“Illyria is a tripartite power, the Emperor and his legions are balanced by the Council of Lords and their House armies. Wedged in between both are the Guilds. Powerful rulers of trade and business backed by the strength of their mercenaries.”

Chapter 31

After the last guard had told their version of events, Quentin pulled Wil aside. She motioned for Bell to join them.

“Well, that was thoroughly unhelpful.” She whispered. “They’re clearly lying about the attack. I assume they are covering for Barton, or whoever paid them off to look the other way.” She clenched her fist tightly, furious at the deception.

“Aye, they’ll be hard to crack. They know that if they open their mouths, Barton will have them tossed out into the streets. Or worse.” Bell added, eyeing the warehouse guards.

“Whatever we do, we need to do it quick. Once Ashworth hears that I’m interfering in her affairs, she won’t hesitate to stop us from questioning them. She’ll want to put me in my place. We’ll never get anything out of them when that happens.” Wil whispered to the others, causing Quentin to tilt her head slightly in confusion.

“But what you said before is accurate, if they believe that your father is my patron. Why would it matter if Ashworth hears about your questioning? It’s not as if she would know I’m not delivering goods for your family.”

Wil shook his head. “It has nothing to do with you or my father. I have a certain… reputation in the capital.” He paused at the admission. “She won’t feel intimated by my presence here.” Wil finished, not elaborating further.

Quentin let out a frustrated breath, looking intently at Wil. “Can’t you, you know, magic the truth out of them?”

Wil shook his head at her while giving her a small grin. “That’s illegal. And while that normally wouldn’t stop me, I don’t have a way to ‘magic the truth’ out of them right now. Not at my current rank. But I do have another idea.” He turned to look at Bell.

“I need you and the other guards to follow my lead.”

Bell nodded, gesturing to the others to come closer as he whispered to them. They would follow Wil’s orders, unless Quentin said otherwise.

Wil walked back to the group of guards. In the time they had spent discussing their plan, Barton had regained some color in his face, and he was wearing a large grin on his face.

Barton knew that he had successfully stymied Wil’s attempts at the truth, so far. The Ashworth house guards would be arriving shorty, further muddying the waters.

“I tire of this.” Wil said simply as he stood in front of the warehouse guards. “It is clear you are all hiding the truth from me, which makes you accessories to the crime committed here.” The guards looked nervously between each other and Barton, before the merchant stepped forward.

“Milord, surely, it’s not appropriate to accuse these men and women of wrong doings without evidence! I suggest we wait patiently until Lady Ashworth’s house guards arrive. Then we can begin searching the surroundings for clues of the real criminal’s identities.”

Wil nodded at Barton’s words, and the guards sighed in relief at being spared.

Barton, thinking he had won, smiled widely at Wil. As he opened his mouth again to speak, he was cut off abruptly by Wil.

“Bell, have this one brought outside and flogged.” Wil said with no inflection in his voice, pointing at one of the warehouse guards.

Bell nodded at Wil’s orders. He gestured to Quentin’s other guards and they began walking forward to carry out his orders.

Barton reacted in surprise at Wil’s command. He stepped in front of the guards and held up his hands. “Milord, you cannot do this! You do not have the authority to interrogate or punish my employees!”

Wil quirked an eyebrow at Barton’s words, before turning back towards Bell. “Take the Merchant as well. I want them all flogged until they reveal the truth. If they still refuse to cooperate, hang that one first.” Wil said, pointing at one of the guards.

“Keep hanging them until one of them talks, or you run out of rope. Hang the fat merchant last.” Wil said, turning away from the group and walking towards the exit.

“Wait! Mercy, Milord!” One of the Warehouse guards, seeing Wil walking away, broke free of the group and fell on his knees in front of him.

“Mercy? Very well, tell me the truth and you will be spared.” Wil walked to the kneeling man, leaning down to look into his eyes. “But if you lie to me, know this. When I am finished, you will beg for the rope!”

The man was shaking with fright and began to spill the truth. Barton attempted to stop the man from speaking, but two of the caravan guards retrained him before he could even get close.

The guard described how Barton had told them to leave the warehouse unguarded for an hour last evening, in exchange for a large amount of silver. When they had returned, the wagons had been ransacked. The bruises and injuries were inflected by them on each other, to better sell the story of an attack.

Wil looked at the other guards, some nodded at the story, while others fell to their knees, begging for their lives.

Turning to Barton, Wil said “And you? Do you have a name to exchange for your fat, greasy hide?”

Red with anger, Barton spat on the ground at Wil’s feet. “You don’t have anything more than slanderous lies by these traitors. You’ve obviously threatened them into spreading falsehoods against me. No one will believe them over me!”

“They will when we beat a confession out of you!” Bell said, walking threateningly towards the Merchant.

“No, it’s like the Merchant said, we don’t have the authority here to interrogate him. But I’m sure Lady Ashworth will have no problems getting a name out of you.” Wil said. As he walked up to Barton and lightly tapped him on the cheek, before turning towards the others.

“Bind their arms, the Ashworth House guards will be here shortly.” Wil ordered, before him and Quentin left the Warehouse.

Standing in the sunlight, Wil took a moment to breath the fresh air in deeply, before turning the corner of the building and emptying his stomach.

Hearing his loud retching, Quentin walked over to him, concerned. “Are you alright Wil?”

Wil stood, wiping his mouth and nodding his head. “I’m fine. It just doesn’t sit right in my stomach when I have to act like that. Treating people like they’re nothing.”

“I have to admit, I was impressed by what you did back there. And horrified by how easy it was for you to just…change.” Quentin said quietly, standing closely in front of Wil. No one nearby would be able hear their conversation.

Wil shrugged. “It’s easy when you have someone to emulate. I just thought ‘what would my brother do,’ and the rest came naturally.”

“It’s terrible for me to say, but I hope I never meet any of your family, Wil. I couldn’t imagine how to react to someone acting that way.”

Wil laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. My brother isn’t really like that, it was a rather poor imitation of him.”

Quentin grinned back at him, “So your brother isn’t a snobby psychopath, bullying everyone to get his way?”

“Oh, no, of course he is!” He scoffed.

“I meant that he wouldn’t have bothered speaking to them, or even asking them any questions. He would have just expected them to confess to their crimes with a look. Then he would have hung the guards and the merchant.” Wil said. “He never cared about authority.”

His smile faded as he turned away from Quentin and looked up the road. He could spot a carriage approaching, being escorted by armed riders on horseback.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the warehouse. The pair could see the Ashworth house symbol on the side, a solitary ash tree on a field of white.

One of the House Guards opened the carriage door, allowing the person inside to climb down.

It was a younger woman, of similar age to Wil and Quentin. She had light blond hair, long and straight. She was pretty, with bright blue eyes and a matching blue dress.

The woman gingerly descended the carriage, careful to keep her dress out of the mud. Seeing Wil and Quentin, she smiled brightly before walking towards the pair.

Quentin was watching Wil as much as the other woman and noticed the slight irritated look flash across his face. It was gone so quickly that she doubted anyone else would have noticed it.

Seeing her questioning look, Wil mouthed ‘Trouble’ before turning back to the approaching blond woman.

“Wilhelm, darling” The woman exclaimed.

“When I heard that you were here, traveling in a Merchant’s Caravan no less, I simply had to come see you!” The woman, Margaret Ashworth, walked up to Wil. She kissed him on the cheek and clutched at his arm.

“Margaret!” Wil smiled widely as he leaned forward to return the kiss on her cheek.

“Had I known you were here and not at the academy, I would have been knocking on your mother’s door, demanding to see you!” Wil said dramatically.