Chapter One
"I still don't understand why we're helping Ravendohlt?"
"We're not helping them. They're helping us," replied Osborne testily.
"What do you mean they're helping us?" asked Devlin indignantly.
"Look SI: 7 resources are spread thin. With Lady Jaina repeatedly stonewalling attempts at expansion we're being put in an increasingly defensive position. We can't afford to fight a war on anymore fronts. Gathering this intelligence on our own would take months. Ravendohlt is giving it to us in exchange for what we were going to do anyways."
Devlin was quite for a moment. The dark room the pair sat in was stifling and, Devlin found himself longing for fresh air.
"I see sir," he said finally, "But I still don't understand why we're so concerned about this? When did the Syndicate become such a threat to Stormwind?"
Osborne leaned back in the rickety wooden chair and sighed.
"The Syndicate is little more then a front for the kingdom of Alterac. The Alliance handling of the kingdoms betrayal during the Second War was swift and complete. Every noble and land owner in Alterac was forced to relinquish their holdings to the Alliance. Hundreds of families were exiled from their homes. It is true these people were disorganized for a time. However during the chaos of the Third War they united and struck back to reclaim Alterac."
"But they are divided again," dismissed Devlin, "The various nobles and their hired swords are too busy defending their manors from the ambition of other gangs. I'm not saying they aren't a threat but they are hardly worth wasting gold on Ravendohlt lies and certainly aren't worth an entire SI:7 operation team. Sir. "
"Not yet. The Syndicate has already begun staking claims outside of Tarren and Durnholde. Drug and slave trade has tripled in the last two months alone and, the money gained from these despicable endeavors is being used to purchase weapons and hire mercenaries," Osborne's voice was hard as he leaned forward, "They have already begun to raid trade caravans in Hillsbarad and we have had reported sightings of Syndicate as far south as the Highlands."
Devlin was silent for a moment as he digested the new.
"I didn't know," he said shaking his head.
"No, I don't suppose you would," replied Osborne his voice softening as he leaned back slightly. "Usually we would have brought you up here by boat and given you time to brief up on the matter but, unfortunately our window time is too small."
"So why am I here sir?" asked Devlin, "I still don't understand why I had to get rushed here like I did. Let me tell you, people can make fun of magic-users all they want. I nearly pissed my pants going into that portal. I can only imagine…"
Osborne feature tightened slightly. Was there pity in his eyes?
"What?" asked Devlin suddenly suspicious.
"We're inserting you as an undercover agent in the Syndicate."
"Say what?"
"We're inserting you as an undercover agent."
"I heard what you said."
There was a moment of quiet between them.
"Devlin…"
"Who in Headquarters did, I piss off?"
"Excuse me?"
"I asked who in Headquarters did I piss off. Obviously it was someone big otherwise they wouldn't have set me up on this suicidal…"
"That's enough Devlin."
Devlin fell silent though he smoldered beneath. This was ridicules! He was only a level two operative. These missions were only reserved for fours and the occasional threes.
"You should feel honored Devlin. Ravendholt drew from a very select list of candidates. Being on the list in the first place is impressive. Being picked means you're truly special."
"But I don't have the experience to do this! I haven't been briefed, I haven't…"
"That's exactly the point. The Syndicate will be on the look out for the too experienced. They will be watching for those who know things they shouldn't. We need some one innocent enough to gain access to their organization and the skills to breach their inner circle. You –or at least in Ravendholt's opinion - have these skills."
Devlin was pale. They were actually serious about this?
"How thorough can they really be? As you said they hire mercenaries frequently…"
"You will not being joining them as a mere footpad or apprentice thief," interrupted Osborne, "As I said we have no time for that. You will be joining the Grays. A band of specialist under the direct service of Baron Vardus, who in turn reports directly to Aliden Perenolde leader of the Syndicate."
Osborne's voice was cold, "We have seen what happens to those who are caught betraying the Syndicate cause. Little they do would I wish upon my own enemies."
