|
Complete Series | Chapter Two |
|
|
|
|
|
|
This is a compilation of all updates of Chapter Two of my series. Although I update this story every other day, feel free to come here to read any updates you missed, that way you don't have to search for them in my journal.
All updates will be listed as the current chapter, i.e., "1.1," "1.2," "1.3," etc. until we hit new chapters. 1.1 is chapter one, part one.
Lucien's smirk was remarkable. He sat across from Claude at the enormously long table. However, it only seated four people. At the two ends were Lucien and Claude. Beside them, on each end of the table, sat their officers, Victor and Eliana Silvershade. Lucien was reminiscing about the past as he listened to Claude's proposal, and his smirk only widened as time went by.
It was not the first time that Claude had come to him for help like this. Here, in The Seven Swords' Council Room, he and Claude had come face to face dozens of times. Rarely did Lucien ever go to the Council of Virtuous Parley's Grand Council Hall. Then again, rarely did Lucien ever call to the Council for support. Throughout the last six years that Lucien had been in power over The Seven Swords, he had only visited Port Rap two times. His first visit was to congratulate his brother, Claude, on receiving the position of Guildmaster. The second visit was a less serious matter involving trade deal.
Lucien tried to snap out of his reminiscing, but when he finally managed to look back at Claude, he realized that he had failed. Claude's expression was clearly masking frustration. Lucien attempted to calm him, "I was listening. I was, I swear!"
Claude waved his hand at Lucien's blatant lie. "Clearly not. I bet you were just dozing off or something. It's your fault for never taking any time to sleep, so pull yourself together."
Lucien couldn't deny that. He was exhausted. This was simply because he had received a message from a dispatch that Claude would be arriving tonight. He had immediately left his quarters and informed all the guards that he was expecting someone from the Yellowdale Kingdom. So, instead of resting his eyes for a few hours, he had kept himself awake by scribbling all over his paperwork.
Now that Claude was actually here, Lucien couldn't contain himself. The two brothers were practically polar opposites, but when they were together, Lucien became more like his younger brother without notice. His usually humble and reserved personality warped into a more childish and shameless personality. It wasn't something that Claude enjoyed. Claude likes to be the player, not be played with.
Despite Lucien's inability to pay attention, Claude reiterated himself once more. "So, you heard that the shipment you had sent was raided, correct? Well, because you had decided to send two shipments, we wasted our resources trying to retrieve the lesser half."
Lucien laughed a little under his breath. "Old Henrik still hasn't gotten out of those bad habits, has he?"
Claude shot him a glare, but reluctantly responded with, "No. The old man's practically senile, these days." Brushing off the interruption, he continued, "According to Lorelis, we spent 80 platinum pieces on the operation to retrieve the lesser half of the shipment, which was only worth 20% of the entire shipment to begin with. Obviously, we didn't know that it was the lesser half, or else we would have just let it go."
Claude was waving his arms wildly as he explained his plight. His expression continued to attempt to mask his anger, but failed miserably. "Now, listen. I've come up with a plan to make a profit off of this entire ordeal, rather than the measly 20% profit that I was left with after spending the Council's platinum."
Lucien's brows peaked. When Claude had a plan, it was normally worth listening to, whether it was pure genius or just entertaining. "Pray, tell, what is your scheme this time, Claude?" He looked across the table at Claude, whose hair was frizzy from the exhausting travel and his tunic was quite dusty. He then looked to Victor, who was smiling wryly. His helm was set on the table in front of him, and he had his hands clasped in between his legs. His dirty blonde hair stuck up far more than Claude's ponytail.
Eliana shifted uncomfortably at Lucien's side, awaiting the proposition. She was The Seven Swords' Guildmaster's right hand. She acted as adviser and general over the other officers in the guild. Her orders were orders from the top -- Lucien.
Claude noticed her shuffling, and looked her up and down. Her dark red dress fit her well. It matched her long, blonde hair, which swirled down her back in a coiling ponytail. Her light skin reflected the color of the dress well and her blue eyes and slender form created a perfect image.
