Bastian’s eyes glared forward, ears pointed in the opposite direction. Leaned forward with the reins held tightly in his grasp. Only sounds of clopping and the breeze messing with his hair. Racing down the stretched cobblestone road, like he was trying to avoid getting stabbed in the back. Catching a glance, passing a wooden sign confirming their cities direction. Wrapping one paw around the hilt of his blade, tapping his cold against the cold steel. Looking over his shoulder.

[color=0072bc]“Not that I’ll ever understand the inner workings of a criminal organization. But I was under the impression they don't meddle in affairs that weren't akin to their specific interests. The only reason these assassins aided me, was because I had personal connections with one of their members. My father must have had substantial connections, that he must’ve been unaware of. Plus, I know my friend likely shared this information on account of his own personal animosity towards those I’m hunting. Maybe it was because he helped me look after them once, when I was deathly ill. So given all that, I won’t waste time questioning it. Especially, if it helps saving my family.”[/color] He paused to catch his breath. 

[color=0072bc]“But how does any of that relate to you or your child? And how’d you know my name when nobody's given it? Assuming the assassins guild sent you, explaining how you found us in such an obscure area, quick enough to intervene before we had even stepped in our wagon. I know enough to know the assassin's guild doesn't divulge specific names to anybody or use their real names in conversation. They're all given nicknames and even then only use them sparingly. They don't even give names of their targets either, to help disconnect with their targets. Because names are too intimate."[/color] Bastian kept making the horses go faster. Hitting a bump in the road, shaking the wagon.

[color=0072bc]"So, if you’re somebody working for the guild. I want you to spill your guts, before I do it for you. Because having a cold blooded killer around us, greatly increases our risk for dangerous conflict. Or you one of my father’s many relationships that I heard about and never once witnessed helping him while the curse broke his sanity down? While I don’t doubt your own son’s peril. If I think you aren’t being completely honest and lead us to grave consequences. I won’t hesitate to hurl you off the wagon, head first.”[/color]

The wagon had became a courtroom. Bastian playing judge, jury and executioner. His paw gripping the blade, waiting for his prisoner's possible last words...