Suddenly, a crossroads.

You push through the hole you've made in tent, blade at the ready. It's dark inside, lit only by a candle at the far end of the rounded interior. You look left from the light to see a figure silhouetted in the darkness of the half open tent flap. He's seated at a chair, a table to his left, on which stands a large, golden goblet, an inkwell, quill and what seems to be a stack of papers. His back is turned to you, staring intently at the chaos outside. You can hear the noise of men shouting, and the crackling of a distant fire. The fact that you can hear it at all shows that the fire has caught, and it will be some time before it's taken care of. You allow yourself a smug smile at your handiwork. The man seated must be Karl. Your sharp elven eyes are adept at seeing in the dark, and you glance from side to side to see if there's anyone else in the room. There isn't. Karl seems to be utterly consumed by watching the flames and how his men are dealing with it. You creep closer, careful not to make any loud noises or step on anything loud. Thankfully, the floor of the tent are various furs, which cushion your steps perfectly.

You raise your blade, but hesitate. There's a gap in the chair Karl is sitting on which only covers his shoulder blades. You could sink your sword into his middle back and pierce his heart without much effort, and he'd die silently within seconds. All you'd need do then is get out, and you'd be home free. However, something tugs at your heart. You feel as if you haven't gotten the whole story, as if there's a piece missing from this confusing puzzle. There's still an option to resolve this peacefully, you tell yourself. Perhaps you could simply talk to him here, and see what the man has to say. You could always kill him after, if his explanation doesn't satisfy you.

Your blade hovers just behind him, and the man still doesn't turn around. He stares out into the camp, and you see the grip on his chair tighten as another tent goes up in flames.