Vorwort

Diese Geschichte wurde im Rollenspiel in Herr der Ringe Online so gespielt.

Sie erzählt, wie Sutmena Rah’kal vom Tod ihres Vaters erfährt - und wem dieser das Geschäft vermachte.

The cards fly over the table, sliding towards Sutmena’s opponent and coming to a rest before her. “Sorry, Missie, but that round is mine.” With a grin on her face Sutmena pulls both the cards and the small stack of coins toward her before shuffling through the deck. It is a relaxed evening in the Prancing Pony, only a handful patrons are still up and half of them are playing cards with Sutmena - and losing. Sutmena has long mastered the games she plays, and perhaps one or another shuffling technique to ensure her victory. And so far this eve has gone all according to plan. That is until the Pony’s door squeaks open and a slender man steps inside. His skin is as dark as Sutmena’s, he stands upright, clad in burgundy and grey, while his hazel eyes quickly jump from patron to patron until his gaze fixates on the table with the cards. Sutmena stares back at him, interrupting her shuffling of the cards. It couldn’t be, could it? Some of the cards drop out of the stack as the man approaches. The other patrons at the table silence their chatter, confused and slightly worried that another troublemaker seemed to appear. They play cards with Sutmena, hoping to get some extra coin with a drink, but they are well-aware that Sutmena is not a woman to befriend for most commoners. Her brutal rule over her business is known across Bree, and some of the cruelty spills over to anyone whom she perceives as annoying or dangerous. Hence most folk stay away from her, or at least try not to annoy her when dealing with her. The man reaches the table and bows politely. He speaks common tongue as well as Sutmena: “Good evening, Ladies and Gents.” The other patrons nod in greeting, but Sutmena is having none of it. She asks him in Varadia: “What do you want, Maleek?” Maleek uprights himself and in a near whisper answers her with questions in common tongue: “Is it not rude to speak a foreign language in the presence of the locals? Besides.. is that a way to greet your cousin?” Cousin? Two of the patrons at the table have heard enough, they pack their coins and get up, quickly leaving the table. A frustrated sigh tells that Sutmena wishes she could aswell, but instead she complies with the implied wish of her cousin: “Welcome to the cold and harsh North-Lands, then, Maleek. Now what do you want? Where’s father?” Maleek smiles, though his smile is rather eerie than a warm-hearted one. “Your father is dead,” he answers coldly, observing every move of Sutmena’s facial muscles - and seeing how they form an expression of doubt, acceptance, then anger. “And you dare coming in here and let me know this way,” she snarls at him, prompting his smile to turn into a grin before letting her know: “That was not the purpose of my visit. Merely, a confounding factor. I am here to tell you that I now will lead the Northern business and you are to follow my orders. That is the will of your father.” Understanding the severity of the situation, another patron quickly gets up and sneaks away from the table, even leaving his coins behind. The last time someone challenged Sutmena’s rule over her own business the man was executed publicly - and gruesomely, by her personally. They had him framed for crimes warranting his capture dead or alive. And Sutmena captured him, dead. With this little trick they bound the hands of the guards and Sutmena was only arrested for disturbing the peace. She slaughtered a man and dragged his guts onto the pavement and got out after two weeks. That seems to be on her mind now aswell as she stares daggers at Maleek. Gritting her teeth she challenges him: “And I am supposed to believe that based on your word alone?” Her challenge is met with an answer: A sealed envelope Maleek gently places on the table. Sutmena does not even open it, knowing it would confirm what her cousin says. Instead she uprights herself. “No,” she summarizes her position before elaborating, “I built this business. It was I who had to make a place for the Rah’kal family in these hostile lands. I made us a name, I found markets and I sent coffers of gold back to Harad. I saw a cell from the inside a few times, I had to talk down half an elven host and beat down an attempted mutiny. My father did nothing but receive the gold, he can not decide whom this is entrusted to, dead or alive, he never had the right-” Her explanation is cut short by Maleek’s hand grabbing her throat and forcing her head on the table in front of her. He is not very muscular and Sutmena might easily overpower him, but she makes no effort to do so. She breathes rapidly, trying to contain her anger at this humiliation, but ultimatively allows him. Maleek bows forward to whisper in her ear. “Perhaps the cold air has clouded your judgement, but you should know that going against the family is never a good course of action, do you not?” He still holds her down as his eyes look at the only two other patrons still sat at the table. Their terrified expressions tell him about Sutmena’s reputation - and the one he is getting with them. The eerie smilie creeps back on his face as Sutmena answers him: “Of course not.. I will respect my father’s will.” He lets go of her and uprights himself, folding his hands in front of him again. “Very well, I am pleased we reached this conclusion.. besides: Have you not always said you despise the.. political responsibilities?” Sutmena sits back up and rubs her neck before giving him a confused look: “How would you know?” Maleek chuckles arrogantly: “I have been here for a while now and I have talked to many of your people.. You let your property overhear quite a bit about your private thoughts. Risky, if you ask me.. Anyway, I shall no longer interrupt your recreational activity. I will see you tomorrow morn.” He bows again, turns around on the spot and elegantly carries himself back to the door he came from. Sutmena on the other hand takes a deep breath and leans forward on the table. Millions of thoughts are racing through her head. Is her father really dead? If so, how did he die? Illness or murder? Did he choose Maleek as the successor? If so, why? Out of spite? Does he think Maleek can handle the expansion better? And will he, really? To at least try to save some of her face in front of the others she announces: “We will negotiate that tomorrow. I could use some help with the stuck-up aristocrats.” She quickly tucks away the sealed letter and picks up the cards, starting to shuffle them again. Reluctantly, the other two patrons push forth their stakes for the next round as Sutmena throws them their cards.