When the conspirators are trapped, their plans come to ruin, someone has to be responsible and that one will have to pay the ultimate price for stupidity… -- Deathshead419
It had been a simple enough plan of sorts. Assassinate the new Earl, gain the favour of the old Earl, and perhaps that of the favoured son. It may even gain them the favour of their liege lord for removing an obvious problem. Others who knew of their plot insisted that no good would come of attempting to assassinate the newest Demon Lord of Whitekeep.
Ill things happened, they said. Leave him rule, they said. They should have listened.
Fynneb had taken the shot anyway, and paid the ultimate price when their new Hellkin Lord snatched the arrow out of the air and sent it right back into Fynneb's eye. It killed her instantly. The rest of them tried to flee, but the Castle Guard and the City Watch had both been ruthlessly overhauled by a paranoid maniac.
Who just happened to be recently crowned Earl.
While the Earl was on his tour of the baronies, the three remaining conspirators were cooling their heels in the castle dungeon until his Lordship returned. Which could take months if he decided to dally anywhere.
Months in a sunless room, with nothing but gruel for food and a bucket for a privy. Taken once a day under heavy guard to a courtyard where they could experience fresh air and some degree of sunshine. Where their new paranoid Earl had added extra defences in case someone tried something stupid - like liberating captives of the Earl's justice.
Months with nothing to do but think about what they'd done. Or argue about who was truly to blame.
When the Earl returned, it was no surprise to him that they were Baron Tansie's subjects. The only surprise he had was that the four of them had acted alone. Well. Not surprise. Disappointment.
"All for the sake of vainglory," sighed the Earl Kormwind IX. "In the hope that you would be rewarded if you were successful. Who came up with this lunatic idea?"
They looked to each other, trying to work out what they'd been arguing about for the months since the Earl set off on his tour. "Er," said Hetal. "There was a lot of beer. We... can't remember."
"Gruss gotter," muttered the Earl. They'd be spending the rest of their lives banned from alcohol and at least twenty years in community service. Far, far away from Tansie.
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