Like the wings of a small butterfly, Dalmar's consciousness begin to come forward from his restful slumber as his eyes opened into the dark room shrouded by the early morning darkness. The castle was all but silent as the remaining inhabitants slept, and the occasional sounds of the armored guards pacing the halls echoed softly under the foot of vigilance. Dalmar sat up and rubbed his face as the sounds of footsteps appeared outside his door. His mind begged the question of his early rising, and he wondered why he was unable to sleep longer. This abrupt interruption of his expectations left him fatigued, and he slid his feet off the bed upon which he rested. He crossed the room, thrust his hand in a basin of clear water, and tossed its fresh, cool liquid upon his face as it dripped from his hands and arms. As the water shocked his system, he tossed his hair backwards and let out a gasp as he was thrust into the realm of the alert. At that moment, the wide wooden door of his chambers opened as Dorian and three men stepped through the door with a bustle of deliberate step.
"Good. You're awake." Dorian said as he entered into the chambers with two men behind him. "Come with us." Dorian ordered softly, and he turned to exit the room.
"Where are we going?" Dalmar asked.
"Why, to The Scarlet Tanager, of course. Now get your things. We don't have much time to spare." Dorian turned back to the door and walked out into the hall. Dalmar wondered why Dorian was in a hurry, and rationalized that his haste was the result of a desire to ensure that he would have ample time to catch the inkeeper and his staff unawares. Dalmar quickly fitted his person with the items returned to him the previous day, and followed Dorian through the keep to the stockade. There, Dalmar and the three men met ten more men similarly adorned with black leather armor. Together they marched through the bare streets of Altendon under the last light of the descending moon, past the forge where Dalmar and Sh'lzzt first encountered the helpful blacksmith, past the stable where he and Sh'lzzt purchased their spirited horse, and tot he front of The Scarlet Tanager. For a moment, the men stood outside surveying the large inn. No light shone from the windows of the modest tavern, and Dorian turned toward Dalmar. "Follow my lead, Zeke. We're just here to get information, and identify those with knowledge of Sarat and what happened to you. Be on the lookout for anything." Dorian said. Ushering four men to either side of the inn, Dorian drew his long, thin blade with a metallic ringing, and kicked the front door of the inn with a mighty blow. The front door of the tavern swung open with a crash and Dorian rushed inside yelling, "Open up in the name of the king!" as he and the rest of the men filed inside, filling the empty room. Immediately, the sounds of rushing bodies creaked along the boards above them and from the inner areas of the building. "You there, up those stairs! Bring all you find down to this room" Dorian barked as he charged across the room with Dalmar and five other men to the door in the back wall. and bombarded it with a mighty bash of his shoulder. This time, the wooden door resisted Dorian as its metal banding stood firm and Dorian winced as his shoulder complained from the abuse. Dorian took a step back and gave the door a mighty kick as the door creaked but stood firm. Dalmar looked at Dorian and his apparent frustration. "Zeke, we will strike it together. Altogether now, with your foot..." Dorian said as he took a deep breath. Dalmar knew this door would be little match for him, and couldn't help but to smile at the outcome he knew to take place. "One! Two! THREE!" Dorian shouted as the two men struck the door with their feet, tearing the metal hinges from the wall and sending the barrier, broken, through into the next room with a crash. Without a moment's haste, Dorian regained his footing and the men charged into the wide room of wooden kegs and vats.
Stepping aside, Dorian madly rushed inside, sword drawn and barking orders to the inhabitants of the room beyond. His men funneled into the room of vats like a pack of wild dogs falling upon the fresh, steaming carcass of a fallen deer. Dalmar peered inside as four of the five men accompanying Dorian dragged two men from within out into the front room on their heels. Dalmar's eyes glanced at the two captives noticing each of them wearing the strange sashes about their waists. His eyes turned towards the group of men and women in the front room where now his attention was taken, several of which were also wearing the same scarlet sashes. Dalmar's mind flashed images of the fight that transpired here within these walls, the brawl where he and Sh'lzzt travels ended and his adventures in the desert began. He knew these faces, and he knew some of these people. Dorian ushered the remaining man to search the room of barrels as he exited the room passing by Dalmar and back into the room. Dalmar stepped through the broken doorway as Dorian's man fumbled around in the shadowy recesses between the barrels and kegs for clues to the whereabouts of Sarat and his men. Dalmar's eyes scanned the room, and he felt of containers of spirits that lined the walls and open stone floor. Thinking to himself, Dalmar could find little reason as to why anyone would find refuge from search and seizure in this strange place. "Anything strange or out of place in here?" Dalmar asked the armed guardsman wedging his body between two large upright vats of ale.
"Nothing yet, but you never can tell..." answered the younger man. Dorian's man shimmied away from the tight recesses and sheathed his sword, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the large containers. He began to peer at the walls with an intent desire, rubbing his open hand along the edges of the exposed wall. Striking Dalmar strangely, Dalmar began to wonder if this man had done this sort of thing before. Dalmar turned his head and peered outside into the front room momentarily, reacting to the muffled shouts of Dorian and his men as they questioned the inhabitants of The Scarlet Tanager. Dalmar turned to the man inside the room with him nce again.
"What are you looking for?" Dalmar finally asked.
"I'm looking for anything that might be hidden from view. Sometimes places like this have secrets." the young man answered as he eyed a particular vat sitting in a square base. "Ahh! Hello..." he said as he walked over to the massive container resting in its sturdy base. Knocking on the large bunghole, and man placed his ear against the side of the wooden behemoth. "Aha!" the young man exclaimed. Dalmar walked over to the man.
