Debt Collected
Bishop Lancaster stepped into the room and looked around, frowning as he saw the table and the lone priest sitting on the far side of it, facing the door. Lancaster shut the door behind him which muffled the sounds of the tavern outside.
“Okay, I am here,” the bishop said as he moved to the seat directly in front of the door and sat down. “Why you had me come to this Light-foresaken place, I’ll never understand. But I am here.”
“Thank you, your eminence,” the priest said, bowing in his seat.
“Why here? Why Booty Bay?”
“Everywhere else that I’ve gone, he’s been there. Stormwind. Iron Forge. It doesn’t matter.”
“Who?” the bishop asked, frowning again. But before the priest could answer, there was a knock on the door.
“Who’s that?” the priest hissed.
“Be calm. I ordered drinks when I arrived. Come in.”
The door opened and a waitress carried in a tray with two glasses and a bottle of wine. The bishop studied her as she set the tray on the table and stood back.
“Anything else?”
“Not for now,” the bishop said with a smile. “But perhaps later.” The waitress nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind her. The bishop watched her until the door closed then slowly turned back to the table. He reached out and took the bottle of wine, pouring it into the two glasses before setting the bottle back down and taking the glass closest to him.
“I’m sorry, you were saying?”
“He’s following me everywhere,” the priest whispered again.
“Who?” the bishop asked as he took a long drink from his glass.
“The assassin. The one who came looking for the priestess. The one who assaulted my guards and me,” the priest answered, his words tumbling out faster as he spoke.
“Hardly an assassin,” the bishop countered. “He hasn’t actually killed you, has he.”
“Not yet. He’s still torturing me.”
“He would not dare. You are a priest of the Cathedral. Everyone knows you work directly with me. No one would dare lay a finger on you.”
“He knows, your eminence. But he doesn’t care.”
“Then he’s a fool. Or he’s suicidal.” The bishop took another drink and then reached for the bottle to refill his glass.
“He’s coming after me.”
“You need to calm down, brother. You are in no danger.”
There was another knock at the door. The bishop turned in his chair and called out, “Enter.” The door opened and a man dressed in black with a hood pulled low was standing there. The priest’s eyes opened wide and he gasped. But before anything could be said, the man in black threw a pair of small orbs into the room. They struck the floor and gave a small explosion, creating a gray smoke that filled the room. The bishop heard footsteps into the room, but could see nothing. Then he heard the voice.
“Your time is up,” a low voice said. Then there was another gasp. The bishop called out a few words and a shield started to glow around him. After a few moments, the smoke started to disperse and the bishop could see again. Across the table, the priest was slumped over with a knife sticking in his chest. In the shadows of the far corner of the room, the bishop thought he could see the silhouette of the attacker. Lancaster started to cast another spell, but there was another explosion and more smoke filled the room.
“You have no skill for this,” a voice said through the smoke.
“You can’t harm me,” the bishop spat back. “You don’t dare attack me.”
“The Cathedral can’t protect you here.”
“You can’t touch me,” Lancaster said. “And when I get out of here, the full might of the Light will hunt you down,” he added, sweat starting to run down the side of his cheek.
“You’re right,” the voice said. “I can’t touch you, now. But I am patient, as your friend here learned.”
“You won’t have the time,” the bishop said. Then he let out a slight cough.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the voice said. “It’s you who doesn’t have the time.”
“What are you talking about?” The bishop let out another cough.
“The wine.”
Bishop Lancaster started to say something and then stopped. He looked at the bottle that was sitting on the table in front of him. He felt another cough welling up and his throat starting to constrict. He stood up so quickly that he knocked his chair back.
“I can’t say that it’s completely painless,” the voice said from across the room.
The bishop started coughing violently, stumbled backwards and fell against the wall next to the door before sliding down to the floor. As his cough became worse, the shield that had been surrounding him began to waver and then disappeared entirely. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he struggled to catch his breath. Then, out of the smoke, the figure in black walked forward and knelt down next to the bishop.
Erik leaned closer and held his knife across his knee. He watched as the bishop’s eyes opened wide and pulled at the collar of his robes. The bishop coughed loudly a couple more times and then stopped making noise altogether. Erik leaned forward and listened for a moment. The bishop made no more sounds, his eyes staring off into the void. Erik stood up and stepped over to the door. Opening it, he stuck is head into the hallway and looked around. Erik snapped his fingers twice and then moved back into the room.
Silently, three figures appeared in the hall and walked into the room. Each was tall and slender, wearing plain brown cloaks with their hoods up. After they entered the room, Erik closed the door and looked at the newcomers. One of the individuals pushed his hood back to reveal pale skin and long, pointed ears. The blood elf pointed at the bishop’s body.
“Yes,” Erik replied.
The blood elf nodded and then he and his companions began removing the bishop’s robes and stuffing them into a satchel. One of the other blood elves pulled out another brown cloak and put it on the bishop. While they went about changing the bishop’s cloak, Erik went over to the table and picked up the bottle of wine. He emptied the bottle onto the floor and then placed it on its side on the table.
“What about that one?” the third blood elf asked, pointing at the dead priest sitting at the table.
“Leave him,” Erik answered.
“Where are we taking this one?” the fir blood elf asked.
“There’s a ship waiting at the docks.”
The blood elf nodded as his two companions pulled the bishop’s body up and draped his arms around their shoulders. The first blood elf then leaned down and pulled the hood over the bishop’s head and ran his fingers over the bishop’s eyes to close them. Erik opened the door again and led the group into the hallway. The two elves carrying the bishop’s body followed the rogue and the last elf walked behind them. They made their way through the tavern and had just reached the front door when a voice called out.
“Hey! He okay?”
Erik turned to see the bartender standing behind the bar and pointing at them.
“Too much to drink,” Erik answered.
“Alright, take him home then.” The bartender turned his attentions to his other patrons as Erik led his group outside. As quickly as they dared, the group made their way through Booty Bay and arrived at the docks. Several ships were moored to the docks. Erik led them to one near the end of the dock and stood by the gang plank. The rogue let out a loud whistle and, after a moment, a goblin appeared at the other end.
“Was wondering if you’d make it. We’re ready to shove off. Come on. Get onboard. Ain’t got all day.”
Erik nodded and walked up the plank, his companions slowly following behind. Once all were on board, the goblin began calling out orders. The gang plank was pulled up, the sails were gently lowered, and the ship slowly made its way out of the harbor at Booty Bay.

