Despite how beautiful she was, Claude had had interactions with the woman several times, and he knew that the beauty only masked the personality within. Here, she hid it the best she could, most likely for Lucien's sake, with an emotionless, analytical stare.
"Don't worry, Eliana, your beloved master won't die, I swear by the Embers of Alnia." The swear was in reference to the 'diety' that was tied to the bow of a ship and set out to sea. There, she was burned alive, wiping her physical existence from the world. This also was the origin of the Emberbow Sea's name.
She smirked at him sarcastically, "Yes, I'm so worried that Lucien can't take care of himself on one of your pathetic outings."
Claude contained himself and immediately turned away from her. She was simply too much for him to handle, so he continued to explain. "We captured one of the men that led the raid on the first half of the shipment, and through interrogation, we have determined that there are more of them. What we thought was a simple band of thugs might be an entire network of criminals and pirates."
Lucien waved the prospect away. "Impossible. Here in Lelantos Empire, I spend a great deal of the Guild's fortune on protection of the ports. Just because a few brigands from your side of the bay managed to get away with simple theft, doesn't mean that there will be more of them."
"That's not true at all, and you know it, Lucien." Claude leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "This is not the first time that a shipment has been raided. Not in the Yellowdale Kingdom, and certainly not in the Lelantos Empire. However, this one was different."
"Oh, how so? Was it, by any chance, that you left your shipment unguarded?" Lucien laughed at his jest, but Claude did not.
"That is exactly what made this case surprisingly difficult to understand." Claude stood up from his chair and walked to the right side of the table. He grabbed a piece of parchment from the table that lined the wall and then returned to his seat. After scribbling on it for a moment with a quill that was set on the Council Table, he passed the parchment across the table to Lucien.
"That's a small map of the port where the shipment was. All of the Xs that you see are where my guards were killed during the raid." Claude punctuated his sentence by sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms once more.
Lucien looked over the scribbled map delicately. He was unsure what to think of it. He continued to examine it until a question rose in his head. "How were your men killed?"
Victor lifted his hands from the table, his smile gone. In one of his hands, he held another parchment, which he then passed to Lucien, who read it immediately.
The Deaths of the Council of Virtuous Parley's Shipment Guards
The Archiving Division has concluded that all deaths at Port 4-C resembled one another, hence why all deaths will be recorded in a singular report.
The Archiving Division has concluded that all deaths at Port 4-C were caused by poisoned darts to the throat. The poison is a normally untraceable poison that comes from a herb known as Witsbane. The poison acts quickly, disabling the nerves immediately, wherever it is inserted.
Because of its paralytic effects, none of the guards were able to cry out when the darts were stuck into their throats. The poison quickly spread through the bloodstream and killed when it reached either the brain or the heart.
The Archiving Division can also conclude that this form of murder is of the utmost rarity, and should be considered professional.
~ The Archiving Division
Lucien looked up from the parchment and passed it to Eliana. Not waiting for her to read it, Lucien inquired, "Are you telling me that this simple theft was not nearly what it seemed to be? That this was a warning of an assassination attempt, or even an assassination in itself?"
Claude sat forward in his chair and rested his arms on the table, crossing them over each other. His eyes pierced Lucien's eagerly. "Tomorrow morning, I want the second half of my shipment to be in Port Rap, at Port 2-B. I will be there. In addition to that, my officers will each visit the Port at two hour intervals. They will be reporting to me."
Lucien shook his head and let it rest in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. "The shipment cannot arrive in time -- there is simply no way to pull that off--"
"That shipment doesn't have to be there. It just has to seem like it's there," Victor corrected. He let his smile return to his face, and gave Claude a thumbs-up.
Lucien finally wrapped his head around the plan and was left with one question: "If you're going to use yourself and your officers as bait, how will whoever the assassin is know that you will be there? And that the shipment will arrive early?"
Claude laughed menacingly. "Oh, Lucien. Don't you know? Word gets around quite quickly when you are part of The Seven Swords."
At this, Claude could see that his brother was confused. Luckily, Claude knew that his brother was simpleminded and required proof for everything. He reached into his tunic and retrieved another parchment. "This was found on the scene. What a careless assassin." He passed it to Lucien, who caught it as it slid down the length of the table.
