Baron Sucro sat behind his desk as Robert walked the [Hunter} and his brat out of the office and managed not to scream. In fact, anybody who didn’t know the newly anointed baron would believe that he was perfectly calm and happy with the deal he had just struck with the [Hunter].

The baron was completely relaxed, no signs of tension or anger remained on his face. The florid cheeks were no longer quite as flushed as when he was negotiating, and his hands were flat on his desk. With a mighty grunt, the baron pushed back his chair and waddled over to the cabinet that contained a variety of alcoholic beverages. While Baron Sucro did not generally imbibe in strong drink, he felt that now was an appropriate time to make an exception and filled a small glass with dwarvish whiskey.

He took a small sip and enjoyed the burning sensation as it worked its way down his gullet. It only took a few moments before the tell-tale warmth began to spread out from his core. He tried to focus on the flavor of the whiskey in his mouth and forget about how that peasant had spoken to him, but the [Hunter]’s tanned face and dismissive tone began to run through his head again and again.

A few minutes after leaving, Robert returned to stand quietly to the side of the door inside the office, but he didn’t say anything. He had not been with the baron long but had an accurate picture of just what the baron’s mood was. Being recently elevated to the nobility, the baron was very much aware of any slight to his honor and the [Hunter] had not shown the slightest bit of face to the new baron.

The baron took one more sip and suddenly threw the glass of whiskey at the door. It narrowly missed Robert’s head before striking the frame and shattering into hundreds of pieces and splashing whiskey all over the carpet, floor, and manservant.

“How dare he! How DARE he!” exclaimed the baron.

“He came into my home and dared to treat me as if I was some low life merchant haggling over the price of bread!” he continued while he began to pace. “I am a baron! I am not some two-bit merchant. I have the authority of the crown, I have earned this position through years of planning and work. I deserve to be treated with the respect I am due! What gives him the right speak to me like we are equals?! No, like he’s better than me.

“I swear..,” said the Baron. “that he will pay dearly for his lack of respect. Once he has served his purpose, I will destroy him. He thinks he can force my hand because of some stupid regulation about the levy. He thinks he can take my son’s place at the Royal Academy? What gives him the temerity to think that his bastard deserves to set foot in any academy, let alone the Royal Academy?” he asked rhetorically.

Robert surreptitiously bent over and began to gather the fragments of the whiskey glass, expertly gathering them into a small handkerchief without slicing his fingers open on the sharp shards. He wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt the baron while he was like this.

“I want you…,” began the baron before taking a few calming breaths. “to find out everything you can about that fucking [Hunter] and his family. If he has enemies, I want to know who they are. If he has debts, buy them. Most importantly, I need to know how he isn’t my subject. I was told that all of the settled land near this piss poor excuse for a city would belong to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” replied Robert. He was just as angry as the baron about how the [Hunter] had spoken and acted while in the presence of the baron. The new baron may have been common born, but he was now a member of the peerage and was entitled to a certain level of respect. That the simple [Hunter] had dared to refuse the baron’s offer of employment and had spoken so crassly to the noble was an affront to all members of the nobility, not just the baron.

As the manservant cleaned, the enraged noble continued to fume about the treatment he received.

“As a matter of fact, go get me the tax clerk. I need to know why that morken eating [Hunter] wasn’t included in the rolls of my citizenry,” he said after a few more moments of heavy breathing.

“Yes, my lord,” replied Robert who tucked the shards of glass away in one of the pockets of his coat and stepped smartly out of the office door.

“And send Captain Smith to me!” yelled the baron to the retreating servant.

A faint, “Yes, my lord,” could be heard through the thick doors to the office.

The baron waited for fifteen minutes. His anger wasn’t abated, but he was more calm than previously. A new glass of whiskey sat on the desk in front of him and he took a sip as a hesitant knock sounded through his office.

“Enter!” he yelled.

“You..you asked to see my, my lord?” asked the small clerk that had directed Stan and Lucas to Mr. Crinshaw earlier that day.

“Yes. I wish to know who Stan Hunter is and how he was not included in the rolls of the citizenry for the barony,” said the baron. “My understanding was that there were no settled lands between the border and Norvos that weren’t within my writ.”

“That…”the small man swallowed. “that should be true, my lord. The village is the only populated area between Norvos and the border. The beast range marks your eastern border and the Atrondul River is your western border. I’m afraid we don’t know where Mr. Hunter lives, but we can find out. It’s…It’s possible that he has built a home somewhere in the kingdom without permission, trespassing or,” he cleared his throat again, “squatting, as it were, or he could have cleared a section of the beast range to live in.”

