Lucan and his men followed the servant from The Golden Wheel along one of the main thoroughfares of the city. The man had been all bows and smiles when he’d met them, and while he’d kept Lucan’s title discreet, his deference had been all but apparent to any bystander.
While his men kept watch on their surroundings, Lucan glanced at the two unexpected allies they’d found in this city, though calling them allies was questionable, considering all the uncertainties. He still had to think on the matter.
Glancing at Venn, whose eyes were stuck to the ground, Lucan mused that it made little sense how the Green Scars were so desperate for his sister, one girl. He doubted they would chase even their most gainful whore so doggedly. Venn’s sister must have carried some secret of significance or–as was common these days–something Lucan didn’t know of.
Thinking of the gang returned Lucan’s mind to The Golden Wheel. He could’ve had the guild cow them. No gang would rear its head against a guild on the city council, no matter how capable or powerful the gang was. It was a path that could only end with destruction, or at least a bloody change of leadership. That was, unless the guilds had less power over this city than he’d thought. Still, he’d chosen not to involve the guild for good reason. He still didn’t want the truth of his title and presence to be known in the city, and he believed it might come to light if a guild as significant as The Wheel stepped in on his behalf.
He also didn’t want the guilds to catch word of the affair, lest they become as interested as he was in the ‘Orb’. He was still rather curious, after all. He hadn’t decided whether he would help the boy and Georg or not, but he’d grown a small bit of liking for the boy. Something in him seemed as driven and clever as Lucan had been when he’d first begun handling some of the estate’s affairs. Perhaps under the surface, his feelings were urging him on as well, considering he could understand wishing to save a loved one. The boy seemed rather set on his aim to save his sister, and he’d even used them to save an ally, refusing to abandon him to his fate, or at least so it seemed. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t carry a bit of respect for the boy, even if he had tricked him.
He suppressed a sigh as they walked, choosing to take a quick glance at his Blessing.
You have slain a Copper Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
You have slain a Copper Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
You have slain a Copper Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
You have slain a Copper Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
You have slain an Iron Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
You have slain a Copper Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.
He’d still not gained a level, but he certainly felt that he was drawing closer to that precipice. It wouldn’t be long before he crossed into the next level, though he didn’t truly wish to drag himself into more conflict in Varencourt. His purposes here were, in essence, more significant than any small gain he could attain by taking part in these affairs. Still, only time would tell if he would be dragged deeper into them.
By the time he was done with his Blessing, they’d reached the tavern. A rather resplendent establishment on a much wider street than their previous inn. The structure was made of stone and hardwood, still only two storeys high but twice as wide at the base as the inn and perhaps wider higher up with wooden pillars supporting terraces upstairs. A sign hung near its entrance. On one side, a painting of a ship full of wine, drawn closer to the form of a pitcher. On the other side, writing for the discerning patron, “The Wineship”.
Lucan couldn’t help but let out a huff. It was a rather taking name for the tavern. He could admire it. They followed the servant through the doors, and he found the inside as rich as the outside, from the floors to the smooth tables and the padded benches. A well-dressed tavernkeeper leaned on a counter at the end of the common room, and two comely serving girls flitted about, pouring wines and drinks Lucan didn’t recognize.
They marched towards the stairs, and Lucan caught a glance of a few patrons. One of them seemed rather intent on the parchment on his table, poring over it with the fixation of a child on an Isle toy. The man’s hair was mostly gray, and he scribbled on the parchment at a pace Lucan couldn’t imagine himself matching. Lucan raised a brow at him before taking the stairs up to the rooms the servant had prepared for them.
Three rooms were at their disposal. Tomis still insisted on guarding him, so Lucan shared one with him. He also had Ryder share one with Venn, having him keep watch over the boy. Georg was given a room of his own, perhaps outwardly luxurious for him, but in truth an isolation. Lucan had had to decide which of the two would be under watch, and it was more sensible to watch the boy. He didn’t want one of his men to have to sleep with one eye open if they didn’t trust Georg not to stab them in their sleep. It also seemed that Georg would not disappear as long as the boy was here.
Regardless, Lucan preferred to have this whole affair settled before anyone thought of doing anything untoward. That was why he gathered everyone in his room after they’d settled in. They sat in a circle on the ground. Venn and Georg were across from him, and he eyed them with hard eyes, unwilling to show what he felt.
