Chapter 13 - Trappings

Matthew sat on a bare patch of ground in the warehouse. He was glad to be back in the world he knew, back in what he understood. Part of him however, missed the banquet from the night before. There was a presence of the banquet that felt good to him, something that he did not feel now. He was not sure what it was exactly, but he missed it. It was something akin to the feeling he had just before snatching something from a cart. A feeling of anticipation almost.

He looked down at himself. He was no longer wearing the fine clothes that Miktan had bought him. Instead he wore the thin leather britches and the light gray, linen shirt he always wore. Something of him missed the clothes to. Something about having clothes that were meant for him felt right. He wore new shoes now. When Miktan had seen how poorly his previous pair had fit, he insisted that they get a new pair for Matthew. They were simple, not the quality of the boots he had worn the night before, but they were his, and they were new. He also now wore a vest, the leather thinner than his britches. The vest was to cover the leather harness he wore. More specifically it was to hide the daggers the harness held.

Matthew found his mind wandering throughout the events of the previous night. He could not help but imagining himself as some great noble. He imagined walking into the banquet, everyone watching him. Not Matthew, the young man that had been lost in the world of nobles. Instead, he was Lord Matthew. He laughed to himself as he dispelled the image of people bowing to him with looks of awe and admiration.

“What are you doing Matty-boy?” Vansen asked as he dropped to the floor beside Matthew. Tavira took the spot to his other side.

“Ah, not too much, just thinking about the past couple days,” Matthew replied, rubbing his eye.

“Is that so? Yeah, I suppose it’s bee a little strange hasn’t it?” Vansen looked across to Tavira with a sly grin and she covered her mouth as she giggled.

Matthew eyed the two of them, “What?”

“It’s nothing, just seeing you in those clothes,” Vansen barked a laugh.

Matthew sighed heavily, “It was Miktan’s idea, you know that the man has a way of getting you to do what he wants.”

Vansen and Tavira just laughed at him. After they settled, Vansen stood, “Would my lord like to accompany us in getting some lunch?” Vansen asked sarcastically, giving a mocking bow.

“Oh shut up Vansen,” Matthew said as he stood, giving the other a solid punch to his shoulder before heading to the door.

The two continued to laugh as they followed him. Their remarks continued as they travelled the streets. Eventually Matthew gave in and started making jokes, realizing that they were not going to stop any time soon.

It was just before midday, and Merchant’s Street was as busy as ever. On their way, they had spent a little time discussing what they would get for their lunch. Matthew had suggested grabbing a couple pastries from Old Man Hantan, but Vansen dismissed the idea. The man had a long memory, and would no doubt recognize Matthew if he approached the stall. Hantan had burned Vansen’s face into his memory, and Tavira was not feeling up to challenging the old man that day. So instead they decided on a few kabobs from one of the meat vendors.

Matthew grinned at the mention of kabobs, remembering the first time he had gotten one. It was a memorable day. He had been out of the orphanage for almost a month at the time. A few days before, a kind man had given him some rolls and a few coins, taking pity on the small boy that looked starved. He had made the rolls last as long as he could, but he was hungry. When they were gone, he went to buy some more food.

He had found the stand with kabobs and went to buy some. Not knowing the greed of the man, he pulled all the coins he had from his pocket. The man had tried to cheat him, but Vansen stopped him. It was the first time Matthew had seen Vansen since the older boy had been put out from the orphanage. That was the day Vansen recruited him. It was that day that Matthew truly started living again.
The three companions travelled down the street, looking for a stall or cart that was selling kabobs, though they had no intention of purchasing any. When they found one, Tavira approached, producing her very best, most innocent smile. That was the typical way they handled things when stealing in a group. One of them would distract the merchant while the other got what they were after.

Tavira was a good partner in such a plan. She knew how to hold the attention of the merchants. Often times she would walk away having been given something to eat. It was never anything very good, but it was something all the same, something that the person running the cart thought would do the poor, thin girl some good.

Matthew watched as Tavira stood at the cart, eyeing the produce set out with longing. He kept himself from laughing when the rotund man behind the cart saw her and immediately began to speak with her in a concerning voice. Matthew saw a grin on Vansen’s face too. The two watched carefully for their moment. Vansen was the first to go, walking beside the cart and with a deft movement of his hand, that if Matthew were not watching for, he would have seen, snatched a handful of kabobs.

Matthew had always been jealous of Vansen’s skill. The older man always seemed faster, more agile, than anyone else in the crew. Matthew took a few steps and froze. Stepping up to the cart was a man in an army uniform that Matthew recognized. It was one of the two men from the party the night before. Matthew searched his mind for the name of the officer that had joined them at their table.

Alexander, Matthew thought, Lieutenant Alexander Varross. Matthew looked at the stall, Tavira still speaking with the fat man behind the cart. His eyes darted to Alexander, then to Vansen, and back to the cart. Vansen was staring at him, looking at him curiously.

Matthew decided that there was no way the man would recognize him without his fine clothes and his hair pulled back. He started to the stall. Alexander stood, waiting patiently, and scanned the crowd. His eyes passed over Matthew once, not giving him any attention. Matthew felt a bit of tension release from his shoulders. Alexander’s eyes passed over him again, and this time they stayed.

“Matthew?” The man said, loud enough for Matthew to hear it over the noise of the crowd.

Tavira jerked, quickly looking at the man beside her before looking back at the fat man. Her eyes darted to Matthew and he gave her a small shake of his head. She took the kabob the man was holding out for her graciously and moved to join Vansen who stood leaning against the wall of one of the stores on the street.

Matthew walked straight up to Alexander, “Lieutenant, I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

The red haired man looked Matthew up and down and raised an eyebrow, “And I didn’t expect to see you. You look, different,” he said, a tone of question in his voice.

“Yes, last night was not me, at least not the usual me. Miktan invited me, I’m not one that typically attends events such as the one last night,” Matthew said before finishing the thought to himself, at least not as an invited guest.

“I see, can I buy you some lunch?” The man asked, motioning to the cart.

Matthew put up a hand in protest, “I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“Nonsense, it would be my pleasure. Consider it repayment for your good company last night,” Alexander said before turning to the fat man, “we’ll take six of whatever you think is best.”

“Of course,” the man behind the stall said with an inclination of his head. He turned, grabbing two sheets of a thin, waxy paper and placed three kabobs on each sheet. He handed one of the sheets to Matthew and the other to Alexander.

The two turned away from that cart and Alexander immediately began to eat, “It has been far too long since I’ve been able to have a good kabob.”

“What’s that?” Matthew asked, not understanding.

Alexander looked at him, “I’m originally from Garlin, or from near here. I was raised on a farm just over a days travel from the city.”

“Really?” Matthew said, “I suppose I should have guessed by your appearance and speech. Maybe the uniform threw me off.”

“Matthew?” a voice said from in front of the two men. Matthew looked to see Vansen and Tavira standing there, each one eating one of their kabobs, “who your friend?”

Alexander eyed the two carefully. There had been a slight tone of distrust in Vansen’s voice when he had spoke. Matthew spoke to explain, “This is Alexander, I met him last night.”

“Oh,” Vansen said, relaxing, “It is good to meet you Alexander,” Vansen wiped some of the kabob juice from his hand on his pant leg and then offered it to Alexander, who shook it.

“That’s Vansen,” Matthew said, “and this is Tavira,” he motioned to the girl.

Alexander inclined his head, “A pleasure.”

Tavira just grinned at Alexander. Matthew raised an eyebrow at her and she sniffed before shooting him a look that usually meant he was in trouble. The group went to a nearby building, so as to be out of the way of the traffic on the street. They made casual conversation as they ate. Matthew was glad that Alexander did not seem to bother asking what it was the three did.

As they finished, Alexander spoke, “Matthew, do you think you could show me to Master Miktan’s place. I have some questions I meant to ask him last night, but he was rather busy with the band.”

“We can show you,” Tavira said, smiling at the man.

Matthew and Vansen both looked at her with eyebrows raised, “Yeah, we can show you,” Matthew said, finally looking back at Alexander.

“Thank you,” the officer said, motioning them to lead the way.

They started off. Tavira seemed to keep most of the conversation with the older man as they went, asking him about his home and his travels. Matthew was beginning to think that she was infatuated with the older man, though he couldn’t see why. Matthew guessed that Alexander had to be nearly twice Tavira’s age.

A man caught Matthew’s eye as they travelled. He was not sure why, but the man seemed familiar, as if Matthew had seen him earlier that day. He was a nondescript man, nothing really noticeable about him, but there was just something that felt off about the man. He wore a light green, linen shirt and leather britches. His thin, light brown hair was cut short. He did not seem poor or wealthy. Matthew could not figure out what it was, but something just seemed strange. Eventually the man disappeared around a corner and Matthew forgot about him.

The group of three thieves and a soldier turned onto a busy street. If it was clear, it would have taken them just a few minutes to reach the street that Miktan lived on, however, fighting through the crowd would slow them significantly.

A man bumped into Tavira as they went, rather violently and Matthew recognized the man. It was the man with the green shirt and the thin hair. It struck Matthew why he seemed so strange. Since leaving the warehouse, the man had cross their path nearly a dozen times.

“Some men,” Alexander said, looking after the man before he turned to Tavira, “Are you all right?”

Matthew gasped as she pulled her hands away from her stomach. Her shirt was stained with blood. Tavira’s knees buckled and immediately Alexander caught her. Matthew scanned the crowd. He was a little taller than most that were there and soon spotted the balding man. He looked back and met Matthew’s eyes. Worry filled them.

“I see him!” Matthew cried.

Alexander was handing Tavira to Vansen carefully, “I’ll take her to Miktan’s,” Vansen said, but the thought barely reached Matthew.

There was a ring of steel as Alexander’s sword came from his hip and the crowd moved away from the four, “Lead the way,” the man said calmly.

Matthew started. The crowd parted for the soldier with a drawn sword following a young man.