“How do I make him one of my subjects?”

“If he’s squatting on another noble’s lands, you could find the area where he’s living and inform the noble who’s land he is on. He will be evicted and maybe even fined for damage to the land,” replied the small clerk.

“That’s a good idea. I could offer to intervene on his behalf and prevent him from being fined or imprisoned. I could offer to let him rent a piece of land from me and once he became a citizen he would no longer be entitled to such a ridiculous…” the baron stopped for a moment and looked sharply at the small clerk.

“You said he could have cleared a section of the beast range?”

“Yes, my lord. Though it is unlikely,” said the clerk. “Once he clears the section, he has to inhabit it for a set amount of time before the system will recognize his authority. Then he would have to make a formal request to the kingdom to be included in the territory of the kingdom. We would have known if someone did that because it’s a separate file and extremely rare. There haven’t been any since the McCallister’s formally joined the kingdom almost one-hundred years ago. Plus, the people who do that generally claim an area larger than the barony and are traditionally granted the rank of Marquis. It takes a small army to prevent encroachment from the beast range, my lord.”

“In two days, I’m sending an enchanter to his property. I need you to send someone with the [Cartography] and [Survey] skills and have an accurate location of his property mapped,” said the baron.

“Yes, my lord,” said the clerk. “I’ll ensure that our best man is on it.”

“Good, you’re dismissed. Get back to me as soon as you know whose property he’s squatting on,” said the baron.

The small clerk bowed and fled from the room before the baron could find fault with something he had said or done. As he was exiting the office, Captain Smith was just reaching up to knock on the door with Robert behind and to his left. The small clerk adroitly dodged the large guard captain and scurried down the hall.

Captain Smith chuckled and stepped into the room. He quickly bowed and waited for the baron to acknowledge his presence. He stood at ease as the baron walked over to a cabinet and pulled an ornate key from inside his voluminous robes of office. The key lit up in Captain Smith’s sight and he knew that it would burn the hand of anybody who attempted to use it while the bound owner was still alive.

“Lock the door, Smith,” said the baron without even glancing over at the captain.

Captain Smith didn’t let his frustration at being ignored show on his face but instead stepped smartly over to the door and secured it while activating all three of his skills for detecting stealth and deception. Nothing lit up in his sight and he went back to standing ready and watching the baron. Captain smith knew what was coming after that order.

The baron inserted the overly large key into the cabinet on the wall and unlocked it, releasing the enchantment that held the metal reinforced cabinet together. A second tier sapper mage could probably get the cabinet open without the key, but he would thoroughly destroy anything inside. Smith knew that it was a loan from the viscount and that Baron Sucro would need to return it after he could commission his own safe. Inside the cabinet was a set of red velvet lined shelves. On it were several items of great worth, several thousand gold coins worth of gold cards, a small bag of uncut jewels, and one shelf devoted to expensive and rare alchemical potions.

Captain Jenkins had seen all of this before and his heart still thumped hard in his chest when he realized that the small vial, almost as long as his pinky finger, held an Elixir of Titan’s Strength. He could sell that and live off of the proceeds for years or ingest it and maybe quadruple his strength stat permanently. It was the least powerful and expensive of the twelve known true Elixirs but still out of the grasp of any but the most powerful and wealthy, and he hoped to find out one day how a newly ennobled baron had gotten his grubby hands on it.

Baron Sucro barely hesitated he turned the key around in his hands and held it backwards with the flared end towards the back of the cabinet and the teeth in his hand. He then inserted the key into a spot behind the top shelf where there was no hole and turned it ninety degrees to the right then back to the left. There was a click and a hiss and a small hidden compartment was revealed.

The baron reached in and withdrew a small brown artifact. It looked like a piece of beef jerky mounted to an overly large copper piece and was small enough to fit in the palm of the baron’s pudgy hands. That item alone was worth both of their lives if it were found in their possession by any of the holy orders or kingdom’s guilds. Made from the severed tongue from an [Oathbreaker] who disclosed a secret and was given a traitor’s burial, the artifact would prevent all forms of scrying or eavesdropping.

“Stop daydreaming, Smith, and get over here,” snapped the baron as he set the item on the desk and pulled out a small dagger. He quickly pricked his finger and allowed a drop of blood to fall on the tongue before wiping the dagger on his robes and presenting it to the guard captain hilt first.

