Continued from Part I
Nerus kept an appropriately humble expression on his chubby round face as he walked to the aristocrat's table. He carefully set the hot mug down in front of the rich fool. Putting a smile on his face and servile tone in his voice he said, “There you go good sir. Tarani devil's tea. Best thing for a body on damp evening like this. It'll warm you right up!” The wealthy pigeon didn't even say thank you as Nerus swept the coin into his meaty hand. When he looked down he saw the coin was not silver, it was a Cathari Platinum Imperial! This idiot must be filthy rich. This was turning out to be a good day. First the metal coated moron. His horse and equipment would bring a fist full of gold. Now this peacock. If his jewelry and this coin were any indication of his wealth he might be worth keeping alive for ransom. As he stepped back behind the bar and swung the gate closed with another loud thwap he glanced at the knight. Not even a twitch. He was surely asleep, maybe even dead. Nerus had used more of the potion in his drink than usual. He looked far too vigorous and well armed to have him waking up at an inconvenient moment.
#
Aleeto raised his eyebrows as he held the mug to his nose and sniffed. Sure enough, this dump was serving one of the most expensive beverages you could find in the Northlands. And doing it Southern style. The red cocoa bean powder had been mixed with hot water and so many hot spices that the smell alone made his eyes water. None the less he took a delicate drink, making a slurping sound as he sucked in some of the scalding liquid. He almost coughed it back out as the rich bitter taste of the cocoa was blasted aside by too much hot pepper. Yes, this would indeed warm a person up. But this concoction would also hide whatever potion or poison the barman had put into the drink. So it was a good thing that Aleeto had taken a vial of anti-toxin just in case.
Not that it was likely that whatever the barman had used on him would have worked anyway. For over two decades he had been on a regimen of poisons and antidotes designed to make him nearly invulnerable to such things. But after reading the guild's secret reports on this place he'd wanted to be extra careful. Well, careful wasn't going to happen. He'd have to take more chances than he'd intended if wanted to pull the armored do gooder's chestnuts out of the fire.
So he winced each time he took a sip of the fiery beverage and made sounds of appreciation. Even one of the Old Families probably wouldn't be very familiar with Devil's Tea, but they would know it is something that the rich and powerful in the Empire drink. So it would have to be sinfully tasty, right? They'd never show any sign it wasn't just the most wonderful thing. At least the overblown dunderhead he was pretending to be wouldn't.
Glancing over at the knight he could see the armored chest of the slumped figure moving slightly as he breathed. So whatever was in the drink must be some sort of sleeping potion. Well, that was good. Probably. Aleeto winced again, he really wasn't that hard was he? The knights weren't a bad lot. Trying to protect pilgrims on their way to the Most Holy Temple. The order fought bandits and creatures along the entire length of a road that nearly bisected the continent of Rhym. He would feel bad if one was poisoned by scum like this. Wouldn't he?
He'd finished nearly half the drink and decided that was enough. His mouth was on fire. Making sure that the barman was trying to watch him without being seen doing so, Aleeto rubbed his face and blinked. He sat the mug on the table, keeping hold of it in such a way that his arm rested on the surface. Then he slowly slumped back as though passing out.
#
Nerus idly rubbed a cloth across the scuffed bar top and tried to surreptitiously keep an eye on the pigeon as he drank the tea. Soon the aristocrat was nodding off, his head lolling back so far it was surprising that the fop didn't slump out of the chair onto the floor. He glanced back and forth between his sleeping “guests,” then he went to the end of the bar and opened the gate. “Thwap!” Not a twitch out of either of them. He stuck his head into the back and called out, “Alright you louts, get out here and see to these fat pigeons.” He stood to the side as his cousin Antoneo and a half-orc he'd hired for this sort of work named Groll came out into the taproom. Groll was half a head taller than Nerus, and weighed just as much, nearly all of it muscle. The two looked back and forth at the sleepers, then headed for Aleeto. He looked lighter since he wasn't wearing armor. Noticing where his henchmen were heading Nerus said, “Go ahead, slit both their throats.” Groll pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt and smiled.
Read the conclusion
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