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Old 08-04-2006, 09:46 PM   #83
Alcarillo
Shadow of the Past
 
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Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Minas Mor-go
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Osfrid's cart rumbled down the old road to Sorn's home. Muriel sat curled up next to Osfrid, wrapped in a new shawl. He bought it for her at the horse fair after it struck her fancy. It's price was ridiculously expensive: the equivalent of many laborious hours' wages. But Muriel and the stall-keeper were both vigilant as hawks; Osfrid could not steal the shawl without notice. He was forced to thieve from a blind beggar. The trick was to act as though you were giving coins as you bent down, perhaps even placing one or two into the man's bowel, but once your fingers gently grazed the coins' surfaces, you would pluck out another worth twice what you gave. If people happened to be walking by you as you did this, you might fumble around in your pockets for a moment before the crime, pretending to reach for a hidden coin. But as soon as their curious eyes had disappeared around a corner, you would shamelessly commit your act of petty thievery. Osfrid did this many times to the same man, and was able to buy Muriel her shawl. Besides, those coins weren't the beggar's anyways. They belonged to the good people who donated to the poor. If he wanted money he should've earned it.

Osfrid had no qualms about stealing from the beggar; it was his nature to steal. He was a thief, a swindler, a con man. Once, while on his own many years ago, before he had ever heard of Sorn, Osfrid happened to find a pile of bricks left unattended beside a house. He simply loaded them into his cart and sold them in the next village. A man shouldn't leave a pile of bricks laying around like that. Another time he relabeled bottles of cheap wine with the labels of much more expensive bottles. He sold them for a profit ten times as great as what the original labels would've given him. All the great vineyards did that. If they could get away with it, so could Osfrid. And besides, he had done that only once. There were men, rich men, who had gained all their wealth that way. It wasn't fair to the poor man that the rich man stole from him. And so the only way to beat the rich was to play their own game.

Sorn's house appeared as the cart rolled over the last hill. It still sat imperiously among the fields of lesser estates, despite its decline over the years into a den of criminals. Osfrid drove the cart before the doorways of Sorn's home.

"Muriel," he said, stepping out of the cart, "Find one of Sorn's men. Have him take care of the cart and the luggage. I'm off to find Sorn." Muriel shrugged and daintily stepped out to find somebody, Wæveth, maybe, or a servant. Osfrid, meanwhile, bounded up the steps to the door and quietly entered the house.

Sorn was always in his study, usually brooding or plotting. Osfrid walked down a hallway and knocked on the door before entering, not wanting to interrupt Sorn if he happened to be busy. "Come in…" Osfrid heard Sorn say.

Osfrid entered. His heart leapt when he saw that a bloody knife had been stabbed deep into the desk. Sorn sat behind it with a dark and sour expression on his face. "Yes, Osfrid?" he asked. Sorn had wrapped a hand around the knife hilt and gently began to massage it between his thumb and index finger, rolling it between his fingers, worming it into the wood menacingly.

Osfrid tried not to look at the knife. He would ignore it…Sorn was in one of his moods, and…had he stabbed someone? "Um, yes, I've returned from Edoras," Osfrid said. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a tiny black notebook. "I've written down, um, what I've found out…" Osfrid inched forward, holding out his little book. He stretched his wavering arm across the desk, and Sorn grabbed the book, giving Osfrid a dirty glare. Osfrid stepped back as soon as he could.

"It's all, um, in there…names of friends, guardians. The like." He tried to look neither at the knife nor into Sorn's eyes. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably to the walls, but he considered that Sorn might find it rude that he was avoiding eye contact. He fumbled for some time, glancing from Sorn to the walls and to Sorn again.

"Thank you, Osfrid," Sorn said. Osfrid shivered at the calmness of his voice.

"Erm, yes, sir,". He exited the room quickly. He normally wouldn't have addressed Sorn as sir, but these were exceptional circumstances. Anything to appease him. Osfrid walked back down the hall, wiping sweat from his temples. He should find somebody who could tell him about the bloody knife. Did Sorn stab somebody? He wouldn't do that… would he? Maybe he had just taken a few stabs at some raw meat to release some anger. That still didn't give Osfrid much comfort…

He would find Muriel first, though. The silly girl was probably wandering through fields of barley right now.

Last edited by Alcarillo; 08-24-2006 at 11:00 PM.
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