2:00 AM
He stepped into the room. The door clicked behind him as it closed. He took a glance at the room, then decided against locking the door. It would only worsen the situation if the guards tried checking the room. Which they were bound to do at any moment now. Besides, he had another idea. The room was small, its darkness thick and oppressive. A bed waited for him in the corner; a cracked mirror hung on the left wall; and moonlight shone weakly through a single window opposite the door. He had to clean himself up, and fast, before anyone noticed the blood on his hands. Fortunately, a bucket of water sat in the room. Perfect, he thought, a stroke of luck.
Even though it was hitting 2 AM, people had started gathering outside the tavern to see what had happened. Even McCarth had left the stables to see what all the ruckus was about.
"Oi, what's all this noise about!" he proclaimed, demanding an answer as if he were the king himself.
"Something's happened in the tavern," a woman's voice, thin with sleep, cut through the night.
"Obviously, something fuckin' happened, I'm asking what!" McCarth snapped, boots sinking into the mud as he tried pushing forward.
"Uhm, I don't know," another keen girl quietly mumbled.
McCarth was a curious and nosy man. He tried looking over the shoulders of the villagers, but to no avail, he was too short.
None could get in as three chubby guards had blocked the entrance and the doors were now shut.
"THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!" A broad and strong man wearing all white armour shouted in anger as he entered. Just by looking at the armour, anyone who lived in Flemdale would recognize who he was. Xander Griffith. His voice was deep and threatening. His face was rugged, his head round. His shoulders and body were muscular, softened by a pinch of fat. His hair was a dead brown colour, falling down to his shoulders, and his eyes were sparkly blue. He looked young, probably in his twenties, as a scar ran down his neck from the side.
On his back he had a massive greatsword. It was absurdly long, around sixty inches of steel, fitting for a man who stood over six feet himself. Behind him there were two other guards, one a veteran, skin starting to slowly wrinkle and another younger, much younger, probably just promoted, both were wearing grey armour, with their trusty swords strapped to their waists. Though, they looked average compared to Xander. The tall man looked around the room.
"Oliver, inspect the bodies, then get them out of here!" he commanded, signalling to the three corpses. One body with a gaping hole in its stomach, ribs broken. Another's head done in by a nicked sword still trapped in the skull, while the last one had a stab wound in its stomach and a broken arm. They were all dead, staring up at the ceiling, eyes open, with blood still trickling down from their killing blows and streaking onto the floorboards.
"Yes, sir!" Oliver's voice spoke with determination. His curly hair was bright, burning orange, definitely a ginger. Light freckles were scattered across his cheeks and nose. His face was thin, giving him a very young, youthful look, it was obvious he had not fully even grown into his armour yet. As he got closer to the dead bodies, his face grimaced, the smell alone was disgusting, not to mention the wounds of all three were horrifying to look at. He was about to vomit, but he knew he couldn't, Xander was looking. He pulled out a sword which was trapped in a brigand's skull and another sword which was on the floor, he took them out then came back into the tavern, getting to work by inspecting the wounds. Meanwhile, the daughter stepped out of the kitchen, exhausted, crying silently because of what she had just witnessed.
"Girl, don't cry, it's only three dead men," Xander chuckled, as he looked at the dead bodies. The girl then became quiet, as she looked down, petrified, her eyes still red from weeping. The father stepped in-between his girl and Xander, he knew what kind of man Xander really was.
"What happened here, Arthur?" Arthur was the name of the tavern keeper. Arthur and Xander knew each other. How could they not, the town of Flemdale was rather small. Not to mention, Xander would frequently come to ZY's to get drunk with his fellow guards, he almost always caused chaos.
The father had to make up a lie, and quick, "These brigands... they came in and caused chaos, Xander! Harassing my girl, then they..." he thought for a moment, "Just turned on each other" he did his best to mix the truth with lies.
"No need to fret, Arthur! I'm here now." he walked closer to Arthur, "You're a weak, pathetic old man, it's no wonder you couldn't protect your own daughter." Xander tried making his voice deeper than it really was. Arthur's anger was visible, even though he was a bit old, he still had a bit of strength in his eyes.
"If the guards were out patrolling the streets, this wouldn't have happened!" he protested as his voice rose. "Instead, most of you barely do your duties!" he was right. Most of these guards were lazy brats.
Xander rolled his eyes and ignored his complaint, then he looked around the tavern. "Why'd they turn on each other?" he asked while taking a few steps in the direction of the counter.
"I wouldn't know, they started shouting, and all hell broke loose," Arthur lied once again. Xander nodded his head mockingly, "How many were there?"
"Four." Arthur said, he'd just have to frame the one which was let go.
"Four? I only see three." Arthur looked at the bodies, which Oliver was closely attending to.
