Notes: I'm still trying out the short vignettes into the plot and characters rather than the chapter long POV.
The Docks
Dorlas Borlinte was supervising the unloading of his ship, the Freelancer, as laborers brought up crates and barrels from Mithlond. The ship was tied down to the pier amid the creaking of planks and the lapping of the water against the hull. Dorlas was known as a competent ship's captain who had worked for the House of Finwarin for many years. He had amassed enough wealth to purchase his own vessel and begin freelancing. His ship was named accordingly. Dorlas and his First Mate stood on the deck counting the boxes and marking them on their inventory. Mercatur and Valandil approached the gang plank, careful to remain clear of the growing stack of crates.
"Permission to come aboard, Capt'n," called Mercatur in his strong country accent.
Dorlas handed the inventory to the Mate and replied, "who be ye?" Valandil produced an inspector's pass and held it out. Dorlas squinted, then motioned, "Awright, come aboard, I've been expecting you." The two scurried aboard, dodging workers and crates. The Captain handed Valandil the copies of the cargo manifest, "you two are new here. These are for the Harbormaster and these go to the City Office."
"Aye, we just started. So undermanned around here, don't ya think? We'll make sure they get these. Don't you worry none," Mercatur responded. "We'll be out of your hair now, good Capt'n."
Departing the ship, they headed for the courthouse. Valandil reviewed the copies and smiled grimly. "Now for step two."
Valandil turned the copies over to Eärdil and duplicates were made by an expert scribe. The copies were then sent to the Harbormaster and the City Office so as not to arouse suspicion. After a day, Valandil and Mercatur went to the house of Hir Eredoriath in King's Row, one of the noble families. The shipment was being delivered on schedule and four workers were unloading the crates and barrels and taking them in through the service entrance. Valandil counted the parcels, as they were unpacked and when the workers were done Valandil mused aloud, "two crates and a barrel short."
"Looks like we're getting close," Mercatur replied, jotting down some notes on a parchment.
The Tinare Mansion in Tharbad
Ostomir Tinare gazed out of the window of the Tinare mansion in King's Row. He was preoccupied with the political issues confronting his family. As the heir to the Tinare Household and eldest son of Hir Duin Tinare, he took these issues very seriously. Ostomir was a tall young Dunadan, a strapping knight and a proud aristocrat. He wore the blue surcoat of his family over a gold silk tunic and his jet black hair reflected the light of a nearby lamp.
Looking out at the overcast skies and falling snow, Ostomir's attention was caught by two men standing near the Bar Aran, or Royal Mansion. They looked to be common warriors holding some sort of parchment. The more muscular, darker one took notes while the leaner, taller one pointed at a wagon that was being unloaded. They looked suspicious and he decided to find out what they were up to. Ostomir summoned four household knights and sent them out to bring the men in.
A short time later the knights returned empty handed. Apologizing, they stated that the men could not be found. Ostomir nodded, and dismissing the knights, he made a mental note to keep an eye out for these men. Even if this were benign, it could be advantageous for the clan to know what was happening.
His attention was broken by someone tugging his shoulder. He turned to see his younger sister Galadel, all of 16 and curious as a cat. She wore a dress made of silk and lace, the color of sea foam under a fur cloak made of ermine. On her head was a blue silk and velvet beret lined with pearls and gold cord atop her jet black hair. "What are you looking at brother?" she asked, trying to peer out of the window around his arm.
He smiled at her. They had always been close as the Tinare Clan were very tight knit. "Hmmmm, I saw two men out there, sister. Near the Bar Aran. I have a feeling about that. It was…unusual."
Galadel put her hands on the cold window and gazed out, looking around. "Are they still there? Where are they?"
"No, they left a while ago. I sent some of our knights to bring them in, but they could not be found."
She cocked her head to one side. "What do you think was going on?"
He shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure, but something in me feels that it's important." He then put his arm around his sister and ushered her towards the door. "Galadel, it's also important that we secure your future too as well as the future of our house. Come, let us speak to mother."
They went down the hall to one of the dens that their mother, Sílriel, liked to read in. She had been a princess in Arthedain and the marriage bolstered the fortunes and holdings of both families. As the brother and sister entered, Sílriel smiled and put her book down. "My children, what can I do for you?" she asked. She wore a blue and silver dress along with a beautifully woven shawl to keep out the winter cold. Her jet black hair and youthful face would fool anyone into thinking that she was Galadel's sister. Such was the long life of a Dúnadan.