Captain Smith did the same and handed the dagger back, waiting for the baron to initiate the conversation and explain why this particular artifact needed to be used.

“Do you know about the viscount’s advance team and his plans for the Norvos Merchant’s Guild?” asked Baron Sucro.

“No, sir. I wasn’t privy to any plan about an advance team. I am aware of the viscount’s plan to cut the Norvos Merchant Guild off from the supply of rare materials coming from the southern beast range,” replied Captain Smith.

“Hrmph…Well, the viscount sent a team of men down to intercept shipments to and from the village from the Norvos Merchant’s Guild. From what I understand, he was planning on having increasing 'bandit' attacks add pressure to the Norvos Merchant's Guild on top of the economic pressure that our restrictions were adding. He was going to have the crown ask him to intercede on its behalf and work to destroy them while they were paying him to do it.”

“So, what happened?” asked Smith.

“That fucking [Hunter] is what happened. He somehow took out an entire team of trained killers. Men picked especially for their service to the viscount over the years with decades of experience working behind enemy lines,” replied Baron Sucro. He was becoming worked up and spittle flew from his mouth as he talked about the [Hunter].

“The team only got one shipment and most of it was recovered by the locals,” said the baron.

“The [Hunter] didn’t strike me as being too powerful, I doubt he could take out one of the viscount’s griffin squads,” said Smith

“His what?”

“What you’re describing is one of the viscount’s special teams. He put the first one together thirty of forty years ago and led it himself. Name comes from the fact that they would fly over enemy lines on a griffin with a [Slowfall] spell. They’d jump off and live behind the lines assassinating critical targets and destroying supply lines, I’ve met a few of them over the years in the city and they are always a hassle to arrest. They never spend more than a night in jail.”

“I don’t care who they are or what kind of animal they are named after!” screamed the baron. “They can all go fuck a griffin for all I care. All I know is that I was tasked with interrupting the trade of the Norvos merchant guild and that [Hunter] has already interfered with the viscount’s plans once.”

“What I mean, my lord,” said Smith with obvious annoyance. “is that he probably had help that we don’t know about. That’s the only possible explanation. These aren’t just bandits, these are highly trained combatants.”

“Well, the [Hunter] is apparently second tier, and he’s probably high second tier because he has two max level class skills,” said the baron.

“That might explain it if he beat one of them, or two, but this would have had to be at least a four-man team. There’s no way even a second tier hunter beats all four griffins in a straight up fight.”

“Well then you now have two tasks. First, begin to lay plans to incarcerate the [Hunter]. I want him brought up on charges that will have him sent to a dungeon as fodder and have his family placed in slave collars. We are already working on getting him placed under my authority. Once he is, he will begin training my hunters. He has two to three years to complete the task. I want you to be ready in one and a half years to present a perfect case to a magistrate. There will need to be enough legitimate evidence that even if a [Truthsayer] or a Truth Serum is used he will still be damned.

“And now, your second task is to find out who helped the [Hunter]. If it’s someone who can be disposed of, I want you to get rid of them. If it isn’t, then come find me,” the baron said.

“That should be plenty of time my lord. Does he have any vices that you know of?” asked Smith.

“Do I look like I fucking know the intimate details of every peasant that traipses through this shithole? That’s what I pay you so much for. Now, go find out!” screamed the baron. All sense of decorum was lost now.

He picked up the artifact and replaced it, sealing the cabinet/safe back with the key and walking over to his drink cabinet yet again to refill his drink. There was a splash left, but he felt that the calming effects of the dwarvish whiskey were not doing as good a job as they should.

As the captain exited the office, scowl hidden from the baron’s sight, the baron began to mutter under his breath once again.

“I’m going to find enjoy putting the slave collar on that [Hunter] more than anything I’ve enjoyed in the past decade. Putting the collar on his shitty son will be the icing on the cake. He thinks he can snatch my admission token to the Royal Academy from my own son’s hands like he deserves it? He thinks that he can negotiate with me because he has a second tier class? A second tier basic class is still a basic fucking class.

“I’ve got an advanced class! I’ll show him who’s better when I advance to the second tier. I’ll make him watch as I collar his son and rape his wife. No, I’ll give his wife to my dogs to rape while his fucking eunuch son watches!”

The baron took a deep sip of the whiskey as the sounds of construction filtered through the opened office doors. Scenes of just what he would do to the [Hunter] and his family played through his head, helping to calm him down. His plans were set, even if they had hit a rut in the road. He would recover. He would come out on top. He always did.