Matthew’s face was pure determination. Anger filled him. The balding man turned down a street and Matthew was there. He quickly scanned the street and found him, darting after.

Alexander had identified the man now and was no longer following. The man’s strong legs easily kept pace with Matthew. The bald man turned and Alexander turned after him. Matthew did not.

Matthew knew the streets. He knew the layout. Everything was clear to him. He knew that the street the man had started down only went to one place. Matthew made a sharp right at the next intersection and nearly ran over an old man. He jerked himself to one side, barely losing any speed. People screamed as they saw him coming and moved out of his way.

He was not sure when it had happened, but he had pulled one of the daggers from the harness on his back. The blade, a hand and a half long, reflected the sun. That was what people were screaming about. A madman running through the streets with a knife and a look of murder on his face.

The bald man exploded from the intersection in front of Matthew, frantically searching. A shout came from behind the bald man and he looked back, panic on his face.

He doesn’t see me, Matthew thought, he doesn’t know where I am. Not yet. He veered to the right, towards a wagon parked against a building. He pushed himself to move faster, before the man could react. He leapt to the back of the wagon. Two strides and he leapt again, soaring above the heads of people that were rising to their feet after the bald man had tackled them. Matthew began to fall, right onto the balding man.

A woman screamed as time slowed. The bald man’s head turned to look up. His eyes widened as he saw Matthew falling towards him. In the back of his mind Matthew could hear Alexander shouting something, but he did not care what. This man had hurt one of his friends, maybe killed her. He would pay.

Matthew’s left hand made contact with the bald man’s throat. The other man began to fall. Matthew’s knees struck the man’s chest as they made their way to the ground. When they struck, Matthew could feel the bones in the man’s chest crack. Blood flew from his mouth as the air was pushed from his chest. Matthew stared into the man’s gray eyes. The eyes of the man that stabbed Tavira for no reason. There was nothing else but Matthew and the bald man.

Everything came rushing back at once; sounds, motion, everything. Matthew was suddenly aware of his shouts. He was shouting at the man, demanding that he tell him why he had stabbed Tavira. He was now aware of the arms trying to pull him off the man. He was aware of the jet black dagger blade that was now coated with dark, red blood. He was aware of the glazed look in the bald man’s eyes and the blood flowing from his side. He was aware of what Alexander had been shouting, “Stop, don't kill him!”

“What have I done?” Matthew said, the blade dropping from his hand as he gave into the hands that wrestled him to the ground.

“Easy with him!” Alexander’s voice ordered.

Matthew finally realized that the hands that pinned him belonged to men of the city guard. Another group of guards surrounded the scene, keeping people back.

“This is none of your business!” A guard shouted at Alexander, “We’ll handle this!”

“Really?” Alexander shouted back, voice full of indignation, “you know what happened? You saw everything?”

“And you do?” The guard said. Matthew could see the men glaring at one another. He could see both of their faces full of blood, full of anger.

Alexander breathed, calming himself, “I do. I will accompany the boy to the prison. I will explain what happened.”

The guard still stared at him, face tight and getting redder, “Fine!” he shouted, turning to his men, “grab that knife and let’s get this body off the street!” he ordered.

Men hurried, rolling the body up in some canvas. Three men hoisted it and started off. Two guards led Matthew, head hanging, after the corpse.

—————————-

Celes Debeart smiled, pleased with everything that had happened. It had gone even better than she had planned. She had expected that she would have to affect the mind of the young man more, but she had to merely amplify the rage that had sprung up in the man.

She had been impressed. Even in his almost blind rage he had been able to adapt and process what was going on. Celes supposed that part of his reaction was instinct from his time living on the street, but it was all impressive none the less.

She watched as the guards carried Matthew and the dead man off. The man had been easy to manipulate. Gold made the minds of greedy men easier to mold. The promise of a few gold coins for the life of one, unknown girl, was easy money, or so that man had thought. He had no idea that he would not survive the day. The first stage of her plan was done. Celes just hoped that her Uncle was keeping up to his end of the bargain with the good Captain.

Chapter 12 - Truths of Garlin

Jaron watched as Matthew walked towards the stairs. He just had to catch him, to talk to him, to figure out what it was he had actually said to him. Jaron was not used to people talking to him as Matthew just had. Most heard that he was from House Kensly and everything after that was polite and kind. Never had anyone actually spoken their mind to Jaron as Matthew did.

Celes had been at Jaron’s side when he started through the hall, but had since left it and disappeared into the crowd. He was glad she was gone. There was something about being in her presence that clouded his mind. He was not exactly sure what it was, however it was more than her beauty. At least Jaron thought that it was something more. Jaron had been surrounded by beautiful young girls most of his life and none had the effect that Celes Debeart had on him.

Jaron noticed Cedric standing beside the stairs talking with Lieutenant Alexander at about the same moment that Cedric noticed Matthew, and then Jaron, heading in his direction. Jaron jerked his head towards Matthew hoping that Cedric understood the motion as a signal to stop the young man. He nodded and stepped in front of Matthew, blocking him from the stairs.

The two men exchanged a few words, but Cedric would not move. The large man’s left hand rested on his sword. Jaron knew that to draw his sword with his left hand would be awkward, seeing it was on his left hip. He knew however that it would take only a moment for the man to shift, holding the sheathed weapon steady so that he could quickly draw it with his right.

Jaron finally got to the small group and motioned to Cedric as he spoke, “Is there a problem Lord Kensly?”

“No,” Jaron said as Matthew turned to look at him. He met the young man’s eyes, thinking he couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was, “There is no problem Cedric, I just think that there may have been a misunderstanding during our conversation and I wanted to be sure to clear it up before Master Matthew could leave.”

The two continued to look into one another’s eyes. Jaron hoped that Matthew could see the sincerity in his own eyes, the message that he meant him no harm and that he just wanted to talk. Matthew’s dark green eyes bore into Jaron. He was not sure what it was about the boy that caused him to look away first, but he broke the gaze to notice Miktan was nearing the group.

“I do hope that my young friend has not caused any trouble Lord Jaron,” the man gave a smile that Jaron was sure would weakened the defenses of anyone in the room. It was kind and trusting, as if you could tell the man anything and it would be safe.

“No trouble Master Miktan, I just wanted to speak with Jaron some more, to apologize,” Jaron paused as he tried to piece together what he was going to say, “I wanted to apologize for misunderstanding what you said before Master Matthew, I may have spoken too harshly in response and I did not want to offend you. Instead, I hope that you will accompany me to continue our conversation, that I can better understand what it is you were explaining to me.”

Matthew shifted suspiciously before speaking, “I am not sure I can explain it in a way that would be to your satisfaction my lord.”

“Well, there is no better way to see that to try,” Jaron said, giving a smile that he hoped would come across much like Miktan’s had.

Matthew glanced to Miktan, then to Cedric, before nodding to Jaron. Jaron motioned Matthew towards one of the doors and took up step beside him. The two walked in silence until they were through the door and it had shut behind them.

“I’m sorry if I offended you Lord Jaron, I lost control for a moment and did not mean to speak to you in such a way,” Matthew said, the words streaming from his mouth.

“It is nothing,” Jaron said, trying to calm the other man, “I meant you no harm, and I am not offended. At least, I think not. I feel more confused at what you said back there, and would wish to talk about it more, so that I might better understand.”

Matthew looked at Jaron suspiciously, “I mean you no offense my lord, but I am not entirely sure I would be comfortable having that conversation with you. I am afraid of what the outcome might be.”
Jaron thought he began to understand as Matthew’s eyes shifted to the sword on his waist, “I give you my word, on my honor as a noble, as the son of a High Lord, that no matter what you say to me no matter if you offend me, that you will leave here this night the same as you arrived, and that I will never bring harm to you based on the words you speak to me this night.”

Matthew hesitated, seeming to weigh the words given him before speaking, “I suppose I can’t argue with the word of a High Lord.”

Jaron cringed, “I do have one request however, if you could refrain from using my title and simply calling me Jaron?”

“I will do my best,” Matthew said with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“This way,” Jaron said motioning down the hall.

He and Matthew travelled down the hallway in relative silence, except when Jaron would direct him down a side hall. He noticed that the young man, nearly a hand taller than he was, seemed to almost blend in with the shadow when they would reach an area between two torches, or a dark area in a hallway.

Finally they reached the sitting room that Jaron was looking for. It was out of the way, and a good distance from the hall. It was unlikely that anyone would disturb the two there, so they could talk in peace. Jaron was comforted by the fact that he could finally get away from all the bowing and scraping that had been taking place during the banquet.

They entered the room. It was one of the simpler of the sitting rooms in the manor. It had a single stone fireplace mirrored by a tapestry on the opposite wall. A portrait of Derrad Kensly, Jaron’s great, great grandfather, hung over the fireplace. Plush armchairs circled a low table decorated with fresh flowers.
Jaron took the torch from outside the sitting room and used it to ignite the logs already sitting in the fireplace. He replaced the torch to his mount outside the room and went to work lighting the oil lanterns on the wall. When he finished, he sat in one of the armchairs and motioned Matthew to sit. He hesitated, but finally sat in the chair across the table from Jaron.

“Now, I was confused by what it said to me out in the courtyard,” Jaron started, not wanting to waste any more time in understanding what had been said to him, “you spoke of hardships, troubles of living in the city. You spoke of begging and stealing to survive as if you yourself have to suffer in such a way.”

Matthew stared into the fireplace, never looking away as he spoke, “That would be because I do.”
Jaron’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean, you do not look like on that suffers.” Jaron looked over the other man’s clothes. They were well made, of the same quality that Jaron wore. They were tailored to Matthew’s build, and could not be cheap, let alone stolen.

Matthew gave a weak laugh, “Clothes, the way one talks, the way one acts; these things can be faked, can be used in a way to play a part. These clothes were given to me by Miktan. He paid for them to be made. Tonight is the only night I have ever worn clothes such as these. Everything I have shown tonight has been a lie,” Matthew lifted his eyes to look at Jaron, “everything except what I said to you.”

