Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 14: Grinding Negotiations

They were led to a mill of all places, a tiny two story shack of rotten wood and molding stone set between two rolling hills on the outskirts of town. Two burly looking women were pushing a wheel stone in the middle when they entered, flour pouring into the outstretched trough.

"He'll see you down there," one of the rebels said, voice raised over the din of grinding stone. He jabbed a finger towards the basement steps. "I'll stay here. Make sure we weren't followed."

"Delightful," Libro murmured, knowing full well the trap he was walking into. Given the loud, droning noise. The dark, dank cellar. Perfect place to murder a couple of outsiders and dump their corpses in the sea. He looked at Elba for guidance, but she merely shrugged, not knowing what else to do either. Stick with the plan and see just how deep in the shit they could get, he reckoned.

Rickety wooden steps creaked under foot as they stepped down, the claustrophobic pit below barely high enough to keep your head from knocking. A scarred table sat in the center surrounded by heaping sacks of flour, two chairs facing each other, one of them occupied.

Shayn Mordenson was a grizzled looking strip of meat. He sat tall and sinewy in his chair, arms crossed to reveal ropes of well labored muscles. His face was a dagger of suspicion aimed straight at Libro, eyes narrowed, a deep frown carved in his iron gray whiskers.

"You the Imperial agents I'm expecting?" he asked, his voice low and slow like rolling thunder.

"I am," Libro said, waving down for the others. "We are."

"Good." Shayn smiled as he lifted up one hand and clicked his fingers. Three bowmen slid out from the sacks of flour, arrows knocked tight aiming straight at them.

"Let's start by relieving you of your sharp assets and then we'll talk," Shayn said, smiling through yellow teeth. "An armed society is a polite society, but we are not polite society now are we, my little tin soldiers?"

"Touch my ax and I'll break you in two," Cent snarled.

"You'll be dead before you take a single step," one of the bowmen hissed back, a woman barely twenty with high cheekbones and a rakishly sharp chin.

"You think a single arrow will stop me, girl?"

"It will when I plant it right between your eyes!"

"Enough, Tergrid," Shayn said, eyes sliding towards her. "There's no need for threats. Not when the balance of power is so clearly understood." He turned his attention back to Libro. "My good man I must apologize for the words of my subordinate, but would you kindly tell your own to stand down and relinquish his weapons? I promise to give them back after we've had ourselves a chat."

"Cent, lose the ax," Libro commanded. "Moss, kill them with your bare hands if you have too."

"Aye," Moss said as he tossed his ax on the ground.

"Farking shite," Cent muttered as he threw his own weapon aside. One by one a small pile grew from their turned over weapons, Brands metal staff clattering last.

The rebel known as Tergrid smirked at the twisted pole of metal. "Not much of a weapon, 'lest your planning to poke someone's eye out with it." She turned her nose up, eyeing Brand with a look that dared him to answer back.

And sadly, the boy took the bait all too easy. "You'd be surprised what a piece of metal can do to a man," he growled, voice cracking ever so slightly as puberty reared its ugly head. Hard to believe the boy was still two years short of twenty, right until he opened his big mouth, Nido bless him.

"Tergrid," Shayn warned her.

"Cinnis," Libro snapped back.

Both rebel and Wizard went rigid at being addressed, the boy's ears quickly glowing red, the girl's neck flushing even brighter.