His eyes widened as he read the parchment. "This is insane! You're more senile than Old Henrik! You cannot accuse me of this!"
"Oh, I'm not accusing you, brother. I'm just leveraging you to help me make a small fortune." Claude stood up from his seat, and Victor followed him. The two walked to the door and waited for Lucien and Eliana to follow. "I think we've reached an agreement," Claude confidently remarked.
Lucien passed the parchment to Eliana, who read it to herself. What she read surprised her just as much as it had surprised Lucien, who was clenching his fists and resting his head against them. She read it once more, just to be certain.
Contract of Termination
We have concluded that the target must be eliminated. Our source claims that the target will be on the ship at Port 4-C at roughly midnight. We have provided you with the tools for the termination process. They can be found behind the painting in your room in The Seven Swords' Guild Hall.
Claude shook Lucien's hand from his shoulder. "I don't need your apology. I need your cooperation. There's no other way for this to work."
Lucien let his hand fall to his side, but he clenched his fist nonetheless. "But it was one of my men that did this. If the officers here knew, then there would surely be trouble--"
"The other members can't know. They're all suspects. We searched all the paintings in the building, but we couldn't find any trace of where the materials for the assassination attempt were kept. We have to assume that everyone is a suspect. I'd even suspect you, were you not my brother." Claude crossed his arms across his tunic. His rapier swayed at his side as he did so.
Lucien watched it sway on his belt. He remembered it well. The obsidian-black blade was unforgettable. Before Claude took his place as Guildmaster, the former Guildmaster had had it forged by the greatest smiths in Yellowdale. He had paid quite a pretty penny for the weapon. It was something of a coronation gift for when Claude rose to power.
Claude was never separated from it. He slept with it at his bedside, and he carried it with him everywhere when he was awake. The blade was of the utmost importance to him. It was a symbol of his past, his present, and his future as Guildmaster. He had promised that he would wield the blade until the day that he died.
Claude noticed Lucien's staring and placed his hand on the hilt of the sword. "Brings back memories, doesn't it? The old man never once gave me a lesson for it, though. He taught me every other weapon. I suppose he wanted me to gain experience with the rapier by myself."
"He always did have a knack for that kind of sentimentality," Lucien remarked, reminiscing. "But that doesn't matter now. You're right, we have to assume that everyone is a suspect. We must act now, before word gets out."
"You're awfully eager. There should be a ship on its way to Port Rap as we speak. It will arrive within the hour. My companions and I should set out before it arrives. Otherwise, we might not return in time for us all to act as bait." Claude glanced out the window. The horizon was beginning to glow with the light of the sun.
"I'll provide you with the Empire's fastest horses, then." Lucien stepped towards Claude at the window and clasped his shoulders. "Try not to act too rashly, Claude. Remember, every move you make could be your last."
"You're more sentimental than the old man. Sheesh, don't worry, I'll be fine. It'll take a lot more than just one assassin to take me down." Claude crossed his arms and turned away from the window and from Lucien. He began to step towards the door of Lucien's office.
Lucien stepped out from behind the desk at the window and called after Claude, "I'll be sure that the shipments logs are changed to match your shipment. All of the crew will be informed as well. We'll use one of the messenger birds."
Claude waved his hand as he opened and stepped out of the door, leaving it open behind him. "Thanks for the help, Lucy."
Lucien frowned at the nickname, but held himself together. He stepped back to his desk and looked out the window once more. The city was finally quieting down, he could see. This was normally about the time that the drunks and the homeless finally began to settle down and find a place to sleep.
Normally, Lucien himself would have slept by now. In fact, he would have slept hours ago. But, even now, he could not sleep. He sat at the desk and picked up his quill. Dipping it in the black ink beside him, he pulled out a parchment and began to write.
Claude and Victor saddled the horses at the stables by the plaza with the fountain. Claude's was a bright white steed, almost completely bare, save the saddlebags. Normally, this steed would be covered in armor for battle. That was what it was trained for, after all. But, now, for the sake of speedy travel, the Lelantos guards kept him bare.
