18. The price of silence by Malice

messenger

A box arrives at the gates to the castle of Proudglaive. The delivery boy hands one of the guards a plain looking package that is addressed to Prince Maximov.

Within the box is the tiny severed hand of a newborn infant and a scroll sealed with a bit of red wax.

If you do not want the other hand delivered to your mistress, you will bring 5 non-magical sapphires totaling 25,000 gold pieces to The Naughty Mermaid in Ravnglade. There you will leave the stones with a man who will be sitting at the forth table along the west wall. Then you will leave and never look back. Should you fail to meet him tomorrow when the sun is at its zenith, should something happen to him, the next package will be for your lover.

It is not signed.

Thurs, Apr 4th – 12:04AM
vorador

Vor read over this note and then looked back at the hand,”What in the world?” He put both into the drawer of his desk and leaned back in his seat, wondering..”

Thurs, Apr 4th – 12:48AM
malice

Malice wrapped her fingers around the hapless half-orc’s throat and spat furiously in his face, “He what?!” She couldn’t believe what she heard, all that time and planning for naught. Not only did the proud Prince of Proudglaive not show up to pay the hush money, his lover, Syriana, had walked out on him and effectively took with her any reason why Vorador would pay up.

“VITH!”

The half-orc’s long nails scratched at her forearm, trying to get her to loosen her grip but that only made her clamp down harder, he made desperate gurgling sounds while his face turned an unhealthy shade of blue. He couldn’t answer her if he tried.

When his eyes began to glaze, Malice threw him from her. Grut landed in a heap on the sandy floor and began gulping air. She kicked half-orc in the ribs, satisfied when she heard the crunch of bone giving away, before stepping over him. She had to think, she had to come up with a way to turn this in her favor. The sapphires were to be a surprise for her Senger and all she had to show for her elaborate plan was a one-handed, newborn spawn of the Prince’s.

Pausing in a doorway, Malice watched contemptuously as the infant girl suckled at her mother’s breast, the wispy blonde ringlets did not stir her heart any, infact her lip lifted in a snarl of hatred. She took a step into the room, intent on feeding Vorador’s bastard daughter to her own offspring, then the drow woman paused, maybe she should wait and see what happens. Yes, Syriana had walked out on Vorador in a public rejection of his offer to marry him, but the runic elf could change her mind, lovers had disagreements all the time, then Malice can try again, demand double what she asked for before. And the Prince would likely pay it if he was newly reconciled. She had, after all, bided her time through the pregnancy, she could wait a little while longer.