“Explain,” Jaron said, hoping that it did not sound like an order.

His eyes returning to the fire, Matthew spoke, “When I was around two years old, my parents died. I was sent to the orphanage where I lived until I was fourteen. Then, I was kicked out, told to survive on my own. I looked for work, I spent an entire month looking. I scoured the city, I even went out to some of the nearby farms, but no one was going to hire a fourteen year old boy that they would have to teach everything to, not when they had sons or daughters they could teach; not when there were young boys half my age willing to learn, more easily taught.”

Jaron stared at the man across from him, enthralled by his words. He continued, “So, I started stealing. Well, I was recruited actually, by another that had been kicked out of the orphanage. With him, and others he had gathered, we began to survive. We stole to survive,” Matthew looked up at Jaron again, “only what we needed mind you, never anything more,” his eyes dropped away again, “everyday we fight this city just to live. Everyday we steal, food, clothes, anything, just to make it to the next day. It isn’t like we want to live like this, we have to. It’s either that, or we just die out on the street to have our bodies found and burned.”

“I was told,” Jaron said, “that those that left the orphanage were given money to survive.”

“Five fangs,” Matthew said with disgust, “I was given five copper fangs when I left. Five fangs doesn’t even feed a person for a day, not if they want to eat decently,” he laughed, “I made it last almost two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, I did not know,” Jaron said, dropping his head to look at the floor.

“Of course you didn’t,” Matthew said. It was quiet, but deliberate, “You, who live here in this manor, who live completely cut off from the city. How could you know? How could you really know what it’s like? I’ve seen guards that look on me with pity, because they almost know what it’s like out there. They see what really goes on.”

Jaron looked up at Matthew, “But, my family, we give money to the city to take care of those that have nothing.”

“I know, but it is given to the elderly, to those too weak to fend for themselves, before it is ever even seen by one like me,” Matthew explained as he continued to stare into the fire, “They deserve it. I still have the strength, the ability, to make it out there. Those people, they’ve fought their entire lives to make it out of the situation they’re in, only to get kicked back down every time they make it to their feet.”

“There must be something that can be done!” Jaron said, hoping for a some sort of suggestion.

Matthew looked at him, a look that was somewhere between indignation and surprise on his face, “As long as there are nobles, there will be the poor. As long as there are people that have plenty, there will be those that have none. There is nothing that can be done, it is a reality that we all must face. I hold no ill-will towards you or your family. You do what you can to ease the suffering of the people. If all the nobles of Garlin did the same, then maybe the lives of those at the bottom wouldn’t be so bad. However, can you see House Danar, or House Bething giving anything outside of what they had to in order to make things easier out there? I doubt it, Lord Danar would be more likely to propose to cleanse the streets completely, killing those that he saw as ‘not fit for society’, am I wrong?”

Jaron drooped, “I suppose not.”

“Again, I apologize for coming at you like I did,” Matthew said, meeting Jaron’s eyes, “It is impossible for you to truly know the state of things in the city, but at the same time, for you to wish to have a different life is just something that I find offensive to me. You, who are in a position to change things, wishing for a life out there. I just don’t understand how you could wish such a thing.”

“In the same way, it is difficult for you to understand my life in here,” Jaron motioned to the room around him, “As you said, I am separated from the city. I am safe in here. Safe from any out there that would wish me harm. However, my entire day is scheduled. There is nothing that has not been planned out in advance. I am a prisoner in my life just as much as you are in yours. I wish for something unexpected,” Jaron raised a hand to motion to Matthew, “Something like you. Never did I expect to be speaking with someone like you tonight, about something like this.”

Matthew grinned, “I suppose I can understand, a little.”

“There is so much that I would give to have a life in which I would not know what was coming next. A life where I had to worry,” Jaron sighed heavily.

“‘Be careful, that you would get that what you wish for, and find that it is not what you thought it would be,’” Matthew said, sitting up straight, finger raised knowingly, “That’s something that matron in the orphanage would always say to anyone that wished for anything. It’s true though. More often than not, what we think we want isn’t what we expect when we get it.”

Jaron chuckled, “I suppose you are right. I also suppose that I have been away for too long. I am sure my mother is worried about where I have disappeared to, and my father, well…” Jaron let the phrase hang.

The two rose, putting out the lamps and shutting the door and flue on the fireplace to choke out the flames. They left the room and returned to the hall. When they entered, Jaron’s father was speaking to Cedric. The man looked backed into a corner. When the large individual noticed Jaron, he pointed at him. Jaron’s father spun and stared at Jaron.

Well, this should be fun, Jaron thought as he strode towards his father.

——————————

Celes Debeart sat in the high-backed chair across from her uncle. The man was thin but held himself in a way that would seem threatening to most. He hair was dark brown, almost as dark as Celes’ was, though the gray streaks at his temples seemed to lighten the rest of his hair. He sat, elbows on the desk, fingers peaked. He pressed the fingers to his lips, contemplating something. His dueling cane, fixed with a large sapphire fixed into the silver grip.

“So,” the older man said, pulling his hands from his face, “you think that you can use these two?”

“Uncle,” the words flowed from her mouth, “with my abilities, there are none that can resist me.”
The man eyed her with suspicion, “And you hold to the fact that you have done no weaving on me? You have left my mind clear?”

“Uncle, I gave you my word, if that is no good, then I have nothing,” she said with a smile.

“There is a little too much of your father in you child,” Lord Bething said, “Excuse me if I have trouble trusting you.”

Celes gave a light laugh. She knew the hatred Juston Bething had for her father, but she also knew his respect for the man. It had taken a lot of work on her father’s part to become a High Lord of Beldin in such short time. A lot of work indeed, but he had trained her well, and she would not have the trouble carrying out her plans that he had found carrying out his.

“Uncle, by the end of the week, the first seal will be released and we will be well on our way towards our final goal,” she curled a strand of hair around her finger, “I know it is hard to do, but you must trust me. Without you, my plans are useless, so I will do nothing to harm you or your family.”

She meant what she said. If she did anything to lose the help of her uncle, then if something were to go wrong, she had no one to place the blame on. She had everything planned, or better, the ones she was working for had everything planned. She knew that she too was just a pawn, but she had plans to become more, plans that those that moved the pieces had no clue about.

Chapter 11 - A Thief in Noble's Clothing

Lord Kensly and his son stood before all the people gathered in the banquet all, Jaron kneeling before his father. Matthew was enthralled by the ceremony. The two had just exchanged well rehearsed words. Lord Kensly confronted Jaron with numerous questions and Jaron answered them, vowing to live his life in a way that would show respect to every person living in Garlin, as well as any he may come across elsewhere, meeting their needs in any way he could. It was something that Matthew had not expected to hear a noble’s son vow.


Lord Kensly now stood holding a sword that from what Matthew could tell, was expertly crafted. He knelt down, eye level with his son and presented the sword to him.

“It is with this blade that I ask you to protect,” Lord Kensly said in a voice that filled the room and quieted everything, “I ask you to protect those that you love. I ask you to protect those that need protection. The weak and the oppressed. Though remember that this blade is only metal, there are some battles that it will not be a useful tool. It is in those battles that you must use your wit, and your intelligence to win,” Jaron took the sword from his father and stood, leaving his father kneeling before him.

“I shall use this sword to defend those that need defending, regardless of the cost to myself. I will use the knowledge and wisdom gained throughout my time lived to help those that are in need of help,” Jaron’s voice was solid as he made his vow, never wavering, “I promise this to you, my father, as well as to all who have gathered here this day.”

Lord Kensly rose, and the two embraced one another as a cheer went up from those gathered. The two stepped away from one another as Jaron belted the sword to his waist before giving a bow to his father, who returned the act with a bow of his own. Matthew continued to watch even as the two returned to their seats.

People began to rise from their tables, the meal over, and head to the two empty areas in the room. Musicians began to play an upbeat tune as still others rose to speak with Lord Kensly and his family. Matthew relaxed when Alexander stood and went off in the direction of the head table. It was not that he disliked the man, it was just that he had trouble trusting anyone who would be more likely to throw him in a cell than let him survive on the streets.

Eventually Miktan left the table, as well as the young couple that had spent the majority of their evening with them. Miktan went to the musicians, speaking to one of the men before beginning to sing along with what they were playing. The couple went to the dance floor. With nothing to keep him at the table but Matthew, Telan left too, off in search of the information that he seemed to hold so dear.
Matthew sat alone at the empty table. He watched as numerous couples spun along the dance floor. He could not understand what it was about dancing that appealed to people. As far as he could tell dancing served no purpose. Matthew saw a number of girls glancing in his direction as if to will him to ask them to dance. During the meal, Miktan had pointed out any young woman, and some more than ten years older than Matthew, that eyed him curiously. Miktan claimed that they were evaluating him, and probably wished that when the meal was over Matthew would ask them to dance.

In his watching the dance floor, Matthew didn’t notice as someone approached him from his left, “Excuse me,” a voice said and Matthew spun to look in the direction the voice came from, fighting the urge to stand and run.

When Matthew noticed who was standing there, he stood anyway. In all her beauty, Celes Debeart stood, an eyebrow raised at Matthew’s reaction. The want to run strengthened. He was not sure how to handle the situation. He wished Miktan were there, he would know what to say at a time like this.
“L, Lady Celes, it is an honor,” Matthew managed to stutter out.

She covered her mouth as she laughed quietly, “Please, call me Celes, you are Matthew, correct? Master Miktan’s young friend?”

“Ye, yes, I am. Is there anything I can do for you?” Matthew hoped that there was nothing. He hoped that it was just merely some prank that she and the other young women were playing on him. A prank to watch him bumble his way through a conversation with a lady of Celes Debeart’s caliber.

