FOREVER KNIGHTS: #20 Watchers Gathering

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SAVAGE JAXSON - A Devious Barmaid

Buck’s Bell Inn, NightVille, Nightway

SAVAGE JAXSON

Belline was working at the Buck’s Bell Inn as a barmaid. Making far from the sort of coin she’d been accustomed to at Winter Haven. But at least it had been something. With the deep scar shredding her face from above her right eyebrow, down over the bridge of her nose and across her left cheek to stop on the left side of her jaw most innkeepers had been reluctant to hire her. Thinking she’d scare clientele off. But Belline was a survivor and had made it a point to make herself highly lucrative for the Buck’s Bell in order to gain a reputation for being useful again.

She’d overheard two gruff looking men talking to another man.

“Where’d you get all tha’ coin?”

“We was paid to transport the Great Savage Jack ta Danbury Hold’s dungeons, we was!” One of the dirty two answered.

“It was so easy too. He didna even fight.” The other dirty one.

“The great King of the Assassins is nothin’ more than a pup!”

Belline heard no more. Intent on the fact that Savage Jack was sitting in Lord Danbury’s dungeons.

“What is it?” One of the gruff men asked as he caught her wrist. “Where ye goin’ in such a hurry perty thin’?”

“I must go see Lord Danbury.”

“Oh?” One lifted a scarred eyebrow. “Why migh’ tha’ be?”

“He’s caged an animal. Made quite a sight me must see!” She grinned brightly.

Shrugging the man let her go.

She scurried off. Tossing off her apron and murmuring an excuse to the innkeeper.


Danbury Hold, MidGale City, Nightway

“What are you doing in the Blue Lark?” Danbury demanded. “What goes on there?”

Savage stared at him from where he sat shackled in an iron chair.

“Stab him again.” Danbury said.

A dirty, sweating, Master of Torture jammed in the tiny half inch spike between Savage’s ribs and twisted. Cracking one.

Savage was impassive.

“Does he not feel pain?” The Master of Torture asked in confusion.

Ignoring him, Danbury persisted. “Who is this Barter Queen that moves goods for you? Lady Farthington?”

Savage cracked a half smile and scoffed. “What if it were? What could you do to her?”

“Is it her?”

Savage chuckled coldly. The sound nearly human.

“What are you?” Danbury asked.

Savage sobered and stared at him unblinkingly for a long while.

“Answer my questions.” Danbury demanded.

Savage blinked back at him. Head down predatorily. Unsettlingly.

“Fine. We’ll see how you do after some days of isolation.”

“I like isolation.”


It was six days of Savage merely sitting in that cell, that Danbury began to notice something was dangerously wrong.

Normal individuals would refuse food, knocking over bowls and refuse to drink until so starved they were soon begging for their next meal. Pleading to know why they were captive and how much longer they’d be there and what would happen to them.

Savage said nothing.

He ate.

He drank.

He pissed and shit.

He said nothing.

And it was disturbing the Master of Torture and Danbury alike.

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