Ser Varys Actions

The door to the tavern opened quietly. A man in a black robe strode inside, and headed straight for the bar. He sat down nonchalantly, and looked at the man next to him. Unbeknownst to the barkeep, or anyone else in the tavern, he handed the man next to him a small slip of paper.


Ser Varys smiled, and opened the slip.

Our infiltration has gone well, sir. We have successfully planted the seed of doubt into the people’s minds. A few talks here, a note there, an eavesdroppable conversation later, and we have successfully placed doubt into the people’s minds about the ability of the Slaver’s and Red Brotherhood’s ability to provide for them. They have begun to trust the Cabal of the Twisted Heart, and they are listening to all of our tales about them. I have placed three two man cells around this area, and they shall begin spreading rumors and working with the people. I have one cell waiting for deployment when needed, and one cell working on assassinating any enemies to our rule. There are one knight and one squire in each cell, for a total of twenty people with us. I fear that someone may have noticed us arrive, so we shall be sending messages with a different member of the standby cell every day. Each missive will be addressed to you, from the different cells, marking their progress. This tavern, Slaver’s Broth, shall be our desired meeting place. I hope you can help our coven in this way. We have placed much faith in you, initiate. Do not lose it.
Cell 1

Ser Varys chuckled. This seemed like an easy task upon itself, only time consuming. Hopefully Malificar wasn’t having such luck with Emir Xerxes.

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The door to the tavern was kicked open, and shouting could be heard from outside the tavern.
“We’ve caught one! We’ve caught one!” yelled an unidentified man. He seemed to be short and stocky, like a dwarf.
Ser Varys looked at the man they had caught, with a sickening drop in his gut. It was one of his squires.

“What is this man accused of?” Ser Varys asked, cautiously.

The dwarf grinned. “We found this man loitering in front of a few buildings. He seemed to be a lookout, just watching the street. When we asked him his motive, he said he was just waiting for his friend. We waited with him, and his friend never came. Instead, he ran off the moment our backs were turned, and we just managed to recapture him. I bet some time in the Slaver’s Hell will do some good for you!” The dwarf cackled maliciously.
“Slaver’s Hell?” asked Ser Varys, not bothering to keep the confusion out of his voice.
“Aye, the Slaver’s Hell. The worst torture chamber this side of Singal, it’s known for its royal guests and brutal techniques,” the dwarf said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Everyone in this area knows it…I wonder why you don’t….”

Seeking to change the topic of conversation, Ser Varys says, “How much does that man cost?”
The dwarf scoffed. “You can’t buy him from me, boy. This one’s going straight to the Slavers.”
I could give you a better price, a higher one, than you’d get from the Slavers.” Ser Varys offered.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes. “How much higher?”
“One hundred"
“Two hundred.”
“One hundred fifty.”
"Two hundred.”
“The Slaver’s won’t give you my price. They’ll barely give you more than 50. You know this is worth it, just take the offer!” Ser Varys held his breath, waiting.

The dwarf stared at him for a long time until finally bursting out laughing.
“You’d make a good haggler, boy. What’s your name?”
Ser Varys smiled and said “You can call me Sevar.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Sevar. You can call me Tywin.”

Ser Varys payed Tywin, and walked out with the squire. He then opened the tavern door, and stepped out into the slums.

((I took the liberty of creating my own thread, would you mind explaining to me how I should go about this? Should I leave my posts to one or two sentence actions, or should I write stories like these and leave an open end to each one, determining my success? Have fun over the weekend!))

(( Sure you don't want to call him Tyrion? Open ended tracts like this are fine, though could you please put a summary at the top of what you are trying to do in strategic terms, I will attempt to RP a reply where I can. ))

The door to the slums was open, the rooms of the Slaver's Broth made a good headquarters for activity in this district. The people here were desperate, and desperation had turned them to accept any thread of hope, no matter how slim, and it was hope that Sevar now offered them. Hope in the struggle against their oppressors in the Red Brotherhood, hope to throw off their fear of the slavers. Hope to become free, truly free, and all they had to do in return was believe. Hope, it is such a bitter word.

Despite the small number of Slavers and Red Brotherhood actually in the area, they had managed to cultivate an atmosphere of fear, where neighbour would tell on neighbour should any speak out against their illegal activities. Pick pockets, thieves, even murderers were a dime a dozen here, and all out to make a quick denar - so much so that the City Guard were never, ever seen here.

