Caracara's Hunt 97 A New Employer

From time to time, he would give a small lecture on the various herbs in his medicine box, but that was all. He did not care to teachArawn about his craft and spent most of his time going through his notebook.

When the tall city gates finally came into view, Arawn couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. Now that they had reached their destination, things were bound to change. There was no way his companions could act the way they did for much longer.

There was a huge line of carts waiting at the gates, with men, women, and children all waiting to receive entrance into the city. It was moving exceptionally slowly, which meant that it might take them a good day or more to get inside.

But once they came close, Sylvester motioned for Mutallu to turn their horse more to the right. There was empty s.p.a.ce there, and they swiftly reached the gates. Noticing them, one of the guards came over with a fire in his eyes, ready to shout them down.

Sylvester jumped out of the cart and pulled out a feathery white writ that had the king's seal on top of it. The soldier's jaw dropped, and he looked at the cart that was on its last legs and back at the writ. His mind seemed unable to match the two together.

"What's going on, Palin? Why are you not ordering them back?" another guard asked from farther away. Because of the large ma.s.s of people trying to get in, there were six guards watching over the gates.

"They've got the king's seal of pa.s.sage," the first guard choked out.

It stunned the second one for a moment, then he came over to examine the paper in his friend's hands. After a moment, he picked it up and rolled it up before giving it back to Sylvester.

"Doctor Otshoa, it is an honor for you to visit us. Please have a pleasant stay."

With a nod, Sylvester took back the writ and put it away into his medicine case. The gates then opened for them and they entered the city straight away. At that moment, Arawn understood what Mutallu had meant by saying that Sylvester had a convenient occupation.

Once inside, Sylvester gave directions, so Arawn just sat back and watched his surroundings. The city was similar to the one he had seen before, but also different. Although the buildings were still of all colors of the rainbow, the ones here had a certain charm about them.

Instead of being random, the colors here seemed to have a meaning he wasn't privy to. All the tallest buildings were in shades of yellow. The three-story houses with sharp roofs were red while the square roofs were greenish. If that wasn't enough, in some places, the lowest story of the building was one color and the higher floors a different one.

Some of the paint had been bleached by the sun, but most colors were still recognisable. They seemed to be redyed every once in a while to retain their splendor.

Strangely though, there were few people walking in the streets. Those who were rushed about in what was almost a sprint. Neither young nor old stayed outside.

Before Arawn could guess why that was so, a tall castle rose in the distance. It was built of sharp towers, sharp windows, and even sharper doorways. Everything about it screamed of being unwelcoming, and it was even dark purple that seemed almost black in color.

Without even needing to ask, Arawn knew they were going exactly there. It was unlikely that Sylvester would accept anything but the best as his employer.

Once they reached the dreary castle, a stone wall met them. It was three meters tall, and guards with crossbows in their hands stood atop it. They had to ride under their watchful eyes for good ten minutes before finding the gates that were specifically made not where the main road led.

"What is your business here?" the gate guard demanded once they stopped before it.

"Give this to your lord," Sylvester said while pa.s.sing over his writ.

The guard snorted, not even thinking of picking up some trash from random people, but then he saw the king's seal. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed the rolled up paper with the swiftness of a snake's bite.

He scanned the paper in two seconds, and his wide eyes rose to look them up and down before resting on the man who had given him the writ. "You're Sylvester Otshoa?"

"Yes," Sylvester said with a slight nod. Although he had lived in the wild for more than two weeks, he did not really look like an escapee. There was dust on his clothes and they could use some ironing, but that was it.

They were stain-free and obviously of good quality. There was no way anyone could mistake him for a lowborn.

"Once Katalan's were struck by disaster, you chose to come running to my father? He's not going to take it well, I'll tell you that," the young man said with a laugh and motioned for someone above him to raise the gates. "If he kills you, don't blame me."

"Young Master Lorick?" Sylvester asked, finally paying attention to the youth.

Arawn did the same, but he could see nothing special about him. The guard was around eighteen, with a head of blonde hair and a dotting of a beard on his cheeks. His eyes were a lively green, and he was smiling as brightly as the sun while waving Sylvester's writ.

"Nice to finally meet you," the young man said with a chuckle. "Father's talked a lot about you."

