Friday 17 July 2020, midnight. You’re woken up by your head maid whispering your name repeatedly into the darkness of your bedroom. She appears distressed; she wrings her hands nervously as you wake and tells you there’s a man downstairs insisting on speaking with you.
The man at your door tells you one of your manufacturing facilities has been hit: seven low-level workers are dead and the building along with 150 platinum’s worth of product were burned. One of the employees managed to injure one of the beings responsible before they died, but the perpetrator died by poison before any more of the In cartel arrived.
Usually, Sanha makes it a point not to bother her while she is resting in her quarters, the dim candles already burnt out by the time she awakened by the almost estranged voice in the lost in the darkness until she made out that it was her trusty head maid. It must be something important. Her head maid knew Sanha’s rules and abide to them closely. Her eyes almost couldn’t open as they were dry and it was difficult for her to focus in the darkness. “What?” She croaked through the sleep coating her dry throat. She couldn’t recall when she finally dosed off, papers scattered on her mattress beside her. Had she fell asleep while trying to work? The night was a blur and most bleed into the morning, not knowing when one ended and the other began.
When her maid told her that someone downstairs insisted to talk to her, she blindly reached for her robe thrown on her night stand to slip over her bare body, tying it tight around her waist before rolling out of bed. The thought of ‘who’ or ‘why’ never crossed her mind as her autopilot turned on. The cool floor sent shocks of chills throughout her body, pushing her bed head hair behind her ears as she followed the maid down the stairs and to the destination, making sure to rub the sleep from her eyes to clear her vision by the time she met the man face to face.
Barely awake, she processed the information given to her, a blank stare given as the man kept talking. When the picture was painted with words, her ears grew burning hot and her teeth started to grit of anger. She felt outrage and tension build in her body. A part of her livelihood passed down from her grandmother was in that building. The livelihood she worked hard during tireless nights like tonight, burnt to the ground. Just like that. She refused to show her temper. Not now. She would wait to show her in full presentment when she got her hands on whomever did this to her employees. To her family. To her. She would make sure they would regret it. “I see.” She finally opened her mouth to respond, a hiss lacing the deep, sleep tone before pushing her hair back again.
She turned to her hand maiden with pursed lips. “Tell my men to get a drawing of the poisoned man, I want it spread throughout the territory, see if anyone knows who they were, who they belong to. Post a reward of five platinum and...” She shot a glance at the man who was still at the door as she spoke. Was he to be trusted himself? Who could she trust? She stepped closer to the maid before placing a warm hand on her arm, leaning in to speak. “Provide the family of the lost with some money, a month’s salary from what their deceased would have made, send them my condolences. I’m going to the sight to savage for any evidence, I’ll round up a few people to help. Who ever did this will pay. And it’ll be by my hand. This is personal.” She reassured her, before bidding the man ado. She had work to do.