“I was curious if you would be willing to join me for a walk through the courtyard?” She motioned to one of the doors opposite from the main entrance of the hall.

Matthew stood, stunned. He hoped that his mouth was not hanging open, but couldn’t be sure. His head swam, looking for an excuse to get away, any reason.

“He would be honored to,” a voice said from behind him.

Matthew spun again, suddenly realizing how much he had let his guard down. He saw Miktan standing there, a large grin on his face that Matthew knew to be trouble. It was the same grin he had given Matthew when he had accepted Miktan’s offer to accompany him to this accursed banquet. It was not until that moment he realized there were no words accompanying the music that filled the hall.

“I do not believe we have had the honor of being properly introduced, I am Miktan Lonstrat,” the older man said fluidly.

“Yes of course, I am Lady Celes Debeart, daughter of Lord Wilrich Debeart. I must say that I enjoyed your singing, it was a pleasure to hear your wonderful voice,” she said, finally offering her hand which Miktan took and placed a light kiss on her knuckles.

“The pleasure was all mine. Now Matthew,” Miktan turned to look at him, “I do believe that the young lady asked you to accompany her through the gardens.”

Matthew glared at the old man, hoping that his look had softened as he turned to look at Celes, “It’d… It would be my honor,” he said offering his arm to Celes.

Gooseflesh raced across his arm as her hand lightly touched it. He was certain that never again in his life would he see a woman as beautiful as Celes Debeart. As they started off for the door, Matthew concentrated on his walking. He felt uncoordinated next to her, as if he were tripping over his own feet. Celes however seemed to glide across the floor, her feet not even touching the ground as they walked.

Matthew could feel the eyes of most of the young men and women follow them across the room. He was sure that the men were angered at the fact that Celes was on his arm, and he wasn’t sure what the girls were watching. Perhaps this is still part of their prank, Matthew thought as they neared the door.

All that he had learned from Miktan and Jonson over the last couple days left him. He could not remember a thing they had told him. Matthew searched his mind for anything that he was suppose to do. As they were a few steps from the door, Matthew remembered that he should open it, allowing her through the door completely before following.

He forced himself to part from her, feeling as if he lost something as her touch left him. He took two quick steps and pulled the door open. He gave a slight inclination of his head and motioned her through with his arm. Miktan and Jonson had not taught him that, but he had seen nobles in the city do the same and figured that it was appropriate.

She walked past him, the scent of her filling his nose. She smelled of jasmine and something else that he could not place. Once she was through, he stepped through the doorway, leaving the door to close behind him. She walked over to the railing, paying him no mind. He followed, like an obedient hound.

“They are amazing, are they not?” She asked.

Matthew was confused until he noticed that she was staring at the stars, “Uh, yes. Yes they are.”

“It Beldin, the sky is so full of smoke from all the industry buildings that you can not see nearly half of the stars you can see here in Garlin,” she continued to look at the sky as she spoke, but Matthew was fixed on her face in the moonlight.

Celes turned to look at him, their eyes meeting. Her eyes gleamed. It was as if they captured the stars and shone back through them. She smiled and Matthew felt as if he would melt if she commanded it.

“Do you know why it is that I asked you to accompany me out here rather than some other?” She asked, her every word hypnotizing him.

He shook his head and she continued, “It is because unlike every other man in that room, you were one of the few that did not approach me, and from what I can gather, you were the only one that did not approach me that was not already married or promised to another,” she paused a moment before continuing, “though there were a few that approached me all the same.”

Matthew continued to watch her, dumbstruck. She smiled again and Matthew thought that he could lose himself in her deep, blue eyes. They seemed to stand there looking at each other for an eternity, and Matthew was more than happy to do so.

“You are an enigma to me,” she said, breaking the silence and looking away. Matthew felt as if he had just earned all the gold in Garlin and that it had been stolen away from him.

“Why is that?” He asked, finally speaking, though he still watched her face.

“I have been attending the gatherings here in Garlin since I arrived nearly a month ago, yet I have not seen your face once,” again she turned to look at him, this time a look of confusion on her face, “how is that?”

“That would be because this is the first event in Garlin I have attended,” Matthew said before thinking the rest, as a guest at least.

“I see,” she said, an eyebrow raising in suspicion, “did you just arrive in Garlin? From Ugana perhaps?”

“No, I live here in Garlin,” the thought of why he was being so open with her crossed his mind, but he paid it no attention.

“With Master Miktan?” she asked.

“No, Miktan is just a friend that tricked me into coming to this thing,” the thought came again, and this time he caught it. By the weave, what am I thinking telling her this. If she finds out the truth… frayed, I need to find a way out of this.

Celes’ eyebrows furrowed, “Then where do you live?”

“I,” Matthew halted. I almost told her everything. Burn my thread this woman is trouble, He thought carefully before continuing, “I do not think you would believe me if I told you.”

Celes face softened and she smile, “You may be surprised Matthew.”

Any hesitation he had vanished when facing that smile, “I’m a street-thief. I was orphaned when I was very young. When I couldn’t find any work after the orphanage released me, I was taken in by an old friend. He taught me how to steal and survive on the streets. I’ve been doing that ever since.”

Matthew’s mind reeled when he realized what he had said. He was not sure what had just happened. He never trusted anyone outside the crew, besides Miktan, with that information. Now he just blurted it all out to some girl he had only met. He took a couple steps back as he pressed fingers to his temples. His head throbbed as if he had just been struck.

“Interesting,” Celes said blankly, turning from him to look at the sky again.

“Interesting,” Matthwe said sarcastically, looking at her, but with a finger still rubbing at his left temple, “I am willing to bet that anyone else in that room besides Miktan would be shocked at the least to have heard what I just said. There would be some that would probably be more than willing to hand me over to the guard that very moment. And you just think that it’s interesting?”

“I can understand your confusion Matthew, but you know nothing about me, about why I was sent to live with my uncle here in Garlin,” Celes’ face held a pained expression, but she stared at the stars, “I had a habit, back in Beldin, that my father was ashamed of. Mine is a young family, new to the high houses, and my father did not want my habit to tarnish our already fragile reputation.”

Matthew was not sure, but he thought he saw tears in Celes’ blue eyes, “The story everyone is told was that I was sent here to live with my Uncle, to learn the ways of Garlin government and how the houses fit into it. That is barely a part of the truth. In Beldin I had a habit of sneaking out of the keep and passing myself off as one of the commoners.”

Matthew thought that was impossible, that someone as beautiful as Celes could ever be mistaken as a simple commoner, but he did not interrupt, “My father saw little merit in my behavior, thinking as he did of those that were not noble born. The irony is that he himself is not noble born, it is my mother that is. When they married, he used her power to make a name for himself, and through less than righteous means, he weaseled his way in among the high houses. Eventually he was named a High Lord of Beldin.

“When my excursions from the keep came to his attention, he tried to imprison me. Me, his own daughter, locked in a room in the keep. However, I continued to find ways out. Finally my father sent me here to live with my Uncle, the brother of my mother. He hopes that my Uncle will be able to force me into being the dutiful noble’s daughter he truly wishes me to be.”

It was now Matthew’s turn to be confused, and he was, “How is living with your Uncle suppose to change you behavior?”

“My Uncle is a rather harsh individual. I would rather not go into the details of how, but he gave me options of which there was one that was clearly what was safe for me,” tears streamed from Celes’ eyes now as she told her story.

Matthew was about to go to her, to try and offer her some comfort as the door to the banquet hall burst open and someone stormed through. Matthew could not see who it was with the bright light of the hall to his back, and the sudden introduction of the light blurred Matthew’s vision.

He looked to Celes, who’s tears had seemed to vanish as quickly as the person had entered the courtyard. She stood, beautiful in her light blue dress, looking at the stars. As Matthew’s eyes adjusted he could make out the sword on the man’s hip and some of his face.

“Lord Jaron?” Celes spoke, putting words to Matthew’s thoughts and having turned to look at the young man.

“What?” he said, spinning on her, “Oh, Lady Celes, I am sorry, I hope that I did not frighten you.”
Matthew had tightened when Jaron had turned on Celes, but they relaxed as Celes spoke, “It was no trouble, is everything all right?”

Jaron threw his hands in the air in frustration, “All right? Of course they are, why wouldn’t they be? I am the son of a High Lord. Heir to his estate. And now? Now I should be free to do what I like but I am still a prisoner to this life!”

Matthew flinched as Jaron shouted the last to the sky. He wanted to stand by Celes, to protect her if she should need it, but instinct told him to stay in the shadows where it seemed he had not yet been seen.

“Is there trouble my lord?” Celes asked, placing a hand on Jaron’s shoulder.

Matthew felt a pang of jealousy as Jaron turned his head to look into Celes’ eyes, “No, no trouble,” Jaron said, his voice much calmer than before, “I just wish that I could live the life I choose. I wish that I could live outside this manor, among the people. Instead I have everything handed to me. Anything I could ask for is brought to me. Why do I deserve to be pampered? What is it that set me apart from any other man in this city? My family? My father? My blood? Burn it all.”

Matthew stood confused at Jaron’s words. That one such as he, one that lived in comfort. One that had the choice to forsake all he had could be envious of those that fought to survive. Matthew felt anger bubble up in him. Anger at the boy’s naiveté.

“A life beyond these walls, that it what I want. A life in which I can accomplish something, where I can see the fruits of my labor,” Jaron’s head hung.

Matthew finally stepped from the shadows, “You know nothing of what you wish,” Jaron’s head spun to look at him, “Life out there isn’t nearly as glamorous as you seem to think it is. Day after day people have to do things they wish they didn’t, to do things they’re not proud of, all because they aren’t born into a life you have. We have to lie, cheat and steal our way through life while you sit in your beautiful manor, have your banquets and whine about what you have while my friends and I live out there wondering if we’ll eat tomorrow,”

Matthew realized that he had shifted to including himself in those he spoke of, but in his anger he didn’t care, “You are right when you say that you are apart from the world beyond this place, that you don’t live a life like we do. Be happy that you can. You aren’t happy with your life here? You think that living out there will change anything? You are poorly mistaken, my Lord,” Matthew’s voice dripped contempt on those words, “You know what you do have? You have power. You have power to change things, to change the way things are out there. To make people’s lives better. Instead you wish to leave this place, the place that would allow you to do something, and trade it for a life of misery.”