"That bastard was the one who survived." he proclaimed. Before Xander could ask his next question. Arthur saw the state of his daughter, her eyes were giving up due to the lack of sleep. "Maria needs to sleep." he pleaded.
2:10 AM
"No." Xander's voice dropped ominously low, "She's a witness, I need to interrogate her."
Hearing what was going on, the old guard with somewhat of a wrinkly face steps in, "Sir, maybe you should let her sleep?" his voice was soft as worn leather. "Her eyes are shutting down, she wouldn't be of no use right now. I'm sure we'll get a better explanation of what happened here, if we interrogated her in the morning?" he suggested, smiling.
Xander pondered, then looked at the guard, "Yes, Llyn maybe you're right, She can go for now." he waved his hand.
Arthur quickly took her through the kitchen, to the right of the kitchen entrance were all the ingredients, equipment and food, he then walked to the left where there was another door which lead directly to their living quarters, he opened the door and Maria fell on the bed, she definitely needed this.
"How old is she?" Xander was following behind him like a ghost.
"Eighteen." Arthur replied.
Xander gave a look of disgust to Arthur, "Stop treating her like a child. She was crying, seeing three men dead, only three! She's not a baby any more!" Xander chuckled mockingly. "My sisters have seen hundreds of dead bodies in battles," he announced, as if showing off.
Arthur looked back to where Xander stood, "We are simple tavern keepers, not fighters like you or your sisters." Arthur hated how Xander was talking to him. Xander never took Arthur seriously, why would he, he was just an old tavern keeper. Xander was slyly inspecting the room they were in, making sure no one was hiding in it. Then they both walked back into the main quarters.
"So, there was no one else in the tavern besides the four men, you and your daughter?" he went back to his questions.
"No one else." he said simply.
"Whose bowl is this?" Shit, Xander saw the bowl the cloaked man had eaten from. Arthur had forgotten to take it away.
"One of the bandits."
"Hmph, anyone upstairs?" he pointed with his finger to the ceiling.
"No." Arthur admitted a bit too quickly.
"Llyn, go check all the rooms upstairs." Xander commanded while looking around the tavern some more.
"Yes sir," Llyn bowed and did as he was told immediately.
"Now, Arthur get me something to eat," Xander sat down on one of the chairs then quickly put his legs up on the table as if he owned the place. Arthur was more worried about what was about to happen upstairs. But he did what he was told, heart pounding faster as Llyn walked up the stairs.
Llyn opened the first door, closest to the stairs, no one in sight. He entered it and made sure to look behind the door. There was no one at all, he left, then entered the second room, same thing. Empty. Then he opened the third and last door. The third room was the only one with a window. He looked around and saw no one, just a dry bucket.
He walked to the open window and looked out. The wind howled, whipping against his face. Llyn had been a brilliant fighter back in his prime, and though his skills had withered somewhat due to age, he still surpassed many in the region, his weary skin made people forget his former prowess. His soft white beard was slowly being pushed back by the wind. He had been a mentor and tutor to Xander ever since the boy was small. However, Llyn had failed to shape Xander into a true man, Xander had turned out harsh, brash and cruel. It wasn't Llyn's fault, as the Griffith family were all known for their cruelness and little sense of mercy; Xander had simply listened and looked up to his father more than his mentor. Though, Llyn still blamed himself.
Llyn could barely see the houses, shops and streets through the window, it was dark and foggy, but the grey moon in the dark sky shone brighter than anything, he smiled lightly.
"Beautiful," he whispered to himself.
Beautiful as it was, he had to report back to Xander. He turned around, left the room and went back down the stairs. His face shifting from a joyful smile to a serious one.
"No one in the rooms sir." he said with discipline. Arthur's shoulders loosened. Having now served Xander some bread, beer and meat. Xander shook his head then took one bite off the bread.
"You know, Arthur..." Xander said ominously, bread still in his mouth, "Some of our boys stationed at the south entrance reported a suspicious boy entering the town at about one, he was wearing a cloak... Coincidence, is it not?"
"I wouldn't know of him, Xander," Arthur tried to look clueless, but he knew he couldn't stall them for long. Now, he was just trying to give the man who saved him and his daughter as much time as he possibly could to escape the town, Xander then yawned and drank the whole beer in one gulp.
"Arthur, have any of the rooms been used lately?" Llyn asked with a pleasant smile "No Llyn, of course not," Llyn shook his head.
Llyn sighed, "Then why was the window open in the last room I checked?" Xander looked at Llyn.
"I-" he stuttered. "I must've forgotten to close it," They got me, he regretted to inform himself.
"You… fucking liar," Xander scoffed as if he wasn't at all surprised, "We've already closed both the exits, Arthur. Why protect the fourth? The cloaked boy, wasn't he harassing your girl?" Xander had misunderstood the situation completely, thinking the cloaked man was a part of the brigands group. But he was wrong.
