63 Going Home (1/2)
With a satisfied smile on his face, Sonco left the inner city mansion of House Rupilo. Ever since Corco's performance at the banquet, Sonco's work had become much easier, so today had been another productive afternoon. Since Corco himself had been kept busy with his attempt to find the culprits behind his father's salting, the prince lacked time. However, they would need win over a total of fourty-four lords, the majority they would need to confirm his nephew's succession to the silver throne. Thus, Sonco had taken the task upon himself.
Considering just how many of the neutral lords would greet him with open arms, it was not surprising that he relished every moment of the experience. Not only was his nephew the legitimate heir, he had also proven both his wisdom and military strength at the banquet.
Plus, any lords who might have preferred a weaker emperor before – to strengthen their own position – had also changed their minds ever since. After all, Corco had shown them that any of the weaker candidates were simply under the control of even more powerful forces lurking behind their backs. Thus, there would be no advantage to continued neutrality. Now, after months of discussion, the lords of Medala were ready to end this state of limbo and return the empire to normalcy.
Satisfied, Sonco and his guards strode over the empty roads of the inner city. However, his good mood was soon ruined by a spot of bother on the pristine environment.
The balding, ugly head of Villca had reared itself over the horizon and appeared right in Sonco's way. With a straight spine and in full equipment, the Lord of Cashan came towards his nominal governor, his men in tow.
”Lord Saqartu! What a coincidence. I was just on my way to meet Lord Rupilo myself.”
”No need to bother, Villca. Your little alliance is losing force. This nonsensical warmongering will stop in a few days. Soon, Corco will stand before the ancestors and win the silver crown. I advise you to just turn around and save yourself the embarrassment. Maybe Lord Rupilo wouldn't even let you in.”
”That remains to be seen, old man. Say...” Without a care shown in his movements, Villca moved up to Sonco, so close that it was uncomfortable. However, the Governor of the South didn't budge one bit, and so the two southern leaders stared right into each other's eyes, while Sonco waited for Villca to continue with his empty threats.
”With that strategy of yours, aren't you worried that you'll catch the same kind of trouble as Ichilia and the Chutwa scholar? There's rumor going around that the first prince is under the control of House Saqartu as well.”
”Those talks are baseless and you know it just as well as I do. There's no need to try and frighten me, Villca. If you have a problem, then maybe we should have another duel. It's been a while and my hands are feeling itchy.” Villca gnashed his teeth at his rival's comment. After all, Sonco Cauac Saqartu was the only man who had ever bested him in a duel. As always when he was enraged, Villca began to rub the handle of his ax.
”Who knows, old friend. Maybe you should be careful with the lords you visit from here on out. One of those lords might believe the rumors. One of those lords might decide to be a hero when he invites you in. One of those lords take it upon himself to kill the traitor of the south.A splintered Medala might be preferable to an empire under your control.” As Villca marched forward, he bumped Sonco's shoulder out of the way. Without so much as turning his head, he said, ”I would be more careful if I were you. In Arguna, danger lurks everywhere.”
His mood ruined, Sonco simply stared after his enemy's back. In his head, he ruminated just what Villca could have meant with his words. Lost in thought, he didn't even register his path, before he found himself in front of his own mansion, to once again meet up with his nephew. He did his best to regain his usual open smile. After all, there was good news to be had, and he had no interest in burdening the kid with some empty threats from a misguided lord.
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As he stepped out of the mansion, Fadelio was surprised to see Lord Saqartu come towards him. The great southern lord had a smile on his face, but Fadelio could see that it seemed somewhat strained. However, he had other matters to attend to and any urgent news from the lord should be heard by Laqhis first. Thus, he gave a wordless greeting and went on to fulfill his own task.
Again, he left the inner city to arrive in the chaos of Arguna's outer ring. For the second time today, his goal would be the 'Stone's Throw'. For him it was a place of peace, though surely most people wouldn't agree. After he had walked for a good while, he left the bustling main streets along the river to enter what the locals would consider the city proper.
