Four men, playing cards and smoking, look up suddenly as the door of their cardroom is kicked open. This is not normal for them, unlike some card players. Three of them are nobles of stormwind; one is simply in charge of more men and more dealings than any of the other three. All four calmly put down their cards to assess who would dare barge in on them as if they were common back-room thugs.

"Hello boys," Amara Niall says, stepping into the room. "Sorry about the door, but I'd no idea where to find the key, and this really can't wait."

The card-player not dressed in a noble house's colors stands, taking in hand his diamond-tipped cane. He eyes the armor and large weapon of the intruder, but betrays no unease. "I see blood, but not as much as I'd expect. And we didn't hear you coming. How is it you weren't fighting your whole way here?"

"Oh, well, simple. Let me tell you a story..."

-----

A little while earlier, Amara approached the front gate. The guards standing there warned him, "This is private property. Back off or you'll be killed."

He ignored them. From his back, he unlimbered his axe, causing the guards to ready their own weapons. Then he pulled out a small blue package and threw it at the gate. It stuck to the gate's wrought-iron bars like a magnet. The guards stared at it for a moment, then screamed and dove for cover as the protective wards on the gate began glowing a violent green-purple. Shortly after that, the package exploded with a bright flash, vaporizing the gate and a small portion of the surrounding stone wall.

"Who the hell is this guy!?" One of the guards yells, scrambling to his feet, unsure whether to run away or pick up his weapon.

"An agent of the Kirin Tor, with the Violet Eye," Amara says, walking calmly through the crater he just created. "Amara Niall of Elrin Kast's Ghost Scions. Get out of my way if you want to live."

Another man in heavy armor, wielding a large sword rather than the axe Amara carries, steps out from behind one of the manor grounds' many hedgerows. "I'm the Executioner. I kill people like you; problem people."

Amara places both hands on the haft of his axe, stopping his advance in a balanced posture. "So try. Your men could use an object lesson."

"Hah," said the executioner. He leapt forward, sword describing a deadly arc through the air.

Especially a moment later, when it fell from his lifeless fingers, spinning through one of the hedges and lodging its tip a foot into the ground. Amara spun in place, prying his axe from the other warrior's chest and whirling it around to crash down on his spine, pinning him to the ground and ensuring he was finished. Planting a foot on the corpse, he levered the weapon out once more and cast his gaze to the terrified guards looking on. "Anyone else?"

-----

"...so I didn't meet much more trouble on my way to see you," Amara finishes. "Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?"

Calvar looks over his shoulder at his companions. The youngest of the four, only in his thirties, looks skeptical, and says, "Nobody could take down the Executioner in two blows."

"Oh, it was only one. The second hit was for effect. The tusks on the troll-skull you see on my axe here had pierced his heart with the first strike."

"You expect me to believe that toy punched through solid titansteel?"

Niall grins at the young noble. "This axe carries the power of the troll-gods of the north, and the titans. I have very nice toys."

Calvar jerks one hand in a negating motion, silencing his companions. He points his cane at Amara and asks, "Why should we deal with you at all?"

"If you don't, I'll simply kill you. Oh no, not you three, just Calvar. Then I'll kill everyone else who worked for him - unless they've already run for the chance to turn themselves and their friends in to the stormwind guard, hoping for mercy they wouldn't get from me."

"You can't get away with that!" The eldest statesman among the three nobles protests. "Already I could have you tried and hanged for murder on my estate!"

"Your guards were duly informed that I am an agent of the Violet Eye," Amara says calmly, and produces his violete badge in one hand. "Among other things, this badge is not merely an identification and protective talisman. It also ensures that everything I see and hear is recorded in Dalaran. My actions are subject to review, but not by any authority you have appeal to."

Calvar raps the card table with the tip of his cane. "That's quite enough, gentlemen. Let me do the talking. Very well, Mr. Niall. Tell us what you want."

"I want you to give me Anatole Avramidis."

"Tempting," Calvar's lips twitch, almost into a smirk. "He is a disgusting man, and has proven troublesome before. What will you do with him?"

"I will give him to the one he tried to take to decide that," Amara says. "I just need to make sure she isn't harmed when the rescue attempt is made."

"Ahh, then this is about his runaway bride, is it?" Calvar shakes his head. "I'd no idea she was connected in Dalaran as well as Stormwind, or I'd have crushed Avramidis's scrotum myself rather than let him bring this down on my operation. Oh yes, Mr. Niall, I have no desire to appear on the Kirin Tor's 'to do' list. Mage-guards have a nasty habit of being thoroughly unbribable and entirely without humor."

Amara smiles. "Good. Give me a list of your people in Anatole's country manor house, and the password by which they will recognize someone you've sent who's in charge of them."

"Of course, of course," Calvar says, smiling back. Both men's smiles show more teeth than satisfaction, but Calvar gestures and some servants stop pretending to be wall fixtures and scurry to their tasks. "While my personal scribe is fetched up and prepares the list, how about you join us for cards?"

"Love to," Niall says, and waves his badge with a grin. "No cheating now."

"Of course not," Calvar replies. "We're all gentlemen here."