"So you think this Grunwald tried to have you killed over ... some kind of gunpowder insurance plot?" The Captain of the Guard was a battered looking man in late middle age. He wore a breast and backplate but eschewed a helm that would have concealed his thinning brown hair and the long scar that disfigured his cheek.

"Vat ez theenk? I know," Natasha grumbled.

"Well how do I know?" the Captain asked.

"I am tealing you da?" Natasha snapped, drumming her fingers on the table. They were in a guardhouse that obviously hadn't been used in some while. It had clearly been put into service when the news of the Norscan invasion broke. It still smelled of mildew, though with a strong scent of the vinegar that the guard was using to scrub the walls.

"Do you have any proof of this?" the Captain asked. Natasha seized the bottom of her tunic and yanked it up revealing the long livid cut that streaked up her ribs. The captain's eyes buldged at the sight of her bare chest, and several guardsmen dropped weapons and tools with a clatter.

"Well..." the Captain stammered, clearly at a loss for her to proceed.

"We are in danger of imminent attack madam and this is a civil matter," the Captain managed.

"You may file a complaint with a magistrate... If you can find one. I think they probably all lit off south when they heard a hundred thousand Norscans were on their way," the Captain admitted. Natasha made a disgusted sound and stood up.

"Neevar myind, ve vill take keer of it," Natasha promised. The Captain gave her a sharp look.

"I caution you about taking the law into your own hands madam," The Captain said, steel in his voice.

"I vouldn't vant you to have to ceel a migestreet," she sneered.