Matthew stared at the two noble’s before him, sure his face was red in anger. Finally everything he had just said hit him like a club. Panic set in. I just yelled at a Lord, fray, not just a lord, a High Lord. He turned to the door and quickly made his way back inside the hall, leaving Celes and Jaron standing in the courtyard with dumbstruck expressions on their faces.

He felt exposed, completely naked as he entered the massive room. He looked to the massive doors on the other side of the hall that would open to his freedom. All that stood between them and him were hundreds of nobles and dozens of guards. He started his way across the room.

He could hear that Miktan was singing along with the band now, but it was a dim thought as he focused on the two large doors. He was nearly a quarter of the way there when he felt eyes on his back. Instinctively he cut into the crowds, looking back to see Jaron and Celes standing just inside the door, scanning the room.

Looking for me, Matthew thought, By the weave, what was I thinking? He continued across the room, weaving through the crowd. It slowed him, but it also hid him. When he reached the edge he saw that he had maybe thirty paces to the stairs. Thirty paces with no cover. A large guard stood to one side of the stairs talking with someone. Matthew recognized the man talking with the guard as Alexander.
Thinking his luck could not get any worse, he started. He walked casually, at least as casually as he could manage with his skin crawling and his mind screaming at him to run. He tried to swallow his fear.

Then steps from the first stair Matthew noticed the guard look up. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that he wasn’t looking at him, but out into the hall. Five steps away and the guard stood in front of him, hand on his sword, though it remained sheathed. Alexander stood next to the man looking at Matthew curiously.

“If you will excuse me, I really need to be going,” Matthew said, looking up at the much larger man, hoping that he would step aside.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just yet,” the man said with a blank look on his face.

Chapter 10 - Finding Comfort

Alexander stood straight as a board, fighting the urge to lean against the wall that was just behind him. He knew that doing so would say something about his character, and as he was in his full dress uniform, it would in turn reflect on the army. Captain Edbar stood to his left. His superior’s eyes continually scanned the crowd, as if there was a threat waiting for him.

When the invitations had arrived at the barracks two days before, Captain Edbar was surprised. He confronted Alexander about it, asking why the two of them had received the invitations. After Alexander explained the happenings of the previous day, Edbar actually praised him, in his own way. He had said that it would be good to have connections within the Garlin nobles, and the banquet would serve as a way for the two of them to create more connections.

In the short four days since the soldiers had arrived in Garlin, they had received their fair share of people come to them with anger and disappointment. Nobles from around the city were sure that their presence was one of oppression, that it was the intent of the government to begin take away the freedoms Garlin had enjoyed since they joined with the Beldinian Empire.

The Captain had done all he could to ensure that the men were not there to cause any trouble and that people would be free to live their lives as they always did. The problems came when Captain Edbar was confronted with what their true purpose in Garlin was.

He had yet to receive any orders since arriving in Garlin, at least none that Alexander had been aware of. The men were growing anxious, only having their patrols throughout the city to occupy them. Many of them were confused as to why they were there, why some of them had been pulled from their families to come to Garlin, why others had been called from their previous assignments. Alexander managed to keep most of his men, and some of Edbar’s, content for the time being, but he hoped orders would come down soon, before they lost control of the men.

Alexander noticed Lord Kensly and Jaron moving in the direction of himself and the Captain. The two men saluted as they approached.

“Lieutenant, I am glad to see that you could make it,” Lord Kensly said, offering a had which Alexander took.

“Lord Kensly, it is an honor to be here. This is my commanding officer, Captain Vanles Edbar,” Alexander said, motioning to his left.

“It is an honor to meet you High Lord,” Edbar said, taking the man’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
“As it is you Captain. This is my son,” the man motioned to the young man standing beside him, “the reason for this gathering.

Jaron shook the Captain’s hand, going through the ceremony he had gone through so many times already this evening.

“Ah, yes, the Lieutenant tells me that you are quite the swordsman,” Edbar said with a smile.
Jaron returned the smile, “I am afraid that I have a long way to go before I would compare with Lieutenant Varross.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure that as long as you stick with it, you’ll be one of the best sword-arms in Garlin in no time,” Captain Edbar said almost giddily. Edbar always had seemed to overdo it when around nobility.

Jaron gave another slight smile as two sharp cracks rung throughout the hall and a voice cried out, “I present Master Miktan Lonstrat and his protege Matthew.”

All eyes focused on the two as they descended the stairs, Alexander’s included. The older, Miktan he assumed, seemed in rather good shape for his age, carrying himself well. Alexander estimated the man in his late forties at the youngest. He wore a white coat worked in gold, as were his black slacks. In his right hand he held a simple dueling cane, the handle however was an intricately carved talon with gripped an emerald of decent size.

The younger man seemed the exact opposite from the man he accompanied. The older gentleman seemed to fit in with the crowd gathered in the hall, eyes kept forward as he descended the stairs. The boy’s eyes however scanned the room, as if to watch everything at once. He was not overly noticeable, or so Alexander thought, though a group of girls on the other side of the room did not seem to think so. The boy looked to be of average height, perhaps a little on the thin side, though it was difficult to tell with his long coat. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing that it was cut short on the sides.

His outfit was almost entirely black, save for the silver vest he wore under his coat. The entire suit was worked in an elaborate embroidery with silver thread. The style of the suit was unlike any Alexander had seen in Garlin, at least on any of the men present, though it seemed familiar of some he had seen when he was in Beldin last. If not for his dark hair and his hidden wonder at the hall, Alexander could have easily mistaken him for the son of some noble in Beldin.

The two reached the bottom of the stairs and everyone returned to their previous doings as if nothing had happened. Alexander was not sure why the custom existed, but he found it strange that everyone watched a guest enter the hall in silence. His eyes however lingered on the two men a short while longer.

“If you would excuse us,” Lord Kensly said, Alexander finally breaking from looking at the newcomers, “we had better greet some others before they begin to feel slighted.”

Alexander and the Captain nodded in understand as the two others turned and headed in the direction of the newcomers. Alexander began to survey the crowd, seeing if he could recognize the crests on men’s jackets. He noticed that Captain Edbar’s gaze seemed to be locked on a group of girls, on one young woman in particular.

The girl was pretty, beautiful in fact, wearing a light blue, almost white dress of typical Beldin styling. Her long dark brunette hair hung near the small of her back, all in waves and shining in the light of the hall. Her attitude seemed unlike the rest of the girls at the banquet, most seeming to gossip and chatter over anything. This girl kept herself composed, speaking with few, small motions of her hand and while the others laughed and giggled loudly, she was soft.

“Do you know her Captain?” Alexander asked, knowing that the Captain had spent a good deal of time around nobles in recent years.

“Hmm?” the other man started, never looking from the young woman, “oh, yes. She is Lord Debeart’s second daughter.”

“Lord Debeart, of Beldin?”

This time Edbar turned to look at him before looking back to the girl, “Of course. Though, I’m not sure why she is here in Garlin. The last I had heard she was betrothed to the young Lord Therick.”

“Perhaps the betrothal was broken,” Alexander suggested, “I had heard in my last passing through Beldin that House Therick and House Debeart were not other best of terms.”

“Perhaps,” the Captain said, almost as if to say more, but he remained silent.

The two men returned to scanning the room as more people arrived and the strange ceremony was repeated for each new arrival. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, the caller rapped his heavy cane five times and called for everyone to be seated. Everyone wove their way through people to tables. In a way it seemed like a dance, a large, uncoordinated dance. Alexander and Edbar made their way to a clear table, sitting among two young couples and a lone, older man.

Once everyone had found a seat, there came another rap of the cane and the caller spoke in his thunderous voice that seemed to fill the hall, “Dinner is now served.”

The man bowed as servants began to stream from two doors along one wall carrying  a plate in each hand. The servants wore the dark purple and yellow of House Kensly. They placed the plates before the guests; the women first, then the men. Once everyone had a plate before them, the servants made their way through the crowd carrying pitchers. As Alexander’s glass was filled, he could smell the wine each pitcher carried. The serving took minutes with the number of people hired to take care of the guests that evening.

Once all the servants had left, everyone looked to the head table and Lord Kensly stood, “Lords and ladies, men and women, I would like to begin by thanking you for joining my family and I in celebrating this momentous occasion. This is that day in which my son begins his journey no longer as a boy, but as a man. This is day in which I can look at my son, knowing the kind of boy he has been, and hope at what kind of man he will become.”

There was a rise of applause that filled the room before Lord Kensly raised his hand to silence the room so he might continue, “This day I release my hold on my son and allow him to make choices for himself, allowing him to experience things for himself. I believe that each and every one of you in some way has helped to shape my son into the person he has become, and the man he will be. A man that we can all be proud to call a friend, brother,” Lord Kensly turned to look at Jaron, and son. To Lord Jaron Kensly!”

Lord Kensly lifted his wine glass as a cheer went up and people raised their glasses. As Lord Kensly took a drink from his goblet, the crowd quieted and did the same. Alexander was surprised as the cool liquid ran down his throat. It was stronger than he was accustomed to. Captain Edbar seemed to have a similar reaction, eyes wide as he looked at the cup before him before he finally returned it to the table.
Alexander examined the plate before him. It was a simple salad, as was tradition for the first course. It was made with greens accented with a few carrots and peppers and dressed with a light oil. As Alexander took a bit, it was as he expected, the best. The greens were crisp, the carrots sweet and flavorful, the peppers accented the carrots well, and the oil was light, so as to not overpower the rest of the dish.