Over the days, Tywin came to the Slaver's Broth often and Ser Varys was able to glean details of a gang war which was raging between the Red Brotherhood and Slavers here. The Red Brotherhood used it as a recruiting ground for their future members, while for the Slavers it was a ripe hunting ground, the poor being so haggard that many would take slavery over their own lot in life if they were given the chance. It seemed the Tywin was the link in the illegal pipeline of slaves being run to the slave markets in the more prosperous parts of the city, the Red Brotherhood hated him and wanted him dead. Both factions had a stake in the slums, but neither wanted to spend resources in such a death trap.

However, Tywin's questions had become more probing with each passing day, his questions about just what it was that Sevar did here becoming increasingly pushing.

(( I see that you got my reference I think you can guess who my character is based off of ))


(( Sevar deflects Tywin's questions and receives a message that tells him what the Cells have been up to. Building buildings, helping people move, or helping them to get over the fear of the slavers and red brotherhood. All they need is for him to start removing the influence of the slavers and red brotherhood from an area. Tywin discovered a secret entrance into the catacombs, and he and Sevar went down into it to start exploring it. ))


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...."I told you already, I can't help you if you won't tell me what you're trying to do!" Tywin replied.

Sevar let out a frustrated sigh. "I told you already, I'm simply trying to help the people of this area and win them over."

Tywin shook his head. "There's something off about that...I'll keep probing till I get at it."

Sevar clenched his teeth. He needed Tywin, for he was his link to the Slavers, but it has become increasingly difficult to deflect his questions. He needed to accomplish his goals, and fast.

Sevar changed the topic and looked around the Slaver's Broth. He noticed a few men in red uniform, hanging out near the far corner of the tavern.

"Tywin, I think your friends are here."

Tywin glanced warily at them and stood up. "I'd rather not risk my life by asking them how their day was. Come, let me show you something interesting."

Sevar followed Tywin into an old abandoned church, but not before receiving a small message in the corner of his coat pocket, from his cell report. He opened it inconspicuously and began reading it.

Greetings, Initiate. We have done as you have commanded us, and have begun helping the people, building shelters, and rescuing them from the Slavers and Red Brotherhood's influence. Securing them jobs, and helping them migrate from the slums has done great things for their trust and belief in us, and I believe we have spread some influence in these areas. The ones who are migrating from the slums are also beginning to spread our message in other areas, and beginning ton spread the word about the Cabal of the Twisted Heart. We have assassinated some prominent Slaver and Red Brotherhood figures in this area, but nothing of too much importance. They each believe it is the other who has carried this assassination out, since they are in this gang war. I believe our mission is about halfway done, the rest of the mission is mostly on your part, getting rid of the Slavers and Red Brotherhood. Good luck, Initiate.
Cells 1-10

Sevar quickly closed the small slip of paper, tore it up, and shoved it into his coat pocket. He followed Tywin into the abandoned church, and watched him close the doors. Darkness quickly enveloped the area, but Tywin had a candle handy. He lit the main church lights, and opened two windows, which let light flood into the church. Sevar watched as Tywin did a quick scan to make sure no one was inside but them, and pushed aside the altar slowly. A blast of hot air hit Sevar in the face, and he stared down into a dark tunnel, leading underground.

"Welcome to the catacombs," Tywin grinned. "I discovered these recently when I was trying to find a new place for my operations to happen. What do you think?"

Sevar looked at him and grinned. Without waiting for the other to answer, carrying two candles each, they both descended into the catacombs at once.

The damp, cool air of the catacombs immediately enclosed them and made Varys shiver for a moment. The next moment he thought he'd fall unconscious as his nose caught the very special perfume of Singal's sewers. Tywin seemed to be well acclimatised to this environment and did not show any signs of indisposition.
Varys pulled himself together and followed Tywin.
The squeaking and rustling of rats startled by their lights and footsteps intermixed with the ever-present gurgling of the sewer fluid and the sound of water dripping down from the ceiling and created a constant background noise.

Tywin led Varys along small canals, around large basins filled with foul-smelling slurry and through narrow corridors where large spiders fled the light of their candles.

Where are you leading me, Varys asked?

Don't worry its just around that next corner, Tywin replied.

The first and last thing Varys saw after turning around the corner was a large club speeding towards his head.

