?While we were cataloguing the contents of Frost Manor, my Lady, we came across a very interesting sealed vault in one of the sub levels.? Fargrin, the high elf banker and solicitor, steepled his fingertips and looked at Alysia with watery blue eyes.
Interesting. Oh, I bet you did, though Alysia. She knew of hundreds of interesting secrets concealed by the walls of Frost Manor, and did not doubt that there were hundreds more hidden that she?d never suspected. Genetic research, recorded memories siphoned from the minds of Rhydin?s influential citizens, stockpiles of exotic weapons, experiments mingling a dangerous blend of technology and sorcery. All of it interesting ? and potentially very lucrative, in the right hands.
Fargrin cleared his throat and continued his recitation. ?It took four psi-mages to open it. The wards killed all but the last one, who was rendered a drooling imbecile by some sort of blast when the locks finally released. And then some sort of Hellspawned guardian-on-the-threshold thing escaped. It, ah, ate most of the hired researchers and security personnel. Tragic loss of life. . . just tragic. ?
?Don?t try and evoke some sort of pity in me, Fargrin.? Alysia sighed. ?The contract required your team to contact me before they attempted to breach any sealed doors ? to prevent just such a dreadful occurrence. I wonder why they chose not to do so.?
Fargrin gaped at the silver-haired woman?s implications, then drew breath to protest. He leaned forward earnestly, rested his hands palm down upon his desk. ?Lady Skye, I assure you, they were the best to be-?
?Shut up, Fargrin.? She held up her hand, elfin features set in a chiding scowl. ?Technically, your mercenaries violated their contract, and while they may have been very skilled, I do not doubt they planned on pocketing some of my ?uncatalogued? goods to boost their profit. It is not tragic that they died for their own greed and incompetence. Not at all.?
The banker stared at Alysia for a while, then bowed his head and nodded. ?I concede, my Lady. Such is a problem with so many mercenaries. Even, even the best may be tempted.? In a basket near his feet, a small, gray, rumpled-looking dog grunted and got to its feet, turned around twice, then plopped back down.
?Trust is a more precious commodity than coin to me. I trust you, but I may not trust those you may retain in my name. When work continues, you will use the team I select, or I will find another to represent my interests.?
?Your wish, Lady Skye, is my command. There will be no need for that.? Fargrin took a breath to compose himself. His pale face looked pink in the reflection of the red wall hangings. ?The endeavor was not a complete loss. One of the researchers returned with some very curious artifacts - jewelry, a few unusual weapons. The bulk are being delivered to Dark Lake Manor - but there was a small trinket I thought might catch your eye. ?
Interesting. Oh, I bet you did, though Alysia. She knew of hundreds of interesting secrets concealed by the walls of Frost Manor, and did not doubt that there were hundreds more hidden that she?d never suspected. Genetic research, recorded memories siphoned from the minds of Rhydin?s influential citizens, stockpiles of exotic weapons, experiments mingling a dangerous blend of technology and sorcery. All of it interesting ? and potentially very lucrative, in the right hands.
Fargrin cleared his throat and continued his recitation. ?It took four psi-mages to open it. The wards killed all but the last one, who was rendered a drooling imbecile by some sort of blast when the locks finally released. And then some sort of Hellspawned guardian-on-the-threshold thing escaped. It, ah, ate most of the hired researchers and security personnel. Tragic loss of life. . . just tragic. ?
?Don?t try and evoke some sort of pity in me, Fargrin.? Alysia sighed. ?The contract required your team to contact me before they attempted to breach any sealed doors ? to prevent just such a dreadful occurrence. I wonder why they chose not to do so.?
Fargrin gaped at the silver-haired woman?s implications, then drew breath to protest. He leaned forward earnestly, rested his hands palm down upon his desk. ?Lady Skye, I assure you, they were the best to be-?
?Shut up, Fargrin.? She held up her hand, elfin features set in a chiding scowl. ?Technically, your mercenaries violated their contract, and while they may have been very skilled, I do not doubt they planned on pocketing some of my ?uncatalogued? goods to boost their profit. It is not tragic that they died for their own greed and incompetence. Not at all.?
The banker stared at Alysia for a while, then bowed his head and nodded. ?I concede, my Lady. Such is a problem with so many mercenaries. Even, even the best may be tempted.? In a basket near his feet, a small, gray, rumpled-looking dog grunted and got to its feet, turned around twice, then plopped back down.
?Trust is a more precious commodity than coin to me. I trust you, but I may not trust those you may retain in my name. When work continues, you will use the team I select, or I will find another to represent my interests.?
?Your wish, Lady Skye, is my command. There will be no need for that.? Fargrin took a breath to compose himself. His pale face looked pink in the reflection of the red wall hangings. ?The endeavor was not a complete loss. One of the researchers returned with some very curious artifacts - jewelry, a few unusual weapons. The bulk are being delivered to Dark Lake Manor - but there was a small trinket I thought might catch your eye. ?