Arthur stood silent, slowly taking a few steps back. Oliver had finished inspecting the bodies, he then went out, probably to get another guard to help him carry the mutilated corpses out of the tavern. Then Xander stood up, he was tired of all this nonsense. He went up to Arthur, who was slowly backing away, Xander slapped him with his right-hand, right on his cheek. The slap was loud and hard, as if thunder had just struck. Xander's slap moved Arthur's whole body, and he dropped to the floor. The slap hurt Arthur more than he thought, it was as if his face had just been pounded by a battering ram. Poor Arthur tried catching his breath while on the floor.
Oliver returned with another guard. He saw what had just happened but wouldn't dare say a word, they lifted the bodies one by one and carried them outside, dumping the corpses into a wooden wagon, stationed just outside the tavern doors. The crowd had been dispersed forcefully by the three guards.
"You're protecting a criminal! I'll have you know, that's punishable by death!" Xander's jaw tightened, "I'll just have to ask that girl of yours," Xander smiled, trying to conceal his anger.
"No- I'll tell you," Arthur had no choice, Maria was the only thing in this world he truly cared for. Xander knew his weakness was the girl. Arthur could not lie any more, "There really were four brigands, harassing my girl," he said, still trying to catch his breath from that thunderous slap he had taken. "But the one in the cloak saved us from all four of them."
"Was he the one who killed those three?" Xander asked directly.
"Well-"
"Did he?" Xander's patience was running low.
"Yes but-" Arthur tried explaining, but it was too late.
"What happened to the fourth?" Llyn, still smiling, stared at the man on the floor as he asked the question.
"He let him go."
"What did the killer look like?" Llyn was asking the important questions.
Arthur sighed, he had no choice but to answer. "I couldn't see his face properly but… he had black hair." Arthur was smart, he had seen the cloaked man's face but acted though his cloak hid a lot of his face. He tried telling the most common thing about the man, so it would be hard to find him.
Llyn nodded, "What else?" Llyn was smarter.
"He had a red eye," Arthur was forced to say this.
"He had red eyes?" Xander butted in, genuinely curious.
"Yes… One red, one grey." Arthur admitted.
"What about his-" Llyn wanted to ask more questions on the description of the man. But Xander's rage had already reached a boiling point.
Xander was now shaking his head from left to right. He looked at the floor, his left hand was crunched up, forming a deadly fist, "This boy comes into MY town!" his voice, getting louder. "Kills those three without a proper trial! Who does he think he is?!" he asks as if the red eyed killer was right in front of him.
"No, he saved us, he didn't attack first," Arthur, tried convincing the hot headed captain as he got back up from the floor. "Those men were threatening to harm my girl and burn this tavern-"
"He doesn't respect the law!" Xander cuts Arthur off. "Therefore, I shall not respect him. By the authority given to me by my king, I, Xander Griffith, protector of not just Flemdale, but of this whole continent, hereby sentence the red eyed killer to death! Any guard who finds him, is ordered to strike him down on sight! Go tell that to this whole town!" Xander was delusional, he was a mere town captain, not the protector of a whole continent, he directed this command at Llyn.
"Sir, as you wish, but…" Llyn needed to choose his words wisely if he wanted to persuade Xander. "If we alert all the guards, word will spread like wildfire. We… also received reports yesterday, that the king is staying in Castle Marlite with his family. That's only a few days ride north from here. If he were to know about this incident… It would certainly cause panic. Perhaps we should keep this between ourselves? At least until we find the man. Then we can deal with him quietly."
Xander took Llyn's opinion in mind, "Yes… yes, you're right. We need to do this quietly." he agreed. Xander then started to walk out the tavern, but was stopped by Arthur.
"My money, for the food you ate." a hint of animosity could be heard. Xander had wasted a lot of food, he had only taken one bite off the bread.
Xander's mouth opened up in surprise by what he had just heard, "You tried to hide a killer. You're lucky I've spared your pathetic life, old man." he said, eyes wide, staring right into Arthur's soul. "That's payment enough." he scoffed as he left the tavern.
Llyn fell back a little, then took out his coin purse and opened it.
"Not from you Llyn, from him," Arthur's head pointed to the closing doors where Xander once was.
Llyn just smiled, he then put three bronze coins on the counter and left, with Oliver walking besides him. The three guards who were stationed in front of the entrance stood up, a bit loosely, and saluted the captain.
Llyn, Xander and Oliver were now outside the tavern entrance, "Oliver! What did you find while inspecting these bodies?" Xander asked, looking at the brown wooden wagon still stationed outside the tavern.