His head hurt immensely when he awoke several minutes later. He tried to move but to his utter discontent found out that he was tied to a roughly carpentered chair. The latter stood where a corridor widened into a camera which was dimly lit by two large braziers. The light did not reach the ceiling nor the rear walls of the room.

Varys perceived the hushed voices and footsteps of at least ten persons behind him but could not see anyone.
He's awake, someone behind him said. Footsteps could be heard, then Tywin built up in front of him followed by two muscular men armed with clubs.

Welcome to Singal, Tywin said with a malicious smile.

You thought I would show you my entrance to the catacombs if you don't even tell me what you are actually doing here? Perhaps you are not as clever as I had deemed you.
Well, the slavers do not like people with unknown intentions and they pay well for information. Hopefully we can ... convince you to be a bit more ... talkative.

His malicious smile even broadened. Gentlemen, he is yours!

The two thugs grinned as they moved towards Varys, their fearsome clubs looking disconcertingly light in their hands.

Then a whizzing noise cut the damp air and one of the thugs, with a bolt sticking out of his forehead, fell right onto Varys, crushing the chair into pieces.

Ad maiores divitias fraternitatis rubrae! The battle cry of Nilus Vegorius' Red Brotherhood echoed from the walls, then several men in red leather armour stormed the camera. The noises crossbows and blades filled the air and none of the warring parties seemed to pay particular attention to Varys.

While working himself out of the embrace of the dead thug Varys quickly got rid of his shackles. There were fighting slavers and reds everywhere, yet, on the other side of the room he could see his weapons lying on a table.

Sevar grimaced, rubbing his head. Damn that Tywin! He knew this was a trap, but he followed it in hope of something else. He'll pay for that all right. I'll string up that blasted, measly dwarf and cut off his little pe---

*WhizzzzzzAP*

A crossbow bolt whipped right past Sevar's cheek, cutting a very small wound, but a wound nonetheless. Clasping one hand over the wound, Sevar decided not to take any more plotting breaks. He headed for his weapons, sticking to the shadows, running only when necessary. Reaching them, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, but he was not out of danger yet. Equipping his shield and gloves, he took out his throwing daggers. Knowing he had little time, he crouched down behind an overturned table, and applied a little bit of poison on each dagger, careful to keep his gloves on. He put his bow and arrows on his back, and slowly looked around the table.

Chaos was everywhere, a mass of fighting bodies. Sevar decided that he would rather take the side of the Brotherhood in this battle, thanks to the appreciation the Slavers have shown him. Taking careful aim, his first dagger missed the mark of a thug's body by a hair.

Boy, I'm out of practice. I've got to start training, he thought.

The next one, however, hit the mark. Watching the man grin as he pulled out the dagger, to slowly frowning and opening his mouth in a scream of horror was quite the sight. The paralyzing poison only took seconds to activate, and better yet, it causes the persons heart to stop beating within 30 seconds!

Another crossbow bolt whizzed by him, as he crouched back underneath the table, trying to formulate a strategy. He did not know the way out of the catacombs, so he had better hope the Brotherhood would accept him. He popped up, throwing daggers left and right. After he had run out, to the disappointment of only 4 hits, he equipped the sword of a fallen Brotherhood member, and charged into battle, on the side of the Red.

With five of them already dead the remaining slavers quickly fell to the blades of Varys and the reds. In the end twelve slavers and four members of the brotherhood lay dead. The remaining four reds, one of which seemed severely wounded, turned to Varys, their weapons still drawn, but did not make any move to attack him immediately. One of them, whose armour seemed to be of a slightly better quality, addressed Varys in a harsh voice:

Who are you and what is your business here?

Deciding the truth- or part of it at least- was the best option, Ser Varys said, "I am Sevar, a spy for a certain man. He told me to infiltrate the Slavers, and try to cause unrest in this area. I managed to get close to Tywin the dwarf, but he tricked me and had me ambushed. As you could see, I was chained to the....chair....over there." All that remained were shackles and a heap of wood, but it seemed that the story was plausible enough.

"I decided that after getting my weapons, I would punish these Slavers. May I ask who you are, my savior?"

The red brotherhood sergeant did not pay any attention to Varys' question.

What 'certain man'? he asked awkwardly. And what kind of unrest?

He did not really wait for the answer but continued:

Anyway, we do not like any unrest unless it be caused by our men. Drop your weapon! You come with us.

