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.