Oliver looked around his surroundings, making sure no pedestrians were looking or eavesdropping, "Sir," he said, forcing his voice to be steady, he pulled the black sheet out from above the corpses which sat in the wagon, "The first body died due to a sword wound in the stomach, he bled fast and died instantly. The second's arm had been broken first, then a sword was struck in his skull. The third…" he paused, "No weapon did this," he said slowly pointing at the broken ribs with a gaping hole. "If I had to guess…" he gulped, "The killer did this with his fists." Oliver's skill at reading corpses was truly impressive, even Llyn was surprised at his skill as he nodded his head in approval.
The three guards guarding the tavern door just looked at each other. They would not dare say a word without Xander's permission.
Xander rolled his eyes, "I once killed someone with my bare fists too," he said proudly, as if brutality was a competition to him. Oliver's, thin eyebrows, tightened by what he had just heard from his captain, but he quickly suppressed his emotion, so Xander could not sense it, "Enough time-wasting! We must find this fiend at once."
"What about the fourth who ran?" Oliver reminded Xander.
"Our main priority is this killer!" Xander yelled, a bit annoyed.
"And… the gates?" Oliver asked another question, trying to make himself useful. Arthur was eavesdropping from behind the tavern door now, placing his right ear to the wooden door.
"Flemdale is the only way through for most people… If we keep the gates closed, by morning, the whole town will know something's wrong. Merchants will be stuck and caravans delayed. That kind of noise will reach the Castle fast. It's just too risky." Llyn was absolutely right.
"Oliver! Open the gates, but tell all the guards stationed there to be alert! Any man who has red eyes, black hair and could possibly be wearing a black cloak, who attempts to leave Flemdale is to be stopped and should be reported back to me immediately!" Xander shouted in frustration.
Oliver immediately did as he was told. He swung onto his brown horse, which had been leashed beside the tavern door, as the stable to it's right was full in capacity. The horse was small but sturdy, perfect for his size, he kicked it into motion, then rode straight for the southern gate, which was the closest gate to the tavern.
The wind tugged his orange curled up hair, as he rapidly made his horse run faster.
"Faster girl!" he barked as if his horse could talk back.
Oliver had risen up the ranks quite fast. When enlisting into guard service a year ago, he was timid and shy at first. Though, through the help of mostly Llyn he had become much stronger in a very short time span.
He finally made his way to the gate, the guards were on edge, they were in the dark on why the gate had been closed in the first place. Oliver pulled up his horse sharply.
"Alert everyone here!" he shouted, voice cutting through the thick fog, "Any man with red eyes and black hair, trying to leave, stop him immediately, don't let him go, and alert Captain Xander immediately. He could also be wearing a black cloak, so look out for that. No mistakes!" Oliver shouted again.
The guards quickly sprang up from their resting places and swung the wooden, logged gate open. Shadows moved through the fog, there was already a line of people waiting to be let in even at this hour. Some were travellers, others merchants, they all muttered in frustration.
"Why the fuck are we looking out for some random person?" One guard whispered to his friend.
"No clue, but if it's orders from Xander… we must listen." his friend said.
"Red eyes…? I didn't even know we humans could have red eyes." another guard scratched his hair in confusion.
Flemdale was in an interesting spot on the map. To its right was a cliff, small, though travellers could not go over or around it as the Risli river flowed from there, impossible to bypass. To the left, a dense, untamed forest, massive in width and somewhat in height named Blackvein, it was packed with trees with leaves so thick the sun barely touched the ground. The locals had still yet to make a path or add lanterns, and rumours of disappearances, kept even the boldest from venturing there. Only some had made it through, speaking of untamed beasts, and other horrors… no one knew if they were speaking the truth. So, anyone wishing to leave from the north or south had no choice but to pass directly through Flemdale or else add days to their journey by going all the way around the edge of the forest.
Oliver then turned his horse around and raced to the northern gate to relay the same message.
Meanwhile, back in front of the tavern, "Don't leave your post," Llyn said to the three guards who were stationed in front of the tavern. All three were thick around the waist, armour straps digging into their chubby skin. "And do not doze off. If you see a man in a cloak, stop him, he could be dangerous then report back immediately, do you understand?" Llyn said, talking slower so they would understand,
"Yes sir!" they all barked in unison, a beat too quickly.
Xander stepped forward towering all three, his gaze cold, "If I hear you three buffoons sleeping inside the tavern, or neglecting your duty," he said calmly, "I'll have all three of your heads," said Xander in total seriousness. The guards nodded hard then saluted.
"You, take this wagon to the graveyard, and bury these bodies." Llyn said, pointing at one of the chubby guards, whose salute was imperfect.
Mervin was the chosen one for this job. "But–" he stuttered, I don't have a horse, I can't carry it by hand sir… It'll be too heavy," he begged, looking down.
"You will." Xander decreed with cruelty and a slight smirk.
Mervin was dumb, but not dumb enough to reject any order from Xander himself.