The four men moved towards him, their weapons ready, though the wounded one began to show visible consequences of the blood loss, his face pale and hands trembling.

Ser Varys glared at the Brotherhood, his purple eyes gleaming. Damn! I should have known they would have questions. Ser Varys was thinking quickly, remembering that he had brought his candle with him all the way. There must be a slight trail of melted wax leading back! If anyone could find it, I could do it. Weighing his options, he decided to do something daring. Hiding his sword, he quickly and secretively applied the rest of the poison he had onto the sword. He coated it from tip to hilt. He was putting all his money on the fact that he only had to bring attention to the wounded man, and strike.

Ser Varys clenched his teeth and drooped his shoulders. "You might want to take care of your wounded first, it seems that he is slowly dying. Bending over, he retrieved two poison daggers from the floor of the chamber.

It happened in the next second.

While the Brotherhood looked at the wounded man, Ser Varys threw the two daggers at the first two men, quickly. Without stopping to see if they hit or not, he unsheathed his sword and charged.

Varys saw the weakness in the men's eyes. My chance is now, he thought. I have survived. Thus far, luck has kept me up. Now I must rely on my skills, and I will find out if they are worthy of my Order, and my goddess.

He took this chance to pick up the last dagger he could find, from the floor, keeping his eyes on the Brotherhood member at all times. Readying the remaining daggers, he readied his sword, and charged, with his dagger hidden within his sleeve. As he knew this was his last shot, he yelled with his charge, "Praise upon the dark queen! I fight for you!" He began to hear whispers in his head, but he banished them from his thoughts. Steeling his resolve, he continued the charge, ignoring the pain that grew in his feet, as a result of stepping on hot embers.

The man was ready for the attack and easily deflected Varys' blow with his sword. Yet the impetus of Varys' charge caused him to stumble backwards, tripping over the wounded man. Varys strove to stop before the man, but his dagger slipped out of his sleeve cutting the wounded man's back, who, as if wakened by the sudden pain, in a last defiant struggle hacked his still clasped blade into Varys lower left leg before taking his terminal breath.

Varys cried out in pain and for a moment his sight was blurred. As he pushed back the pain and regained control over himself, the other man was gone, the distant tapping of his feet quickly fading.

The wounded man had not had much strength left and the cut was not too deep luckily, but still bleeding heavily and painful.
With clenched teeth Varys ripped of parts of his clothing and wrapped them around the wound as a makeshift bandage.

Now that his senses were no more concentrated on the fight he perceived the strong smell of burnt flesh and the wads of smoke that started to engulf him. The embers had set the clothing of the dead aflame and the fire was quickly spreading over all the corpses on the underground battlefield. Varys would not be able to loot anything from these people...

He hobbled away from the site as fast as he could into the direction he hoped to be the right one.

Perhaps it was really the right direction, perhaps not, Varys would most likely never be able to tell. Corner followed corridor, dead-ends alternated with crossroads and soon Varys was completely lost. The blood loos started to take its toll, the catacombs began rotating around him, first slowly, then increasingly fast, until his mind was engulfed by a thick, warming darkness and he fell to the wet, slurry floor.

...

Varys opened his eyes and saw ... wood, a room's ceiling perhaps? He was still dizzy and his body hurt terribly.
He's awake, someone said, and Varys thought: "Oh, no, not another questioning."

However, the next thing we saw were the faces of two of his men, bending over him, smiling.

What the..? How did you..? Varys tried to articulate his questions.

When you did not return from that church we went after you and found that entrance. As time passed and still you did not return we got some torches and went down into the catacombs. We found you not far from the entrance, all pale lying in a sea of blood. At first we thought you were dead, but it seems the dark lady held her hand above you that day.

How long have I been lying here?

Only a day, though I think it will take you some more days to recover from the blood loss. The wound itself is not deep and will heal soon.

Varys sank back into the pillows and sighed. He had ventured into the mouth of the catacombs and they had spit him out again. He remembered the escaped red brotherhood member. Surely the slavers and the brotherhood were alarmed by now and...
Sleep took hold of him again.
The next morning he awoke and felt strong enough to at least eat something and walk around the district, though fighting would surely not be possible.

Ser Varys rubbed his head.

