For a Coin in the Purse: Chapter 1

---Part I: For a Coin in the Purse---

Brayden Joilis

“So it’s bad, I hear? They’ve moved things up?”

“Right. Something unexpected, you could say. Just got the news this morning, myself.”

“Tough stuff.”

The old man eased back on a rickety chair. His dark robes rustled, long worn down in several areas, exposing the bindings underneath the richly-embellished surface. His guest, a younger man dressed in a more conservative outfit, sat across a small table that barely fit a pair of mugs filled with a smooth-smelling brew. The old man took his own cup, bringing the steaming liquid to his lips and indulging deeply. The taste was exquisite.

“I must get your recipe, Brayden,” the man said with a sigh of pleasure, “It is delicious!”

“It’s a secret,” replied the other man, adding, “But I don’t need to explain. You are familiar with secrets yourself, aren’t you?”

The old man tensed. He gulped visibly.

“What do you mean, lad?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Jarvis Canpin. Or is it Faerok Grasin, wanted for five counts of murder in the highest degree?” said Brayden, turning to face the old man. His expression had turned colder than a Northrend blizzard.

“So I gave you a false name? Merely for protection! Besides, we’re all criminals here, aren’t we?” whined the old man, suddenly frantic.

“Maybe,” started Brayden, coolly sipping his cup, “But the rest of us aren’t stupid enough to get spotted by the authorities.”

Faerok visibly paled, grabbing the table edge for support.

“I…I was so careful…I don’t—”

“Relax, old man! Remember, you’ve done good work for us! The poison has turned out better than Origazz had expected. He is very pleased with you,” said Brayden, leaning closer to Faerok, “And if Origazz likes you, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Brayden stood up, his heavy combat boots thumping against the wooden planks as he moved to the window. Outside, the docks had grown considerably busier. The daily trades had begun.

“But…if they come for me…what will I do?” whispered Faerok, genuinely frightened.

Brayden turned to face the man with a smile. It was not a very nice smile.

“You do nothing, Faerok. Everything has been taken care of. We have arranged for safe passage out of Booty Bay on the next cargo ship to Ratchet,” said Brayden, giving Faerok a strong slap on the shoulder. The old man nearly toppled over.

“Oh…bless you, Brayden! My deepest gratitude to Origazz. Yes! Many thanks!” sputtered Faerok, bowing his head repeatedly.

Brayden gave the old man another sarcastic smile as he returned to his chair. He took a final gulp from the cup, emptying it. Off the chair’s back he picked up a belt, one with a pair of wooden maces attached. Their heads were fashioned into the snarling countenance of a dragon, a pair of blood-red rubies inlaid onto the eye sockets of each. After strapping the belt snugly, he lifted a wide-brimmed hat off the table and placed it onto his head.

“Origazz’s people will get in touch with you in the next few minutes,” said Brayden, checking his weapons again before walking to the open doorway. Faerok could only nod his head slowly. His pale features hadn’t bettered. If anything, they had worsened.

“Oh, another thing,” said Brayden, pausing halfway through the arch, “you might want to stand up, because they’ll be taking your measurements.”

Faerok’s eyes lit up with something Brayden found quite amusing: fear.

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear, dear warlock. You see, Faerok Grasin is dead,” said Brayden, slowly approaching the weak man, “He was found in Booty Bay, alone in a room. From the blackened color of the veins in his eyes and his temples, it was safe to say he had been poisoned.”

Faerok snarled, bringing a hand up to claw at the man’s face. But the younger man was faster, and caught him by the wrist.

“Ironic, in fact. The victims he had allegedly murdered were found to be in a similar state,” said Brayden, smiling wickedly at the old warlock, “Like I said, Faerok. Your poison is just too good. Even for you.”

The warlock may not have heard his last few words. His eyes clouded, and his blood ran cold. Fluid dribbled freely from his lips, blackened by the very poison he had concocted.

When a joint expedition of Alliance and Horde arbiters arrived late that afternoon from an anonymous tip, they found Faerok's body. But Brayden Joilis was nowhere to be found.