"And don't bury these three… burn their bodies instead. I don't want them taking up space in my graveyard," Xander instructed as he pointed to the wagon, still smirking.
"Yes– of course, sir," he replied forcefully.
Mervin then slowly walked behind to the wagon, then wrapped both his fat hands around the wooden shaft. He grunted as he lifted, legs trembling, his broken boots scraping against the mud. The two wheels barely budged at first. His face reddened and embarrassed, he had to do this or else. He then tried again, with a strained cry he managed to raise the front just enough for the wagon to creak forward an inch. Sweat beaded on his brow as he began to drag it away. The weight of three dead men fighting against him the entire way.
Xander let out a mocking laugh as he watched Mervin vanish down the left alley beside the tavern, the fog swallowing him whole. Then both he and Llyn started to head toward the stable to the right of the tavern to retrieve their horses.
"All these guards are pathetic," Xander scoffed, speaking to Llyn as they walked.
Flemdale did not have many guards, around fifty or so. It was a small town after all. Not to mention most of the town guards who enlisted were lazy, sluggish and tempted by the promise of steady coin. Few had true discipline. Fewer had spine.
They entered the stables, McCarth was there, tending to a beautiful black horse.
"Oi, who the f-" he shifted his head to the right and saw who had just entered. "Ahh, came back to take your horse's eh?" he said to both of them.
Xander ignored him, he didn't even glance at McCarth. McCarth being an ostler opened the first stable stall to where Llyn's horse was.
"Have you seen someone with a black cloak roaming around here?" Llyn questioned as he got on his white horse, once again he was the only one asking the right questions.
"Why you wan' know?" McCarth said, thinking as he backed away from the stall entrance and proceeded to open the next stall for Xander's brown horse.
"Confidential." Llyn muttered.
"Hmmm, no." He said it with full conviction. McCarth loathed the town guards in Flemdale with a passion, most were pompous brats, who worsened a situation rather than helping, one of the guards even owed him over thirty silver coins which were yet to be paid back.
Neither Xander nor Llyn suspected a thing as they rode their horses out of the stables. McCarth was a very good liar. He silently grinned as the two horses trotted out.
"Send our most trusted guards through the streets of Flemdale," Xander said. "I want that bastard found." Llyn nodded in agreement.
The three guards who were stationed in front of the tavern doors were all brothers. Snizzle, Grogbin and Mervin were their names. Mervin was away, burning the bandit's bodies.
"I'm tired…" Grogbin said, as if already forgetting what had been said to him by Xander and Llyn.
"So am I..," Snizzle groaned as he leaned against the wooden wall of the tavern, eyes heavy.
"Thank god Llyn didn't pick me to carry that wagon, I would've shat my pants!" Grogbin confessed with a tired smile. He was definitely not lying.
"Nor me," chubby Snizzle stated. "So… we can't go into the tavern?"
"No! Unless you want your head on a stake!" Grogbin shouted.
But Grogbin had misunderstood Xander's warning. Xander had ordered them not to sleep inside the tavern, not to stay out of it altogether. Even so, the threat lingered, and the thought alone sent a chill down their spines.
2:58 AM
The night was thick with fog, the tavern eerily quiet now that most of the action had dispersed, and the bodies had been carried away. Snizzle and Grogbin could be heard making jokes to each other, fooling around, though they were slowly getting tired as the night went on.
Back upstairs in the tavern, in room three, a faint creak could be heard from the window. The dark silhouetted man against the moonlight climbed through the window, which had still not been closed. Arthur, who was downstairs, was not asleep, but instead doing his best to scrub the floorboards, to rid them of blood. Arthur heard someone coming downstairs as they creaked. He didn't have his dagger with him.
He quickly looked behind him, "You… you shouldn't be-"
"Thanks, I owe you." then he took out his pouch from beneath his cloak, and before he could open it.
"You... can't be here," Arthur stammered, astonished at the cloaked man's bravery and audacity. Returning to the tavern after what he had just done.
"Those guards stationed outside are halfwits," the hooded figure was right. "How much, for the food I ordered and the room." his face was still cold and emotionless.
Arthur was speechless. He got up from the floor, "Nothing. You saved me and my daughter, you don't owe us a thing."
Outside, the two halfwits were talking so loudly they couldn't hear a thing going on in the tavern.
"Hahaha! Then Betsy fell down!" Grogbin spat loudly like a frog recalling the past.
The cloaked figure ignored what Arthur had just said, and took out one gold coin from his pouch.
"No, no.. I can't take that," Arthur shook his head.
The figure tossed the coin at Arthur, he was forced to catch it. The man's red and grey eyes flicked to a red mark across Arthur's cheek which was still there, the imprint of Xander's thunderous slap.