Alexander ate quietly, letting Captain Edbar answer most of the questions the rest of the people at the table asked. It was rare that Alexander took part in conversations with nobles, as they seemed to always have some hidden meaning in them. From what Alexander could tell, the conversations at his table were much the same. The men at the table asked why the army had come, appearing to not care about the presence of over one thousand men, yet the tone of their voice bordered on demanding. A few asked how long the men would be in Garlin; no doubt hoping that it was a stopping point while on the way to some other destination.

Alexander glanced around at the other tables. Most of the conversations were quieted, kept to the table. Some were a little more casual than others, more relaxed and less worried about people overhearing. Alexander’s eyes fell on a particular table at which two older men, a younger man and a lesser noble couple, or so Alexander assumed by their dress, all sat. There was an occasional bout of boisterous laughter that would erupt from one of the older men, and the rest at the table smiled, seeming to enjoy the conversation they were having.

“If you will excuse me Captain,” Alexander said, leaning towards Edbar, “I believe I will take this opportunity to speak with some of the other guests.”

Edbar waved his hand in dismissal, happy to being given the attention that the people at their table offered. Alexander rose, taking his wine glass, and began his way through the tables. Various tables stopped him, introducing themselves and asking his name. He gave it willingly, as well as answered any of the questions they had for him to the best of his ability before starting off again. Finally he found himself standing before the table with the two older men, currently laughing about something.
“Excuse me,” Alexander said, “would you mind if I joined you?” He motioned to an empty chair at the table.

“Of course not Lieutenant,” one of the older men said, motioning him to sit. Alexander thought through all the people he had watched arrive, trying to remember who the old man in the white coat was.

“Thank you, you are Master Miktan, correct?” Alexander asked as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Yes indeed, very good memory Lieutenant…” he left the sentence hanging, waiting for Alexander to supply his name.

“Alexander, Lieutenant Alexander Varross, Commander of the Sixth Cavalry Unit,” Alexander said, giving a formal introduction.

“A pleasure, this,” the man motioned to the young boy on his left, “is my companion Matthew, the older gentleman here,” he said motioning to the man across the table, “is Telan, and this lovely young couple are Lord Duncan and Lady Lyna.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Alexander said before taking another drink of his wine, the strength of it still catching him off guard.

“And a pleasure to meet you,” Telan said before turning to look at Miktan, pointing a finger at the other man, “Do you remember the time in Sticaster when we met young Lena Reed?”

“Oh dear, yes, all too well. If I remember correctly,” Miktan said raising an eyebrow towards the other man, “it all began with you having too much to drink, a common occurrence if memory serves.”
Telan laughed, “That may be true, but there were very few times that you were right there with me. Anyway, that has little to do with the story. Miktan, a few others and myself were on our way out of Beldin, in a hurry. One of us had managed to anger one of the local nobles in some way or another and he was out for blood, or so we thought. So we are traveling, camping out, hiding, when we come across this small village name Sticaster. We find a farmer that is willing to allow us to sleep in his barn, in the loft, for a few copper. While there, one of our fellows manages to catch the eye of a young lady by the name of…” Telan rubbed his forehead as if it would produce the name.

“Velene,” Miktan provided.

“That’s right, Velene. So, she is all cow eyed over our friend, and is becoming rather forward. When our friend gives into the temptation, just a little bit, Lena Reed reveals herself. Lena Reed just happens to be Velene’s mother, who we hadn’t seen the two days we were in the village. Our friend tries to explain what was happening, but she would not believe that her darling, innocent daughter would do such a thing,” Telan’s words dripped with sarcasm, “It seemed that she held some sway in the village and we were ran out that very night.”

“She is the healer,” Alexander said with a grin.

Everyone turned to look at him, but it was Telan that spoke, “What’s that?”

“Lena Reed is the healer of the village of Sticaster, and a rather good one as a matter of fact. She is quite often visited by some of the people of Beldin, and from time from time she is summoned by some of the noble families to look after their ill,” the table was fixed on Alexander as he spoke, “I took one of my men to her last spring when he came down with a fever that none of the herb workers in Beldin could cure. Within two days he was back on his feet, strong as ever and hungry as an ox.”
“Well I’ll be…” Telan started, “Well, at least we was run out by someone important!”

Everyone laughed and the conversations continued, Telan and Miktan sharing stories while the rest of the table watched in anticipation. The two of them could weave a tale as if they were both court bards to the highest houses. The stories continued as the main course was brought out; a large slice of roast with vegetables and potatoes.

As the table ate, Miktan looked to Alexander, “Lieutenant, if you don’t mind my asking, what is it that brings a small unit such as your to our fair city of Garlin?” The question did not hold the anger or disdain that had been present in the voices of many of the others that asked the question. Instead, it held curiosity, simple and pure.

“I wish I could tell you, but the orders have not yet been given to me, Captain Edbar is the superior officer on this excursion, and he has not yet revealed to us its purpose, though I doubt it holds any trouble for the citizens here in Garlin,” Alexander hoped that his explanation would do for the man.

“I see…” he said, though he pushed the issue no further.

Alexander relaxed as the conversation went back to the lighter mood it had been when he arrived. More stories were told as the dinner was cleared, wine glasses were refilled and dessert was served. Toasts were given to Jaron throughout the meal and Alexander was glad that he had finally found a place he could relax among the frenzy that was the life of nobles.

Chapter 9 - The World of Nobles

Matthew stared at the mirror in front of him. He could hardly believe that the reflection he saw was his. He was astonished at how he looked. If he saw himself walking down the street, he would believe that he was from the upper class at least.

He ran his fingers over his hair. It felt strange. His hair hadn’t just been washed, Miktan said that wouldn’t do. Instead, Jonson had thoroughly cleaned it. He then cut it and styled it. Where before, it had simply hung to his shoulders, looking like that of a mop, it now was pulled back, a short tail left at the back of his head. The sides had been cut short, long enough to remain visible, but so short that if Matthew ran his hand across it, it would scratch at his skin.

The clothes were completely different than anything he had ever worn, more than he had ever even thought of wearing. He wore the black slacks, the black silk shirt and the gray vest. The tailor had taken the liberty of working an elaborate pattern throughout the vest in a darker thread. At first Matthew had been upset at the change, however, seeing it now as part of the whole, he understood it and rather liked it.

He looked at the coat draped over the chair beside the mirror. He knew that putting it on would change nothing, but as long as it was left on the chair, Matthew held on to a last bit of hope that he could still manage his way out of the evening. However, he now felt indebted to Miktan. He’d gone through buying him the clothes and he and Jonson had worked so hard the last two days drilling him with the etiquette and unwritten rules of the upper class; when to bow, when to simply incline your head, when to stand, when to sit, when to speak and when to remain silent; there were so many rules that Matthew was certain he was going to forget one, if not all of them before the night was out. He was glad however that he wouldn’t have to dance, the two older men hadn’t had the time, nor the patience to teach him that. Miktan assured Matthew that at such an event as this one it was the role of the man to approach the woman to dance.

Matthew reached over and took up the coat, sliding his arms into the sleeves and shrugging his shoulders so that everything fell into place. He clumsily did up the buttons down the front, he was still horrible at those and the silk shirt had taken him nearly ten minutes to do correctly. He gave the coat a nice tug before looking back to the mirror. The coat fit perfectly and enhanced the appearance that he was of the upper class, if not a noble. He smoothed his hands down the front of the coat and traced the embroidery along the sleeves.

A knock came at the door, “Come in,” Matthew said, turning towards it.

Jonson entered the room, looking Matthew over before speaking, “You look quite dashing Master Matthew,” the man’s tone was no different than it ever was, but Matthew was sure he had seen a smile on the man’s face, “Master Miktan asked me to check on you, to be see that you were ready. The carriage will be arriving soon.”

Matthew looked himself over, “I’m pretty sure I’m ready Jonson, I can’t think of anything else.”

“I am, and can not, Master Matthew, please try your best to not use contractions this evening, it projects a lower education,” Jonson lectured.

"I did recieve a lower education Jonson, I can’t… can not help it,” Matthew shot back.

The lessons regarding his speech had been some of the hardest to take. Jonson and Miktan continually corrected him and expected him to speak without contractions and without slurring at all over the past couple days. It had grown quite annoying after dinner the first night.

“This party will be full of lords and ladies Master Matthew, as well as some of the high lords no doubt,” Jonson began explaining, just as he had every time Matthew argued with him on the topic, “They will expect a level of caliber of the people attending. While it is true that you are not part of their social circle, they will look down upon you if you speak as you always do and think that you are disrespecting them. It would be best if of you to try and hold to something of their standards in order to give them the peace of mind that they are in good company.”

Matthew sniffed before heading towards the door. Jonson took a step to the side to allow him through before taking up a position behind him, following him through the hall. Matthew moved quickly down the stairs. He was surprised at the softness of the boots and how comfortable they were. The boots were the first pair he had ever worn that were fitted for him. Every pair before had been stolen, or handed down from another in the gang. Neither case lent itself to a good fit.

Miktan stood at the bottom of the stairs. While Matthew’s wore a black coat, Miktan wore a white coat with gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His vest was a dark blue and his slacks were black, sharing in the gold embroidery down the outside of the leg. Matthew thought that the outfit was fitting for Miktan, though it would stand out far too much for Matthew’s taste. In his right hand he held a dueling cane, the top decorated with a talon grasping a decent sized emerald.

“Are you ready my boy?” Miktan asked as he grinned at Matthew.

Through the windows to either side of the door, Matthew could see that the carriage was waiting for them out front, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he shot a look at Jonson, expecting him to correct his use of a contraction, but the man stood silent and shook his head instead.

Miktan opened the door and motioned Matthew through. Matthew walked through into the street and breathed deep. There was something about the dusty air of the street of Garlin that calmed Matthew. He supposed it had something to do with his familiarness with them.