Victor's horse was in the same state, but his steed was a great brown horse. Victor had gladly accepted the horse, understanding that there were not many warhorses that were built to carry the weight of a full-plate armored soldier.
The other Council guards that had accompanied them to the city would stay behind and would wait until they were well-rested before they could return. Housing was provided for them in inns throughout the town, and they were to be fed in the guild hall on the Palace grounds.
Claude climbed up onto his steed and looked to Victor, who was already mounted. "We've got a long road ahead of us. Would you like to be the last of the officers to take their turn at the Port? It will give you time to rest, if you need it."
Victor laughed heartily, placing his helmet on his head, topping off his short, golden hair. "It takes much more than just sleep to get me energized. But it also takes much more than lack of sleep to make me tired."
Claude smiled, turning back to the road ahead of him. "Then, at least keep up on the way back, alright?" he teased, patting the steed's neck.
Victor picked up the reigns and urged his horse to trot out of the stables, turning him to face Claude once more. "If you want me to keep up, then you'll have to put me behind you, first!" Holding the reigns, he led the horse down the path towards the western gate, where they had entered. The horse sped off, its hooves clacking on the stone path.
Claude's smile only grew wider. "I'll even give you a head start." He trotted his horse out into the plaza and waited for a bit. Then, with a kick of his heels into the horse's sides, he urged the horse to follow after Victor. To his dismay, the beast did not move. He tried and tried again and again, but failed to urge the creature to move.
One of the city guards noticed his plight and, stifling a giggle, informed Claude that, as a warhorse, it was trained to only move after hearing a passphrase of sorts. "What kind of horse has a password!?" he yelled. His smile turned into a frown as he leaned down to the horse's ear and whispered the phrase. The horse's ears flicked as it heard the words, and when Claude kicked his sides once more, the horse reared and began to speed off, down the street. Claude had to hold tight to the reigns so as not to fall off.
Waves crashed against the ship as it sped through the water. The sails were billowing to and fro in the wind. The masts creaked as the sails slammed into them. Despite the heavy wind, the sky was clear and the sun was steadily mounting in the horizon. The stars were beginning to fade, and the moons' surfaces began to take shape in the light.
The bird spotted the ship nearly a mile away. It was a falcon, and the fastest of its kind, as well. Its wings rarely flapped as it soared through the air, hovering on wind currents to reach its destination. Its eyes picked out the masts and the hull, the bow and the stern.
The figurehead crashed into waves and split them as the ship cut like a knife through the bay. The falcon spotted its desired perch, and as it grew closer to the ship, began to adjust its angle to slow its decent. The shoulder on which the falcon landed belonged to an older man, clad in armor from the Lelantos Empire. He turned his head to the falcon and asked in a gruff voice, "Well, what did you bring me, friend?"
He reached to the falcon's breast, where a messenger pod had been strapped around his body. He opened the cork bottle and shook out the parchment that was inside. Unrolling it and reading it over, his face wrinkled into a smile. "Looks like we're going to have some company when we get to Port Rap."
Turning away from the sea, he faced the mast and began to climb down it from the crow's nest. When he reached the bottom, he climbed up on a crate and faced the crew. Since he was a guard that had been assigned to the ship from the port-city of Keygate in Lelantos, he was one of the few aboard the ship that actually needed armor.
He began to announce the contents of the parchment and set the crew to work. They had roughly half an hour before the ship docked at Port Rap, and they had to change ship logs, crate labels, and any other hints at what the shipment contained.
When he finished with that, he jumped down from the crate and went to the captain's quarters. Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer.
"Enter," he heard. With that, he opened the door and stepped inside. "You might have to find a place to hide. I just received this," he said, tossing the note on the captain's desk. The falcon on his shoulder flapped its wings and jumped over to the captain's shoulder. "Looks like even the falcons of Lelantos won't forget your face."
Looking up from his work, the bearded captain picked up the parchment and read it quickly. "Do you want to take my place for the time being? If I'm found here, it might actually cause an issue. Especially if Claude will be on the ship." His voice was rough when he spoke. He reached up to the falcon and pet its wings. "There, there. Long time no see, Ode."