They took seats in the den near the cozy fireplace as their mother poured them a cup of hot tea. Ostomir took a sip and then warmed his hands towards the fire. "Mother, Galadel is now sixteen. Wouldn't it be appropriate for her to take a position at court?"
Sílriel looked to her daughter. "Is this something that you would like?"
Galadel nodded her head. "Yes, mother, very much so. I want to represent the family and I would very much like to see more of the realm."
Sílriel smiled warmly. "Of course. It's settled then. I will speak to Chancellor Nimhir and secure you a position as one of Princess Nirnadel's ladies. As you know, I am King Araphor's sister and I was a lady for his wife, Ardis while he was still the Crown Prince of Arthedain. I studied astronomy in Annuminas and dancing in Fornost. I even had a peek at the Palantír once," she said, nodding to Galadel. "Such a position would open doors for you, my dear. And the travel…oh, the wonderful sights that you will see."
Ostomir looked over to his sister. "We are the grandchildren of King Argeleb of Arthedain and High King of Arnor. He was a great warrior."
"Who passed too soon," Sílriel added. She bowed her head for a moment to honor her father, who was killed at Amon Sȗl. She gazed into the face of her daughter for a moment. "Have I told you that you look remarkably like the princess?"
Artan's House and Baths of Delight
Mercatur and Valandil were sitting in the waiting room of Artan's House and Baths of Delight discussing what had just occurred. The room was outfitted with lavish furniture and decorations, mostly in red hues that accentuated the lusty nature of the establishment. The mercenary felt right at home here. In fact, he felt right at home anywhere there was vice to be had.
"So, we know that the merchandise disappears between the ship and the delivery point. What we don't know is who or how," Valandil mused, tapping his cheek with a finger.
"Well, we now know that the Harbormaster has knowledge of this. I say we break into the office and look over those books he was so anxious ta hide," Mercatur said, baring his teeth through his bushy beard. He had been a bargeman in his youth in Rhudaur and he hated uppity men like the Harbormaster.
"You noticed that? You know, I would like to look at those records. Then we would know the extent of his involvement," Valandil continued.
"It's settled then, we go at midnight. C'mon let's enjoy the baths." Mercatur stood and walked over to a blonde woman clad only in a sheer lace robe and gave her four silver coins. "For me and me partner," he spoke, caressing her cheek. She smiled and put the coins in a strongbox. This work wasn't half bad. He could get used to it.
Valandil rose and started to follow, but then he shook his head sharply and walked towards the exit. Waving to Mercatur he called, "Uh, no thanks. I'll meet you back here a half hour before midnight." The mercenary nodded as Valandil left.
Taking a towel and robe from the young woman Mercatur stated, "My buddy's got domestic problems. I'll just assume his share of the evening." He gave the girl a peck on the cheek and then headed down the steam filled hallway toward the luxurious baths that smelled faintly of cypress.
The Houses of Healing
Three days had gone by and neither Nel nor Anna had come by. Firiel was more than a little worried as they had been visiting almost nightly for some time. She sipped a cup of tea and thought about how many patients had fully recovered and had been sent home, however, more still came in daily as the weather grew worse. Haedorial was one of the fully recovered. He wished the healers good luck and promised to return whenever they needed him. Jonu had become friends with the bard and had learned much about his own Dunnish culture from him. The boy was especially sad to see him go.
Firiel felt empty somehow without Valandil and Mercatur. She disliked the mercenary, but in a way he made life more colorful. Valandil was another matter. Kaile and Jonu were exceptional assistants but were too young to be close companions.
Alas, she thought to herself, it's too late now to do anything about that. They will never return. She put her head down. The battle against despair seemed endless.
A voice called out, "Firiel! We need you. More patients coming in!" It was Kaile.
The call snapped Firiel out of her self pity. She leapt up and grabbed her kit. She could see Kaile, Jonu and the other assistants bringing people in through the front entrance. "What do we have?"
Kaile set one elderly man on a bench near the fireplace. The man's face was red, but his fingers were almost black. "Frostbite. These poor people are homeless and were on the street when the temperature dropped. They found their way here. I'll see what room we have on the wards."
Firiel counted a total of six patients. She sighed and nodded to Kaile. "Go, but hurry back. I'll need you." She shifted her gaze to Jonu. "I need some aloe, arkasu and kelventari. Please hurry." Both assistants rushed off while others took their place with Firiel. It was going to be a long night.
