Post by Rafael Sandoval on Aug 3, 2015 19:09:25 GMT -5
Once he had returned to the Sandoval residence after seeing Kattalin safely home after the attack on their persons in the markets, Rafael had to be tended to himself. The injury to his side was shallow enough to not be life-threatening but it had required a surgeon to take a look at it and see it stitched up and bandaged. His clothes, well, they were saturated with blood and much would need to be mended before it could be worn again, assuming the blood would ever come out of them.
But there was much on his mind in the evening, enough to make it hard for him to sleep. Those men whom he hadn't killed had been taken by the city watch and locked up in a Deveraux-controlled gaol. But this was the second attack on Sandovals since they had arrived. The original one, the one on Angelia, was one he'd chalked up to a random attack by some thug who had no idea whom he was going after. But the fact he had also been so assaulted raised a number of red flags. In fact, the fact a group like this came after him, a man who was visibly a hard target between his own weapon and the two bodyguards trailing behind was conflicting with the nature of the gross majority of thugs who selected easy prey. One might argue that Kattalin was the target, but if she'd been they would not have made such trouble for Rafael himself. No, he had been their objective from the start. And this led him now to believe that Angelia's own experiences had not been random.
Those were assassination attempts.
After a fitful night's sleep, Rafael gingerly got himself dressed into some of his utilitarian yet elegant clothes and at his belt he hung his longsword. Carrying such a weapon at his waist like this, he knew what it meant: that not only he was a professional killer of men, and a well-off one to afford such a weapon, but that he was expecting the need to use it. And the four men-at-arms he took as an escort were armoured as though they were expecting to ride into battle and not simply as an escort through town.
Upon reaching the seat of the Deveraux, Rafael fairly stormed towards the Lord Marshal's office, where a secretary rose from behind a desk in the anteroom and cleared his throat. "My Lord, do you ave an appointment?"
"No, I don't. But you get in there and you let the Lord Marshal know Lord Rafael Sandoval demands to speak to him at once over a matter he wants to know about. Or I can go in on my own. Take your pick."
To say that Rafael Sandoval was irate would have been an understatement. In fact, he was downright furious and he would be heard.
Jean-Luc Deveraux
But there was much on his mind in the evening, enough to make it hard for him to sleep. Those men whom he hadn't killed had been taken by the city watch and locked up in a Deveraux-controlled gaol. But this was the second attack on Sandovals since they had arrived. The original one, the one on Angelia, was one he'd chalked up to a random attack by some thug who had no idea whom he was going after. But the fact he had also been so assaulted raised a number of red flags. In fact, the fact a group like this came after him, a man who was visibly a hard target between his own weapon and the two bodyguards trailing behind was conflicting with the nature of the gross majority of thugs who selected easy prey. One might argue that Kattalin was the target, but if she'd been they would not have made such trouble for Rafael himself. No, he had been their objective from the start. And this led him now to believe that Angelia's own experiences had not been random.
Those were assassination attempts.
After a fitful night's sleep, Rafael gingerly got himself dressed into some of his utilitarian yet elegant clothes and at his belt he hung his longsword. Carrying such a weapon at his waist like this, he knew what it meant: that not only he was a professional killer of men, and a well-off one to afford such a weapon, but that he was expecting the need to use it. And the four men-at-arms he took as an escort were armoured as though they were expecting to ride into battle and not simply as an escort through town.
Upon reaching the seat of the Deveraux, Rafael fairly stormed towards the Lord Marshal's office, where a secretary rose from behind a desk in the anteroom and cleared his throat. "My Lord, do you ave an appointment?"
"No, I don't. But you get in there and you let the Lord Marshal know Lord Rafael Sandoval demands to speak to him at once over a matter he wants to know about. Or I can go in on my own. Take your pick."
To say that Rafael Sandoval was irate would have been an understatement. In fact, he was downright furious and he would be heard.
Jean-Luc Deveraux