Post by dornishprince on Mar 21, 2008 11:32:14 GMT -5
Elijah was enjoying yet another day of laying low in the Spoiled Serpent, waiting patiently for the arrival of his sister Tristeza Martell. However, today would be different. As he sat about the crowded common room, a man bustled in and promptly strode up to the bar.
"Wyl has been arrested," he announced in a booming voice, "for embezzling funds from the Dornish treasury. A quiet rapidly descended upon the room but just as quickly, the murmurring began again.
"Who rules in his place?" an old man aked.
"What did he do with the money?" asked a shifty looking fellow in the garb of a free cities citizen.
"Where is Tristeza?" Elijah asked himself silently, and with that his mind was made up. He quickly drained the last of his Dornish Red, pushed his plate away, put a few coins on the table for his serving girl and swiftly stood. This issue would likely demand his time for the majority of the day. If there existed something that the young man excelled in, it was finding out the answers to questions.
The day was already sweltering as he walked to the Dornish jail where Wyl would most likely be held. Elijah had walked this path many times in the past and he began forming the questions he would ask and plotting the methods he would use to assure that he would receive honest answers. As he did so, a thought occurred to him. He hadn't changed his clothes and they were among his finest. "Damn," he swore silently to himself, "I hope things don't require and undo amount of persuasion."
He entered the jail to find the familiar face of Arnaz Sand the cheif jailer. "Good day, Arnaz," he said offering his hand, "I'm here to speak to Andrew Wyl."
The rotund man took Elijah's hand and shook it firmly, "Will you be needing your tools?"
Elijah took another exasperated look at his attire and sighed deeply. "Yes, I think so but I hope fervently that I'll have no need of them."
Arnaz retreated to another room behind the main desk and returned with a fine black leather covered box about the size of a large saddlebag. As he sat it down on the counter he called out to a guard, "Gerold, please escort this man to Andrew Wyl's cell and take them both to the interrogation chamber."
The man nodded his assent, pulled out his keys and led Elijah through a heavy iron door and into the cell area of the jail. He stopped at the third cell on the left hand of the hallway, unlocked the cell and slid the door open. The door squeeled in protest with the sound of metal grating against metal. Elijah had always hated that sound. "Andrew Wyl, follow me if you please."
Hope was in the eyes of the disshevled man until his gaze passed to Elijah and the bag that he carried. His countenance fell at that. "Good," Elijah thought, keeping his face a frozen mask, "He knows exactly why I'm here."
They made there way to the end of the dank cells and to another iron door. Once again, the guard took out his keys and opened the door. The room smelled of sweat and blood with a small table and two chairs situated in the middle of the room. The guard placed shackles on the prisoner and seated him in the chair that faced the door. Although Elijah recognized the necessity of this room and the activities that took place within, it always made him a tad uneasy. Necessities are often vile in nature.
"If you'd be so kind, Gerold, please wait outside. I'll give two quick knocks when I'm finished with our little talk," the guard nodded and the door closing echoed ominously at his departure. He let his gaze settle on Andrew Wyl for many long moments to observe his countenance and posture. A small measure of anger, or better yet defiance, had settled over his features.
Elijah placed his box of tools on the table, pulled out a chair and sat. "Andrew Wyl, I don't think we've ever met. I'm Elijah Martell and I'm here to ask you a few questions." He noticed that the man's face fell a bit. "Excellent. He knows who I am," he thought to himself.
"Where's the money, Andrew?" the prisoner considered his response for a moment.
"I spent all of it, sir," he replied.
Elijah studied his face closely, "Every bit of it. Spent on whores?"
"Yes, sir," Andrew's eye twitched.
Swift as a viper, Elijah's fist shot out and connected right in the center of Wyl's face. Blood exploded from his broken nose. "I don't think that's true Andrew and neither do you. Eyes wide, blood pouring down his face, the prisoner sat quiet, in obvious pain.
"I'm going to ask you again, sir. Where is the money? If you answer falsely this time, I'm going to open this box. I'm sure that you know it's contents. Andrew's eyes grew wider. He was having problems breathing because of the blood and his obstructed nose.
"I swear!!! I spent it all!!," he screamed, shrinking back into his chair.
Elijah sighed and reached over to open his box, extracting from it a some pliers. They were shiny and looked razor sharp. He walked over to the door and knocked twice sharply. He stood aside as Gerold reentered, closed the door behind and said, "Are we done, sir?"
"I'm afraid not," Elijah said, turning back to face the bloody features of the prisoner, "I'm going to need you to take the rope from the second drawer of my box, secure our good man here and hold one of his hands firmly to the table. That is if you have the stomach for it."
"Absolultely, sir. I've no qualms at all," he said as he walked over to the box.
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!!!" the prisoner howled, "I'LL TALK!!"
Gerold remained where he was standing while Elijah sat back down, "Well then, the money?" he asked.
"It's in my chambers at the tower. There is a strongbox in a small compartment under my bed; no lock, you can just pry it open with a dagger," he quivered, looking wildly around the room.
"And you expect me to believe that you keep all your eggs in one basket?" Elijah turned to Gerold, "Secure him, if you would."
"I SWEAR IT'S THE TRUTH!!!!PLEASE I BEG YOU," the man began to cry. Elijah was sure at this point. Andrew Wyl was telling the truth. He stood, beckoned Gerold and the two left the room.
"Send guards to the tower, retrieve the strong box and bring it to me at the Spoiled Serpent. Tell no one," with that, they strode purposely to the other end of the hall and left the cell area. He thanked Arnaz and left to make his way back to the inn.
