Swords and Conspiracies
Aleksander blocked the sun out of his eyes as he tried to finish cleaning up his work table. He was always sure to keep his tools in good order and not to leave a mess behind at the end of the day- it was the way he had been trained. " It is hot today, I can't wait to hit the tram... at least its cooler there. Soon as I get home I'm taking a shower and heading down to the pub." He wiped the fine metal dust off his etching tools, and carefully packed them between layers of thin wool. He dashed a bucket of water over the small bank of hot coals he had been using to melt minute amounts of silver for chasing. He collected and counted and deposited all the simple pearls he had been setting into a dagger, back into their little pouch. It was a fine piece he had managed today- a commission from a man in the House of Nobles, as a betrothal gift for his intended. A tiny lady's dagger, mostly used to pin the hair up than for any violence. It was fine silver, with little birds chasing each other around the hilt, and bedecked with the pearls around the hilt.
"Hurry up Aleks, we're goin' to miss the tram back to Ironforge if ya don't put a step in it" a ruddy dwarf next to him exclaimed. Aleksander grinned at his friend Stark McTubbens- the two had met the first day as apprentices of the great Sword smith Master Ellington, and had been inseparable ever since. Stark was from the Ironforge clan itself, though he claimed there was some Uldum from his grand-aunts nephew's cousin on his fathers side. The sprawling familial tribes of the dwarves was a bit daunting to Aleks, as it was near impossible for him to keep track of the relations. Stark never seemed to have any such problems, for as he said 'Kin is kin, ye can always tell.' On the other hand, Starks parents were the two kindest souls he had ever met. When Ma McTubben heard that Aleks lived on his own, she insisted that he start coming over for dinner, to 'get some real food in a wee growing lad!". While he may have been a bit miffed that he was still considered a wee lad, Ma McTubbens dinners more than made up for it. A weekly tradition was established, though quite often Aleks was over more often that that, to Ma's delight. "One second short stuff" Aleks joked. He quickly grabbed up his pack and began heading out the door in step with Stark when Master Ellington suddenly looked up from his worktable.
"Aleksander, be a good boy and take this package to Lord Fairneworth in the Keep will you? I finally finished setting the gems in the hilt and he's most anxious to get it back". The old man peered at him over his glasses. "It is on your way is it not?" he asked. "It would be my honor Master Ellignton." Aleks replied. He carefully accepted the heavy package and quickly walked out the door, trying to catch up with Stark. "Make sure to ask him about the gauntlets before you leave!" Master Ellington called after him. Master Ellington, as known by his apprentices, or Julien Ellington, 'the greatest sword-smith since Magni Bronzebeard, of the famed Ashbringer', which Master Ellington himself said was too long a title to fit comfortably in anyone's mouth. He had crafted swords for the Order of the Silverhand, as well as some of the higher-ranking Guardsman, and there was a rumour that he was already planning the first sword that the young Prince Adrian would receive when he became a knight.
"Hey Aleks, wot is it ye got there?" the dwarf asked looking at the fancy velvet covering. "Its a package for one of the nobles." Aleks rolled his eyes. "Nobles are funny creatures- so much money to spend on trivial things - like refitting their hilts with new imported gems, but unable to find the money to send troops to Darkshire or Westfall" These were not thoughts one ever sad aloud of course, though technically any free man could petition an audience from the King, or one the noble who ruled where he lived. People that said such things, like the old hermit Norman, ended up like old hermit Norman, who disappeared from his corner for two weeks, and when he came back, all he did was run around in circles barking, and then claiming he was Thrall, the High Warchief of the Horde undercover, sent to dismantle Stormwind from within. Before, he used to be a scholar, who would rail against the unfair taxes, the disgusting amounts of waste, the state of the nation, with not enough armies to protect all of its holdings- the Horde was not their only problem. There were the rogue troll tribes, gnolls, kobolds, quilboar, the bear tribes, the undead, as well as the regular host of nasty animals who wanted to eat nice, soft humans. Since Hermit Normans mysterious 'change', most dissent was whispered in murmurs, as the people wondered why their King had no answer for them.
"Ahh...I kinda wonted to be home in time for Gresella...we have a date." Aleksander cracked up at the look on Starks face. "Nice going there buddy" he teased. "Listen...you go on ahead. I'll just run this in really quick and I'll see you tomorrow. Deal?" Stark beamed at him. "Ye always know how to compromise!" he exclaimed as he rushed off to the tram.
