Caracara's Hunt 113 Different Approach

"What an easily memorable name! Perfect for such a young man like you!"

"Sir, what do you think about Julietta? She's a pretty lady, isn't she?"

The last words were followed by a teenage girl being pushed forward. Arawn looked over and saw a young lady in an orange gown. She smiled at him with color rushing to her cheeks and lowered her head while curtsying before him.

Before Arawn could say anything, another n.o.ble pulled him on the hand. "Julietta is a lovely girl, but you should take a look at my Gretta. She's not only pretty but can use the fire element with ease. Daughter, show him!"

Ether rushed out from the hands of a girl dressed in light yellow. She pulled the fire from the torches and looked over at Juliette with smugness. Flames danced at her fingertips, threatening to burn anyone who got too close.

It took all Arawn had not to turn on his heel and leave, right there and then. From the moment they returned, all the n.o.bles began to treat him like a precious jewel they had missed before. They bothered Lord Bernard so much that he conceded to make another gathering so everyone could get introduced to Arawn.

He would have preferred if the old man hadn't been so kind. While all the lower cla.s.s people hated Arawn, the n.o.bles had the exact opposite reaction. Upon hearing of his abilities, they went into a frenzy, not leaving him alone for a moment.

If they weren't vying for his attention, they were showing off their daughters, and if not that, they were trying to gather information about him from Mutallu and Sylvester. In a blink of an eye, the renowned doctor had lost his importance once a tastier morsel appeared in their midst.

Feeling suffocated, Arawn pushed his way out of the ballroom. It took him a good ten minutes to free himself from the last couple clinging n.o.bles, but he managed it and hid deep in the gardens.

It was night and the temperature was low, but Arawn didn't mind. He breathed in the cold air and closed his eyes in pleasure. It was much better to be alone outside than it that stuffy room with people he didn't know nor cared to know.

"Running away?" a voice asked from behind him, and Arawn turned around to see Sylvester sitting on a nearby bench.

Mutallu was nowhere in sight, but there was no doubt he was somewhere around. Unlike Arawn, he took his role of a bodyguard seriously. It was rare to see him not shadowing the doctor.

"Maybe," Arawn said and came over to sit down by Sylvester's side.

The idea of just leaving had flashed past his mind more than once in the last couple days. He had never been the center of attention before, and he didn't like it at all. Guilt rose within him when he ignored anyone and hurt their feelings, but if he didn't, they came at him even stronger.

At one point, he had accepted a small gift from one n.o.ble, and h.e.l.l itself was let loose on his head. He was showered in gifts, which he could neither refuse nor accept. If he didn't take them, he would be seen as favoring the first n.o.ble, and the others would bring even more expensive gifts to win him over.

If he accepted everything, they would expect something in return. Each of them had a role for him to play in their personal games for power. They could see that he had power but was blind to their world, and it enticed them even more.

"It'll happen wherever you go. It's the burden of being too good." While saying that, Sylvester didn't look at Arawn. His eyes were set on the dark sky above them. "You can't run away from who you are."

"Doesn't mean I can't try," Arawn muttered with his gaze on the ground.

The problem was that he didn't want to be anybody. He hadn't created that fiery h.e.l.l to show off his power. There wasn't a part of him that wanted to stand at the top, and he knew better than anyone just how lacking was his knowledge.

"I just want to be left alone. Is it too much to ask?" he wondered in a low voice tainted with frustration.

Sylvester glanced at him. "You might as well ask for the whole world at this rate. It's just as likely to happen."

The attention Arawn received in Mairya was different from the one he got in Ayersbert, but he couldn't say he preferred either one. All he really wanted was to have some peace of mind and be forgotten.

"Someone's coming," said a voice from above, and Arawn looked up in surprise to see Mutallu sitting in a tree. Dressed in dark brown, he was almost unnoticeable among the branches.

They fell silent at his warning, and soon, the chatter of a group of some seven-nine young masters and ladies reached their ears. If Arawn had been listening for it, he probably would have heard them long ago, but with the constant noise of the ballroom, he had tuned out most of what he heard.

"... so sure. He deserves it though," one of the men said. "It was long coming."

"Can't believe it took so long. They had been overstepping themselves for years now," another voice agreed.

Like an echo, the rest of the group murmured their agreement, and for a moment there was silence. Then, one girl giggled. "Did you know, I heard that he's one-armed now! Haha! So fitting!"

"Is that true? I thought it was just a rumor," another girl disagreed. She sounded quite distrustful of the first's words.

"It's really true! I saw him myself!" She lowered her voice then as if to tell some kind of secret. "He said he lost it fighting a beast, but who doesn't know that he's only a paper pusher? It's good that such a liar will get executed."

Laughing, the group left into the distance. They were very satisfied with themselves, but Arawn had a bad taste in his mouth upon hearing the word 'execution'. It brought back memories he didn't feel like recalling.

"Who were they talking about?" he wondered aloud to break the silence.

"Katalans," Sylvester said with a sigh. "Everyone knows their death won't absolve Mairya of the crime, but it's better to be seen doing something, isn't it? King Akiia thinks so at least."

Arawn stared at him, frozen in shock. Weren't Katalans Sylvester's previous patrons? Why was he so nonchalant about their deaths then?

"All of them?" Arawn demanded. "Isn't their father dead already?"

Sylvester raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, but still nodded. "Lord Katalan is dead, but his family is still around, and they're all traitors now."

"And you're not planning to do anything about it?"

"What do you want me to do?" Sylvester asked with a dark look his way. "Even if I say they're innocent, do you think anyone's going to listen to me? I told you before, my fame and glory aren't worth a s.h.i.t."

Arawn jumped to his feet, unable to sit still anymore. Val was in danger, and n.o.body planned to do anything about it? And how did he not know about it?

"I didn't risk everything for him just so he would get executed upon coming home," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm going to the capital."

"Are you crazy? What can you even do? Katalan luck is horrendous, and they'll drag you down to the bottom with them. Stay here and—"

With a shake of his head, Arawn turned toward the exit to the courtyard and the stables. "I'm useless here, but I can help Val and his sister. This cursed power, I can use it for something more than just showing off."