Sangrin Slithers South

“But it’s certain death!”, Sangrin sat in his chair regarding the city representative.  “no it’s not CERTAIN death, it IS certain death if you refuse ME again”, the assassin coughed softly not far behind the city representative.  “it’s very simple, these people are NOT savages, we have dealt with them for many years, they will listen to reason, now prepare your party and head to the north and speak to them”.  The city representative blinked and looked around like a hare caught in torchlight, mustered what bravery he could then rose and left the office.  The last emissaries had not returned and he didn’t expect this oaf to do likewise but he hoped it would delay things long enough for him to escape.  A week ago reports had filtered down that a massive chaos army had appeared in the north, the wounded scout when asked how many had just said “all of them” and expired, right there and then, a crooked smile on his lips

“is everything ready?” asked Sangrin, the assassin inclined his head once.  “Then I believe it’s time we took a well-earned holiday in the south, I understand the climate there is much more agreeable”.  The two left the office and headed for the docks under the palace.  Already the fear was palpable in those he passed, he didn’t know how long it would take the northerners to reach the capital but he didn’t plan on finding out.  One of his generals had spoken about ‘standing behind the thin red line’, he would have preferred a Thick red line and him not standing behind it. The jet black launch sat in the docks, a dozen hooded rowers resting on their oars. Sangrin eased himself into the padded seat at the back, his assassin taking a seat further up.  “let’s away” he said and the oars cracked and hissed as it surged away to the waiting black ships someone out in the fog.  He didn’t bother to look back.