"What is it? What'd you find?" Dalmar asked.
"This one is hollow." he said as he looked at the floor around their feet. "Step back." the young man requested, and Dalmar took a step back and looked at the floor. The dusty floor around the large rounded crate, while disturbed by the footsteps of he and his partner, bore no distinct features. The young guardsman walked around to the well crafted iron tap that jutted from the front of its container. Dalmar knocked on the front below the spigot. Indeed, this one had a hollow sound. Staring at the spigot, the young man grasped it in his hand and gave it a twist as a stroke of insight blew through his mind. The dull iron implement squeaked and then turned as a click ran out into the room. Dalmar's eyebrow raised as the man stepped back. The front of the huge vat swung open and the release of air from within blew gently into the room bringing with it the aroma of fermentation and must. "Ahh, now that..." he young man exclaimed as he smiled, "...is what I call a most interesting find!" The young man seemed pleased with himself as he turned towards the door followed by Dalmar who took a moment to peer into the dark opening of the secret vestibule. Dalmar spun on his heels in one fluid motion and followed the man outside into the front room. "Sir, we found something you might be interested in...." the blonde guard called to Dorian. Dorian paused and looked at Dalmar, and then walked over to Dalmar and the man standing behind the bar. Dalmar's eyes scanned the scene of the inn's guests who all looked upon Dalmar and his young partner.
"What is it?" dorian asked in a softer voice of his comrade.
"A hidden passage leading down, Capt'n." the armored man answered as he smiled at his handiwork.
"Those guys with the sashes about their waists are the ones who attacked me and Lanthis, by the way." Dalmar said to Dorian. Dorian stepped through the doorway again, stepping over the remains of the door that once held the room shut.
"All right, let's get 'em back to the keep. Good job, men." Dorian said as he mistakenly let a grin slip from his stern gaze. "By order of the king, this tavern, The Scarlet Tanager, is hereby declared closed for business until further notice. No attempts to enter or exit this property will be permitted!" Dorian's eyebrows lowered as the cries of the innkeeper and his staff echoed over the crowd of patrons. "Unless otherwise designated, you will accompany me and my men to the castle for questioning." Dorian continued. "Men, separate the patrons from the sashes. Patrons, you have until one hour from this moment to exit this place with your belongings. The rest of you will come with us." Dorian stood tall before the people whose eyes were will filled with fear and otherwise discontent. A rush of several men and women rushed up into the quarters about the tavern to retrieve their items and their safety as the armored men drew their swords calmly and surrounded the red-sashed men. Each of the accusing eyes were paired with a scowl and certain disdain for the king's orders, and each painted Dorian's countenance and Dalmar's observance with their contempt.Dalmar knew that look. Dalmar understood that from this day forward, each of their minds would be stained with his image if not the image of Dorian and his men. This morning, Dalmar had unwittingly made more enemies than he could have ever hoped to make.Reluctantly, the seven angry men of the crimson cloth handed over their blades to the thirteen armored men of Dorian's company, and disappeared with the armored men out into the streets. Pulling a piece of parchment from its ribbon tied to his belt, Dorian then crossed the floor to the door at the front of the tavern. "Ok, you two, out you go. We've got to get these guys back to the castle before we explore that passage." Dorian produced a small hammer and nail and began to secure the parchment tot he front of the tavern.Dalmar and the young guard crossed the room and squeezed between Dorian and the front door, and into the street with the other twelve guards surrounding their captives. With the final tap of the hammer, Dorian closed the front door and nailed it shut, bearing the edict to the street and all who passed The Scarlet Tanager.
The sun had begun to call to the morning as its rays escaped the horizon while they walked back through the streets of Altendon. Dalmar expected at the very least one of the red-sashed men to say something, to bellow words of contempt, to smart Dorian and his men, but no such nastiness ensued. Stripped of their weapons and, thus, their courage, the men simply looked at the ground as they were marched to the castle. Dalmar, however, recognized this posture. It was the same posture that children bore to their parents when caught in an unruly act. Still, these men before him and the king's men were anything but a loose band of rogues. Dorian knew this as well, and he knew that the name and location of Sarat and his network would only be revealed through time and patience if not death. Dalmar's stomach grumbled at the first morning's light, and he was pleased to return to the castle where he could rest his mind and fill his belly. Food always calmed his nerves, and his nerves were in need of calming for he knew not what this strange, unfortunate adventure would bear for him in the near future.
Now relegated to the duties of a ward of Polias, Dalmar found his company to be one surrounded by Dorian and his men. Strangely, Dalmar felt himself to be part of the company of brotherly armed guards. He thought this to be somewhat appealing as he had felt that once within the ranks of Thorfinn's men in Irongard. Yet, Dalmar knew that this momentarily feeling of camaraderie had to end sooner than later, and that when all came to fruition he and (hopefully) Sh'lzzt would once again be on their way to Irongard. Dalmar sat with the thirteen men of the morning's campaign for information and ate a hearty breakfast before walking through the castle to take in some light entertainment from some of local acrobats and musicians. While Dalmar felt at relative ease, he couldn't help but to feel as if something was out of place. In the back of his mind, a strange knot had developed that kept him from being happy in this place. Perhaps it was the demand for order or that the impending trials that stuck in the recesses of his mind. Whatever the reason, Dalmar found little peace even when he was napping, finding himself waking far sooner than having anticipated or wishing to do so.
Invino Veritas
1/1/12
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