Aleksander walked the rest of the way to the Keep, enjoying the weather and the noises of the evening rush- stores closing, people packing up, families getting together. The scent of all sorts of cooking wafting from the different inns and restaurants- not just traditional human food was to be had in Stormwind, there was the heartier Dwarven dishes, the "instant" dinners the gnomes tinkered with, and even the exotic fruits and vegetables of the Elves. He passed the two guards outside the Keep with a nod- he ran so many deliveries as a first-year apprentice they knew him well by now.
He felt very out of place in his common work clothes- brown leggings, sturdy boots, a cream colored shirt and a rugged leather belt. He stood outside the door of the Petitioners Chamber waiting to announce himself, taking in the velvets and silks and laces of the courtesans around him. Aleks tried to brush off the soot stains around his cuffs and unwrinkled his shirt. Finally one of the servants "noticed" him and asked his business.
"I have a package from Master Ellington for Lord Fairneworth." he replied smoothly. The servant conducted him into the interior chamber with much more respect, due to recognizing he wasn't some poor farmer petitioning off bandits, but an apprentice. Aleksander tried not to fidget as he waited for the nobles to finish their conversation. The servant, noticing his lack of stillness, elbowed him slightly. Aleksander straightened up quickly, looking balefully at him.
Lord Fairneworth finally turned toward him somewhat impatiently. "Yes? May I help you young man?" Fairneworth was one of the most influential Lords of the House of Nobles, and he ruled territory from Duskwood almost to Stranglethorn Valley. He once held vast lands in Tirisfal, but those had fallen with the Scourge.
Aleks stepped forward quickly and executed a quick bow, down upon one knee. "I am Master Ellingtons' apprentice. He asked me to deliver this to you- it is your sword, refitted as you asked." He held out the package from his bow, wincing slightly. The cold stone floor was painful on his knee. He was relieved as the servant took it from his hands. At Lord Farineworths's nod he rose unsteadily.
"Tell Ellington that I will send the payment along shortly. I am sure he's done excellent work again. Run along now young man, Cristan will tip you for your services at the door." With that dismissal, Aleks waited for the Lord to exit into the antechamber before following the servant "Cristan" out. Halfway down the marble hallway Aleks halted. He forgot to ask about the gauntlets! Calling himself ten kinds of idiots he caught up to Cristan apologetically. "I needed to ask Lord Fairnesworth about the gauntlets he had also ordered. I need to go back and talk to him."
Cristan looked at him irritated. "Listen you bumpkin, it is Friday night- there is a ball tonight. The entire castle is going to be all-a-do getting ready and beautiful, and likewise I need to have a decent showing myself! Run back yourself if you must, but make sure to knock and wait for the other servants to conduct you in. I have better things to do than play nanny to some commoner!" Cristan walked off without another word.
Aleks slowly unclenched his fist. "Stay calm. Just ignore him, run back and do your task, and then you can leave and go enjoy a pint. Bumpkin eh? I'd teach him a quick lesson or two if we weren't in the Keep..." Aleksander trotted back up the hallway, dodging servants burdened with laundry, baskets of bread, fruits, all sorts of things for the ball tonight. He supposed it was good to celebrate- people needed it. But so much better could be done for the people!
Pausing at the door to the antechamber, he scouted around for a servant. He had noticed that they had managed to adopt the manner of hiding behind curtains and statues, materializing when needed.
When no one came forward he timidly walked through the great oak doors into a small room. There were red velvet curtains draped along the walls, and a well-built solid oak table in the middle. On the opposite end of the room was a portrait of the King, life-sized.
Aleksander walked over to it in awe. The portrait showed exquisite detail of the clothing and jewels- but the eyes were mesmerizing, they almost looked alive. He had never seen such a well done life-sized portrait before in his life. He reached out to touch it when it seemed like the portrait was speaking to him! He jumped back in surprise, quickly making the sign against evil. Looking around him he saw no apparitions or spirits or ghosts. Aleksander cautiously leaned against the portrait, and realized the voice did not come FROM the portrait, but from BEHIND it.
"...Alcaz...no no...the Defias made sure no one saw where they...of course we covered our tracks...hired...naga...yes...are guarding him...off the coast...Kalimdor."
A more familiar, lordly voice cut in, sounding clearer and closer. "With the King out the way my path to the throne lies clear. The boy himself is too young to rule, and too young to get out the way. A few well placed rumors of him dabbling with the plague and such will banish him easily. Really, this is nearly fool-proof -"::woosh::
The portrait swung open, hitting Aleks in the head lightly as he stumbled out the way back onto the table. Lord Fairneworth and a man clad in dark leather stared at him stunned.