“Say that I was willing to aid you in this wild affair,” he began, his eyes shifting between them then settled on Venn. “How would we go about it without knowing where your sister is?
“I might not know where she is,” Venn said. “But I would be better at finding her than any ruffian on the streets, Master Lucan.”
“And I will go out to find her myself,” Georg added. “If you will allow me, Master Lucan.” He looked at the planed wooden walls around them and at the thick beddings where they would sleep. “Would it be acceptable to call you lord now, Master Lucan?”
Lucan shook his head. “Not yet.” He paused. “How did you know I was a lord?”
Venn looked between them, eyes wide. He seemed surprised, though not disbelieving. Perhaps he’d suspected, or perhaps he’d known he was of some status, just not how high.
“I am not a soft bone, Master Lucan. I’ve been blessed with life for decades now, and I’ve met nobles before,” Georg said. “You’re not the only one who visits the Union, and I’ve been to the Shattered Kingdom before.”
Lucan nodded, accepting it. He hadn’t been covert enough that his disguise could hold against those close to him. He had two armed men obviously serving him, and he must have been carrying himself in an apparent manner, even if he’d dressed differently. Should a time come that he wished to disguise himself again, he would have to watch for these mistakes.
“Very well,” Lucan said. “You may begin on this matter come morning, but I will demand that you keep me apprised of all occurrences.”
They both nodded, and before Lucan could continue, there was a commotion from below. They all shared a timely frown, and after the commotion didn’t subside, Lucan got to his feet, followed by his men, then Georg and Venn.
They left the room, taking the stairs down to the common room. There, they found the few patrons that had been inhabiting it on their feet, gathered around a man wet from rain that Lucan hadn’t realized had begun. They were muttering, and only once he drew close with his men did he hear them.
“Another one?”
“And so close to the tavern.”
“Are we safe here?”
The tavernkeeper approached from the back of the inn, and Lucan noted that an armed man stood back there. The tavernkeeper spoke softly as he slipped into the middle of their number. “Good masters. Word has been sent from the guild. Two armed guildsmen will be standing watch in the tavern. Your possessions and health are in good hands.”
That seemed to mollify the patrons somewhat. Meanwhile, Lucan glanced at Ryder, and the man-at-arms nodded, sidling up to the wet man and starting a conversation.
Lucan himself approached the older man who’d been scribbling on the parchment before. Even with the horror of whatever had happened, he still gripped his parchment with a pale knuckle. “Greetings.”
The man turned around as though about to be attacked. He let out a breath once he saw Lucan standing there with no executioner’s axe in his hands and then answered. “Greetings, good master.”
Lucan smiled and said, “Would you tell me what has happened?” He paused. “Ah, my manners, forgive me. I am Lucan.”
Perhaps perplexed by the lack of a surname, the man looked Lucan up and down, but seemed to recover from it. With a soft voice, he said, “Jaron. Jaron Ed, at your service.” He extended a hand, which Lucan took.
Then he frowned for a moment, the name jogging his memory. “Jaron Ed? You would not be a historian, would you?”
“That I am!” The graying man said with a grin. “That I am.”
“Author of The Last War?” Lucan inquired.
“Indeed.”
Taken aback, Lucan was quiet for a few moments, and one of the Elder Lands foremost historians stood before him, again, perplexed.
“Well, regarding your question,” Jaron Ed said. “It seems there has been another horrifying murder in this city. I am wondering if I should move to another city to continue my studies. This is rather incredulous.”
“I see,” Lucan said. “And what is horrifying about this murder. I have been hearing some rumors around the city.”
“It is as you’ve heard,” Jaron said with trembling lips. “Vicious murders, bloody as though committed by a feral animal or beast. I am rather disconcerted by the accounts I have heard. I have even met a man who was the first to find one of the corpses. Though while I am disconcerted, my curiosity is already piqued. Perhaps I will write about this matter when its elements become clear. That is, besides what I have on hand right now, of course.” He put the parchment aside and rubbed his hands.
Lucan smiled, guiding him aside. “I see, I see. It seems we will have much to discuss, Master Jaron.”