One word rang through Hanan’s mind as he looked upon his bloodied and battered captive: Fuck.
His men had followed their orders, alright – this man had been roughed up and tied up, and then left for hours to wait in agonizing terror – but it was the wrong man! Hanan sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Clutching his dagger to a halt, he clenched his jaw before calmly, almost cheerily, addressing him. “My boys weren’t too…” he spun his dagger once again, passing it through his fingers as he brought it to point at the man, “…rough on you, were they Consul Kraevalen?”
The man’s eyes locked on the twirling blade, and then shifted to Hanan and back again. The beads of sweat dappled over his forehead began to slowly drip, tracing a smeared path through the dried blood on his face. Hesitating, he swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “N-n… y-ye… N-n…” he began to stutter.
Setting his foot on the rung of a nearby stool and resting his arms on his raised knee, Hanan smirked, watching the poor man squirm. Poor man, he scoffed mentally. Yes, they knew each other. …Or rather, of each other. Paetar Kraevalen was the Treasurer for the Chief Magistrate’s office, and Hanan knew he had sticky fingers. He probably deserved this anyway, after all the money he’s pilfered from the city’s coffers.
“H-ha... n-n… p-pocket,” he finally managed to spit out after stumbling over Hanan’s name. Pushing the left side of his chest outward, he then looked down at it trying to get his captor’s attention.
Hanan immediately saw a piece of paper sticking out of the man’s shirt. Leaning forward, he plucked it from his pocket and began to read it: Apologies. The CM was not available. Found suitable replacement for you. Enquire of him for whereabouts. Tools supplied.
Glancing back towards the desk, Hanan let out a small huffed chuckle as he took in the assortment of tools left at his disposal. “Well, you’ll have to do then,” he murmured to himself before addressing the shaken man. “You are the treasurer after all.”
The bound man followed Hanan’s glance and froze, his eyes and mouth open wide in fear.
“You do look after the city’s treasury, do you not?” Hanan repeated. “Yes?” The man blinked a few times and nodded slowly, afraid to move his eyes from the implements on the desk to look at Hanan. “Right, you have access to what I need… So you will do just fine, Consul Kraevalen.”
Pushing off of the stool, Hanan turned and walked towards the desk. “Now, how shall we begin?” he wondered aloud. Twirling his dagger once more, he gave it an elegant flip high into the air before catching it and stabbing the tip into the desktop.
**all work copyrighted
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