Orwyn showed Sedgegrave into his study and shut the thick walnut door that now separated them from the noise of the rest of the household. A medium-sized room, it contained a small sofa, desk, several overflowing bookcases, various small tables mostly covered with (neat) piles of papers, and two large locked cabinets. Pictures and mementos from Orwyn’s career and his family decorated the room. One leg of Orwyn’s cat Tule stuck out from under the drawn curtains that dimmed the sunlight filtering into the room. Sedgegrave couldn’t help but get the immediate impression that the room was nothing less than Orwyn’s personality taken on physical form. Pushing the thought aside, he sat down on the sofa and looked Orwyn over.
“You appear a little harried, Commander,” Sedgegrave observed with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I think my son inherited his grandfather’s lungs. That man could bark out an order on one side of the city and be heard clearly on the other side.” Orwyn shook his head wearily. “At least my parents have been here to help out. I don’t know what we’d do without them, to be honest. And of course, our blood elf friend picked the perfect time to visit the city, get captured, and cause a growing political crisis. Did you hear that a delegation of refugees actually came here to my home to demand that Mask be executed immediately?”
Sedgegrave frowned. “I had heard, sir.”
“That wasn’t all either. One of the nobles who’s been a pain in my side for years sent me a letter, filled with florid adjectives, about how the Watch was a disgrace and even when we were lucky enough to catch a Horde spy we don’t know what to do with him.” Orwyn rolled his eyes.
“And then there was the boy,” Sedgegrave added.
“Right. Caught trying to spray paint the office wall. I hope THAT’s not going to be a new trend. He said he was going to paint ‘Horde Lovers’ on the wall.”
“What did you do about him?” Sedgegrave asked.
“Well, he was minor and he was caught before he did any real harm, so I sent him home with Corporal Acton. The corporal talked to him and his family. Now he and his brother and sister all want to be officers when they grow up.” Orwyn considered the phenomenon that was Chambliss and shrugged.
He sank into his desk chair and picked up a miniature cannon from the desk surface. He frowned and slowly spun one wheel. “As much as I disapprove of Mr. Mask’s actions, and I do so tremendously, he hasn’t done anything in the kingdom worth executing him for, let alone lynching him.”
“Well, we certainly can’t just let him go either,” Sedgegrave grumbled.
“Oh, certainly not,” Orwyn agreed. “But if he was telling the truth about wanting to defect, and if he gave the military that intelligence he hinted at, I think we could justify merely sending him out of the kingdom. I think the King would approve. The Alliance is supposed to be about truth, justice, mercy and so on, after all.” He gave Sedgegrave a wry smile.
“Tell that to the refugees sir,” observed Sedgegrave darkly.
“They can replace Mask in the Stockade then if they want to riot,” Orwyn replied forcefully. “I don’t care who it is that breaks the peace; they’re ending up in the Stockade. This isn’t the front line. There’s no excuse for savagery here.”
“Yes sir.” Sedgegrave nodded.
“So, this Mask fellow. Can we actually trust him to deliver useful intelligence?” Orwyn asked.
Sedgegrave frowned, “We’ve been able to verify much of what he told us the other night. The problem is that being a Horde assassin doesn’t exactly engender confidence in a person these days. It wouldn’t be a hard argument to make that the sole reason he wanted to meet with you was to stick a sword or two into you.”
“Surrounded by officers?” Orwyn raised an eyebrow.
“He refused to give up his weapons, and he acted pretty confident that he could escape. Plus he seems a pretty impulsive fellow.”
Orwyn disagreed. “When he’s not acting on paid orders he’s impulsive. That vandalization episode required tremendous patience. No, I think his actions the night he was captured were all his own, and he didn’t have much reason on his own to want me dead.”
Sedgegrave waited patiently for several moments while Orwyn considered the cannon in his hand thoughtfully.
“All right, here’s what we’ll try.” Orwyn set the cannon down decisively on his desk. “I want you to go back to Mask, tell –“
A loud pounding on the study door interrupted him. “DAAAAAaaaaad! Come out of there! Everyone’s paying attention to the baby and I’m borrrrrrred!” Even with the door in the way, his stepdaughter Zanika’s voice muffled voice could be heard. She’d put a lot of effort into it.
Sedgegrave hid a smile as Orwyn got up and opened the door. “Zani, take the cats outside and play with them. I’ll read to you once I’m finished here. And what have I told you about yelling inside the house?”
“Not to dooooooo it!” Zani grinned cheekily and raced off.
Orwyn smiled slightly and shook his head as he shut the door. “All right. Tell him I’m inclined to believe him, but we’re going to need some proof. One solid piece of actionable info for the military, and we’ll negotiate terms for releasing him. Give him my word on it. If he wants what he claims he wants, there’s no good reason for him not to take the opportunity.”
Somewhere beyond the door came the sound of a crash, followed by the wail of a crying infant and muffled shouting.
Orwyn winced and rubbed his brow. “You’d better hurry before I decide to go and talk to him myself.”