"Argh....that took a toll on me." he muttered underneath his breath. Malificar would be pleased to hear what would happen, but luckily, he was not here. As his fingers traced the new scar on face from the crossbow bolt, he was reminded again of those catacombs. As much as he hated the area, he felt the need to go back down there, to explore. It was part of his duty, but he wasn't going to hurry and accomplish it any time soon.

Pushing himself out of bed, he hobbled over and called one of his men. The man chosen, Rocorad, helped him out into the district, and they began their walk around, with a few of the other members closely behind, watching them inconspicuously to see that no harm befell their freshly wounded commander.

And so he continued the walk around, as the rest of his Knights continued to build buildings, help the poor, etc. etc. He decided to go to the tavern, although he kept his face covered, to hear any rumors.

The tavern greeted their ears with laughter, chatter and calls for more beer and their noses with the smell of the latter, of greasy meals fried over a large fire behind the bar and - which was less pleasant - the perspirations of the slum inhabitants.

Varys and Rocorad went to the bar and ordered two mugs of ale while listening closely to the conversations around them.

...and the slavers beat back another attempt of the town watch to take control of this district. They'll never get the slavers out of here by force.

For sure! Did you hear, they sent even more of their thugs here yesterday and so did the red bastards. They marched here right from 11th district as if they were the king's army and it was all theirs.

Something must be troubling them.

They trouble each other most, if you ask me.

I dunno, lately I have heard mumbling about a third party trying to gain influence.

Bah, that's all women's tattle.

Does women's tattle build hovels and huts? People have been talking about mysterious figures helping them.

Yeah, heard that, too. They never say why, only keep murmuring things about ... what was it ... rabble of the twisted fart, or something the like.

You got a twisted fart in your head, if you ask me!

They all burst into laughter and ordered more beer.

Varys and Rocorad took their ale with them and sat down at one of the table in the rear part of the tavern, hoping to overhear more... portentous conversations. Two men were sitting together in a near alcove speaking in hushed voices, but Varys could understand parts of what they were talking.

...investigated the site. All the corpses were burnt and...

...survivor told of a third party that was involv...

...seriously worried and sent reinforcements to...

...discuss this further with the sergeants tomor...

...gorius. See you at the 'Moon and...

They shook hands and one of them walked out the front door while the other vanished through a backdoor.

Varys eyes twinkled. He whispered to Rocorad, "Apparently we have gotten the Brotherhood Riled up. Send one of our men after this man (the back door), see what they could find. Tell them to give me reports as well, and to NOT be seen. I order them to continue helping the area, as well. The rumors are getting louder."

Varys was frustrated, however. This task seemed like it was going slowly, not fast enough. Still, he wondered what the "Moon" was. It seemed like he had said something else as well. No matter, once he found him, he would flay him until he spoke. That is the revenge I will take upon them, he thought. He hobbled out of the tavern, eager to get back and rest. The whispers began again, in his head, this time louder.

"....darkness rises, you ......"
".....relinquish....."
".....must obey....."
"......LISTEN......."



Once again, however, he banished them from his mind and walked back toward his resting place, with one of his men keeping a close watch on him.

The man Rocorad sent out returned later that afternoon.

Ser, I followed the red one for some time, but he seemed to know this district better than I do. I am afraid I lost him somewhere to the north of the district.

He looked a bit sheepish, but before Varys could respond anything another man entered.

We got word from one of the cells you sent to the slums. The poor tell that the brotherhood and the slavers usually hold their meetings in one of the taverns of this district.
Here is a list of all noteworthy taverns in this part of the city not including this one.

He handed Varys a scroll.

Spoiler:

Varys grinned. His brain was working hard, and he was trying to put something together...he couldn't put his finger on it. He knew that he should look somewhere in the north, and after scanning the list, he noticed the two taverns with Moon in the name. He saw the one in the north, and finally made a decison.

"Send two cells to the Moon and the Crossbow. Do not send anyone that can be recognized, such as this man here. Even though you failed your mission, you brought me valuable information."

Ser Varys's grin vanished. He then said, in hushed tones, "Overhear the conversations, and bring me a list of anything you find useful. Follow the Brotherhood when they leave. If they you fail me again, I may not be so lenient. If you manage to capture one, or find their hideout/command center, DO NOT GIVE UP YOUR POSITION. Send a runner or message over to me immediately, and do your best to not be discovered."