The Bar Aran
Nirnadel had settled down for a few days and put on a polite face for Nimhir. The Chancellor, stern at first, quickly melted in the face of the Princess' charm. Soon, his vigilance was lowered and the Princess saw her opportunity. "We will have to do this without Anariel," she said to herself. Dressing in a deep gray tunic and pants she created a rope of sheets and hung it out the window. She slid down the rope and then looked up toward the mansion. No one had noticed she thought smugly to herself. She then tucked the rope behind the many vines that grew along the walls of the mansion. Satisfied that the rope was not readily visible in the dark, Nirnadel crept to a small hole in the outer wall that only she knew about.
Pressing his ear to the door of the Princess' chamber, Baranor swore quietly, "Damn, I knew it."
Cedhron groaned. "I thought this was over with," he hissed, slapping his forehead with his palm. I thought the Chancellor put an end to this nonsense. That's it. We've got to tell him."
Baranor held up his hand and shook his head. "No, not yet. We just follow for now. Same as before."
Cedhron rolled his eyes. "I knew you were going to say that. I just knew it."
Baranor led the way downstairs to the base of the mansion wall. He kneeled down and skillfully examined the ground nearby in the light of the wall lanterns. He tracked her to the outer wall and discovered a small hole. The two guards struggled through and emerged near the City Offices.
Cedhron shrugged and pulled his cloak tightly about him, his breath steaming in the cold. "So, where do we go now?"
Baranor backhanded him in the chest. "Well, where do you think? Where's she been going all of this time?" The other guard's eyes widened with realization and the two set off for the south side of town.
The Houses of Healing
Nel's return was a welcome event to all in the Houses of Healing. She had brought another small bag of coins to fill the dwindling coffers of the House. Jonu brought a pot of herbal tea and the ladies were seated near the fireplace, making small talk. Kaile gave Firiel a knowing glance and then spoke, "Good Nel, where is your friend this evening? Anna, was it?"
Nel became flustered by this question and hesitated. How was she going to present this? She had not thought this part through. She lifted her nose up and put a finger to her cheek, breaking eye contact. "Err, our friend, Anna, is very aged, umm, and she is no longer capable of these nocturnal forays. Most unfortunate, yes, most unfortunate. But rest assured, good people, that We will continue to journey to the South Bank to bring you much needed supplies."
Kaile continued, "Well, we thank you from the bottom of our very hearts and have but a small request." Nel smiled and nodded.
"There is someone we would like you to meet. Your generosity saved his very life. He wishes to meet you and repay you," Kaile said sweetly.
"Praythee good people, there is no need to repay us, but We would be delighted to meet him," Nel answered. Yes, this was all worth it. She was doing the right thing. Nimhir would see.
Kaile filled Nel and Firiel's cup with tea and then spoke, "Please come again tomorrow and he will arrange to be here."
Nel beamed with pride. Oh, to meet someone that she had saved. One of her own subjects. It would be something that she would remember forever. "We will be here. We so look forward to such an auspicious meeting."
The ladies talked on for a few more minutes, then having finished her tea, Nel rose and bid farewell. Partway home her excitement was impossible to contain. "We knew there was merit to this. Our people grow strong and healthy and the land can be healed." As she skipped along the well lit main street, she failed to notice the two green cloaked figures in the shadows nearby.
The Streets of Tharbad
As the city watch began calling out midnight, Valandil rose and strode over to Artan's. Entering the building he bumped into a man of wide girth who looked a lot like the Mayor. The man quickly put his cap on and scurried out the door followed by two guards. Valandil sat next to Mercatur who was reclining on a plush maroon sofa, seemingly content as he puffed on a long pipe. "You know, I think that was the Mayor," Valandil said.
Mercatur raised an eyebrow. "I think you're right. Come, we have work to do," he responded, rising and strapping on his weapons belt. He checked his axe, and being satisfied with its lethality, ushered Valandil to the exit.
The two made their way to the docks, and at Mercatur's insistence, entered the Sign of the Orc's Head. A true dive, this place repulsed Valandil. Unnamed substances lay on the rotting floorboards along with unconscious sailors and riff raff. Valandil was sure this was a mistake, but upon entering, everyone gave Mercatur a wide berth. A horrifyingly ugly and obese woman called out to them, "Mercenary, a drink for you and yer friend." Two scrawny serving maids warily approached, bringing the pair some ale. Mercatur took his mug, downed its contents and then smashed the mug on another patron's head, shattering it. The scruffy character bellowed in pain, grabbing his bleeding head. Mercatur walked over to a seat with a window overlooking the Harbormaster's Office. Three patrons who were seated there quickly left. Valandil followed, holding his mug.
