(((Ok, due to "Atlas's" lack of presense, I'm going to control him temporarily.)))
Drama-guy said:
While Daethalion had waited for a contact Atlas went to his own connections.
In the beginning it was simple enough, he found several of the informants who owed him enormous favors and questioned them. As he predicted the barbarian was gone, where he was confident would not be known. But he was certain that if he headed to the north soon news would say that he has traveled to the south, or the east.
He could spend years chasing the barbarian, the intelligent thing to do would be to return to Camador and force Exeter to make an unplanned assault on the king.
That would be the intelligent thing, but it hinged on several flaws.
One, that Exeter ever did any thing unplanned,
Two that he did not already have a trap set in Camador,
Three that the King of Avalon would not march on Camador when he heard of his treachery, which “Count Villefort” would so lamentably relay.
These three things may not cost Atlas his life but it would certainly cost him some thing else; namely, his ambition.
While walking through one of the marketplaces he purchased another pouch of powder from an apocathary.
After taking several pinches of it he was soon calm enough to continue thinking.
His ambition! That was it, which was what he was trying to do.
Everything he was trying to do was based on trying to stay in a position of power, the last thing he could ever be expected to do was leave that position of power.
That was the only was for him to escape Exeter.
To do the last thing he would ever do.
Vanish.
Leave all trace of him behind and wait.
Each of Exeter’s plots had been designed to trap Atlas; he could not function without him there. When he finally returned Exeter would be unprepared, and in the exact position that Atlas himself had been in for so long.
Where would he go?
He thought back to the island, replayed everything that had occurred while he had been there. It took him a while before he could think over the only thing he could find. When he finally found it he almost didn’t notice.
When he did it felt like a thunderclap striking him down.
Iraseil, they needed help with raiders. Once there he could stay in the capital how long it took. First however he had to understand what to do with Daethalion.
He heard rumors of the death of Vlasdimir.
About time. He has been incompetent for years.
And of a brewing civil war against the People of Dis.
There he smiled.
“Daethalion.”
He went out to the tavern that Dae had been waiting in and entered.
The guy with the eyes said:
Daethalion left the tavern unconcerned. As long as his sister held the right of the jackel, other would-be price-hunter would not bother with him. However, that only extended to that city; in other places, he must rely on his bladecraft. All the same, no need to be careless, and thus he kept to the darker alleys and unseen passes until he arrived at the tavern agreed upon by Atlas.
He entered privily, keeping his head covered and speaking to no one. At the bar, he ordered a drink, something with flavor, and a spot of privacy, a costly brew in such places, but well worth the pay for the service. He was ushered up to a curtained room, leaving orders to the keep to send up any asking for Maxim. There, he patiently waited until Atlas came through the curtain unanounced.
Daethalion had his epee in a flash, but after his mind comprehended his companion, it was sheethed again. "Dangerous times, my foe. We are both hunted men, and we must exercize the utmost of caution.
"But why do I tell you; you know that better than I? Come, sit, and tell me what you have learned."
Atlas told Daethalion about the information he had gleaned. Daethalion nodded all the while. "I have learned such things also; however, I have taken measures to succeed anyway."
Atlas reclined, intreaged. "Go on," he coaxed.
"I have spread certain rumors through the network of informants that you have already killed this barbarian Lord. In the world of lies and shadows, a rumor is more powerful than poison, and it spreads quicker. I expect that within a few days, the king of Avalon's own spies will hear the rumor and send word back to the king."
"Clever, but what happens when I return without any proof?"
"What proof do you need?" Daethalion mused, "The king of Avalon has never seen the face of this lord, nor would he know one barbarian from another. We simply find some random nomad, relieve him of his head, and pass it off as the barbarian lord. When the king sees the head, combined with the rumors he will hear, he will have no reason to doubt your story."
"There is still a flaw, though," Atlas said, rubbing his chin, "The real lord will still be alive. He will certainly make himself known."
"There are many barbarian lords; who is to say this tribe will not adopt a new leader, who will take the same name as the fallen lord until he avenges him? To put it simply: anyone else is a vengence crazed blood hunter. And why not, if Atlas killed off this powerful lord? It is more the likely that more barbarians will be after him because of this. But, that is his problem, not yours. All you care for is his army's power."
There was a moment's silence, during which Daethalion could not tell Atlas's feelings. "Well, my adversary; what think you of this plan?"
))
