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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Ionala and Shun work together to question the remaining would-be assassins of Danath Trollbane. As they weave their words, the question arises -- how loyal are these assassins to the Syndicate? ~2900 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Honor Hold in Hellfire Peninsula is much as it has been in the years since the conclusion of the war on Outland. No infernals rain from the sky, and the personnel is down to a small fraction of what it once was. Still, it's a functional town, with an inn, a smithy, a mage tower, a keep and a gryphon stable — all the things an Azerothian might need to feel at home. There's nothing to show that, not long ago, an assassination attempt was made on Danath Trollbane. That is, nothing except the sullen two prisoners in the dungeon of the keep's basement. At the bottom of the staircase, a bored guard sits, keeping watch, counting the minutes until the shift changes.
Ionala arrives dressed in priestly robes, trimmed in silver. A deep hood shadows her face. She waits near the top of the stairs for her partner in this interrogation.
Similarly, Shun dons a hood to obscure his features moreso than normal for the time being. He nods curtly to Ionala at the top of the stairs, then starts on down to the basement.
Ionala follows, silently.
The guard rises at the sound of footsteps, and turns towards Shun and Ionala with curiosity but no sign of alarm or any reach for his sheathed blade. It's not time for the shift change, but Honor Hold is (usually) a safe place these days.
"Ah, are you the ones they said might come by for questioning?" he asks, peering at the two cloaked and hidden faces. "Were you among the lot that stopped these bastards?"
The men in question sit, each in one cell but within view of one another. Now, the two of them don't look terribly threatening, young men bereft of arms and armor, behind bars. The first is pale in complexion, with ash-blonde hair, blue eyes, and faint freckles across his nose. The other is darker, with brown hair and eyes.
"I was not," Shun replies, then goes to look at the two detainees. He takes a moment to look them both over, trying to see if he knows these two at all.
"We've gotten their names at the least. That one's Jerem," the guard jerks a thumb at the dark-haired man, "And the other is Leif."
Leif looks back at him, warily narrowing his ice-blue eyes.
Jerem looks up resignedly, with little interest, and says, "Is this where you torture us, then? I've been wondering."
"Torture is an inefficient way of getting information out of someone," Shun replies coolly, "Something you should know, Jerem."
He folds his arms over his chest, "You two are quite far from home. Why go through such lengths to traverse unknown lands and step outside your areas of expertise? Nationalistic pride?"
He turns more directly towards Leif, "You do not strike me as the sort. For the Syndicate, perhaps. But not for Alterac."
Jerem slumps back down, half in relief and half in sullen resistance. He shrugs vaguely at the question.
"It's just a job," Leif says, eyeing Shun and then Ionala, looking up as if trying to pierce the shadows of their hoods with his gaze. It seems like recognition is just slightly beyond his grasp for now. "Bigger than most, I'll grant, if it had worked. Would've made my reputation. The dice fell how they fell."
"So this was just Master Ryson's idea, then? I did not think he had the ambition to try and pull this sort of feat," Shun muses. "An act of desperation, perhaps? The Syndicate's presence and power has diminished greatly. It is the shadow of a whisper of what it once was. Had you been successful, you would not have just made your reputation but might have made the whole lot relevant again," he says before shrugging, "But I suppose it will continue to be insignificant."
Jerem jerks his head up at that, wounded and alarmed. "Alterac is not irrelevant, just because the Alliance doesn't give a damn about our people. That's what they never understood, and they'll learn to regret it someday."
"Just not today," Leif says with a sigh, sitting back against the wall with an air of nonchalance. His gaze is still sharp and on the two questioners. "You're right, it would have been a symbolic victory as well as a practical one. But what would you know about Master Ryson? What are you two, SI:7?"
From the depths of her hood, ionala tilts her head. She doesn’t answer.
"I did not say Alterac is irrelevant. Just the Syndicate. There is a difference, even if you do not see it yourself," Shun states.
He looks to Leif and replies, "I know he has inherited a crumbling organization after your former leaders were both slain. I also know that he is unlikely to really be the one pulling the strings here. As much as he was able to climb the ranks, he was never one to handle conspiracies and plots. Someone gave him the idea. And that someone likely has fed him other plans."
Leif raises his eyebrows. "Sounds like you think you've got it all figured out. Not sure why you're talking to me then."
Jerem looks from Leif to Shun warily.
Shun shrugs, "There are always missing pieces. Do you still think Master Ryson to be qualified and competent? Even after sending you and others on what apparently was a suicide mission."
"We're not dead, are we?" Leif says with a faint smirk.
Jerem, on the other hand, looks increasingly distressed. He looks over at Leif. "No, they didn't just send us here to die. Ryson wouldn't. This was important, wasn't it? It's just that we messed it up. They're not going to just leave us here, are they?"
