Grimthorn stood a moment in stunned silence. The Red Duke had sent an adolescent
child to take care of the situation? Yes, the child was effective, but in small scale not in situations of global importance. Brightpoint and the lady MacKenzie were too good at their roles, to smart to be so lightly glossed over by a teenager. Because Grimthorn respected them, and even had grown to
like them,
he should be the one to deal with them. No, this situation required tact, a quality the child lacked in supply.
She was sent to do what
he could not? Oh, no. This was one minor indigity too far. This was it. He'd had enough.
"Barkeep!" he roared.
"Paper and ink, if you please." The bartender looked at Grimthorn dubiously before going into the back room and came out with a scrap of parchment that would have to do and watery ink. He cited a price and Grimthorn paid it. He withdrew a pen and sealing wax from his pouch. Being noble born, he always carried such useful trinkets. He sat at the bar and penned his resignation.
Your Grace,
It is with great regret that I must needs tender you my resignation. The business that you requested was in order and proceeding apace. The promotion of the adolescent child into my domain was, at best, premature, and, at worst, woefully incompetent. I cannot remain in the service of one who would replace me without so much as a word of dismissal.
Therefore, I am mindful to seek other opportunities. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Should you determine the child is more trouble than she is worth, you may contact me through the usual means.
Yours, no longer in service,
RG
Folding the letter in thirds, he swiped a nearby candle to drip sealing wax upon the exposed end of the letter. When the wax was all but cooled, he removed his signet ring and emblazened his seal upon the wax. He got up from his seat, turning as he did so.
"Is anyone present going to Glasgow?"
"Yessir! I am!" piped up a pipsqueak against the far wall.
Grimthorn went to him and held the letter up.
"Get this item to Glasgow and I shall give you 15 pounds." The pipsqueak nodded his head enthusiastically.
"Give it to Mr. Grey at Shawney's Tavern. When does your ship leave?"
"Half an hour, sir!"
"See that you are aboard it," said Grimthorn and handed him the letter and a small pouch of coin. The pipsqueak left the tavern at a run and headed for the port with a speed that pleased Grimthorn. He suddenly felt as if a weight were lifted from his shoulders.
Then, a sinking feeling hit his gut as he realized there was more to think of than his resignation. There were the assassins he had set upon the lady MacKenzie and Brightpoint. Damn. It would do no good to switch sides if he suddenly had no side to switch to. He would have to hope Barkley had been daft enough not to set their plans in motion. He would have to see to Barkley.
Grimthorn left the Town Hall Tavern and, moments later, entered the tavern Barkley frequented and saw the insufficient idiot still sitting at the card table. The moron stood when he saw Grimthorn enter.
"Grim! You'll be pleased to know all is done as you requested! I got your message and I've sent five men out to the lake. Took a bit to re-establish my connections some, but I've done it! I trust you're well pleased?"
Grimthorn sighed. His shoulders visibly sagged.
"Ecstatic." The deal completed, technically required payment. Grimthorn's business sense nagged at him to pay Barkley.
"You'll be paid if they succeed," said Grimthorn as he turned. He had to get to the lakeside. Brightpoint and the lady MacKenzie were in danger and he needed to ensure that the assassins failed. For one, he wouldn't have to pay Barkley - and that was good business. And two, he could help the attaches to disolve his former employer's enterprise ... but only if they lived. Five men were, perhaps, more than the attaches could handle. They would undoubtedly need his help.
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