Starlion
You decide that bribing one of the castle servants would be the best bet. Though beautiful, the baron’s daughter is known for her scathing tongue and lively temper. Perhaps one of the servants might hold a grudge against her, and be willing to lead the girl into a trap.
With a flick of your finger you summon Dalster to you. He has been scouting out the castle, both interior and exterior, for the past three days.
“Are you aware of any of the castle servants who might be willing to lead the baron’s daughter into our trap?” you ask.
Dalster raises his eyebrows—a quirk of his when he’s in thought. “Well, I can’t say that any of the servants there like the hussy, but they’re all fiercely loyal to their baron. They wouldn’t dream of turning her over to the enemy, not even to gain some petty revenge.”
“Surely,” you press, “There must be someone.”
A light of revelation passes over his face, and he blushes. “Come to think of it, there is a rather pretty maidservant. She’s a foreigner, a golden-haired wench, with very blue eyes. Definitely not from these parts.”
“How observant of you to note her eye-color,” you mutter drily, “How could she help us?”
“Her mistress seems to mistreat her—that, as well as the fact that since she’s a foreigner she wouldn’t have the same loyalties as the others.”
“That’s a possibility, but I’m not sure…”
“She’s got a brand on her right palm,” Dalster abruptly says.
The mark of a slave. And she’s got quite a temperamental mistress. This might work.
You rummage about in your bag for some money. After extracting a purse of hundred descars—quite a hefty amount—you turn to Dalster and question him with a lift of your eyebrows. He nods vehemently.
“She’ll do it. Definitely. She’s a slave, most likely dragged from her home as a young girl, with a mistress as strict as a schoolmaster and as finicky as a fop. She’ll do it.”
He looks so earnest. He’s pleading with you, using those eyebrows of his. If you were a woman, you’d surely fall under their charm. Thankfully you’re not a woman, but the maid is. His eyebrows are practically a guarantee that he’ll succeed. And this maid has a lot to hold against the baron and his daughter, and a lot to gain if she accepts—money, freedom, revenge.
The only catch is that if she doesn’t accept, then your cover is blown. Dalster will have to silence her—and considering how much he seems to know about this maid, he might have a hard time doing it. Besides, her presence might be missed if he “silenced” her.
With a flick of your finger you summon Dalster to you. He has been scouting out the castle, both interior and exterior, for the past three days.
“Are you aware of any of the castle servants who might be willing to lead the baron’s daughter into our trap?” you ask.
Dalster raises his eyebrows—a quirk of his when he’s in thought. “Well, I can’t say that any of the servants there like the hussy, but they’re all fiercely loyal to their baron. They wouldn’t dream of turning her over to the enemy, not even to gain some petty revenge.”
“Surely,” you press, “There must be someone.”
A light of revelation passes over his face, and he blushes. “Come to think of it, there is a rather pretty maidservant. She’s a foreigner, a golden-haired wench, with very blue eyes. Definitely not from these parts.”
“How observant of you to note her eye-color,” you mutter drily, “How could she help us?”
“Her mistress seems to mistreat her—that, as well as the fact that since she’s a foreigner she wouldn’t have the same loyalties as the others.”
“That’s a possibility, but I’m not sure…”
“She’s got a brand on her right palm,” Dalster abruptly says.
The mark of a slave. And she’s got quite a temperamental mistress. This might work.
You rummage about in your bag for some money. After extracting a purse of hundred descars—quite a hefty amount—you turn to Dalster and question him with a lift of your eyebrows. He nods vehemently.
“She’ll do it. Definitely. She’s a slave, most likely dragged from her home as a young girl, with a mistress as strict as a schoolmaster and as finicky as a fop. She’ll do it.”
He looks so earnest. He’s pleading with you, using those eyebrows of his. If you were a woman, you’d surely fall under their charm. Thankfully you’re not a woman, but the maid is. His eyebrows are practically a guarantee that he’ll succeed. And this maid has a lot to hold against the baron and his daughter, and a lot to gain if she accepts—money, freedom, revenge.
The only catch is that if she doesn’t accept, then your cover is blown. Dalster will have to silence her—and considering how much he seems to know about this maid, he might have a hard time doing it. Besides, her presence might be missed if he “silenced” her.