Leif looks over at Jerem incredulously, with an air of what deity did I piss off to be stuck with this guy?
Ionala lets herself chuckle. Once. Her hood sways back and forth as if she's shaking her head at someone who just got fooled.
"You two are stranded inside of a fortress of another world, and the Syndicate does not exactly have a 'leave no one behind' clause in its creed. Not to mention it should be lacking quite a bit in resources currently," Shun notes, "Jerem. You are a scout. How much intel did they set you up with for this job? How many times prior did you come to the Outland to case the area?"
"Think about it."
"They said, with all the refugees… from Gilneas, and then Theramore… we could blend right in," Jerem says, his eyes wide. "And it worked. I don't know why Danath Trollbane's still here, anyway, when… wait. Is he still here? Did he go back to the Highlands?"
Leif is absently doing something with his hands like he's strangling an imaginary person. Maybe an imaginary Jerem.
"Probably smarter to wonder if you were meant to succeed, here. Rushed along to assassinate Trollbane, a Son of Lothar inside the most secure room of a heavily guarded keep…You assumed you would escape that?"
Shun nods, "It does not sound like you were given much of an exit strategy."
"If I'd been conscious, maybe," Leif grouses, and then looks over at Ionala's voice and narrows his eyes. "It was you, wasn't it? With that Light-damned hammer."
Jerem is looking even more concerned, but he says, "We had a plan, which I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you now. It would've worked, I think, if that extra team hadn't rushed the room. I knew how many guards he had, and we planned for that. Sure, they might've gotten a few of us, but the rest would've gotten out of the keep, split, and met back up at the Shattrath portals in time."
Under the hood, Ionala smirks. "You really do want us to think that assassination was the point, even though you were soo eager to know if he went back to the Highlands."
She tilts her head towards Shun as she finishes speaking.
"The Syndicate had expert assassins, and yet they sent scouts and highway robbers for this very high profile job," Shun says, agreeing with Ionala essentially.
Jerem snaps his mouth shut.
Leif looks offended. Excuse you, he is an expert highway robber turned assassin. Failed job notwithstanding.
"Hillsbrad," Leif says reluctantly, offering at least that much information. "Not many assassins left, after what the Forsaken did there. Not to mention those that turned traitor. I know more than Jerem here, but only if it's worth my while."
"I cannot offer you anything right here and now aside from a promise that we will not be your executioners, but we have connections with people in high places who could. If you are willing to talk, we can arrange for a sort of deal to be made," Shun says.
Leif sits back with a tense sigh, while Jerem stares at him in horror.
"Speaking of traitors," Jerem says, some of his fear bleeding over into anger. "You're as bad as either of them."
"You weren't supposed to come back, Jerem. You were supposed to be bones on a world that was never your home. But you're not. That's inconvenient."
She tilts her head again. "So you could go running back to report that you failed. What would you guess happens after that?"
"There was a plan," he repeats weakly, looking from Leif to Ionala. "There was a plan, wasn't there? That and the backup plan, once he got back to the Highlands. With the Trollbanes out of the way—"
Leif makes a cutting off gesture, and Jerem falls silent.
Under the hood, Ionala smiles.
There's a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and down comes one of the barmaids from the inn, carrying two trays.
"Ah, mealtime for our scouts and highway robbers?" the guard says with a dry smile.
The barmaid looks puzzled, but nods. "Same stew as usual. Will it interrupt you folk if I give it now? Rather not have to come back."
"Now?" Shun asks as he turns to the barmaid.
"Who told you to send it now?" Ionala asks.
"Chef at the inn?" she shrugs. "I know it's a little early, but there were guests wanting to eat. Does it matter, for the likes of them?"
Ionala looks to Shun.
Shun lets out a low grunt, "Just set it down here for now. "
He glances to the prisoners, grumbling, "Unless you two are feeling particularly hungry right now."
"So longs I don't have to tramp down the stairs again on account of some murderers," the barmaid says, and obediently sets the trays with stew by Shun and Ionala's side.
The stew smells of some kind of indeterminate meat, with a faint scent of fel and some sweet floral scent that might be intended to cover it.
Ionala sniffs. "Felboar?"
"Aye, it's what we have most of," the barmaid says with a rough curtsey, and then turns to tromp back up the stairs.
"…if part of the terms could be no more felboar stew," Leif says dryly.
"There's always Ravager chow," Ionala suggests.
Shun shakes his head, then turns his attention back to the two. "Right. Where were we…. The Trollbanes."
"And that if your handlers have figured out that the two of you survived, that's a mistake they'll work hard to rectify," Ionala adds.
"They wouldn't," Jeremy insists. "There are only so many of us left."
Leif does not look disbelieving. "It's in your best interests to keep that from happening."