Sylvester gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Before or after he threw you out to work as a guard?"

"That…" The young man's expression stiffened a little, and he glanced down at his leather armor. "Things happened," he said with a strained smile. The gates rose then, and he motioned for them to get inside. "My father would want to meet you straight away, so follow the majordomo. He'll lead you to his study."

Sylvester nodded, and Arawn along with Mutallu jumped out of the cart. It was quickly picked up by a stablehand and brought away while they were led up the stairs into the castle.

Its grandeur inside was nothing to scoff at. Straight ahead, there was a huge staircase with railings of shiny dark wood. Before it, a soft carpet covered the floor. There was some sort of image on it, but it was too large in scale to be seen while standing on the ground.

A chandelier with at least a thousand candles hung high above. Its base was made of crystal that glistened with all kinds of colors from the windows that were made of stained gla.s.s.

"Move," Mutallu hissed, pulling Arawn out of his stupor.

They followed the majordomo into a nearby corridor, then up the stairs and down another corridor where they finally stopped in front of heavy wooden doors. The majordomo knocked on them and loudly declared the guest he had with him.

Silence reigned for a time. Arawn wondered if the man hadn't heard it through the thick door, but Sylvester did not look impatient. He stood still before the door as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Countless minutes pa.s.sed, but nothing changed. There was not a sound from the other side of the door. Were they waiting in front of an empty room?

But when Arawn thought to speak, Sylvester turned to him and shook his head. His expression was calm, but there was steel in his eyes. He was clearly holding back his temper.

A bell rang, signalling five o'clock and an hour since they had come to stand before the study's door. There was a low call from inside at that moment. "You may enter."

The majordomo pushed the door open and bowed. "My lord." He then stepped away and let Sylvester pa.s.s.

Inside, Arawn sat a man in his sixties sitting in a couch and reading a book. He put a marker in it and looked at them with cool gray eyes. His temples were white, but that did not stop him from growing out his hair and pulling it into a short ponytail.

He was dressed in casual clothes with a couple platinum chains and purplish gla.s.s b.a.l.l.s hanging at his pockets.

"Sylvester!" he called out in faked surprise. "You should have warned me about your coming in advance! I would have set up a proper feast!"

"Unnecessary, my lord," Sylvester said with a slight bow. "It is an honor to meet you again."

The older man paused, watching him with a penetrating gaze. "What happened to you? I was waiting for you to barge into my study like a bull, but here you are, meek as a newborn kit."

Sylvester's eyes twitched, but he held back the barrage of words at the tip of his tongue. "Things change, my lord. I cannot afford your ire this time."

"You got it by speaking to me like that! Enough! What's with the two dregs behind you? Did you start samaritan work as well?"

Arawn glared at the old man. At first, he had held back his judgment, but that was a step too far. He wasn't keen on being called a dreg no matter in what context. There were better ways for anyone to describe people they did not know.

"Guards," Sylvester said with a shadow of a smile.

"Bah! What joke are you pulling now?" The lord snorted and shook his head. "Guards!" he shouted out at the top of his lungs, and a dozen men in military uniforms instantly rushed in with swords already drawn. "Apprehend them!" the lord ordered.

Amus.e.m.e.nt danced in Sylvester's eyes, and he leaned in to whisper in Arawn's ear. "Gather the ether, but don't attack. He wants to know if he can push me around."

Puzzled, Arawn did as he was told. The ether jumped into his fingers like a loyal hound and filled the small room to the brim. For anyone with sight of it, it was as good as a blindfold. There was nothing but white s.p.a.ce around Arawn from how thick the ether dust had squeezed itself.

"Flaming bridges! What is this?" the lord shouted out. Yet there was no fear in his voice, only surprise and amazement.

"My bodyguard," Sylvester said in a pleasant voice. "And if you continue with your silly little tests, I'll tell him to materialize all that ether in your face."

"That… won't be necessary," the lord muttered after a moment. "You can tell him to stop."

"Arawn, release it."

Arawn did so, but the ether was reluctant to go back. It stayed around for quite a few minutes before slowly returning to where it had originally resided.

"Now." Sylvester took a step forward and pulled out a chair for himself from a nearby table. "Can we talk about my employment?"