"Who slapped you?" the cloaked man looked at the red mark on Arthur's right cheek and figured what action had taken place.
"The captain of this town… Xander Griffith did." Arthur looked down, shaking his head, voice heavy with defeat, "When Xander was a kid he wasn't bad… but his father… his father shaped him into the vicious bastard he is today." the cloaked man nodded his head, understanding, as if noting that specific slap which Xander had given Arthur. "What are you going to do now?" Arthur said as if he were a worried father for his son.
"Sleep, in the room I paid for, upstairs." Arthur smiled lightly, he wasn't even surprised at this man's actions any more. The cloaked figure definitely did not want to sleep out in the cold streets.
Arthur hesitated a bit then looked up, another question lingering in his eyes, "What's your name…?"
The cloaked man stood still for a few seconds, silent. After what Arthur had done for him, trying his best to protect him against the relentless guards, he owed him that much. Finally, he said, "M." for the first time in a very long time did the black figure give away his name like this.
"Just M…?" Arthur asked, a bit confused.
"Yes." M stated calmly.
"What if the guards come at night into the room," Arthur was trying to think of every possibility.
"I'll know."
"When will you be leaving?" Arthur said in a sad voice.
"Early morning." Then up he went.
Arthur nodded, he needed his rest too after a long, treacherous night.
M slipped into the third room once again. He swept his gaze across it, then pulled off his boots, they were black just like the rest of his fit. It was clear he favoured that colour. The boots on his leather were scuffed at the toes and softened by long use, the soles were somewhat worn out. He closed the window. Cold had crept into the room, biting at the air. M then unstrapped his scabbard and put it on the bed then laid back onto bed and closed his eyes, he still hadn't removed his cloak.
7:05 AM
The sky was mostly dark except some orange which was now overtaking it piece by piece. Thankfully, Grogbin and Snizzle were too stupid to even enter the tavern, as they had misunderstood Xander's command. Even Mervin had come back hours ago, after burning the bodies of those three wretched criminals. They were all asleep, their snoring rumbling throughout the street. Arthur had also locked the tavern door at night.
M had awoken. He got up from his bed, looked in the mirror, his red and grey eyes didn't look tired even though he had just awoken, though he still wiped his face with his hands. He then put on his hood which was attached to his black cloak. Grabbed his scabbard from the bed and exited the room
There were no early customers coming in for breakfast, the tavern wasn't to be opened for obvious reasons. The red floorboards near the back of the tavern were still yet to be cleaned properly. Not to mention the trauma Arthur and Maria had just experienced. Mostly Maria, Arthur's daughter.
To the cloaked mans surprise, both Maria and Arthur were already awake, they were in the kitchen and could be heard talking to each other about some ingredients. He was hungry and needed some food before he could leave the tavern. He walked down the stairs, they were creaking as usual. There was a bucket placed on the floor, just in front of the stairs, to freshen up even more he scooped water from it then splashed it onto his face three times. Maria exited the kitchen and looked to the stairs, she froze.
He could kill her or her father in less than a second. The memory of that fight kept whizzing through her brain.
The man walked to the counter face wet as water droplets fell onto the tavern floorboard, he then asked, "What do you have for breakfast?" voice so dead and dull as if he were a lifeless statue.
The daughter, Maria, stood still, mouth open. Then she tried saying something "P–" she couldn't get the words out as a savage killer stood just in front of the counter. "Porridge." Maria's whisper could barely be heard. Her thoughts about him were somewhat conflicted now. On one hand he had saved her, without this man standing in front of her, god knows what would've happened to her. However, the ferocity in which he killed those men was what she feared.
"I'll have that." M uttered, sitting down, face cold as always.
Arthur had still not yet realised M had come down. Though, when Maria came through the door hurriedly, he caught a glimpse of the man through the door.
"He wants porridge." Maria said with a frightened voice, signalling to the door.
"Give it to him." Arthur's voice was firm but gentle, he noticed the fear in her daughter's beautiful eyes then quickly added, "He won't hurt us, I know it."
Maria just nodded. Thankfully the porridge had already been made, she had prepared it before M had even awoken. It was sat in a cauldron, thick and creamy from the gentle simmering hearth. The warm, wholesome smell filled the kitchen and was also seeping out through the door to where the cloaked man was sitting. She took a wooden bowl from the shelf and added a generous portion of porridge into the bowl, finally she placed a wooden spoon in it.
Her father was readying a brush to scrub away some of the blood still staining the floorboards in the main hall. Maria gulped, then took a steadying breath. She pushed opened the door. M was sitting patiently, his hands resting on the counter. She set the bowl before him. She trusted her father. And if he trusted this man, then so would she, Maria thought to herself.
The red eyed man held the spoon then took a scoop of porridge and ate it.
"Honey." M said out of nowhere.
Maria froze, "W- What" her cheeks flushed.