Varys allowed the grin back onto his face. "Men, we are close to the objective. We have come far, and you have saved my life many times over. We will capture this district, and we WILL take care of the Brotherhood. We must also work on the Slavers, but right now, the Brotherhood is our main priority. We must either parlay with them, or drive them out." His purple eyes gleamed, and he laughed.

"For the dark goddess, we shall accomplish this mission. See to it, and in times of need, think of our overlord. She shall watch over you. May you succeed."

".....tioning me is brav....."

Whispers. The damn whispers were back. What could this mean? Ser Varys frowned, and turned as his men set off to do as they were told. Going to his room, he lay down and listened.

"...dawn have been fractured....."

"....astraea is weak..."

".....power overwhelming...."

"....the snakes conquer...."

Finally, before the whispers concluded, one last whisper was heard in his mind, before he passed into a light slumber.

"My will extends far....fight for me, dark warrior, for I am........."


Ser Varys began to snore.

Someone knocked at the door. Three times. A pause, then another two knocks. It was the right sequence of knocks.

Come in, Varys said.

Rocorad entered, clasping two scroll of parchment.

Our cells have returned from the 'Moon and Crossbow', Ser, he said, here are their reports:

Spoiler:

We have drawn a map based on what we know by now, Rocorad added. We will update it as we gain more intelligence.

Spoiler:

Varys frowned. His force would have to be split up to get this mission done. No matter.

Rocorad, organize for one cell to stay here and guard me for one more day, as I feel almost ready to start running and fighting again. ((OOC: It was about 3 days, right? Or has all this happened in one day?)) he said. Then, send a two cells to the Snake and Pot. We will carry out a CONVERSION mission. Talk to the sergeant. Tell him we could drive out the slavers, and get him promoted. Promise him that we could get rid of the other sergeants, and get rid of the emissary. Tell him about the wealth and influence he could gain in the Brotherhood by helping us. Send one cell to the Bankrupt Trader, to hear rumors and wait to see if we can locate Gharezi. Finally, send five cells to explore the catacombs. I want them to use a ball of yarn, or something similar to lead them back to the entrance. They need to landmark areas, and create a map of the catacombs. Whatever they do, instruct them to not get captured. If they are discovered, if you are able to kill the party that found you, do so. If you cannot, flee. If all hope is lost, fight to the last man. Report to me the same way as you did now. I have faith in you, do not lose it.


Ser Varys watched as Rocorad left to deliver his instructions. We are nearing the last stages of the Brotherhood part, he thought. I need to start focusing on the slavers.




(( I just realized I had 20 men and I've only been using 10 ATM.))

It was after nightfall when Rocorad returned.

Khalerash Navid seems to be a man of distinct ambitions, he said with a smirk. He says the Moon and Crossbow is the most stately tavern in the district and he wants it. In order to achieve this he wants us to murder Rahim Fazul as well as his brother and right hand, Shirwaz Fazul. Navid will lie in wait and seize control of the Moon and Crossbow as soon as both are dead, yet we will have to kill them almost simultaneously so Navid can act before the emissary gets word of it. Navid is confident Fazul's men will rather change sides than die.

We have located Gharezi, but Navid urged us not to murder him as he is - Rocorad pulled out a piece of paper and read aloud - the great-grandson of the daughter of the brother-in-law of the stepmother of the second husband of the woman who once lived next door to one of Navid's paternal aunts and, what seemed more important to him, Gharezi is doing most of the fighting against the slavers, a task which Navid happily leaves to him.

Our men in the catacombs have not achieved much so far, as they had to avoid large groups of red brothers and slavers patroling down there. However, Navid said that Gharezi's men know the catacombs of district 13 best...

Varys smiled. This could get interesting soon.

Thank you for your work, Rocorad. You may leave.

Rocorad bowed, then left.

I must think this over, Varys thought. He turned over in his bed, and went to sleep.

That night he dreamed of darkness, abominations, and devils. The usual routine.


In the morn, Varys decided that now would be the time to act. He called for Rocorad.

"Send word to Navid we will help him accomplish his goal, as long as he does not oppose us. Tell him we will send 8 knights to the Moon and Crossbow. They will have poisoned daggers and hidden weapons. Send a squire to get Fazul liquored up. Get him drunk, or at least try. Tell them to strike whenever the chance of success is high. I believe Shirwaz is close, or next to Fazul in this instance. Kill them both. A simple cut with one of the daggers will do the work. Just brush by them, acting drunk, and cut them while you lean on them, or do as the situation allows. Before they do this, however, they will signal the squire to go tell Navid about their plan. Navid will arrive and the Moon and Crossbow, but we will have killed them both before this, and would have fled the scene.

