Nattas

Conspiracy proper

Darkness and the stench of vomit greeted him, when he woke up. The putrid taste of piss in his mouth, teeth hurting and his gums bleeding. Storm groaned, when the aching in his stomach turned to burning. He opened his eyes panicked, saw more of the same black and shades of it all around, with spots of red breaking the monotony and nothing more.

He had died in his sleep, was his first thought.

Perished callously, and his eyes melted away from poison into nothingness.

Whether he was brought down by an uncouth and unwashed ruffian, or some Royal cunt, made little difference to him. Dead was dead.

A richly watered fuckin’ stone won’t suddenly up and sprout a darn vine.

Rotting corpses also couldn’t think, or feel shit, far as he knew.

The latter thought brought him some clarity.

A blind man, could still live.

He would live poorly of course and oft snickered upon.

Stumbling like a fool and pissing outside the chamber's pot; but life, even a miserable one, was a much preferable condition to be in, for someone who thought himself a corpse not ten minutes ago.

Oh, vile Abrakas hear me now, give much needed help here, he prayed fervently, tears running down his cheeks. Make it bloody fast, for fucks sake!

Don’t you need eyes to shed tears?

He brought a heavy hand up, felt wet cloth on his face and snatched it away with a pathetic moan, when light came in from an open door into the dark room. Nattas cursed, turned to his right, and reached the end of what was apparently his bed. He dropped down, a clumsy blind fall, landing with his shoulder.

“HELP!”

Storm had banged the back of his head on a half barrel used for bathing, at the tail end of that cry, and the cold water in it splashed out and made a mess of his hair and shirt.

He used more of it to clean up his face, silently cursing Abrakas in the dark and then collapsed on his arse, too tired to even speak. Titus, broad naked chest chiseled, as hairy as an unshorn ram and probably proud of it, found him there five minutes later.

“You called boss?” The ex-mercenary and former pirate asked, not an ounce of legitimate concern in his deep voice.

“I did,” Nattas croaked. “Had I been under fucking assault, I would be long dead by now.”

“You seem better.”

“Actually I’m not.” Storm hissed. “Where’s that snake of a Dottore?”

“He’s tending to Sudi,” Titus replied coming inside, a candle-holder in hand. “He’s not looking that well.” He went to a drawer and quickly lit some more, illuminating the room proper, under Lord Nattas angered scrutiny.

“I’m way more important than him,” He said, unable to hold back. “Help me to the edge of the bed first, then call that charlatan here.”

“Numerius said—” Nattas didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“You’re on a first name basis with that prick?”

“The Dottore saved your life,” Titus said, helping him sit on the bed.

“Call him here. Now.” Storm insisted.

Titus clenched his jaw not happy.

“You work for me remember?” He reminded him.

“Sure. I will call him,” The man relented and turned to walk away.

“For fucks sake move a little faster and sent a servant up right after.” Storm shouted at his back. “I need a fresh set of clothes.”

Dottore Baro had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin appeared a sickly yellow. He’d probably didn’t sleep all night. Storm looked outside his window and grimaced. Most of the night.

“What is this?” He asked him seeing the man produce what looked like a large metalic syringe, needle protruding from the evil apparatus perfectly capable of pleasuring a young mare.

“I need to take some of your weakened blood,” Baro explained tiredly. “Speed your recovery along.”

“You want to bleed me out, to help me live,” Storm put it in the right context for him.

“More or less.”

Nattas ogled his eyes frustrated and a little scared.

“You can’t be serious!”

“The poison is diluted enough. This procedure will help make fresh blood and weaken it even more,” He tried to stick that needle into his left forearm, but Nattas pulled it away.

“You’ve done this before?”

“Your grace was the first to follow my treatment.”

The first idiot, Storm translated.

“Didn’t your fucking treatment work?”

“Of course. You’ve become adept enough to poison, so the attempt failed,” Baro explained and sneakily went for his arm again.

“Stop!”

“My lord, it will speed up your recovery,” Dottore Baro protested.

“Titus, if he tries to stick anything in me, cut off his hand,” Storm ordered, deathly serious.

“Gods! This… is insane. Lord Nattas, I’m trying to help you here!” Baro cried out, but took a cautionary step back now.

“Titus…”

“You want me to cut it at the elbow, or the whole thing?” The man probed for further instructions.

“Well…” Storm puffed his cheeks out. “Might as well take it all off, no reason to turn all frugal for him, right?”

“Fine! No blood extraction,” Dottore Baro snapped, face paler than a moment ago. “My lord, I declare you healed.”

An hour later, a somewhat ‘healed’ Lord Nattas watched the sun coming up sitting in his favorite spot, a silent Titus occupying the seat next to him in his veranda. It almost brought fresh tears to his eyes seeing this simple miracle of nature unveiled.

Much anger as well, for his elusive would be assassins.

“I thought it was her at first,” He said to the silent ex-mercenary, the term somewhat incorrect, since the man was technically working for him as an extremely well-paid enforcer, which was a similar profession in his eyes.

More or less.

