The Death of the Little King

Little King Grey was dead.

The news spread across Brown's Ferry in hushed tones, as no one was sure what to make of it. The city had seen the last of Sadler's Boy's occupation a few weeks before, and was still basking in the warm glow of self-congratulation.

When Faolan heard the news he rose from his table at The Columns, leaving behind a fully paid, but half-finished, meal. He barely acknowledged the companions who he'd been entertaining just a moment before and quickly moved straight through the doorway. His dining companions found it odd that the ribald rebel would react so to the death of the Tyrant's Son.

One of the older, drunker fellows quipped that "The Red Wolf is sure in a hurry to compose the celebratory dirge!" A few at the table tittered, but most sat mute as they pondered the news. Brown's Ferry was truly self-governing for the first time in generation. Crowds had toasted the Tyrant's death, and the revelry had lasted for days. It was much harder to toast the death of a sickly, shrunken child, even if he was the face of the enemy.

Faolan strode purposefully towards the Rug Bazaar, and the crowds parted for him. His usual mischievous grin was lost in a grim expression, and to those who didn't know him, he looked like a Northmen en route to bloody business.

Without stopping to speak to the rug dealer, Faolan walked through the stall which hid the back entrance to the Macon House, and proceeded down the stairs to the subterranean hallway. When he arrived at the Concierge's desk, Faolan noticed that the little man appeared to have aged years in the past six weeks.

As the Concierge rose to his feet, Faolan spoke: "I'm here to offer my respects. If there is anything that I can do, or.....", and his voice trailed off. Faolan was not often at a loss for words, but as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, he felt quite the fool.

After a measured silence, the Concierge spoke, telling Faolan that Miss Macon was not available, but "She is aware how you care for her and her family. Please go, and she will be in touch with you soon."

Faolan nodded, muttered a good-bye, and walked out. An hour ago he had been finished with his day's training, but he went back to the training yard and started working the pell. As his muscles ached, his mind churned through images of Anne and the boy he'd saved not so long ago.

How much of Grey's body would he need to steal for one of the Bexari healers to resurrect the boy?

Tags: Adventures, Side Stories, Faolan