The two sat down and the soldier gave the mercenary a quizzical look. Mercatur smiled and said, "I've been coming here for more than a month now. I had to break a few heads at first, but now that I have a reputation, I only have to maintain it once in a while."
Valandil nodded and then took a sip of ale. He sprayed it out the window. "Blah...This is the worst ale I've ever tasted. Did that…woman piss in it? It's putrid."
Mercatur took the mug from his comrade and drained the ale down his throat. "Isn't it?" he asked as he wiped foam off of his beard with the back of his sleeve.
The soldier wiped his tongue with a towel and spat on the floor. "All right, I take the first watch," he said as he peered down onto the office to see lights on. "Get comfortable. This could take a bit."
The Harbormasters Office
The Harbormaster's office now looked deserted with all of the windows dark. After five more minutes of surveillance, they headed out. Valandil shattered one of the small glass panes on the entry window and unlocked the door. The two entered in a crouch, gazing around for any sign of movement. Mercatur fired up a lantern and slowly raised its shield, exposing only a small beam of light. Valandil searched near the Harbormaster's desk and discovered a locked strongbox. He sat on the floor and began examining the lock. Mercatur stood shining the light on the box.
The lock was pretty tough and neither man was a skilled lockpicker. Finally, Mercatur grew frustrated. "We're not gonna hide the fact that we was here, so I'm gonna smash the box."
Valandil shrugged and moved aside. Mercatur drew his axe and raised it. As he began his swing an arrow crashed through the window and struck Mercatur in the back. The Mercenary swore as his swing went wide. The front door swung open next and a sailor rushed in with a cutlass held high.
Valandil turned and his eyes widened. On instinct, he quickly drew his broadsword and kicked a chair at the sailor as Mercatur slid over the desk and landed with a grunt. Another sailor came in and hurled a dagger at Valandil, missing wide, but forcing him into the open. The first sailor swung hard at Valandil and was parried easily, the clang of steel ringing out. The sailor then traded blows with the soldier, who scored a slash on the sailor's sword arm.
Nearby, Mercatur struggle to his feet, obviously hurt and was tackled by the second sailor, who was holding another dagger. The two rolled on the ground with the sailor pounding at the arrow wound in the Mercenary's back. Mercatur howled in pain.
To the side, Valandil dodged a wild swing and came up under his opponent's guard. He drove his sword several inches into the man's belly. The sailor winced, blood running down his chin. The soldier quickly withdrew the weapon and kicked the man through the window with a crash.
Mercatur was stunned by the blows of the sailor to his wounded back. Seizing the opportunity, the man sunk his dagger into Mercatur's left shoulder. The mercenary gritted his teeth and clubbed the sailor in the mouth with his fist. The man grunted in pain, but before Mercatur could follow up, Valandil plunged his own dagger into the sailor's back, twisting it in his grip.
The soldier was about to roll the dead man off of Mercatur when the mercenary called out, "Behind you!"
Valandil spun to meet the rush of the Harbormaster. The massive man swung his spiked steel mace at Valandil's head, barely missing, but shattering a filing cabinet next to him. Valandil stumbled and received a kick from Hallas that sent him flying over the desk into chairs, which crashed about the room. He got up just in time to avoid another blow that sent splinters of wood up from the desk. Valandil pushed the desk forward, but Hallas was too quick.
By the Valar, I am outmatched here, Valandil thought, his mind racing for options, bringing his sword back up to guard.
Mercatur rose and was immediately struck in the chest with the mace. There was a sickening thud and crack of bones and he fell with a crash. Hallas turned, brandishing his mace with now bloody spikes. "So, found what you were looking for, eh?" Valandil braced for the new onslaught, but it never came. Hallas staggered forward and fell with a bolt protruding from his back. Mercatur dropped his crossbow and then lay back, coughing blood.
Valandil sheathed his sword and rushed over to his fallen friend. "I'll get you to Firiel, just hang on."
He hoisted Mercatur over his shoulder as the mercenary groaned in pain. "Don't forget the box, you idiot," Mercatur rasped, blood running down his chin. Valandil quickly scooped up the box and rushed out into the lightly falling snow.
The Houses of Healing
Supported by Valandil, Mercatur pounded on the door of the Houses of Healing. He pushed Valandil away croaking, "Take the box to the Minister, I'll be fine." Valandil hesitated, but then ran off to Eärdil's home.
