Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160205120927/@comment-24696651-20160207143510

Karl Black-Briar quickly regathered his composure, and drew his sword from his belt.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded.

"I think you know the answer to that," Cynric replied. Karl narrowed his eyes, before speaking softly.

"The Council."

"Precisely," Cynric answered, smiling. "While I'm sure you would love to join, I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell you "no"."

"You don't order me around, Bosmer," Karl almost snarled. "The Thieves' Guild is subordinate to the Black-Briars."

"Perhaps it was, many centuries ago. But today, the Thieves are the masters of their own destiny. And the Black-Briars are just one of the many corrupt businesses dependent on us."

"Watch your tongue, or I'll have my guards cut it off."

"They couldn't cut the tongue off a new-born babe," Cynric laughed. "But that isn't the point. The point is, we currently handle all of your exports. We have one thousand bottles of your mead in our possession, and thirteen of our operatives are in your meadery."

"Are you threatening me?" Karl asked, quietly and with menace.

"No, I wouldn't dream of it," Cynric replied with evident sarcasm. "I'm just alerting you to the fact that, should you fail to nominate me as Councillor. there may be tragic accidents. Shipments stolen, caravans murdered, workers drowned in vats of boiling honey. You know, the usual."

Karl looked Cynric in the eye for a few moments, before realising he was beat.

"Your playing with fire," he said. "See that you don't get burnt."

Karl put his sword back in his belt, and turned to close the door. When he turned around Cynric was gone. There was a note on his desk.

I'll be watching.