"They called me mad for defying the fate set by false gods. But I will rise against the odds."
---------------
"There have been attempts. On the king's life. Failed ones, but they're getting closer." The wanderer Said.
"And you care because .?"
The wanderer's chains clinked as he shifted position.
"Because I may have broken my oath, but I'm no kinslayer. And because whoever's behind this won't stop with the king."
Tarkun grabbed his hair again, forcing their eyes to meet.
"What does this have to do with Baelur town?"
For a moment, the wanderer said nothing. Then pain and exhaustion seemed to break through his defenses.
"They're coming here. The ones behind the attempts. They need someone someone desperate enough, angry enough to do what needs to be done."
"Someone like who?"
The wanderer's smile was all blood and knowing cruelty.
"Look around you, you stupid bastard. A town at war with itself. Two families ready to tear each other apart. Perfect breeding ground for the kind of hatred they can use."
Tarkun felt ice form in his gut. "You're saying someone in Baelur—"
"I'm saying someone in Baelur will be chosen. Shaped. Turned into a weapon
aimed at the king's heart." The wanderer's voice dropped to a whisper.
"And I'm going to find them first."
"Find them and do what?"
"Kill them. Before they can be used."
The simple brutality of it hit Tarkun like a physical blow. This man this
oathbreaker was planning to murder someone in his town. Someone who
might not even know what they were destined for.
"And if I'm wrong about who it is?" the wanderer continued, reading Tarkun's
expression.
"If I kill an innocent? Well, better one innocent death than a kingdom in chaos."
Tarkun stepped back, his mind reeling.
"You're insane."
"Am I? Tell me, fat man who in this town hates enough to kill a king? Who's
desperate enough to make a deal with powers they don't understand?"
Before Tarkun could answer, the wanderer's eyes fixed on him with predatory
intensity.
"Could it be you?"
Rage exploded through Tarkun's vision. His fists flew in a savage flurry,
pounding flesh and bone until his knuckles split and bled. The wanderer took
every blow in silence, his eyes never leaving Tarkun's face, never losing that
terrible knowing gleam.
"You'll talk when I break every bone in your body!" Tarkun roared, his voice
echoing off the stone walls.
The wanderer spat blood and looked up at him with that maddening smile.
"Tell me, Tarkun . how much are you paying the Enki demons?"
Tarkun's fist froze mid-swing. "What did you say?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The deal you made to get an edge
over the Dabru. The price you're paying every ten days.
" The wanderer's bloody smile widened. "But here's the funny part what makes you think they haven't made the same deal?"
"You're lying," Tarkun snarled, but something cold twisted in his gut.
"Am I? The stench clings to everything here. To the stones, to the air .
The wanderer's eyes fixed on him.
"To you."
"Nobody in Baelur would be stupid enough to—"
"Wouldn't they? Desperate times, desperate measures. And the Enki are very
good at making their offers sound reasonable."
Before Tarkun could respond, a heavy knock echoed through the dungeon. The
thick wooden door shuddered in its frame as someone pounded on it from outside.
"What do you want?" Tarkun bellowed, not taking his eyes off his prisoner.
"My lord," came a muffled voice through the door.
"I apologize for the interruption, but Arzash is here. He says he needs to speak with you urgently."
Tarkun's scarred face twisted with frustration. Of all the times for that scheming
Dabru bastard to come calling, it had to be now, when he was finally getting
answers. He turned back to the wanderer and spat at his feet.
"I'll get back to you, traitor. Rest while you can. when I return, we'll see how much more you're willing to tell me."
The wanderer raised his head one last time, blood streaming down his face like
war paint. His smile was a crimson slash in the dungeon's gloom.
"I'll be here,"
he said. "Waiting."