seemed that a group—their identities and numbers unknown—had dragged their hostages next door from the Tenedars’ fateful evening party.  By the evening of the 3^rd, a mighty mob had rounded up about the boarded windows and barricaded doors.  Farek’s guards kept careful watch. Continue reading Farek 57

The first thirty citizens of Bogtown gathered long before Farek had specified.  The wide town square located a block north of Mazaar Ranisar’s mansion was abuzz with their conversation while Farek and his guards waited for more to arrive.  It had been a busy few days, full of missing people and the veiled presence of Farek’s desired target—the scoundrel Lannon truly seemed to be here, in Bogtown. Continue reading Farek 56

The bustling village of Bogtown was crammed between deep swamp trenches, flat grassy marshes, and the grey-green sea.  Its population of ten thousand were as busy in the bog as they were in the handful of shops and alehouses.  Tea leaves, medicinal herbs, and nuts and oils were the primary extracts of the small harbour.  These resources and more were harvested by the sturdy men and women of the town. Continue reading Farek 55

Lannon was as scant as smoke.  There was no sign of him in Debtor’s Down.  No one had seen him in the harbour.  He didn’t turn up to make a second, reckless attack on Coin Hill, and the sizeable bounty on his head went unpaid.  While a few guards remained posted in Lannon’s neighborhood, many others were tasked with patrolling the streets of the city.  The private guard groups and the various mercenaries of Soros grew embittered, but, if anything, Farek hoped that would incentivize them to seek the would-be assassin as well. Continue reading Farek 54

The guards gave Farek the name and description of the man who delivered the sacks of flour to the site of the disaster.  As Simi slowly healed under Devender’s care, Farek and his guards scoured the city for Oggin Drezenis.  Two weeks after the explosion, Farek found the culprit at the Sweet Anchor tavern.  A bloody nose was the first of Oggin’s injuries as Farek had slammed the unsuspecting man’s head off his table.  The interrogation that followed revealed a terrified and guilt-stricken man—if his show was to be believed. Continue reading Farek 53

Farek ate a large breakfast at dawn.  When most of the staff of the Bank of Soros went for their lunch break, he planned to track down his sisters and arrange an impromptu meeting to discuss the Matriarchs’ orders.  It had been several weeks, and his family had danced around the topic like it was a disease.  Who was going to marry a lord or lady of Lo Mallago? Continue reading Farek 52

Matriarch Valakono arrived with all the pompous pageantry befitting her stature.  Her parade was led by a platoon of soldiers.  Behind the fighting force marched their servants, and then the servants of the lords and ladies in the Matriarch’s troupe.  Each such patrician rode on horseback or was carried in curtained litters, draped in golden gilt and the finest of threads.  The Matriarch herself—to Farek’s surprise—did not relax within a curtained sedan; she sat sideways in the saddle of an enormous barb.  She looked through a silvery veil and surveyed the crowds of Sorosi commoners with a gaze as regal as her standing.  Her sharp wrinkles and sunken eyes seemed softened by the shroud.  Contrarily, the knife-like pins that kept her braided grey hair in its bun remained harshly angular. Continue reading Farek 51

Farek leaned against the stone archway at the front of his estate.  It was midafternoon and the overhead sun slashed its way through scattered clouds to warm the cobblestones under his sandals.  He was thinking about the Organization again, though Thrane had learned nothing more about the death of Lord Reeyan.  All of the alliance—Thrane, Mavagar, and Jannia—seemed focused on their attempts to gain a foothold in Lo Mallago.  As he watched the scattered bands of shadow shift across Soros, Farek waited for his invited guest to join him. Continue reading Farek 50