An Axe in the Flames

Friend or Foe

The early morning wind blew steady through the open window in Nail's quarters, flurries finding their way through the wrought iron bars and gently falling onto the bare wooden floor. Nail's quarters were as simple as could be for a man of his station, a wooden writing desk in one corner alongside a wooden wardrobe and simple wooden bed. He didn't have a need for material things, he simply wanted to live his life right and justly. Being the leader of the Brothers of the Shadow had provided that but lately, things just weren't adding up. The world felt odd to him, like he was an urchin boy looking through the window of a butcher's shop. There was the treachery of a Brother and also the treachery of Lucan, paired with Minnow, things just weren't adding up. Why was all of this happening at once?

He had woken up early today but sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating what he was to accomplish at the Emerald Castle, and wondering if he could go unseen by the Thanish forces that were probably already marching on the castle. He knew he was a bad ass in all senses of the term, but he also knew he was just one man and could in no way take on an entire army. He just felt pulled there, like there was something that was leading him there. That wasn't quite right though, it felt more like a persistent need to be there, like a desire to protect. He watched the flakes fall from the window to the floor and melt into small puddles and took a deep breath. Standing up, he straightened his pants and cracked his neck, it was cold outside and even though he never wore a shirt thanks to his unruly chest and back hair, maybe he would bring a jacket.

He opened the wardrobe and grabbed his only jacket, a black wolf's hide coat, it was lined with fur of a brilliant white and had hidden pockets for all of his knives. You could never have too many knives, and that was a great saying to live by. He slid it on and adjusted the sleeves, uncomfortable from the covering of his normally uncovered chest. As he crossed the room to leave he had a sudden pang in his gut. Like something was amiss, it dug deep into his midsection and twisted at his stomach. His first thought was that it was from the uncertainty he was about to ride into, but then something tugged at his mind and he knew he needed to check on Brother Poe. His living quarters were secluded, but the feeling was strong.

Hurriedly, he crossed the small obsidian stone castle and entered the tower where Poe lived, his mind raced at the possibilities. Could he be in trouble or dying? He closed the wooden tower door with little regard as it banged on its hinges, the noise echoing through the silent chamber of the stairwell. Nail bounded the steps in pairs, the wooden planks groaning their resistance to being used so early on a cold morning. As he reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs to Brother Poe's room he stopped. There was blood on the staircase, and not very old blood. It had been spilled recently and hadn't yet fully soaked into the aging wood floor. Slowly he ascended the steps, looking down at each pool of dark blood that had dripped from the previous step. Would he find Brother Poe already bled out and ashen from the loss of so much blood? He prepared himself for that moment as he only kept his eyes on each step and refused to look further.

As he reached the last step he could see a body, but he refused to fully see it. If he was going to find his Master of Coin murdered, he needed to prepare himself for it. To steel his nerves and resolve because that would mean a fellow Brother was the killer, most likely. He began his eye's investigation, the first body part he noticed was a hand. Curled into a fist and much too big to be Poe's. He abandoned his silly game and looked fully at the body crumpled at the top of the steps. It was Y'hrue. The Brother that had come from the Isles, the one who always seemed to be in such high spirits and now the Brother that was murdered just outside of Poe's bed chambers. Would he find Poe in a heap as well? Surely Poe hadn't killed Y'hrue, he was easily double the size of the frail Master of Coins.

Nail squatted down and inspected the gaping neck wound that was obviously the killing blow. A clean slice into the jugular and a quick flick outwards, fast and over quick. That was a mercy at least for the big man, he didn't suffer with a drawn out wound and eventually die, he died within a minute. Footsteps led from the drying pool of blood around Y'hrue to Poe's door. Was this the killer's print, or was this Poe's silent feet walking back to his room. They were evenly spaced and no skids appeared, so he wasn't injured or in any hurry to leave the fight...shit...this was confusing! Nail straightened his jacket as he stood up, blasted thing just felt weird to him, he would never grow used to wearing a shirt or a jacket. A quick inspection of the door showed no signs of forced entry, or really anything, there wasn't even a single blood drop here.