"Excellent," thought the man as he walked down the street, "I didn't ruin my garb. As he looked down at himself, however; he noticed a spray of blood all across the front of his tunic from the blow to Andrew's face.
"Damnit," he swore.
"Wyl has been arrested," he announced in a booming voice, "for embezzling funds from the Dornish treasury. A quiet rapidly descended upon the room but just as quickly, the murmurring began again.
"Who rules in his place?" an old man aked.
"What did he do with the money?" asked a shifty looking fellow in the garb of a free cities citizen.
"Where is Tristeza?" Elijah asked himself silently, and with that his mind was made up. He quickly drained the last of his Dornish Red, pushed his plate away, put a few coins on the table for his serving girl and swiftly stood. This issue would likely demand his time for the majority of the day. If there existed something that the young man excelled in, it was finding out the answers to questions.
The day was already sweltering as he walked to the Dornish jail where Wyl would most likely be held. Elijah had walked this path many times in the past and he began forming the questions he would ask and plotting the methods he would use to assure that he would receive honest answers. As he did so, a thought occurred to him. He hadn't changed his clothes and they were among his finest. "Damn," he swore silently to himself, "I hope things don't require and undo amount of persuasion."
He entered the jail to find the familiar face of Arnaz Sand the cheif jailer. "Good day, Arnaz," he said offering his hand, "I'm here to speak to Andrew Wyl."
The rotund man took Elijah's hand and shook it firmly, "Will you be needing your tools?"
Elijah took another exasperated look at his attire and sighed deeply. "Yes, I think so but I hope fervently that I'll have no need of them."
Arnaz retreated to another room behind the main desk and returned with a fine black leather covered box about the size of a large saddlebag. As he sat it down on the counter he called out to a guard, "Gerold, please escort this man to Andrew Wyl's cell and take them both to the interrogation chamber."
The man nodded his assent, pulled out his keys and led Elijah through a heavy iron door and into the cell area of the jail. He stopped at the third cell on the left hand of the hallway, unlocked the cell and slid the door open. The door squeeled in protest with the sound of metal grating against metal. Elijah had always hated that sound. "Andrew Wyl, follow me if you please."
Hope was in the eyes of the disshevled man until his gaze passed to Elijah and the bag that he carried. His countenance fell at that. "Good," Elijah thought, keeping his face a frozen mask, "He knows exactly why I'm here."
They made there way to the end of the dank cells and to another iron door. Once again, the guard took out his keys and opened the door. The room smelled of sweat and blood with a small table and two chairs situated in the middle of the room. The guard placed shackles on the prisoner and seated him in the chair that faced the door. Although Elijah recognized the necessity of this room and the activities that took place within, it always made him a tad uneasy. Necessities are often vile in nature.
"If you'd be so kind, Gerold, please wait outside. I'll give two quick knocks when I'm finished with our little talk," the guard nodded and the door closing echoed ominously at his departure. He let his gaze settle on Andrew Wyl for many long moments to observe his countenance and posture. A small measure of anger, or better yet defiance, had settled over his features.
Elijah placed his box of tools on the table, pulled out a chair and sat. "Andrew Wyl, I don't think we've ever met. I'm Elijah Martell and I'm here to ask you a few questions." He noticed that the man's face fell a bit. "Excellent. He knows who I am," he thought to himself.
"Where's the money, Andrew?" the prisoner considered his response for a moment.
"I spent all of it, sir," he replied.
Elijah studied his face closely, "Every bit of it. Spent on whores?"
"Yes, sir," Andrew's eye twitched.
Swift as a viper, Elijah's fist shot out and connected right in the center of Wyl's face. Blood exploded from his broken nose. "I don't think that's true Andrew and neither do you. Eyes wide, blood pouring down his face, the prisoner sat quiet, in obvious pain.
"I'm going to ask you again, sir. Where is the money? If you answer falsely this time, I'm going to open this box. I'm sure that you know it's contents. Andrew's eyes grew wider. He was having problems breathing because of the blood and his obstructed nose.
"I swear!!! I spent it all!!," he screamed, shrinking back into his chair.
Elijah sighed and reached over to open his box, extracting from it a some pliers. They were shiny and looked razor sharp. He walked over to the door and knocked twice sharply. He stood aside as Gerold reentered, closed the door behind and said, "Are we done, sir?"
"I'm afraid not," Elijah said, turning back to face the bloody features of the prisoner, "I'm going to need you to take the rope from the second drawer of my box, secure our good man here and hold one of his hands firmly to the table. That is if you have the stomach for it."
"Absolultely, sir. I've no qualms at all," he said as he walked over to the box.
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!!!" the prisoner howled, "I'LL TALK!!"
Gerold remained where he was standing while Elijah sat back down, "Well then, the money?" he asked.
"It's in my chambers at the tower. There is a strongbox in a small compartment under my bed; no lock, you can just pry it open with a dagger," he quivered, looking wildly around the room.
"And you expect me to believe that you keep all your eggs in one basket?" Elijah turned to Gerold, "Secure him, if you would."
"I SWEAR IT'S THE TRUTH!!!!PLEASE I BEG YOU," the man began to cry. Elijah was sure at this point. Andrew Wyl was telling the truth. He stood, beckoned Gerold and the two left the room.
"Send guards to the tower, retrieve the strong box and bring it to me at the Spoiled Serpent. Tell no one," with that, they strode purposely to the other end of the hall and left the cell area. He thanked Arnaz and left to make his way back to the inn.
"Excellent," thought the man as he walked down the street, "I didn't ruin my garb. As he looked down at himself, however; he noticed a spray of blood all across the front of his tunic from the blow to Andrew's face.
"Damnit," he swore.
Hope you all are well and happy.