The Scum that we Murder

The six men of the FarHaven garrison watch silently as the bloodsoaked Fortu and the Halfling; Liga Bur leave the terrified, supposed spy in their custody by the big wagon in the barn. After a few seconds, one of them gathers the confidence to speak.

“So… Did that big guy just do a murder?”

One of the others slowly nods his head.

“I think so. In the middle of the tavern. During the lunchtime rush period.”

The Sergeant coughs, both to clear his throat and reclaim some semblance of authority.

“No. The strange Halfling said that the two travellers pulled out their knives and drew first blood.”

The firsts soldier disagrees though.

“A fully armoured guy throws a punch with a mailed fist at two men sitting down in a bar, minding their own business. So what that he missed; wouldn’t you try to defend yourself?”

The Sergeant shakes his head and indicates the tied up survivor.

“I agree that Fortu’s actions seemed deliberately inflammatory and extremely… violent, but his instincts were right. This guy just confessed that they were indeed, spying on the adventurers.”

Another of the soldiers adds his voice to the conversation.

“So, not murder then?”

Taking in all the faces of the men in his command, the Sergeant makes his decision.

“We were placed here to oversee the construction of a beacon tower, make our presence felt and assist these adventurers, if they happpened to pass by this way. I’m not going to be the one who disobeyed Lord Urdurel’s directive, regardless of the adventurers’ actions.”

The six uniformed men all visibly relax, before the Sergeant speaks again.

“So, tomorrow morning, we’ll accompany the adventurers to this apparent signal point and allow the spy; Langet to post a false missive to his mysterious masters. Until then, let’s just get this man locked up in the garrison cell.”

As they leave, a small, bright-eyed, calico cat remains silent and hidden in the shadows for a few moments, before slinking casually out, unseen, through a narrow gap between two loose boards.