Out here, one could find no trace of the ordered and luxurious nature of the inner city or the main roads. In the city proper, guards would be a rare sight and only show up every few days to make sure the commoners wouldn't get too full of themselves. While the maze-like side streets contained the same kinds of establishments as the central roads, they were much simpler in appearance. No ordinary mortal would be allowed to show off their wealth in front of the great Medala nobility, no matter how much of it they might have bunkered at home.
With nimble movements, Fadelio slipped into a narrow, crooked alley which looked like any other. From the wall of an abandoned shack, perhaps once the home for an entire family, he removed a rotten wood plank to retrieve a cape and a dagger hidden inside. He left the dagger where it was, for emergencies, and threw over the rough cape to mask his appearance.
While he had no way to mask his size, of course, many more warriors than what some nobles might like to admit would frequent these parts. Plus, with the dirty gray coat on his back, at least his color would blend in with the environment. It was a good way to lose someone in a crowd.
Fadelio spent a good amount of time on a random stroll through the narrow alleys, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, until he was sure no one had tailed him. He took a final look over his shoulder before he slipped into the establishment to his front: The Stone's Throw. A chess shop, despite its name.
A single step inside and the giant warrior already felt boxed in. This was his least favorite feature of the place. The low-hanging cross bars, bent down from decades or maybe centuries of burden, always had a way of finding his head with pinpoint accuracy. In the corner, he saw two half-drunken customers, probably men who had been thrown out of a nearby bar and decided to come here for their sustenance instead. After all, the Stone's Throw was never busy and would welcome all customers. After he had guaranteed that the drunks had ignored his entry, Fadelio crossed the space filled with small tables and rough game boards until he reached what should probably be a counter, but could only be called a bar, as a look at the bottles of liquor in the back would prove.
”A game for three,” Fadelio said, ”and a good glass of brandy.”
”Anything else?” The short, skinny bartender raised an eyebrow.
”Justice,” Fadelio whispered the final part of the code word under his breath.
”Right, right. That's unusual. No justice here. Maybe try the place next door,” the rat-like man replied with a twinkle in his eyes.
Fadelio picked up his hood between two fingers and lifted it up, just enough to show the rat man his face.
”Pretty funny, Olacu. Now give me the damn key before I go tell your joke to your boss. I'm sure she'd find it hilarious too.”
As he tried to decide between looks of surprise, happiness or apology, Olacu's mouth moved in several directions at once. He had tried to skim the wrong person this time. Finally, he settled on his 'it's just a joke' face and handed the large, rusty iron key to the man in his front.
”No offense, young master. Weren't expecting you back this soon.”
In exchange for the key, Fadelio left behind a few copper coins and then made his way over to the backroom door. Out of the building, through the back alley and up the stairs, he reached the door to the upper story of the chess shop. Again Fadelio made sure that no one was around before he opened the door. Of all the people who knew this place, he didn't want to be the one to expose its existence to outsiders.
The shabby establishment's upper storage had a nicer atmosphere than could be expected from the rotten exterior. For a while, Fadelio walked right, along the warm light and soft carpet, into the next building over. Its front door had been barred closed, so now the only entry was through here. When he warrior had barely entered into what would now be the entry hall, he found a whirlwind rush towards him.
”Brother!” Despite her age, the short woman clung onto Fadelio like a bur. ”You're back!” she added.
”Alright, Tama. Can you please let go for now?” Fadelio said as he gave his little sister and awkward pat on the back. Like a loaded coil, the not so little, 23 year old Tamaya di Pluritac sprang back and gave her elder brother a critical look. ”But what are you doing back here? Trouble?”
”Not really.” Fadelio peeled off the layers of robes and armor he had built around himself. ”There's new orders from Laqhis.”
Tamaya went starry-eyed the second she had heard his answer. ”From Prince Corco? Did he call for me? Is the prince finally ready to invite me into his harem? What do you think big brother? Should I?”
Before Fadelio was burdened with the weight of Tama's expectations, a disharmonious voice from the back of the room saved him.