"Ardid, you know that it might cause troubles if I'm seen, as well." He crossed his arms and watched as Ode preened his feathers. "After all, I'm the one who's got the scars."
Ardid stood up from his desk and walked the guard out the door. The two walked side-by-side as they watched the crew bustle about. "Arvur, you may have the scars, but I am the actual image. Do you think that Claude and the others would remember the scars or the actual image?"
Arvur placed removed his helmet and his gauntlets. He held his hands out to Ardid, who looked them over. They were covered in burn scars that ran up his arm, into his armor. He grimaced at the thought of the pain that Arvur must have gone through for his sake.
Arvur dropped his hands to his sides. "You're probably right. I was disguised at the time, after all. Perhaps they will not recognize me if I can keep my scars covered."
Ardid smiled at him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "I already owe you my life, Arvur. I'll owe you a second one, if we can pull this off."
Arvur laughed and shook his head, his long grey hair shaking in the wind. "You don't owe me anything. What are brothers for, if not for saving each other's skins, eh?"
The captain let his hands run through his speckled black hair. He rubbed his beard and his wrinkled face began to shudder as he tried to hold back his laughter. "Oh, Arvur, how did I wind up aging so much better than you?"
His brother laughed at the jest as well, running his hands through his grey hair. It reached down to about his shoulders, whereas his brother's black hair stretched down his back. "You always criticized Claude for the long hair, yet, here you are. What a hypocrite!"
Ardid turned away from Arvur and began to step back towards his quarters. "Well, that can't change just yet. After all, if I'm seen, I need to be unrecognizable." His brown eyes burned with determination of years past. "I guess I'll be a cook, or something," he said as he went into his quarters to change clothes.
Arvur turned away from his brothers quarters and began to step towards the stairs that led down into the ship. He knew that the risk of being recognized by Claude was low, but the threat was still there. However, for his brother, Ardid, he would push his worries away and face his mission with dignity.
After all, this was not just for his brother. Ardid and Arvur's secret must not be known by Claude or any of the other officers in the guild. However, what worried him more than that was the reasoning behind this operation. "Why would Claude be visiting this ship, and wanting the shipments changed, at that?" he mumbled to himself.
Ardid sat at his desk and enjoyed his last few minutes as captain. He had been wondering the same thing as Arvur, but he had come to his conclusion already. "This clearly has something to do with Port 4-C. That little buggar sure has some intuition." He stood up and looked out the stern's window. He could see the waves lapping at the ship as they cut through the water.
Crossing his arms and frowning, he groaned. "I guess I better get ready. By the embers of Alnia, I'm so tired of being a target."
Claude and Victor stepped off of the boarding ramp and onto the deck of the ship. Gulls were circling around the mast and perching on the sails. Looking towards the front of the ship, Claude could see the next Port over, Port 2-A. A smaller ship was docked there. Most likely, it was one of the Council's patrol ships.
In the Yellowdale Kingdom, there was no ruling King, despite its name. Power was divided between several different bureaucrats within the country. Each one had some amount of power over different sections of the Kingdom, but the bureaucrat who held power in Port Rap had just recently died, which helped to spur the Council of Virtuous Parley's power in the area. Until another bureaucrat was appointed to power, the Council's Defense Division had been protecting the ships of the bay with their scout and battle vessels.
Claude turned away from the bay and towards the back of the ship, where the Captain's Quarters was held. Stepping softly over to the door, he rapped on the door, which opened immediately. Claude stepped past the crew member that had opened the door and into the room. Lining the walls were a bed, plenty of dressers, and several chests. At the back of the room was the captain, at his desk. His chair was turned slightly, and when they stepped into the room, he looked away from the back windows of the ship to greet them.
Claude looked the man up and down, defining the man in his mind. His hair was a dirty grey, and it reached down to his shoulders. The man's eyes were hazel colored, but the wrinkles around his face forced an image of unhealthiness. Normally, those eyes would have sparked with a handsome glow.