He took a few more steps and froze as shouts and whistling rang out from above him. His eyes shot up to see what was causing the noise. As his eyes focused in the light, he saw what he could only assume was the entire crew looking over the ledge of one of the flat roofed buildings on the other side of the street. They cheered and whistled, waving fists in the air and pointing at him. He could feel as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and a little anger he thought.

Matthew spun to face Miktan as he shut the door behind him, “How did they find out about this?”

“Oh,” he said as if it were no surprise at all to have more than a dozen people shouting at them from the rooftops, “well you see, when I sent Jonson to the warehouse with the writ of payment for your outstanding work the other evening, he may have let slip that you were going to be attending this function with me. He felt it was only fitting that Vansen know where you were going to be over the next couple days.”

Matthew shook his head and spun back around, stalking to the carriage. People on the street stared in wonder at what was going on, some with curiosity, others with anger. A few people shouted back for the crew to be silent, and some even took up throwing stones from the street. None of it had any effect on the commotion, it seemed to feed it, the shouts and jeers growing louder.

Matthew stepped into the carriage, Miktan following behind him. He had hoped once he was out of sight, the screams, shouts and whistles would stop. They did not. They continued as the carriage lurched, starting down the street. Even as they took the first turn he could hear the cries continue.
Matthew stared at the floor the entire ride, not saying a word. When he glanced up at Miktan the few times, the man just smiled as if it were all planned out from the beginning. Matthew thought maybe it was. Miktan worked that way, not leaving anything to chance as long as he could.

Finally Matthew felt the carriage begin to slow, finally coming to a stop. He felt it rock as the driver dropped to the ground. The door opened and Miktan stepped through first. Matthew hesitated. There was absolutely no way of getting out of it, but at least in the carriage he was still invisible to the rest of the world.

Matthew stepped out the door of the carriage and stared at the scene before him. Miktan had explained to Matthew that Lord Kensly saw little value in being overly extravagant and so he didn’t have a large stone keep like the rest of the high lords. However, looking at the manor before him, Matthew was of the opinion that it was every bit as awe inspiring as Keep Danar.

“Close your mouth boy,” Miktan said grinning at Matthew, “you are libel to swallow a fly if you leave it open.”

Matthew did as he was instructed and took position just to the right of Miktan, two steps behind. They climbed the few stairs leading leading up to two large doors that were swung open. As they entered the banquet hall, Matthew couldn’t help but stare. The inside of the manor was amazing. It didn’t have tapestries and statues that he had seen during the banquet in Keep Danar, but the simpleness of the room seemed to bring out the beauty of it. The entire room was wood, just as the entire outside of the manor was, but inside it shone. Matthew guessed that the wood was cherry by the color and grain of it, but he couldn’t be certain. Evenly spaced hung a few tapestries and murals depicting great battles or ceremonies.

Torches were fitting to the walls about fifteen paces apart. From the ceiling hung six chandeliers, each one holding dozens of candles that flooded the room with light. Round tables were spread across one section of the room, deliberately placed, each one fit with a white cloth and a magnificent centerpiece of flowers. There were two areas clear of everything, one larger than the other. Matthew assumed that one was for dancing, and another, with people currently milling about speaking with one another, was for conversations. A walkway, almost twenty paces wide encompassed the room.

A man walked over to Miktan from one side. He wore a dark purple coat with dark yellow along the wrist and bottom hem and he carried a heavy cane. Miktan leaned to the man, saying something that Matthew couldn’t make out over the noise of the room. The man then returned to his position at the side of the platform.

The man struck his heavy cane against a smooth piece of stone set into the floor twice and the room grew silent, “I present Master Miktan Lonstrat and his protege Matthew,” he said, his voice filling the room.

Miktan began down the stairs that led down into the banquet all and Matthew followed. Every face in the room seemed to be focused on the two. Matthew tried remain composed and not stare or make a fool of himself. He didn’t like having all those eyes trained on him. He could not help but notice that there were a few people that leaned in near each other and whispered something between them as they watched. To one side of the room, Matthew spotted a small group of young women, he guessed the had to be around his age, chattering and giggling quietly as they shot glances towards him.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, it was as if they were not there. Everyone turned back to their own conversations, or whatever they were doing before and continued along. Matthew watched as an older gentleman followed by a young boy.. The older man was of average size and height, but carried himself in a way that made him appear more intimidating than he was. His black hair, beginning to gray at the temples, was swept back. His full beard was trimmed short and well groomed. He wore a traditional suit, much like Miktan’s was. It was a deep blue in color and on the left breast the sigil of House Kensly, the hawk, wings flared and talons stretching, was readily visible.

The boy behind him, Matthew thought boy, though he was only a year younger than he was at most, followed close behind the older man. He had much the same look of the older man. Matthew guessed that he must be Jaron, Lord Kensly’s son, and the reason for the banquet, though Matthew thought that nobles needed little reason to hold a grand banquet such as this one. The boy’s hair was just slightly darker than his father’s, nearing black, and his face was clean. The major difference in the two was how they carried themselves. Lord Kensly walked and stood in such a way that demanded respect. Jaron however seemed to just stand and walk as any other. The other difference was their eyes. Lord Kensly had deep blue eyes but Jaron’s were a steely gray.

“Master Miktan, I am so glad to see that you could make it,” Lord Kensly said as they stopped before the two men near the bottom of the stairs.

“It was an honor to be invited, this is quite the display,” Miktan replied, giving a deep bow before taking the high lord’s hand and giving it a firm shake.

Lord Kensly turned to look at Matthew before speaking, “And this must be young Matthew that you wrote about in your reply. It is an honor to meet you Matthew, as I am sure you already know, I am Lord Maris Kensly.”

Matthew bowed, emulating Miktan as best he could, before shaking the man’s outstretched hand, “The honor is all mine Lord Kensly, I hope that I am not intruding on you and your guests,” Matthew said politely. Jonson had asked that he humble himself when speaking to the host of the event and Matthew did not want to give the High Lord any reason to distrust him.

“It is no problem Matthew, we have more than enough to share with you,” the man smiled as he spoke.
The tone in the High Lord’s voice caught Matthew off guard. He expected something different somehow. It did not give the same commanding, disdainful feeling that most of the other nobles Matthew came across did. It seemed almost friendly.

Lord Kensly motioned the boy behind him forward, “This is my son, Jaron. Jaron, this is Master Miktan Lonstrat. Back in my youth, he entertained many of us with his tales and songs.”

“It is a pleasure Master Miktan,” Jaron said politely but with an empty tone. He shook hands with Miktan before turning to Matthew, “and it is a pleasure to meet you Matthew.”

“The same,” Matthew said with a bow.

“Master Miktan, perhaps you would be so kind as to honor us with one of those songs to tales this evening,” Jaron said.

“I would be honored,” Miktan replied.

Lord Kensly seemed to notice something beyond the two he was speaking with, “Ah, I suppose we had better move on and speak to some more of our guests. You must find me sometime this evening Miktan, it has been far too long since we last spoke.”

“I will do my best Maris,” Miktan said with a laugh as the two others turned and headed off in the direction of another small group of people.

Matthew scanned the room as Miktan made his way through the groups of people, stopping to speak with some of them, introducing Matthew who remained as silent as possible. Matthew’s eyes fell on two men that stood near on of the walls. Each man stood stiffly, much like the guards did that stood around the room, and both had a sword on his hip, but their clothes were different. Each wore a dark green coat and black slacks that had a broad golden stripe that ran the length of the leg. One of the man’s coats was decorated with two stars on the shoulder and color, the other’s had only one. Each man had a number of medals hanging from the left breast of the jacket.

When they stood apart from any other people, Matthew motioned carefully towards the two men, “Who are they?”

Miktan stopped, looking in the direction that Matthew directed, “Hm? Oh, those are army officers, a captain and lieutenant by the stars,” Miktan answered, “it may not be a bad idea to speak with them, perhaps I can learn why so many soldiers have entered Garlin.”

Matthew thought that the second part was not for him, but he thought on it all the same. The two sat at and empty table with glasses of water sitting at each place setting. From time to time Miktan would point out groups of people, explaining who they were, giving their families and what they were known for. Matthew made mental notes of each one, not knowing if it would come in handy or not, but thinking it was better to have the information than not.

As Matthew scanned the room his eyes fell upon a group of young women. There was one in particular that caught his attention and held it. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He estimated that she was older than he was by a couple years at most, but that may have been part of her appearance playing tricks on his mind.

She wore a light blue dress that when the light hit is just right, it almost seemed white. The dress was unlike the ones that the majority of the other women wore. Instead of revealing her legs and bosom as the other women did, this woman’s dress covered her. The top of the dress followed her collarbone, leaving her shoulders bare. Instead of revealing her body, it hinted at it. The sleeves were tight around her upper arm but were cut at the elbow so that they hung down when she raised her arm, revealing her forearm and hand.

Her skin, what was visible of it, was creamy, pale and appeared to be ever so smooth, almost glowing in the light. Of all her features, her face seemed to be perfection among perfection. Her mouth formed an ever present smile which was also apparent in the area around her eyes. Her dark brunette hair hung in long waves, ending near the small of her back. Her clear, bright blue eyes sparkled in the lights of the banquet hall.

“Who is she?” Matthew asked, leaning to Miktan but never taking his eyes from the girl.

“Who? Oh,” Miktan sat quietly for a moment, “I, I don’t know,” the tone of his voice was akin to surprise, though Matthew paid it little mind, “I do not believe I have ever seen that young woman before in my life.”

“No doubt,” a new voice said. Miktan and Matthew both spun to look in the direction it came from as a large gentleman of about Miktan’s age Matthew thought, sat in one of the chairs at their table, “it has been a long time since you have been in Beldin old friend. That would be the young Lady Celes Debeart.”

“Telan!” Miktan said excitedly, “Why, it has been far too long since I have seen your ugly face. Frayed man, you’ve gotten old.”