As for Gharezi, send the two remaining knights to assassinate a slaver, or a few. Bring their heads to him, and tell him we are willing to help them eradicate this Slaver infestation, if they are willing to give us a map of the catacombs, or help us navigate it.

Finally, send 8 squires to continue with the restoration of District 13. Keep two here, so that they can guard me in the final day of my recuperation."

Rocorad bent his head, and said, "As you wish.", and he left the room.

It is now or never. I hope I secured the future, Varys thought. I only hope Erida Occisor will keep my men safe in this endeavor."

In the back of his head, he could hear the whispers begin. He banished them from his mind for the moment, as he had to begin reading a book called Culture of War, by Moon Zut.

As dawn broke, Rocorad returned. Unlike Varys, who had as good as fully recovered, Rocorad seemed fatigued, the long night having left clear signs of exhaustion on his face, though he tried to hide this.

There are good as well as bad news, Ser, though I am glad to say that the good outweigh the bad ones. Fazul was easily found, drinking in his tavern and already half drunk when our men arrived. Yet they could not locate Shirwaz and in the end had to act lest they wanted to waste the night with drinking diluted beer and waiting. When a squire finally brought word that Navid had lain in wait for some time and was already getting nervous, they killed Fazul. Shirwaz however seems to have been observing the tavern from a secret room with some of his guardsmen to ensure the safety of his brother. They used to do this in turns every night, as we found out later. Perhaps we could have found out about that if we...

His voice trailed of as his eyes met Varys' glance. He pulled himself together and went on:

Anyway, Shirwaz and five guardsmen rushed into the taproom taking our men by surprise and it grieves me that I have to report the death of two knights. They were hit by well placed crossbow bolts and fell dead immediately. The remaining knights however managed to kill Shirwaz and the guards and then fled the tavern through the backdoor, taking our dead with them. As I understand Navid entered the tavern through the front door the very moment our men stepped out of the back door. Pretending to want to defend the tavern against the ominous assailants he quickly won over the remaining red brothers and sends his thanks as well as his condolences for our dead.

He paused to take breath and then continued:

Gharezi was well pleased by the slaver heads we offered him. He also seems to have received a recommendation from Navid Khalerash regarding our services. He would like to meet you in the back room of the Bankrupt Trader the next evening.

Varys clenched his teeth. Those were valuable knights, and they were part of the corrupt circle as well.

"Rocorad, what did you mean by you could have found out about Shirwaz? Please explain."

"After you finish explaining, call the remainder of the knights here, and take a long, well deserved rest. You have served me well these past days, and I will see to it that you are amply rewarded when we return to the chapter-house."

Well, Ser - Rocorad seemed uneasy with uttering criticism towards a superior - you sent us to the tavern without further preparations, just saying you expected Shirwaz to be nearby, too. Please forgive my boldness, Ser, but we are knights, not assassins. We know how to kill but are relatively unfamiliar with the framework necessary for an assassination. Yet, as you have a certain ... reputation of being well acquainted with such methods we thought you had thought it all through. I.. I am not saying it is your fault that these knights have died, it was the guardsmen who shot them, only... perhaps you should invest more time in the preparations and information gathering next time we attempt to ... dispose of someone.

Having finished his talk Rocorad looked more miserable than ever.

Varys sighed.

"No, you are correct. It is my fault these Knights have died, and I am sorry for my lack of preparations. I was frustrated with being bedridden for so long, and I was growing impatient. I am sorry. You do not look happy, Rocorad. If you ever feel the need to ask me or tell me something, feel free to do so. I hereby raise you to the second in command in this mission, and you are free to remind me of anything you think I have missed."

Varys now frowned, and told Rocorad "I'll take with me 5 Knights and 5 squires. We will meet with Gharezi tomorrow, but tell my men to wear some armor underneath their robes, no matter how uncomfortable it is. I would rather them stay alive. Keep the two dead knights still right now, tell the squires to soak them salt water to preserve their bodies. I shall carry out the rites of burial if I return from this mission."

(OOC: Am I correct in thinking the salt water will preserve them? Correct me if I am wrong, please.))