Marc
Once the carriage came to a complete stop, Marc exited after Darryk. Marc was met with the front of a tavern, grim and fetid. The sign over the door, rusted through the years, read ‘’Tonlo’s Thirst’’. Marc was taken aback.
‘’You cannot be serious. My man is here?’’ Marc accentuated the last word to make his disapproval clear.
‘’Ah yes, the lad is known for hitting the bottle a tad too much.’’ Darryk snickered through the words, amused.
Marc looked around once more. Silent, drunk men stared at them, but when Marc tried to meet their gaze they quickly looked elsewhere, mostly the wrapped bottles in their hands. This was not the type of place a Soul Knight should spent his time, Marc thought, but decided to hold judgment until he met the man.
Marc followed his friend inside, the wooden door shrieking as they entered. The inside was even worse in Marc’s eyes. The tavern was dark with only faint, hollow lights making their way through half opened windows. Unlike the ones outside, the men inside did not spare even a glance at them, busily burying their stares into their mugs.
Darryk made his way to the barkeeper. She was a small, round woman, with reddish curls and a deep frown on her face.
“Good day, Lada. Where is he?’’ Darryk said in a friendly tone, implying that this was far from the first time he was here.
‘’Upstairs, as per usual. You really ought to do something with the fellow.’’ She said with an irritated voice. ‘’He spends too much time here, and people have been afraid to come and get in trouble with a drunk Mage. It’s bad for business!’’
Darryk assured her he would remedy the situation, but Marc felt that he had no intention to do so. It felt strange, seeing his old friend, one who stood by his words, ring out hollow promises. Things had really changed in the last decade. Knights spending their time with their vices, a murderer hailed as a hero and the old guard, supposed to set an example, growing disillusioned.
Darryk lead him up the stairs into a second floor, previously unseen by Marc. Half a dozen doors filled it, but both went to the farthest one. Darryk knocked on it then turned to Marc.
‘’You should know, before you see him like this. He is a really good man when sober, keep that in mind.’’ Marc shrugged.
Both men entered the room. It was completely empty except for a small bed and a chair next to it. Laid across the chair was the upper part of a soul mage uniform, a dark blue cloth sitting on top of it. In the bed, covered in sheets, was the figure of a man. Darryk pulled out his pistol and looked over to Marc.
‘’Watch carefully’’. Darryk pulled back the pistol’s hammer. The clicking noise was loud as a cannonball.
Suddenly, from under the sheets came an arm. It held a pistol in its grasp. The full sea of blankets was cast aside to reveal a man. He looked angry for a moment, but upon realizing who he was aiming at dropped his weapon. Darryk gave a roaring laugh.
“God, Sir! You scared me shitless!’’ The man said as he scratched his head. He stared at both men, and upon seeing Marc’s disapproving frown he whispered out an apology.
The man got up in a rush and started to dress. He stumbled as he did it, leaving no question about his liquored state. Marc studied him, he was no older than 30, with black wavy hair, long mutton chops and a well kept mustache.
‘’You were supposed to report to me at first light. You have a new mission, and a new commanding officer, as well.’’ Darryk explained, still amused about his joke.
‘’Is that so?’’ The man, with his back to the group, fastened his gloves. ‘’Who’s so important that it couldn’t wait till midday?’’ The man’s blatant lack of respect annoyed Marc.
‘’Marcos Alexadros.’’
The man felt silent. He turned, wide eyed, and stared for a moment at Darryk. His eyes fell on Marc, and a sense of panic filled his expression. He quickly straightened, put his hand to his chest and lowered his head.
‘’F-Forgive, sir!’’ The man’s voice shook. ‘’ I had no idea you had come back to the order, sir!’’
‘’At ease, soldier.’’ Marc assured him, filling a small sense of satisfaction for shocking him. ‘’What is your name?’’
‘’Millin Frayth, sir. I am yours to command.’’ Despite his best effort, Millin still stumbled.
‘’Millin here is one of our most gifted knights. I have no doubt he could rise to leadership in the next few years.’’ Darryk said. In the back of his mind, Marc was skeptical, but he never dared to judge before time.
Darryk quickly explained the situation to Millin. He nodded fiercely, becoming more focused as time went on. Marc saw as the drunken fool became a rightful Soul Knight. Once Darryk finished, Millin turned to the chair, picking up the blue cloth and a necklace, hidden under it.
‘’Before we go, I need breakfast.’’ Millin wrapped the Blue cloth over his right shoulder, revealing a coat of arms of a dagger piercing a flower, signaling his mark of nobility. He pinned the cloth with a golden chain across his left shoulder. He put the necklace on, a pendant with The Great Light, the symbol of The Temple.
‘’You can get something downstairs. I’m sure Lada would gladly feed you if it meant to be rid of you.’’ Darryk quipped.
‘’No need for that.’’ Millin reached for a wine bottle on the floor. From what Marc could tell, it was half empty. In 2 gulps Millin finished his drink.
‘’Bah! All done.’’ He proclaimed, cleaning his mouth with his arm. ‘’Let’s go.’’
TO BE CONTINUED…….