“The Queen?” Titus asked, when he didn’t finish his thought.

“Aye.”

“What changed your mind?”

Nattas snorted. “I don’t know. How about Sudi dying from the same poison?”

“He might make it still,” Titus said through his teeth.

“Bah, better we prepare for the worst.”

“The attempt was made here,” Titus said. “Is your meaning.”

“Of course it was made here!” Nattas snapped. “Under your fucking nose, I might add!”

“Nobody came to the house boss,” The man said defensively.

“Was it the cook then? Where’s Lametha?”

“Preparing food.”

Storm grunted. “Great, let her finish what she started!”

“Baro will taste it for poison. He looked everything up.” Titus continued disregarding his outburst.

“And?”

“It was a bottle of Flauegran.”

“Didn’t we pay them?” Storm probed, a little shocked at the revelation.

“Of course we did,” Titus replied.

“Did you skim off the top too much?” Storm countered, not convinced.

“Sudi handled it. I don’t think it was the bloody merchant,” Titus retorted patiently.

“Lametha has been with me for a decade, since her husband died,” Storm murmured, thinking it through. He eyed a fresh bottle of wine on their table, but decided to abstain. Poured himself some water instead and tasted it tenderly, looking for strange flavors, before drinking some.

This is what it come down to, he thought bitterly, gulping down, his throat sore. Afraid to eat and drink, next it’ll be no whoring, or gambling. Might as well be a monk and be done with the whole thing!

“Shame on you to think it, milord,” The middle-aged woman said, bringing them both a plate of eggs and boiled vegetables. Storm hadn’t seen her arriving.

He cleared his throat, a little ashamed and stared at the grey haired bountiful Lorian woman apologetically.

“Lametha dear, I was defending you. Titus had to probe, it’s his job,” He lied without batting an eyelid.

“Well, Titus should know better,” She replied, giving the shocked man a scornful look. “I’m sorry for the meal, but there was nothing more in the kitchen. I’ve sent your girl to the market early, since Titus had to stay here, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

“My girl…” Storm trailed his words perturbed.

“Seen her coming out yer room, milord,” Lametha explained and gave him a naughty wink. Storm frowned and stared at Titus for help.

“She means Maja, you know the girl you’re fucking?” His man said with a smirk.

“Language mister Titus!” Lametha said with a chuckle.

Storm took a deep breath and let it out slow.

“I’m not… sleeping with her, Lametha.”

“Hmm, well no decent lady walks into a man’s room dressed like that, milord,” She insisted, putting air-quotes on the ‘dressed’.

No decent girl, Lord Nattas thought his frown deepening. He sat back on his seat, feeling a cold shiver running down his spine.

You know something, he’d asked her, back in that tavern.

Maja had replied that she’d heard him say it.

But they were sitting too far apart. She was chatting away with her ‘fiancé’, who apparently never thought about since. The hooded assassin had approached the couple and him, mere moments before the attack. In fact now that Storm run the whole incident back from memory, he was certain… the man hadn’t said a word.

“We don’t really know another’s soul my dear. Not really. Not ever. There are few men one can trust in this life, I’m afraid.”

“You must believe me lord Nattas.” She was looking at him now with renewed interest. Survival is a great aphrodisiac.

“Why?” He asked her.

“Please lord Nattas. You must help me!” Almost desperate now.

“What did the man look like? You’ve seen or heard something.”

“I… he said.” She hesitated.

“Yes?” Lord Nattas probed with a smile.

“You’ll pay for his brother my lord.”

Cursed wench had never answered his most important question, he thought his soul hurting.

“Find the woman,” He hissed and Titus realizing at last what had happened, got up abruptly. “Bring her here!” Storm growled, his anger exploding out of him in waves. Shaken at the betrayal and irate for the idiotic romantic feelings, he’d allowed her to bring out of him.

Mainly the latter.

Titus returned hours later, a seething Nattas gazing at the King’s Baths at the distance, cup of lukewarm water in his hand and his face dark. Maja had disappeared. Titus had checked in the market and then sent mounted agents to Cartaport with her description and an order to arrest her on sight.

“She won’t leave on a ship, boss.”

“You presume, this was all done with no plan,” Storm said slowly, clenching his left fist. “But there was planning involved and patience. Enough of it to catch us with our pants down. They wanted this second attempt to succeed, making the first not some random hit gone wrong. It was all a ruse and I was saved, by that crazy Dottore!”

Thank you Abrakas.

Fuck you for putting me through all this.

“You’re thinking assassins,” Titus seemed worn out.

“I’m thinking someone wants me out of the coming festivities,” Storm replied and moved from the rails. He walked inside, but paused at the doors to add. “He wants it bad.”

“Why?” His man asked.

“Because I don’t want a war ruining everything,” Storm explained, with a bitter smile. “It appears things have gotten serious.”

“What will you do?”

Lord Nattas sighed a deep sigh, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I think I’m going to arrange a royal wedding,” He replied calmly, much to the amusement of his paid lackey. On that last note, Storm also decided to take King Alistair’s advice and hire more men.

The days of him being frugal were long gone.