Officer Tarus Mann scratched at his ginger beard. The junior officer before him was clearly uneasy as he explained his version of the events. Motioning toward two young women standing by an empty carriage, then pointing to two bodies prostrate on the cobbled street, The officer was almost frantic.
Officer Mann was aware the junior officer was still talking. He was accustomed to listening to reports from his deputies. That wasn't the reason for his distraction. Tarus was still allowing the gravity of the moment to sink in. Someone had ambushed Shepherd Winterhouse — Mr. Untouchable. And by the report he was getting and the evidence on the ground. Whoever is was, was not afraid of the repercussions. This was a declaration of war. Someone was taking on The Goblin and sending a message as strongly as could be sent.
The brazened attack left the driver and the footman in the street. The unarmed men had been shot at close range. One with a firearm, the other with arrows. The women hadn’t seen much, but their account of Winterhouse’s reaction to the assault said all he needed to know.
Officer Mann was under no illusions that the men laying dead on the ground had not been the sort that deserved mercy or even justice. As henchmen of The Goblin they were the stinking bilge of this town and were overdue for street justice.
“Captain. What should we do with the wagon.” The junior officer asked, cutting though Tarus' contemplative haze.
He answered directly and in a commanding voice. “Take the women home then place the coach in the impound yard on guild row.” The junior officer saluted and marched over to where the two women we huddled. They were shaking from the chill in as much as from the shock of their recent experience.
Tarus knelt by the driver. The man laying on the ground was no stranger. Neither was he to be pitied. For Tarus, the body meant trouble. This was an unsanctioned hit. The guild had not allowed henchmen of The Goblin to be targeted as a part of the bounty system. There were plenty of reasons and excuses why, but to Tarus it was just politics. Above my pay grade he told himself. What did mater to him, was that his job was about to get more difficult. Shifting alliances or changes in power always meant that blood would be spilled. The Goblin had been quiet for some time now. That would surely change.
Taurus looked up at the coach as the junior officer turned the carriage around, he called out to the driver. “When you get back to the impound, send a clean-up crew.”
The driver signaled agreement before driving off. One of the women in the carriage looked out the window as they drove away. The look on her face mirrored the feeling growing in him. The balance had shifted. The unspoken truce broken. Hell to pay.