M blinked at her, "Can I have honey?" he gestured at the porridge while holding the spoon.
Maria's face went red as realization hit her. She let out a nervous laugh, "Oh! Yes, of course!" She hurried to fetch the honey pot, still smiling on what had just occurred.
She handed him the pot. M lifted the wooden lid and poured a stream of golden honey into his porridge. He stirred it with his spoon, then began to eat with focused contentment.
By now, Arthur had emerged from the kitchen, his sleeves already rolled up to his elbows. He smiled as he saw M eating. He knelt by the blooded floorboards, then dipped his stiff bristled brush into the bucket of cold water. Then he started scrubbing the floor. The brush made rough, rhythmic sounds against the wood. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
Maria was staring at M who was eating his porridge.
"Thank you… Uhm, for saving me." she let out.
M paused his eating. He wasn't used to talking to humans, not like this. His only companions were K, his trusted horse and his sword, neither of which could make a conversation, let alone thank him. Now that this golden haired lady stood before him, he did not know how to respond.
Maria blinked, waiting for a response. The fearsome killer who'd dispatched three men without breaking a sweat now seemed utterly lost on what he should say in the face of simple gratitude. It was clear as day, the hooded figure did not know how to respond to a simple 'Thank You'.
"Who made the bread and meat yesterday?" M didn't look up from his breakfast.
"I… did." Maria admitted, confusion flickering across her face.
M nodded once, "You make good food," he paused, "Good chefs are rare in these parts."
Maria's confusion deepened. "What?"
"Don't thank me," M returned his attention to the food with finality.
Maria looked at M, who was deliberately focused on his nearly eaten porridge, something warm bloomed in her chest. He hadn't saved her just because she was a good cook. But the fact he still tried to give her a reason, something to make her feel valued rather than pitied or helpless, that meant more than any graceful words could have.
Arthur had heard it all, he stopped scrubbing then laughed silently, "I don't think he knows how to take a compliment, Maria." his face shone with warmth.
Maria smile softened, "I don't think so either, father."
This strange, deadly man with his cloak and emotionless face didn't know how to comfort someone. Didn't know how to accept gratitude. But he'd tried anyway, in his own broken way.
"It's time I go." he said in a low tone as he finished his porridge.
Maria looked down with sadness. Arthur stopped scrubbing and got up, his face clearly showing signs of sadness too, but he tried not showing it.
Arthur nodded, "You should take that cloak off, the guards will stop anyone they spot wearing it," Arthur said, concern tightening his tone as he walked to the counter.
"I can't." M replied, then after a brief pause, added, "I'm cloakbound… I can't take it off for long."
"What- why not?" Arthur said in a confused state.
M got up, "A curse." he replied quietly, as if reliving a memory in the distant past.
Arthur and Maria froze, horror and disbelief washed over them both, "A… curse?" Maria murmured.
M did not want to explain the full weight of this curse to them. "Do you have a cloak which isn't black?" as he pointed towards the black cloak he wore himself, he asked a bit shyly as Arthur had already done so much for him.
Without saying a word, Arthur signalled to Maria, she walked into the kitchen and returned moments later holding a dark green cloak, wrapped neatly in her hands, she extended it over to M, passing it over slowly.
"This is my daughter's cloak," Arthur smiled faintly as Maria handed it to M, "I have a feeling it'll be more useful in your hands. I don't know the details of this… curse you carry… M, but I hope this will help."
M, with the new cloak in hand, reached for his pouch once again.
"No." Maria interrupted gently, placing a hand over his, to stop him. That brief touch was enough for Maria to sense the strength held beneath this man's calm exterior, "The gold coin you gave my father last night has already covered everything, your food, that room… even this cloak."
Arthur's proud face could be seen smiling.
"They've opened the gates, both of them." Arthur added, nearly forgetting to tell him that.
M nodded, then began to ascend the stairs. He paused on the third step and looked back at both Arthur and Maria, the dark green cloak was respectfully being held in his hands, then said with a gentle yet serious tone, stripped of any bravado, "You two are braver than most people I've fought."
He meant what he had just said. From someone who had fought countless opponents, that praise carried weight, Arthur and Maria both knew it.
Arthur's eyes teared up even more than before. In less than a day he had grown attached to this man as if he were his own son. Who could blame him? This man was powerful yet humble, fierce yet respectful, qualities so rare in men. Arthur had always wanted a son, though he still loved his daughter dearly. But now watching M disappear up the stairs, he felt his heart ache just a little.
"Wait…" Maria's voice broke, she hurriedly ran through the kitchen door to her small living quarters.
She emerged moments later, something clutched in her hands, "Where is he?" Maria asked frantically to his father.
"Upstairs, room three, go quickly, and you might catch him." Even Arthur was a bit curious as to what she wanted to give him. He wanted to go upstairs himself but thought it would not be befitting.