The door opened moments later and Jonu stepped out. Seeing the mercenary he began to sneer, but quickly noticed the blood seeping from his nose and mouth. The big Rhudauran clapped Jonu on the shoulder. "Take me inside son, I need…I need to see Firiel. It's kinda urgent." The Dunnish boy stepped aside and Mercatur staggered in. He dropped his axe and crossbow to the floor and slumped down into the chair with the blade mark. Weakly, he lowered his head onto the table. "This chairz muh favrit..."
The Home of the Minister of Justice
Gasping for air as his breath steamed out of his mouth, Valandil roused the minister and a locksmith was summoned. They gathered in the minister's study as the smith worked the mechanism. The minister sat on a plush green chair at his ornately carved desk, which was made of oak and stained to give the wood a rich luster. When the box was opened, it was revealed that indeed Hallas was passing illegal herbs and smuggling food while taking bribes and pirating imports.
In his cotton night robes, Eärdil read some more of the documents, grunting occasionally and nodding his head. "Liam the Greengrocer has received much of the illegal products to sell at exorbitant prices. Two others are implicated: Lorindel Lintehen, a guildsman with the sailors and Anvelig the Chandler. Lintehen was the actual smuggler in bringing the goods into Tharbad. A good friend of Hallas', his ship was personally 'inspected' by the Harbormaster and always passed. Anvelig was the treasurer of the group. He laundered the money gained in the drug trade through his warehouse."
Some footsteps caught Valandil's attention and he put his hand on the grip of his broadsword on instinct. This had already been a night of unpleasant surprises. A woman in night robes came through the door to the study, carrying a tray of hot tea and snacks. She was a slender, mature Dúnadan with chocolate brown hair and just a hint of crowsfeet around her brown eyes. "You boys will need some refreshment to keep working," she said, nodding to Valandil with a smile.
Eärdil took a cup and a pastry. "How would I do without you, my dear Rîneth?"
"You wouldn't." She set the tray down and pecked Eärdil on the cheek. She extended her hand to Valandil. "And you are, good sir?"
He took her hand and bowed. "Valandil, madam. I am a sergeant in the Royal Army, but currently commissioned by your husband."
"Nice to meet you, Valandil. May I ask why you are on leave from the army?"
The soldier paused a moment. This was a very painful memory. He blew out a long breath. "The battle…the one at Tyrn Gorthad. My whole company was annihilated. I…I am…the only survivor. My captain ordered me to take the wounded to safety before the final assault. I…will always regret leaving. I should have stayed. I have…many regrets."
Rîneth put her hand on his arm. "I cannot imagine. We only heard of the horrors of the battle. Poor Ostoher. We knew him well. I, for one, am glad that you escaped. Practically every household lost someone. We are still counting the dead. I fear that we may never know the full truth of who was lost."
He shook his head slowly. "I have no company to return to. I am on furlough until some form of an army is reconstituted. Until then, I am at you and your husband's service."
Eärdil raised a parchment high over his head. "Aha! I have something." He laid several sheets on his desk. "Look here. These are detailed records of transactions and deliveries. This is enough to make arrests." He gave a broad grin and looked at his wife. "Go and rouse Ferion, please. Tell him that I need fifteen constables to rally at the courthouse and for Lieutenant Nestor to come here. I will fill him in an have warrants for him to arrest Liam, Anvelig and Lintehen. Hurry now, please." Rîneth rushed off to wake their personal bodyguard.
Eärdil, chuckled to himself and then tore off his night robe and quickly put on a thick wool tunic and pants, followed by fur lined boots. He then slung his cloak of office over his shoulder and fastened it with a golden pin in the shape of a scale. Valandil thought him to be positively giddy. The minister then sat back down and began writing out arrest warrants as fast as his hands could go and then pouring hot wax on the lower corner and pressing his signet ring into the wax. He took a look at one of the wax seals. "The hill beneath a measuring scale," he said, showing it to Valandil. "This is the signet of the Minister of Justice in Cardolan."
In fifteen minutes, a middle-aged man with receding salt and pepper hair ran up to the landing of the house. He had thick, muttonchop sideburns down the sides of his face and he wore a chainmail shirt under a thick, green woolen surcoat that had a red hill, surrounded by stars, on his chest. He banged on the door. "Minister! Minister! I'm here!"
Rîneth rushed to open the door to see Nestor slapping at his arms and stomping his feet, his breath steaming out. "Come in, lieutenant. Please, get warm. I have a hot cup of tea for you." She led Nestor to the nearby study and pointed to one of the plush green chairs, where he sat and took a cup.
