The Inn
Dareen was idly doodling in her notebook as everyone talked. Everything was moving...slowly. Someone would have to come up with a plan. Dareen wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about their position. They were in between a rock and a hard place.
"Alternatively, we could just kick this off old school. Try getting the support of the people, here, in Terreile. Nobody likes being, uh, genocided." She rubbed the back of her head, chuckling. "That's a lot of grunt work though, under extremely dangerous conditions. But it's a thought. With the support of the Black, and a Queen. People might listen." She shrugged.
"It's just a thought. I still think getting into Kaeleer is our best bet. Just not sure how." Dareen rubbed her chin. This was obviously uncharted territory.
Mikhail entered the room and gave some bad news. Bellinar was a traitor, and Faeril was missing. Dareen's eyes widened and she shrugged. She vanished her notebook and coughed.
"Uh. Oops." She said, in a bit of an understatement. Her heart rate began to elevate and she stood from her chair. "Whatever we're doing, we've gotta do it now." Dareen, tracker of Black Widows, set out into the garden. Flinging the door open she observed the scene.
"This is a real shit show." Dareen began looking for prints. "We have to catch up, we have to find her. If I don't- if we don't-"
Dareen grit her teeth and refocused. "Fuck me in the ass and call me a creepy farmer's horse... she can't have gotten far." She grumbled to herself.
"Why would Bellinar sell Faeril out? And who did he sell us out too?"
Ahmar Aezil
Outskirts
"Stop grinding your teeth, dear. You'll wear them out." Ahmar advised, his tone sickeningly sincere. He removed his boots from the table and slapped them down onto the floorboards, rising to his feet.
"Very well, then, Bellinar. I'm glad we've come to an agreement! I've men stationed around the Inn, looking for an opportunity to nab our prize. We'll rendezvous with them, and make our play. When you think Faeril is ready to be captured, just say the codeword." Ahmar rubbed his chin.
"And the codeword is...rendezvous. Just use that word again. Good word, solid word. I need four men. We'll travel lightly, quietly." Ahmar clapped his gloved hands together. Immediately a select group of soldiers stood to attention.
"Let's do it," "That'll be me," "Oh, absolutely," "Fuck yeah!" Four men stepped forward.
Ahmar turned to Bellinar, his smile gone. "You know what to do."
But it turned to be unnecessary. Because Ahmar's men always, always, managed to impress him.
Bahith, Ahmar's current second in command, was waiting for him. He and his two squadmates, dressed in black, their faces covered by hoods and cowls, had procured the Black Widow. They were travelling in the dark, along the outskirts of town, and Bahith had Faeril slung over his shoulder. Sight shields were up, and Bahith was projecting a shield that prevented Faeril from reaching out psycically. In order to prevent her from reaching out physically, he had gagged her with a rag. Meant for gagging people. Bahith grinned under his mask.
The six men of Ahmar and Bellinar, following the discrete path to the meeting place near the Inn, would come across Bahith and his crew travelling back to their temporary head quarters.
Ahmar blinked in surprised and jogged forward. "You didn't."
"We did." Bahith responded. "Without a hitch. Easy as pie, Ahmar."
Ahmar surpressed a laugh and slapped Bahith on the arm. He circled around back to Faeril's upper half, and held her face up by the chin. It was merely a practical gesture, so they could meet eye to eye. His face was uncovered, since he had nothing to hide. Across his handsome, stubbled face were the markings of the Crimson Sun, unmistakably similar to Dareen's.
Ahmar looked over Bahith's shoulder at Bellinar. If Bellinar wanted to avoid being seen by Faeril, he could just back away now. Or, he could just stay infront of Bahith and stay quiet, since she wouldn't be able to see him.
Ahmar made eyecontact with Faeril. "Greetings. My name is Ahmar. You've been captured, incase you hadn't noticed. Your friends certainly didn't." He pushed lightly on Bahith's shoulder, making sure they kept walking. One of the men was walking behind them with a palm leave, scrubbing and obsfuscating their tracks.
"Fret not, Widow. Your life is not yet forfeit. Unlike all the other Black Widows I've ever tracked down, I've incentive to keep you alive." His tone was professional, truthful, honest. Like he was a contractor describing to her the nature of a carpentry project.
"Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'll kill you if you kick up too much of a fuss. Besides, I've always thought witchblood flowers were beautiful. I've something of a green thumb when it comes to that particular plant." He said, rubbing his thumb against his index finger.