She ran up the stairs, heart pounding. She pushed through the last door as she saw him putting on the green cloak.
The black cloak he had been wearing was now discarded on the bed, his strong masculine body could be seen, his broad and strong arms weren't enormously big. He was covered by a black tunic shirt, perfectly fitting him. He quickly wore the green cloak on himself, patting the old cloak to ensure nothing had been left behind. Then he turned.
Maria waited outside the door, "Please... Take this." her voice came out as a desperate whisper.
M looked back, face steady, no emotions, then he opened his palm out. He knew this woman wouldn't take no for an answer. She stepped forward, her fingers steadier than before, she then placed an elegant silver ring into his hand, it was cool and heavy. It gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"I found this ring when I was a child." she said, eyes fixed on it, "A few years ago, when I was a child, I was by the Risli River, I saw this ring on the bank of it, half buried in mud. It must've flown through the river from god knows where. I dug it out with my fingers." Her voice softened, "I always told myself I'd give it to someone who did something special for me. Someone who would stand up for me when others ran. Someone brave and courageous," she smiled, "Like those knights from Castle Marlite and Cinderhall."
"I'm no knight–"
"Please… I realize now you're better than most knights." she said, looking down at the floorboards, as if nearly about to cry.
He nodded, then closed his palm around the ring. "I'll… keep it safe." the words low and deliberate. "And this cloak… I'll bring it back."
"You don't have to…" Lie, Maria wanted him to come back. The words remained unspoken, "Stay safe–"
M had to go now, he jumped out the window, not saying another word. Maria gasped as if he had just died. She raced to the single window to see where he had landed, though he was already gone.
He moved swiftly through the alleys, hood pulled low over his face so it could not be seen. If he were to put this silver ring he had just received in to his cloak, it was certain to fall down, he promised her to keep it safe. He thought for a second, then wore the ring on his left pinky finger. Shopkeepers were already opening their shops, voices soft with sleep. He couldn't afford to be seen.
The stables lay quiet. McCarth asleep, slumped against a hay bale from a night spent tending the horses. M, without waking McCarth up, with practiced silence, quickly unlatched the stall door, led out his black horse by the reins, and swung onto the saddle. Hooves struck the mud as he spurred the horse towards the northern gate. He wouldn't slow down. He couldn't.
His horse tore through the muddy street, it had been raining a few days before. Hooves flinging the mud as pedestrians scrambled aside.
"Slow down ya thunderin' fart!" a man bellowed, leaping back just to avoid the black beauty.
M didn't slow. He needed to escape this town, and fast. Houses and shops made of brown timber blurred past on either side as he drove toward the northern gate.
It took him a good few minutes to ride to it. It stood open, M knew he couldn't stop and had to bypass the gate by force. Two massive wooden doors reinforced with iron scrollwork stood open just ahead. But two guards were in front of the entrance. While three others were to the side of it, among them was Llyn, lecturing a guard who had probably just enlisted.
M couldn't hesitate. He dug his heels in, and the horse shot through the gate like an arrow loosed from a bow. The two guards who had been in front of the gates couldn't react in time and were flung aside as they landed on their backs in the mud.
Llyn was the quickest to react, his head snapped up. Something was wrong. The rider's cloak was green, not black, though the sheer speed reeked of flight. "Alert Captain Xander!" he barked, vaulting onto his white stallion in one fluid motion, which was right beside the gate. "That could be him!" he shouted over his shoulder as he spurred after the cloaked figure. Snapping the reigns of his horse.
One of the other guards scrambled onto his own mount and galloped towards the garrison to inform the Captain.
A chase had now unfolded. Both their horse's drumming the earth, wind screaming past their ears. Llyn rode hard on a majestic white stallion, its long, silken mane moving rapidly in the wind.
"Stop!" Llyn's voice cut through the rush of air.
M didn't look back. Didn't slow. He drove his horse forward with full power, urging it to outpace the guard. But this escape wasn't going to come easy. Llyn was a master in not just sword fighting, but also horse riding. This wasn't just some random guard pursuing M, this was a professional, and M realized it as he finally glanced back. The white stallion was now gaining speed on K.
M quickly understood he couldn't outpace the white stallion on open ground. If he rode straight, he'd be caught before the sun cleared the rooftops. He quickly yanked the reins left. His black horse veered hard off the path, hooves tearing into the wet grass. Llyn quickly did the same, not letting the cloaked figure out of sight for even a second.
He's fast, Llyn thought, gripping the reins tighter. If this were most riders, they would've been caught by Llyn yet the distance held.
Neither had expected the other's skill to be this good. M on his black horse, Llyn on his white stallion, they were both masters of the saddle. And now, were heading in the direction of Blackvein Forest…