Dr. Mensah's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ah, such matters are best discussed behind closed doors. Please, come in."
He ushered them into his sitting room, a sparse space dominated by a large, empty table. Dr. Mensah took his place at the far end, facing his visitors.
"What kind of information are you seeking again?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Lord Blackthorn stepped forward. "We want to know if you've treated a boy who might have been brought to you three days ago."
Dr. Mensah's face remained impassive. "Three days ago was quite busy. Many boys were brought to me. Can you be more specific?"
Gustavo, his patience wearing thin, interjected, "His name is Zafron."
"Zafron?" Dr. Mensah mused, tapping his chin. "I'm afraid that doesn't ring a bell."
Gustavo opened his mouth to speak again, but Lord Blackthorn silenced him with a raised finger. Reaching into his pocket, Blackthorn produced a stack of bills.
"Perhaps this will help jog your memory," he said smoothly, placing 500 Thalens on the table. "We find that financial incentives can often accelerate the thought process."
A triumphant smile spread across Dr. Mensah's face as he reached for the money. "Well now," he said, pocketing the Thalens, "it seems my brain is functioning much more efficiently. It's remarkable how currency can clarify one's recollections."
His demeanor shifted, becoming more animated and cooperative. "Now, about that boy Zafron..."
Dr. Mensah's eyes gleamed with recognition as he began to speak. "Ah yes, Zafron. Indeed, he was brought to me three days ago. His condition was quite serious, but I treated him to the best of my abilities."
Lord Blackthorn leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "And do you know where Zafron is now? Was he with a woman?"
The doctor paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He tapped his fingers on the table, then said, "You know, I can't quite recall those details. Perhaps... a few more Thalens might help stimulate my memory once again."
At this, Lord Blackthorn's expression hardened. A cold smile played across his lips as he stood up slowly. He turned to Gustavo, his voice laced with barely contained frustration.
"It seems the good doctor is intent on wasting our time," Blackthorn said. "Perhaps you should have a word with him. I need some air."
Without waiting for a response, Lord Blackthorn strode out of the room. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house.
Outside, Blackthorn pulled out a cigar, lighting it with deliberate calm. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around him as he attempted to cool his temper.
Back inside, the atmosphere in the room shifted evidently.
Gustavo's face darkened as he loomed over Dr. Mensah. "You'd better start talking, doctor, or things might get unpleasant."
To Gustavo's surprise, Dr. Mensah remained unperturbed. He leaned back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Threats of harm won't loosen my tongue, young man. The only currency I deal in is Thalens. Harm me all you want, but it won't get you the information you seek."
Frustration flashed across Gustavo's face. In a swift motion, he unsheathed his blade and drove it into the table with a resounding thud. The doctor didn't even flinch.
"Are you not afraid of being harmed?" Gustavo growled, his hand still on the hilt of the blade.
Dr. Mensah's smile never wavered. "Afraid? Why should I be? I have no family, no wife, no children. There's nothing I'm living for, really." He paused, his eyes glinting with a mixture of greed and something akin to sadness.
"The only thing I care about in this world is Thalens, and sadly, I don't have enough of those. So no, your threats don't scare me."
Gustavo's grip on the blade tightened, his knuckles turning white. He was unused to this level of resistance, especially from someone who seemed so mercenary.
"You're playing a dangerous game, doctor," Gustavo warned, his voice low and menacing.
Dr. Mensah shrugged, his demeanor maddeningly calm. "Perhaps. But it's the only game I know how to play. Now, if you're done with your little display, perhaps we can return to a more... productive conversation.
One involving Thalens, preferably."
As Gustavo's expression softened, Dr. Mensah's eyes lit up with anticipation. The doctor watched intently as Gustavo's hand moved towards his pocket, clearly expecting a fresh payment of Thalens.
Foolishly, Dr. Mensah, his greed overriding his caution, eagerly stretched his hand across the table, palm up and ready to receive. "Ah, now we're speaking the same language," he said, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips.
However, Gustavo's movements slowed. His eyes flickered from Dr. Mensah's expectant face to the outstretched hand, and then to the blade still embedded in the table between them.
Immediately Gustavo's eyes landed on the blade, it sprang into action. The blade swung on its own and nailed Mensah's outstretched palm.
He screamed, but Gustavo's face remained blank.
Grabbing the blade, Gustavo slid it through Mensah's palm, tearing the flesh and causing the doctor to cry out loud. As he pulled it out, Mensah fell to the other side, whimpering in pain.
Gustavo moved around the table, blade in hand and a triumphant smile on his face, Dr. Mensah's demeanor suddenly changed. He bent over, in pain, causing Gustavo to lean in closer.
"Please, please, I'll talk now," Dr. Mensah said, his voice strained.
But in a flash, the doctor's posture changed. He quickly raised his hand towards Gustavo's face, a sinister smile replacing his pained expression.
Before Gustavo could react, a plume of black smoke erupted from Dr. Mensah's palm, engulfing Gustavo's face.
Gustavo staggered backward, momentarily disoriented. As he regained his footing, rage contorted his features. With a roar of fury, he shoved the table aside, sending it crashing to the floor.
Dr. Mensah, now standing, began to laugh. His earlier fear had vanished, replaced by a cruel satisfaction. "I got you already, you fool," he taunted. "That wasn't just smoke. It was a potent arcane poison, one that mimics a devastating illness."
Gustavo's eyes widened in shock and growing horror as Dr. Mensah continued, his voice dripping with malice. "It will kill you slowly, painfully. You'll waste away, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Out of anger, Gustavo closed in and held the doctor by the neck, choking the life out of him, but the doctor responded with a smile on his face.
Gustavo raised his blade and buried it in Mensah's chest, pulling it out immediately and then piercing his neck. As if not satisfied, he buried the blade in Mensah's skull, twisted it mercilessly and pulled it out before flinging Mensah to the ground.
Blood gushed out as Doctor Mensah's life spilled onto the floor.
"Die, you piece of shit!"
Gustavo burst through the house, frantically searching each room for any sign of Zafron or the women. But he found nothing except empty spaces and scurrying rats.
Frustration and anger boiled within him, intensified by the lingering fear of the arcane poison he'd just been exposed to.
He stumbled out of the house, his mind racing. Lord Blackthorn stood waiting, still smoking his cigar with an air of impatience.
"Well?" Blackthorn asked, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Did you get the information from the doctor?"
Gustavo shook his head, trying to keep his voice steady. "No, my lord. The man... he wasn't ready to talk. I sent him somewhere he was ready to go." He deliberately omitted the details of his encounter with Dr. Mensah, not wanting to reveal his vulnerability.
Blackthorn ran a hand through his beard, his eyes narrowing in thought. After a moment, he spoke. "I know Zafron is alive, and he's likely with Matilda." His voice took on a determined edge.
"We need to cast a wider net. Send word to Astoria, Drakoria, and Lumina. Put a bounty on Matilda's head - 20,000 Thalens."
Gustavo's eyes widened at the sum. "Twenty thousand Thalens?" he repeated, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Am I... included in this race, my lord?"
A slow, cold smile spread across Blackthorn's face. "Indeed you are, Gustavo. Indeed you are."
Despite the lingering fear of the poison in his system, Gustavo felt a surge of renewed energy. This was his chance - not only to redeem himself in Blackthorn's eyes but also to potentially claim a fortune.
"I'll spread the word immediately, my lord," Gustavo said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "We'll find them, no matter where they're hiding."
As Gustavo hurried off to set the bounty in motion, Lord Blackthorn watched him go, taking another long drag from his cigar. The pieces were in motion now, and soon, he thought, Matilda and Zafron would have nowhere left to run.