Not long after, men arrived. No knocking. No bargaining. Just hands on bodies.
Fay first, dragged from his mat like a sack. Thaddeus next, lifted as if his legs were already dead.
Oswin fought and bought himself a bruise for the effort. Lifara bit one man's wrist hard enough to draw blood.
It did not stop them. It only made them curse.
They carried each of them out, quick and practiced, and left notes behind as if they were leaving blessings.
Ransom. Carefully measured.
Not too large, so the issue would not explode. Something that could be treated as a local squabble. But large enough to dry a family to the bone.
A few hundred middle grade spirit stones. Tens of high grade ones.
The kind of price that made people pay quietly and sow distrust afterward.
The kidnapping victims were brought to toward warehouses, row near the a stream.
Another dipped into a cell, holding under a gambling den.
A third sank deeper, into the old stone dungeons.
Different places. Same hands.