Shun lifts his head a bit before addressing Jerem again, switching gears a little, "Why do you think Trollsbane would return to the Highlands upon surviving this attempt? If you can think of a specific reason, then more likely than not you really were just sent here to die and flush him out of this fortress."
"It would remind him he has a responsibility," Jerem says quietly. "To his people. And that all isn't well. The Forsaken—"
"Are a problem for everyone," Leif snaps. "And he would be more easily reachable in the Highlands, for what assassins remain. Or on his way there."
"So it still sounds like this was supposed to be your death," Ionala said. "But you're still breathing. Are you still ready to die for the man who was willing to throw you away?"
Leif shakes his head once, sharply. Jerem turns away.
Shun lets out a sigh, "The Forsaken are indeed a problem for everyone. They say Galen is among their ranks now as well. I imagine he might try his hand to retake the throne if this is true. "
There's a pause, "Which… if he is involved in this, you could very well be his pawns. That would be something…"
"Not likely, after Hillsbrad," Jerem mutters to the wall.
Leif gestures agreement with Jerem, but what he says is, "I'll be very curious to hear what kind of deal might be made. In the meantime, I think our dinner is getting cold. Felboar or not, it's better than hungry."
Shun grunts, then slides the trays under the door with his foot.
"I will reach out to my contacts, then."
Jerem turns at that, and reluctantly comes over to claim his stew. Leif sighs and does the same.
"That all the questions you've got for them at present?" the guard asks amiably, looking to Ioanala and Shun.
Jerem starts in on his stew.
"He mentioned Hillsbrad. More than once," Ionala says to Shun. "There's something I need to double-check, but I think I've already tread this ground."
"It is something to look into for certain," he nods in turn.
"Of course, if I'm right, their value diminishes," Ionala says. "Might be smarter to fool me by telling me enough to keep their hides intact. Another intriguing tidbit, perhaps?"
Leif pauses in the course of raising his first spoonful of stew to his lips and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know what you think you know, but…"
He's suddenly interrupted by Jerem coughing. Jerem looks down at the stew in confusion and makes a brief choking sound before falling to his side.
Shun sharply looks to Jerem and sharply curses. He turns towards Ionala, "Shit. Can you get him?"
Jerem twitches and falls still.
Leif looks from Jerem to the stew, and hastily pushes it away. "What the—"
The guard has risen, looking around like the culprit might be anywhere in sight. "It was from the inn. The stew was from the inn. And the woman who brought it, she was just the usual girl."
Shun looks about, alert and seeking other signs of trouble, "What of the cook. Do you know of any recent changes there?"
"No…" the guard says, shaking his head. "They said, what… guests, dinner a bit early… but that does happen sometimes."
Leif, in his cell, is sniffing his stew warily.
Ionala attempts a cleansing spell, whispering something the could be prayers or curses, depending.
Shun rubs his face before looking to Leif, "Do not eat that."
Grumbling irritably, he goes through his sack for a moment before tossing a bag full of trail mix and jerky through the bars. Snacks kept for Estel, but they'll have to do here.
"Yeah, no, not planning on it," Leif says, seeming to conclude something about the stew and reaching up to catch the bag of trail mix and jerky. He looks warily at Shun again, and says, "You seem familiar."
The cleansing falls over Jerem, but doesn't take hold. Whatever was in the stew was very fast-acting. He's already gone.
"No good," Ionala says. "We could test the stew, but there are plenty of common poisons that work that fast."
Shun shrugs at that, "Does it matter? You said it yourself that it is in our best interest that does not happen." He motions at Jerem. He's irritated.
"It would still be good to know what the cause was. Might narrow down who would have access to the substance and the like."
"I'll have to track down that server. From the lack of hullaballoo, I'd say the stewpot hadn't been poisoned - just these bowls."
"The guests," the guard adds. "Though I suppose anyone could be here and not stay the night, and we wouldn't have a record… but yes, this was definitely targeted, or there'd be a general uproar."
"I'm not eating anything from that inn again," Leif says, staring at the bowl. "I told you, I was willing to die for the mission, but not for the crime of being a loose end."
"We will have to see about moving him to a more secure location. Or at the very least ensure anyone handling his meals are properly vetted," Shun utters before looking back at Leif. "This will not be the only attempt."
"Understood," Leif says, and then shivers, looking over at Jerem's form. "I wouldn't say we were exactly friends, but… he didn't deserve this, cut down by his own people. He gave his whole life to them."
"He certainly did." Ionala takes both of the bowls, keeping the spoon in Jerem's. "I have to get some vials and do some labeling. And I should see if I can re-examine the salvage from that boat off the coast of Hillsbrad."
Shun nods at Ionala, "You do that. I will see to Leif's safety and get people who can work out a deal with him for information."
"Good. Good luck, Leif. Hopefully, you won't need much of it." Ionala balances the tray in both hands, floats a foot and a half in the air, and glides up the stairs.