The man's shoulders were broad, like those of a warrior, and Claude was cautious of the several weapons that were placed all over the walls. "Quite an arsenal you have here, Captain," he said, noting the spears, swords, maces, and axes of all shapes and sizes.
The man answered in a gruff voice, "Thank you, young Master. I've prided myself on my collection so far. But, I promise, it's not complete just yet."
Claude's eyebrows raised at the remark. He was slightly impressed. "Where did you find so many splendid pieces?"
"As a humble member of The Seven Swords, I agreed to seeking out the seven swords of Aias, the legendary father of Alnia. One of the greatest smiths known to mankind. His power was so mighty that he was considered a deity among smiths. With a quest such as that, my collection grows every day."
Claude admired the craftsmanship of the weapons along the walls, and it urged him to ask, "Just how many of the seven swords have you found? Why did you select these pieces?"
The captain laughed at the question. "My boy, all of these weapons that you see on the walls here were forged by Aias himself. According to the stories, Aias forged weapons of sorts. But those seven swords were said to be his most powerful and perfect pieces. They were forged as a set, and they were to be distributed across Lelantos, to the rulers, back when the country was divided."
Claude stepped over to a large halberd on the wall. It was posted horizontally, and was surrounded by four daggers above and two hand axes below. The blade was hourglass-shaped, and had a tip that was like an arrow. Celtic knots decorated the blade.
The captain spoke up, interrupting Claude's admiration. "We were informed of the situation, and I have prepared a place for you at the helm of the ship. My crew and I will be sure that you are well taken care of as your officers arrive throughout the day."
Victor scoffed, remembering the crew on the deck. The majority of them were unarmed and looked to be untrained, but he cleared his throat in order to distract from the rude gesture. "Excuse me," he said, coughing loudly.
"Thank you, Captain. We will attempt to not interrupt the process of taking inventory and unloading your shipment," Claude said, stepping back to the door. Victor followed him out.
Arvur sighed once he saw their shadows pass from the small stained-glass window of the door. "By Aias, that was terrifying. That boy's eyes never change. Always so cold and empty."
He turned his chair back to the window and watched the port behind him, Port 2-C. There, another ship was in the middle of docking. Ropes were being thrown to the dock, and the men were climbing down rope ladders and placing ramps. His mind was in a completely different place than the scene before him, however. "I hope Ardid isn't discovered. Especially since he took the guise of our head chef. He'll be making food for Claude and the others all day long."
Ardid sprinkled some salt into the soup before him. He waved some of the wafting scent into his nostrils and sighed happily as the pleasing scent penetrated his consciousness. "Perfect."
He could hear the footsteps on the deck above as someone boarded the ship. "Seems like it's just about time." Putting a lid on the pot before him, he moved towards the washbasin across the small room. He began to busily scrub at the silver plates, bowls, goblets, and silverware.
He could hear the creak of the Captain's Quarters door as it opened. Perspiration began to appear on his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand gently. He took off the chef's hat once he had finished with the dishes. After he placed the hat on a shelf, he removed the net from his hair, letting it fall down the length of his back.
Replacing the hat, he began to dish out the soup into bowls. Putting heavy gloves on, he reached into the brick oven to his left and pulled out three loaves of bread. It was thick and smelled of butter and cinnamon. "Also perfect!" he laughed to himself, cutting into the bread with a knife. He placed two thick pieces onto each plate before him, and was left with one loaf once all the plates had been filled.
He placed the bowls onto the free space of the plates and proceeded to line up the goblets. He only filled two of them, but left the other four in line. He pushed three of the finished dishes to his side, and, after dousing the fire in the oven, he placed the pot of soup into it. He also placed the other plates into the oven, hoping that the leftover heat would keep the dishes warm until the other officers arrived.
He heard the door of the Captain's Quarters open once more and slam shut. Footsteps followed the sound, and they disappeared as they moved farther up, towards the helm. "Just in time," Ardid remarked. Calling over to one of the kitchen crew, he pushed the three plates to him and gave him orders to bring the dishes to the ship's visitors and the captain.
