Sedition
Garnil Thunderman’s face turned a deep red, almost violet. His eyes became cold and hard; the muscles along the jaw clenched. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low, Bjorke could barely hear him, even with her keen ear. “You realize this is Sedition. It is very serious.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. I do regret the consequences of my actions, and I’m willing to accept whatever you decide to do with me.”
“This… will go before the Core of Officers, to be discussed. Your future with Sterling Guild is certainly at risk.” Garnil’s eyes bored through her. “This is serious, indeed.”
Bjorke pressed on, knowing each word drove daggers through the trust they had built. “Yes, sir. I am willing to make… reparations. Commander, I have grown to admire and respect Sterling. Your people are quite remarkable.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away from her. Bjorke’s shoulders slumped, and she eased herself back down to the ground, and drained her flask.
The Best Laid Plans…
Bjorke leaned against the base of the tree, trying to shift her body into a position that did not send shooting pains through her. She drank deeply from her flask, and waited. The sun above Stormwind rose higher, warming the air in the Park. But Bjorke was in the shadows, in the cool darkness that she relished.
Hearing the familiar clank of armor, she opened her eyes as Commander Thunderman approached. He stood before her, and Bjorke knew she should stand and salute, but could not will her body to obey her commands. He looked her up and down in concern. She knew she was a sight: her face bruised and cut, arm bandaged, her armor scarred and dirty. She took another long drink from her flask, needing the liquid courage for this task.
“Your note said you had information, Bjorke. Have you found Mabon?”
“Yes, Commander. I know where she is.” Bjorke sighed. “I… need to tell you something. I have made a…” Bjorke searched for the words, “grave miscalculation.” She stared at the ground, unable to meet the eyes of the Commander who had placed trust in her. Trust that she had used to her own advantage. This was supposed to have been just another mission. Why did she allow herself to become so involved? Why did it affect her so to have betrayed his trust? How was this different than any other mission?
Bjorke swallowed hard, still looking at the ground. “You know the girl kept evading her paladin watchers. She had no idea of the danger she was in!” Bjorke looked at Garnil, her face earnest behind the bruises. “This plot against her father… it has been in planning for months. I was asked to …intervene by my superiors. I had no choice but to do anything necessary to keep her safe!” Bjorke took another sip. “I had no choice…
“I knew if I could get her away from those … protectors,” Bjorke sneered as she said the word, “I could keep her safe. I wanted to get her up to Ravenholdt. No one comes or goes from there, unless Fahrad himself allows it. She would be safe, away from interventions, unable to slip out and get herself into more trouble.” Bjorke pauses, thinking of the reports of the incident in Menethil. Although completely unrelated to the plot by the Scarlet, the near-miss on Mabon’s life drove home the point of the girl’s uncanny ability to draw complications to herself.
Gritting her teeth, Bjorke slowly got to her feet. Standing as straight as she could, Bjorke steeled herself and looked in Garnil’s eyes, determined to complete her confession, a concept nearly unknown to the rogue. “I arranged the ambush, Commander. I paid mercenaries to take the girl, so I could get her up to Ravenholdt without interference from Argent Dawn, and their fumbling protectors.”
Bjorke waited for his reaction.
Trials and tribulations
“That girl would try the patience of Elune herself!” Bjorke flung herself into a chair in Sven’s chamber.
“Now, lass, she’s jus’ a wee girl… She’s no’ tha’ bad…” Clearly, the dwarf doted on Mabon.
“Sven! She will not stay put! My men are taxed to the end trying to keep up with her. She thinks it’s a great game, hide and seek with holy knights! The closer they get to her, the harder she pushes away. Has she a sane thought in her head?” This last remark sent Sven into spasms of laughter.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Sven lowered his voice. “Ye’ve go’ t’ do summit, Bjorke. Time is runnin’ out. Ah have confidence in ya. Ah kno’ ye’ll figure it out.”
Complicating matters was a young holy knight – Azzure Keeshan, put in charge of Stenholm’s disciples to watch over Mabon. Bjorke had warned him off as soon as she tracked him down, but he continued to personally visit the girl. Coming from a sheltered life as she had, it was obvious that the first man to show any kindness to her would put stars in the girl’s eyes.
Bjorke returned to her apartments, and spent the night pacing the floor. By the time dawn came to Stormwind, Bjorke had a plan.
New Alliances
Bjorke edged behind the tall, white-haired man, and slipped her fingers clumsily towards his coin purse. “Ahem,” came a booming voice. “If you value your fingers, lass, you’d best remove them from me.”
“Oh, excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you there.” He turned to face her, and she flashed Garnil Thunderman her best smile, her eyes twinkling. Tilting her head, she said, “She was right. You are … dashing.”
Puzzlement swept over his face, and he asked, “Who do you mean, lass?”
“Mabon Lightpath. She said you might be looking for recruits.”
“Ah, lass, any friend of Mabon’s is welcome in Sterling Guild. However,” he said, drawing himself up to full height and lowering his brows at her, “you’ll need to keep your fingers to yourself, from now on.”
Piece of cake, thought Bjorke.
A Personal Favor
Bjorke entered the stone house at Gavin’s Brae the same way each time: through the window at the back of the house. Not out of a need for secrecy, but because it annoyed Sven when she did. Silently, she made her way through the house until she reached a small room on the top floor. She opened the door without knocking, and was greeted by a loud “Hullo, Bjorke. Great to see ya!” As usual, the dwarf was expecting her. Sveghadhan Longbeard, “Sven” to his friends, was drunk. “Hello, Sven,” Bjorke replied, helping herself to a tankard of stout from the keg in the corner, a fixture of the room. She settled her lean frame into a chair, and propped her boots on the desk. Bjorke didn’t recall ever seeing the man sober, but with Sven, it was hard to tell. “You wanted to see me?” Read the rest of this entry »
A Letter of Introduction
To Garnil Thunderman, Commander, Sterling Guild
My name is Carlo Aurelius, Assassin with the Ravenholdt League. I am writing to you because it has come to my attention that one of our associates has joined your ranks. Although her name is Bjorke Aurelius, she is not my true daughter. She was abandoned on our grounds as a babe, probably due to superstition regarding the dagger-shaped birthmark she bears. I took her in, and raised her as my own, although I made no secret of her beginnings with me. We taught her our ways, our secrets, and our methods. With her innate talents with plants and herbs, she has become an expert on finding and using the various flora found throughout all of Azeroth. Read the rest of this entry »
