Sartow was to extract some information from someone held by the town guard. The grey haired man, walked past the Chalice Gate wondering how he would have to proceed. He was familiar with several ways to break the mind of someone. Sometimes it was as simple as intimidating them with pain. The imagery in their own mind would often work against them. He hoped it would be that simple. His cape flapped into him as the wind changed direction.

The guards in Saj-greaf were generally respectable so he figured it would be more of a mental game than physical in the extraction. Sartow whistled as he walked down the Courier’s Path. He smiled and nodded at the passing folk, kindly stepping out of the way for an old woman carrying an oversized basket of plant trimmings. She reminded him of one time he had to play on a grandmother’s fear for her grandchild’s safety. He had no idea where the grandchild was but she was never aware of that and assumed the worst. It took no time at all to have the woman break down on where her son was hiding in the country side.

As he walked on, a pickpocket tried to relieve him of the pouch hanging from his belt. Sartow snagged the working hand on glared down at the young man. “Rethink your actions, quickly” was all he hissed and the young man released the pouch and scampered away like a frightened dog. Had Sartow more time he would have taken justice under his wing and educated the boy in who he was messing with. But those actions were not for a day when he was working.

Sartow exited the maze of back alleys to find himself near the Durst Market. The place was in busy with merchants trying to hawk their goods to passer’s-by. He did not care for the place, but it was the shortest path to his destination. He was offered a fine assortment of meats at one stall and another tried to sell fine pottery. In an ideal world he would have launched their goods across the market and left them to clean up. This was not that sort of day. Instead he reminisced in silence about the price all people have.

If given the right biographical information, Sartow could haggle the information out of anyone. He may pay slightly higher for it if he was trying to please the other party. He might pay highly for it if the need was right for impressions. However if allowed to play with ones emotions long enough, Sartow would have the other person thanking him profusely for the measly sum they got paid.

Jit Tower was not much further. Sartow was hoping he would not have to break his victim permanently. He had done this once before, and did not care for it. The reputation it left with observers was not to his liking. It also taxed his mental fortitude as he actually had to delve into their mind without letting it influence him. He still recalled the torment that he had planted in the poor souls thoughts. It was one of the few things in life that made him shutter. He gripped at his pouch absentmindedly. The contents of it could let him do it again, if lives mattered as they did then.


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