"Of course, Head Chef," the young man said, taking the plates and lining them along his arms. Ardid placed the goblets onto the plates once the man had them balanced. Carefully walking away, he skillfully carried the dishes, bringing them out onto the deck.
"Hopefully, the brandy will do as the plan suggests," Ardid remarked, watching him go.
Claude and Victor ate the food voraciously, and the captain, who had joined them shortly after they left, picked at the soup with his spoon. He was anxiously awaiting the day to come to an end, even though it had only just begun a few hours ago.
As Arvur sat throughout the hours, he warmed up to Claude, eventually playing card games with him and talking more about legends and his adventures as the member of The Seven Swords with the most artifacts of Aias. Victor went back to the guild hall, and Victor was replaced with Lorelis. More hours went by, and Lorelis was replaced by Sylvestor. Even more hours went by and Sylvestor was replaced by Henrik, who was the last of the officers.
As Henrik stepped up to the helm of the ship, he sat down at the table that was set up for them. At this point, Claude had fallen asleep, and Arvur was sitting quietly. Henrik watched as a young man placed a dish of soup and bread on the table as he arrived, just as the other officers were treated.
He looked at the dish before him and rubbed his bald head, sighing as he picked up his spoon, dipping it into the soup. "He really needs to learn a new dish," he said, looking up at Arvur.
Arvur laughed and glanced at Claude, paranoid that he might hear. Henrik dismissed his paranoia, "It's fine, he won't wake up. He's been awake for two days straight, after all. Besides, I'm sure Ardid probably provided enough brandy to keep him out for the next week," Henrik joked.
Arvur smiled, watching Henrik as he sipped his soup from the spoon. "So, are you going to be the one to let me in on what's going on?" he asked, hinting at the events of today.
Henrik shrugged, "Honestly, I don't know what Claude is all worked up about. It's not the first time that an officer of the Council has been targeted for an assassination. The boy doesn't even know if the assassination attempt from the other night was a success or a failure. For all he knows, the assassination was already carried out."
Arvur considered the situation and tapped his fork on the table. Leaning his elbow on the table, he placed his chin in his hand and watched the waves lapping at the ports. "What if Claude is right? What if someone is still a target within the Council?"
"Well, we'll find that out soon enough, won't we?" Henrik, remarked, giggling to himself.
Arvur couldn't wrap his head around how the man could be so lighthearted when he could potentially be the victim of an assassination. "Well, if the assassin is still at large, either you or Claude is the target," he informed with a frown.
Henrik smiled at Arvur, waving the notion away. "The only thing anyone would gain from killing me is the right to say that he or she killed an old man. Nothing more!" he continued to laugh, his laugh lines showing along his cheeks. His brown robes were gently blowing in the wind, as he composed himself.
They continued speaking for a few more hours until the sun went down. Claude was still sound asleep, so Henrik remarked, "We just might have to stay the night, you know."
Arvur did not appreciate the jest. He could only keep his guise for so long. "I'm afraid that might not be possible, Henrik."
Henrik smiled and looked out at the bay. The moons' reflections were rolling with the waves as the sea beat at the boat's hull. The majority of the crew had gone to their cots below the deck and were most likely getting drunk or passing out. The two men sat in silence with Claude quietly snoozing between them.
Henrik began to stand from his seat and moved to Claude. He intended to wake him from his sleep, and then the two would most likely head back to the guild hall. As Henrik placed his hand on Claude's shoulder to shake him awake, his eyes widened. He looked at Arvur and yelled, "Look out!"
The crossbow bolt whizzed through the air from the mast above. Its trajectory was perfect. It grew nearer and nearer to Arvur's throat. In a fraction of a second, Arvur's sight was blotted out by a black-cloaked figure. The light of the moon reflected off of the blade of a halberd as it spun through the air around the figure. The bolt was cut clean in half and fell onto the table to each side of the figure.
"Quickly, get Henrik and Claude out of here. It's me they're after," Ardid said, hopping down from the table. He spun the halberd around his black cloak and jumped down to the deck to face the newfound enemy.
 Ty-Harukii · Mon Jul 03, 2017 @ 08:46pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
