Interlude 01 - Cold-Hearted

-Two weeks before the Verunil Osselus Incident-

Jardur lay quietly, his white hair unkempt and untied as he looked over at his companion. Long, raven hair flowing down her naked back, her breathing heavy after a night of passionate love making, and the way she stirred that indicated she was wide awake.

"That was wonderful," she said dreamily.

Sighing, Jardur rose up and left the bed, grabbing his shorts and trousers before striding over towards the table within the inn's simple room. Winter's Grip was pleasant enough, for a place covered in never ending snow, but the lodgings within its city were nothing to sneeze at. Each room roughly the size of a small house, the rest areas of the Northern region's capital held all the comforts one could expect. A large bed, cleaned daily, various amenities like a wash basin, a privy, and various supplies for cooking in its small kitchen.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Jardur said as he reached for a jug and poured a sweet, red wine into two of the cups. "Here, may I tempt you?"

"Of course," the woman said dreamily, beckoning Jardur to return to the bed. He obeyed, walking towards her with the cups.

"So, Gertrude, yes?" Jardur asked with a wry smile on his face.

The young woman laughed as she took a sip of wine. "Come on, you bed me then forget my name as soon as we're done? Not very gentlemanly."

He laughed. "Apologies. My mind isn't quite my own as of late. What with the murders and all," Jardur said as he looked out the window, extinguishing the wall sconce that illuminated one side of the room.

"You heard, then?" Gertrude asked, taking another sip.

Jardur nodded. "Ten deaths in a single night. An orphanage caretaker charged with murder. It's the talk of Winter's Grip."

Beyond the city, Jardur gazed over into the mountain range of Djoruun, the natural barrier that split the country of Elbafas in two. Just on the other side, the region of Autumn's Gate, and the guildhall of Gaoling's Blade awaited him. For several days he'd been tracking the murderer, and his search had finally lead him to Winter's Grip.

At this very inn.

"It's truly dreadful. Who would poison a group of children like that?" Gertrude asked, finally finishing her cup of wine. She grunted as the final swallow traveled down her throat, and Jardur glowered before turning back to face her. "What–"

"I don't know," Jardur said, dropping the cup and spilling his own wine before crushing it with his foot. "You tell me."

Gertrude clutched her throat as her body spasmed. She gripped the covers, keeping them clung to her breast as she tried to rise out of bed, only to fall to the floor and gasp for air.

"What-what-what's this? What are you–" She tried to talk, unable to form coherent sentences as Jardur walked over her now convulsing body and extinguishing the last sconce.

"Admittedly I was a bit unsure it was you. However, no information about the murder released to the public mentioned anything at all about poison. Only one person outside of the investigation would know that, and I highly doubt a serving girl who suddenly came into a great deal of wealth after the execution of Stone's Honor Orphanage's caretaker would be privy to such knowledge.

Congratulations, you exposed yourself. In more ways than one, I guess."

Jardur smirked as his victim, the murderer, lay on the ground wracked with pain. At this point, she could no longer speak. Only reach for the man as tears fell down her face. "Right, you probably know this stuff. Shi Root. Pretty nasty poison, really. Dissolves the lining of the stomach and then just… goes from there." He shrugged, eyes still fixed on the pleading Gertrude. "Oh don't give me that look. Toddlers and children barely old enough to read and write suffered the same fate. You think I care how much pain you're in? Please."

Gertrude no longer responded. Only looked up at him with empty, lifeless eyes. Jardur sighed, taking a dagger from his discarded tunic and holding it to the woman's throat. He slashed quickly, allowing a small coating of blood to rest on the blade before sheathing it once more.

Proof of the writ having been completed.

—

Another thing Winter's Grip was well known for: Taverns. Long tables filled with any selection of drink you could want lay before Jardur, and he had plenty of coin to buy out the lot of them. However, his mind was elsewhere. His eyes watched the small candle in the center of the table, the flame dancing in his vision. Despite the chatter and commotion around him, he focused solely on the flame.

Fuck this world.

"Can I get you anything, stranger?" The barmaid approached him, breaking his concentration. A pretty thing with long, red hair and dressed in a simple dress and stockings. She smiled, the freckles on her face contrasting with her pale skin.

Jardur shrugged. "Got any pie?"

"Hmm, Harvest or Cottage?" She asked in response to his own question.

"Not a fan of Harvest. Cottage, then." He placed his order.

The barmaid went off without a word, stealing a glance at Jardur before disappearing behind the counter and into the kitchen.

"You know, when a pretty girl approaches you, it's best to offer another option. Maybe… Asking if you could get her, perhaps?" A familiar voice came from behind Jardur as he turned to face the source of it. Long, blonde hair and a devilish grin, dressed in a fine doublet and breeches with black boots, a nobleman of Elbafas.

Jardur sighed. "What do you want, Erikur?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see my favorite assassin." Erikur beamed.

"What do you really want, Erikur?"

"Ouch. No getting around you, huh?" The man sighed. "Bree's got some information. Guild eyes only." Erikur pulled a piece of vellum from his doublet pocket and slid it along the table to Jardur, who grabbed it and slowly unrolled the parchment.

"Jardur, I need you back in Autumn's Gate as soon as possible. We're beginning the operation to infiltrate Osselus Manor in the Heartland Fae territory. Our sources indicate that Verunil has come into contact with General Crassius Acclasi, and confirmed his connection to the disappearance of Prince Nazair al'Citadel. I've sent Erikur with the funds to secure your passage through Kal-Oto in the Dwarven Realms, beneath Djoruun. I can't stress how delicate this situation is, Jardur. The fate of a country is currently in the balance. I will trust you to prepare. Signed, Brialla Nivenor."

Jardur nodded, and just as he rolled the parchment back into its original form, the barmaid came back with the Cottage Pie. Thick, savory beef topped with mashed potatoes and carrots, seasoned to perfection. The smell was enticing, and all too convenient.

"Need a hand?" Erikur smirked.

Jardur shrugged. He had to admit he was hungry. "Soon as we're done here, we're heading to Kal-Oto."

"Priorities." Erikur grinned, and waved down the barmaid.