The other man laughed as they shook hand across the table, “I can’t say that you look any younger than last I saw you either Miktan.”

“Debeart,” Miktan said, “I’m not familiar with that name. And from Beldin, what in the weave is she doing here in Garlin? Does it have something to do with those soldiers being here?”

Telan shook his head, “It has nothing to do with the shoulders, and it is no doubt that you haven’t heard of House Debeart, they only managed to get their house added to the great houses about a year back, though they have climbed to power in quick time. There are none that I have met that ever heard of House Debeart before five years back. They seemed to come from no where.”

Telan took a moment to take a drink of water before continuing, “As for why she is here, there is much rumor about that.”

Miktan raised a questioning eyebrow at the other man, “And I am sure that you have managed to weasel enough information out of everyone to piece together the truth?”

Telan laughed, “You know me too well Miktan,” the three leaned in together at Telan’s motioning hand, “From what I’ve learned, the young lady managed to displease her father in some way and she was sent here to live with her mother’s brother and learn some discipline, as well as to learn the ways of the Garlinian court.”

“Is that so?” Miktan commented as he turned back to look at the woman, “And who would her uncle be?”

“Lord Juston Bething,” Telan said plainly.

Miktan nodded as if he were beginning to piece the puzzle together that was the mystery of Lady Celes Debeart. “I must say that she isn’t too hard on the eyes,” Miktan said with a laugh.

“Indeed not, though I’m afraid she is a bit too young and we too old,” Telan’s gaze shifted to Matthew, “Your young friend however…” Telan let the comment drop off, implying the rest.

Matthew felt his cheeks flush and he tried to hide it by taking a long drink of his water. The two men laughed loudly, drawing looks from some of the closer tables.

“You should ask the girl to dance tonight,” Telan said, jerking his head toward the group of women Celes was a part of, “I doubt she’d be able to turn down a strapping young man like yourself.”
Matthew shook his head, “I assure that there will be no dancing for me tonight. I’d be as lost as a street-thief in this party.”

Miktan looked at Matthew with a glance that just made him grin, but Telan continued on, “All the better. Women like it when the man is lost, it makes them think that they can mold you into whatever they like.”

Miktan barked another laugh, “I am not sure that you are the best to be giving advice when it comes to women Telan, what wife are you on now? Four? Five?”

“The seventh just left me three months back,” Telan said, “but that’s beside the point, those marriages mean I have experience when it comes to how women work.”

The three shared a laugh and the conversation became Miktan and Telan trading jabs at one another’s life. Matthew was glad that the attention had shifted away from him. He was more comfortable watching from the shadows that being put on display for all to see.

He continually scanned the numerous people in the hall, reminding himself of the people Miktan had pointed out. However, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he always found his gaze lingering back on Celes Debeart.

Chapter 8 - Omnious Visions

The stars shone brightly as Siala stared out the window at them. She needed something to occupy her mind. Initially, she had tried to concentrate on the words being said by the seven other people that occupied the small hut, but the conversation was dull and the voices monotone. On top of that, it seemed that they were talking in some sort of code, none of what they said made sense to Siala. So, she began to watch the stars. The sky was clear for the most part, only a few clouds dotted the sky above.

“We need to find out what the danger is and when it will be here,” Atres, the High Elder explained, “Without knowing that, there is no way for us to prepare properly.”

“We understand the urgency Atres, but we have only the word of one to interpret. None of the other Chosen shared in the same vision, so how can we be sure sure how events will unfold, or that it will come to pass at all?” Eldee, another of the elders, asked.

“We can’t be, and at the same time we can not just ignore the words of a Chosen, especially one that had such a violent response to their vision. Taen still has not woken since the occurrence. Such a powerful vision must not be ignored,” Atres replied calmly.

“Siala, what are your thoughts on this?” Loaray asked.

Siala jerked at the call of her name. She looked back to the room of elders, all now looked at her expectantly.

Siala swallowed before she spoke, “I am not entirely sure. I must confess that I have not been paying attention.”

The faces looking at her changed from looks of expectation and curiosity to looks of disappointment.

“Siala,” Atres began calmly, “you have been brought before us because unlike most of our people, you have a way of thinking that is different. While we do not always approve of your methods and ideas, we understand that difference is not always something to be frowned upon,” Atres paused before continuing, taking a slow breathe, “Now, one of the Chosen has had a vision. The vision is disturbing, yet none of the others shared in the vision.”

Siala’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. The Chosen were light weavers, powerful ones at that. There were few that could catch glimpses of the future with their ability, yet the Chosen did so regularly, though completely uncontrolled. They were held in the highest respect in Quel'dan culture. When one was found, they were immediately brought to Rwendia, the largest settlement of the Quel'dan, as well as the home of the Elders. It was there that the visions of the Chosen were compared and debated.

“What was the vision High Elder Atres?” Siala asked respectively.

“The listeners told us that it was a map of Elaesif, or more correctly, all of the world. Darkness began to spread over the map, quickly followed by fire, then all the other threads of creation. What was left behind was something completely different, a new world. In the vision, the spread of darkness and fire began in Garlin,” Atres’ face looked pained and confused as he spoke.

Siala thought for a moment, examining the wooden planks that made up the floor of the hut. She ran a hand through her short-cut hair. She pondered what the vision could mean, going through every possible scenario but coming up with nothing. She gave up on trying to interpret what the vision meant, the Elder’s had obviously been trying to to that very same thing with no avail, so instead she moved to what they could do. How could they learn more. She wasn’t sure what she could do about darkness and fire, not if it was powerful enough to destroy the entire tapestry of creation and begin again. She had to look at the situation as she would a slumbering enemy about to awake.

“Our best choice would be to send a group of watchers to Garlin,” she began explaining, looking back up to Elders who continued to watch her, “they will need to be familiar with larger cities and able to blend in with the populations that are there. From what I know of Garlin it is rather diverse in its people and there are a good number of Quel'dan that already live there,” she paused, swallowing before continuing on, “I have not any clue what the vision means, however, it does seem that things will start in Garlin and spread out from there, so we should watch Garlin for anything strange. The watchers should report back to you often, and if you were to learn anything new, they should be informed as soon as possible so that plans may be adjusted to match the new information.”

The Elders glanced around at one another, considering what Siala had just said. Their body language seemed to suggest that they agreed with, or at least were considering, what she had just said. She could not be sure however, these seven men and women were the oldest and wisest members of the Quel'dan and were known for being able to hide their true intentions.

“Siala,” Atres finally broke the silence, “would you please leave us while we consider what you have said. Stay near, in the case we need to summon you again.”

Siala rose and exited the small hut, glad to be outside again. Or was she glad to be out of the presence of the Elders? She moved to the tree line of the small clearing and stared up at the sky again, watching as the twin moons shone from above. Noemet shone bright in the sky, so blue that it almost seemed white near his center. He proclaimed his summer dominance over his brother, Lauros, currently a red sliver in the sky.

Siala thought back to the vision, going over it in her head as she watched the moons make their journey across the night sky. There must be something massive coming for it to be able to engulf all of the world. Nothing seemed to reveal itself to Siala. The humans and Quel'dan had been at peace for nearly five centuries, besides the small skirmishes that might break out when one group expanded too far out of the agreed upon borders. The Glaekith had been silent on their island prison of Norena, seemingly pleased with it as long as they were left alone for nearly as long. There was nothing that Siala could imagine that would threaten Elaesif with destruction, let alone the entire world.

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“Siala, would you come back in please?” Siala opened her eyes to see Loaray standing in the door to the hut.

She wasn’t sure exactly how long she had been waiting, having fell asleep, but by the position of the moons, she estimated it had been a little over an hour. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of sleep as she walked towards the hut.

Kildeen motioned Siala to sit as she entered the building. The Elders all sat with unreadable faces, just as they often did. It was disarming to find seven individuals all appearing to be calm and uncaring, though Siala knew that it was quite different. As she sat, Siala felt as if she wasn’t going to like when the Elders spoke.

“Siala, we have decided to agree to your suggestion. We do not have enough information at this time, but that does not mean we should not act. We will be sending a team of Watchers to Garlin to investigate the going ons and hopefully to discover this possible threat,” Atres said calmly, though there seemed to be looks given by the other Elders that made it seem as if they were not in complete agreement.

Siala nodded in understanding, but the knot in her stomach was still there, the feeling that they had something more planned. She sat with her legs crossed, hand set on her knees, it took all her control to keep from ringing them.

“The way you think, the way you act and react, it isn’t like the rest of our people,” the knot in her stomach grew bigger as Atres went on, “you look at things differently, with a unique perspective. It is because of that we have decided to send you with the Watchers to Garlin.”

Siala’s jaw clenched, keeping her from speaking anything that would anger the Elders. She was barely old enough to leave Rwendia for a few days, let alone the time it would take to travel to Garlin, and however long they would be there.

Atres continued, seeing that Siala had nothing to say, or at least that she would say nothing, “We will be sending hawks in front of you with messages for a the few Watchers we already have in Garlin. Should we find anything new before you arrive, it will be there waiting for you.”

“If you already have Watchers in place, why send me? Why not keep me here where I could confer with you directly?” Siala lost her control, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.
A smile crept along elder Saelet’s face, as if she had expected Siala to say such things, “It is quite a different matter trying to understand second-hand accounts rather than seeing things for yourself child. This is why we will be sending you.”

For the first time in a long time, Siala was scared. She was use doing things her own way, it was true, but this was something completely different. She preferred to be able to see what was coming. This darkness; this danger to all of the world was all still a mystery to her. She knew nothing of it’s source, of how to stop it. She knew not what to look for. It was as if they were sending her into a den of starved wolves to steal a cub and expecting her to come out unscathed.

Siala stood and started for the door. Atres spoke, “And where are you going?”

She stopped, staring at the floor for a moment, a smile slowly crept onto her face as she turned to look at them, “I suppose to Garlin.”