"I...I..." Aleks stammered. "SIEZE HIM! GUARDS!" Lord Fairneworth roared. He shoved the man back into the passage before advancing onto Aleks, who was looking around wildly. He heard the sound of guards approaching, and before he could think, had leapt to his feet and was out the room.
"Left...Right...down this corridor, jump down here...take another right...where are the kitchen exits?"
All those deliveries had given Aleks a decent knowledge of the servant entrances to the Keep. He looked up the flight to the floor he was on and saw guards talking to Lord Fairnesworth. Not even thinking or comprehending what was happening or what he had heard, he ran into the kitchens. He caught a few curious looks from the serving maids as he sped out the door and down the dock.
Bursting into the outside air, he heard the echoes of shouting and running from inside the Keep. "What the hell am I doing running? Why am I running?" Grimly, Aleksander replayed the conversation in his head. Last week the King was said to have gone on a mission to see Jaina Proudmore in Kalimdor and talk of peace with the orcs...apparently Lord Fairneworth saw to it he never got there, and because of that Aleksander was an inconvenience.
He dashed into an abandoned shop, that was the good thing about Old Town- so many old shops or old houses that no one remembered anymore. He doubted the Guard would find him here...they would still be inside the Keep, and when they did begin to search the whole city...the shop was found only upstairs from a side door in an alley.
He slumped against the wall, heart palpitating. He would be killed. Even though he had never committed a crime in his life, Lord Fairnesworth would have him killed quietly in some lower room in the Stockades, with no one to tell his story of what he knew, and no one to protest he had done no wrong. He needed to get out.
The mind of a man who understands his death is imminent and nearly inescapable is an amusing thing. His thoughts chased themselves like a dog and its tail.
" I need to leave Stormwind. I need to leave all the Alliance cities...he would hunt me to the end...I don't even think he would leave me be if I holed up in a cottage in Darkshire, far away from him and the court! I need to pack my things...I need clothes... and food. I am hungry. I guess I can't have that pint now. I wonder where the guard is. How am I going to get out of this? Do I still have my tools on me? Where am I going to go? I wonder what time it is. How long have I been here? It smells like kingsblood in here...how appropriate. What the hell? Am I running like a scared rabbit? I need to tell someone of his plan! He can't kidnap the King and usurp the throne? Haha. How funny Aleks, you suddenly think you are a hero? What have you fought before? Iron and steel? What have you killed besides chickens and cows on your farm? What can you do? Nothing you fool...leave that to heroes, find yourself a small cottage somewhere and be happy! "
He huddled in a corner of the shop watching the sun dip down through a corner of the window. He saw the patrols going in and out of businesses, and questioning people.
'Have you seen this man? He is wanted for helping the Defias. No? Thank you Citizen.'
Aleksander got up and stretched when the sun had set and the sky dark- there was no moon tonight. He had spent the last four hours sitting in near delirium, chasing plans in and out his head. He came up with one: he needed help. He was going to see Stark.
He found an old cloak in a closet that he quickly donned, before smearing his face with some of the oil he found in a bottle. Glancing in the cracked mirror he saw his face was dark like leather now, and not the pale complexion he was born with. That should do.
Slipping out the store, he tried hard to fight the urge to skulk along the shadows, and forced himself to walk bravely past bright torches and patrols, his heart hammering the whole time. The patrols stopped him once, near the entrance to the Merchants quarter. "Sir, we are looking for a man who attempted to rob Lord Fairnesworth. He is about 6'1, brown hair, brown eyes, slight built, -an apprentice named Aleksander. Have you seen him?" "Robbing Lord Fairnesworth! What? I would never do such a thing!" His heart now tapping a staccato against his chest, he looked the guard in the eye. "Nay sir, I just came in this evening to go to the wool stalls and see what I could pick up for the missus." he rasped, his fear making his voice hoarser than usual. The guard nodded, waving him on. 'Of course- thank you Citizen. Do keep an eye out!'
Reaching the tram entrance, he passed the two guards on duty with a nod, and descended the steps into the cool gloom. He sat down in a corner, ignoring the homeless gnomes and others around him, staring at the Tram Tracking screen, every moment expecting to hear the guards come flying down the stairs, swords drawn to haul him back to the Keep. When his carriage arrived, Aleks could have kissed the steel frame. He hopped in a cart by himself and stared out vacantly at the water as he rushed towards home.