Eärdil looked up from the documents. "Nestor! Thank you for coming so late. We have had a big break in the smuggling case. I have warrants for you," he said, holding out the warrants. "My signature and seal are upon them. I want the following men arrested and brought to the courthouse lockup. Liam the Grocer, Anvelig the Chandler and Lorindel Lintehen. Hold them in cells for interrogation. I will be at the courthouse in an hour, awaiting your arrival with the suspects."
Nestor took the warrants and bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality, Minister, Lady Rîneth," he said and then drained the last of the tea in his cup. "I'll be on my way then."
Rîneth grabbed a couple of pastries and put them in Nestor's palm. "I wouldn't dare let you out of my house without a proper snack for a busy night. Please stay warm and safe."
Nestor smiled and bowed. "Many thanks Lady Rîneth."
Eärdil motioned to Valandil. "Why don't you go along. I'm sure my men could use an experienced hand."
The soldier perked right up. It was all that he wanted. "I'm on it. Hold up Nestor."
They rallied with the constables and Nestor sent five to each location. Valandil went with Nestor to the grocer's house. Amid the light dusting of snow, the arrest of Liam went smoothly, Nestor knocking on the door and arresting the grocer as he came out. Valandil spun him about and slapped the irons on him.
"That went better than I expected," Nestor said with a smile. "Easy is good."
Valandil thought it was a little anticlimactic, but he had had enough excitement for a while. "Let's get back to the courthouse and update the minister." They hustled back to jail to meet with Mardil, the City Jailer. The old, fat man looked none too pleased.
"Ehhhhh," the jailer groaned and fixed his beady eyes on the team, his snoutlike nose turned up, nostrils flaring. "You know what time it is?"
Right about then, another team arrived with Anvelig the Chandler in irons. Nestor went up to the jailer and presented his warrant. "Yeah yeah yeah. It's about time you worked for a living, Mardil," he said impatiently. "C'mon, open the cells. It's getting cold out here. We have two with one on the way."
Mardil huffed and waddled back to the cells. "Fine. Follow me." The followed him into the jail, which was surprisingly clean given Mardil's lack of hygiene. He opened two cells as Eärdil walked in.
"I see you have two in custody," the minister said, looking around with a smile. "Good. Any news from the third team?" Eärdil's excitement was infectious and Valandil was feeding off of it, pacing around.
As if on cue, the constables tasked with arresting Lintehen stepped in. The sergeant looked to Eärdil. "M'Lord, Lintehen was apparently alerted to the incursion into Hallas' office. He fled only moments before we arrived and a city-wide search is in progress. The Night Watch will stop him from leaving the city."
Eärdil nodded at the news. He was a little disappointed, but aware that they had done pretty well overall. "I see, Sergeant Haldaer. Well, thank you for your report and action. Mardil, please secure these prisoners and make sure they cannot speak to each other. Ummm, and not with your club. I need them able to provide us with information when we return and having all of their teeth will be…helpful." The jailer snorted a chuckle, but then pushed the two into cells and locked the door. Eärdil looked back at his constables. "Come friends, the night is just beginning. We must return to the residences of the smugglers and uncover more evidence. Nestor, please have more constables on standby for another shift and we will need crates and wagons to transport evidence to the courthouse."
Nestor grabbed one of the young constables. "Raedon, go quickly. Rouse fifteen more constables for another shift," he said and the man rushed out of the jailhouse. He grabbed two more young constables. Thandirion, Ravenor, go to the storehouse and get what the minister needs. Here are the keys. Go. Hurry."
For the next few hours, Eärdil, Valandil and the team of guardsmen combed the houses of Liam, Anvelig, and the fugitive Lintehen. All three homes were a veritable treasure trove of illegal goods: hallucinogens, sedatives, stimulants, and even poisons. These were confiscated and brought to the Courthouse to be locked away. As the sun rose over the chilly city the job was completed. The Minister dismissed the guards, giving them each a gold coin from his own pocket. Wearily turning to Valandil he smiled and said, "I am still too excited to return to bed. You have done a magnificent task here and I would like to invite you to my home for breakfast. My staff can cook a marvelous meal."
Valandil was also quite wound up. "I would be glad to Sir, but first I must check on Mercatur. He was wounded in the fight with Hallas and is now at the Houses of Healing. I will come by afterward."
Eärdil clapped the soldier on the back and nodded. "You give my best to that cocky mercenary. If there is anything that I can do, you have but to ask." Valandil smiled and turned away toward the South Bank. He was exhausted but couldn't stop to rest just yet.
