After tearing through both his bag and Braun’s, Lowil’s head hung low as he turned back to face the Rangers. For their part, one of them was trying to tease the female captive with an apple that he kept dangling in front of her face before taking his own bite while the other was picking his nails with the dagger he had used to threaten Kre. Somehow, Lowil felt that these two men might not be the most reasonable types when it came to lost paperwork.
“Ah, Rangers,” rasped a shaky voice from the other side of the wagon. “Well met… friends.” Braun had to pause periodically to keep the bile in his throat from rising.
“Another one? How many of you are there? This one a witness too?” He emphasized the word witness, to demonstrate his complete disbelief of Kre’s status.
Braun shook his head and then immediately regretted it as he used a free hand to steady himself against the wagon. “Not at all,” he said through clenched teeth. “I am… Braun Osser, official Magistrate to…” At this point, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.
“What in the hells is wrong with that man?” The younger Ranger muttered, a hint of actual concern in his voice. Though the concern was assuredly not for Braun but out of self-preservation should whatever the other man has be contagious.
Seeing Braun in a bit of distress, Kre gestured over to him. “Magistrate Osser is the official representative of the Sandort City Council to the town of Mintas. It is on his authority that we travel in this manner.” Kre caught sight of Lowil’s quick smile and figured that meant he had said all the right things.
“Well, a magistrate eh?” The older man flipped his knife in the air, caught it, and sheathed it across his chest in a smooth, practiced manner. “That certainly changes things… if true.”
Braun nodded, apparently expecting a bit of mistrust on the part of the Rangers. “I wear my ring of office,” he stated quickly, waving his left hand at the two men.
The younger man handed the rope off to the other and moved forward towards the wagon. He grabbed Braun’s hand in his own and looked at the large steel ring on Braun’s pinky finger. As he bent closer his eyes narrowed, and he sniffed once as if testing that the ring’s scent was correct. Immediately, he threw Braun’s hand away and stepped back, gagging. “Heaven and hell man,” he shouted as he retched, “what is that stench!?” Seeing his fellow in distress, the other Ranger stepped forward, hand on his blade, ready for trouble.
Braun flashed the quickest of smiles before resuming his pained expression. “My sincerest… apologies Ranger. I fear that my… bowels are… not well.”
Still heaving slightly, the other man tried to wipe the spit from his mouth. Immediately, he dropped to his knees and started rubbing his hands and face in the dirt. “It’s on my hand and in my mouth,” he cried out in between facefuls of dirt.
His companion laughed heartily, both hands on his gut. Lowil and Kre snickered softly, not being to help themselves but not wanting to anger the Ranger for being amused at his expense. Even Braun wore a broad grin on his face. The only one not moved by the situation was the young girl, who simply sat there with her eyes downcast.