"And this is supposed to make me feel better?" asked Devlin sarcastically.
Osborne frowned, "I want you to understand why you are being asked to do this. No man should have to risk his life without an honest answer as to why."
Devlin wasn't sure if he should thank the man or hit him. Ask him? There was no asking involved here. If he didn't take this mission then his career in SI:7 was as good as over. He felt frustrated and angry, yet at the same time a sense of pride. He had been chosen above all the rest. And why else had he decided to join SI:7? He had wanted to do good in this world and he had always known there would be risk. Still…
"Half of Stormwind knew of my departure! The mages in the quarter, low level agents in SI:7, the mage who met me on the other side of the portal," countered Devlin somewhat desperately, "If there investigations are as thourough as you believe surely they would be able to learn about my true identity.
Osborne leaned back and gave a small smile, "You have a point there."
"Yeah…I do…of course I do!" stuttered Devlin shocked by his superior's admission, "I mean it's not like we have some sort of amnesia potion to give all of them."
Osborne's smile widened, "That's right we don't."
"Yeah," excitement shot through Devlin. He was off the hook!
"So it's final," stated Osborne.
"Yeah it's final," Devlin stopped a sense of apprehension over taking him, "Wait, what's final?"
Osborne's smile was all teeth, "We're going to have to kill you."
"You, Devlin Kentan, stand here today to face punishment on five counts of murder, three counts of theft, two counts of forgery and charges of high treason and failure to uphold your oath. For these unforgivable crimes you will receive equally severe punishment. You will be hung by the neck until death. May the Light have mercy upon your soul."
The South Shore Magistrate stepped down from the podium after his announcement. The crowd around the wooden stage cried out bloody cat calls and jeers, accompanied by the occasional rotten vegetable or fruit. The executioner walked unto the stage where the condemned stood with a black bag over his head. He quickly tied the noose around his neck.
This is really happening, thought Devlin to himself shocked. A sense of resignation had consumed him and he stood limp and useless.
The executioner walked over to the lever and gave a sharp pull.
It can't be healthy, decided Devlin as he watched the man kick and gargle as he swung from the rope, to watch your own death.
He stood with the other city folk in the crowd that surrounded the podium; the harsh sea wind blowing though is raggedly cut hair and smacking across his freshly shaved face.
He regarded the rough leather armor he wore with disdain. True it was a sound fit but the poorly mended inner material chaffed harshly across his skin. In skin in turn was now darkened by a tan that would make a south shore sailor proud. His hands continued to stray across his black hair unfamiliar as he was with the lack of hair.
"Are you ready?" asked Osborne who himself was dressed in the rough garb of a fisherman. The outfit was supported by a depressed looking hat and a gray eye patch that went well with his fake lanky gray hair.
Devlin glanced at the man before turning his eyes back to the podium. "Devlin" had stopped kicking some time ago and liquid now dripped from the crotch of his pants unto the wooden floor below him.
The villagers who at first had been so copious and filled with dark glee had grown bored and were now returning to their daily duties.
"I asked if you were ready Jarach?" pressed Osborne.
Jarach. His code name. No, his new name. He looked at Osborne. At first Devlin had been baffled as to why he would want him here to see this. Now he knew. He had wanted him to understand that for all intents and purposes Devlin Kentan was now dead. The fake Devlin was simply a physical interpretation of the fact.
It had worked. But Jarach knew Devlin was not dead forever. He could come back. He could live again. All Jarach had to do was destroy the Syndicate.
He looked at Osborne, determination and grief imprinted in his steely grey eyes, "I'm ready."
A/N: Alright I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It was more of a setting the stage chapter then anything else though I hope it was interesting enough to earn your curiosity. Though this first chapter was relatively tame the more mature aspects of the story will soon become apparent. Most of these mature themes will be subtle and not graphic though I do want to give fair warning. Reviews in the form of criticism are more then welcome as well. I apologize for any grammar errors as this was posted pretty late. I'll also make sure to keep any future A/N a bit shorter from now on. :)