18. Hostile

The bridge that signified the entry into Medrial, and the island off the shore of that region, unfolded in the eyes of the horseman and a peeking Lord Ior.

The aged man gazed at the sparkly water reflecting the light of their planet's natural satellite. He didn't know what it was called.

The world was still bent on discovering many things about their world and how they got there.

Still, humanity had already achieved some significant feats, like structures that could allow them to traverse the seas.

There was still too much being accomplished that he did not know about. During his childhood days, things were much worse, in less than thirty years the world, or at least the kingdom of Telgidi had accomplished great feats.

This was one of the reasons certain noble families were highly placed in the kingdom. The ones with enough influence and gold could fund significant expeditions and operations boosting the kingdom's influence amongst the other kingdoms on the continent.

Heaving a deep sigh as the ocean gradually passed away, Lord Ior shook his head, recalling the dreams he had as a child.

He had been more ambitious than young Tristan.

His more refined goals carried him to adulthood and even now he would do anything to achieve his aims.

Lifting his eyes off the outside world, he laid them on Tristan's bandaged figure. He had become too much trouble and had angered really powerful individuals.

Ior himself feared the anger of those people. A pity how the seventeen-year-old had stepped into such a mess.

Tristan silently opened his eyes, his about 20 minutes nap having replenished a bit of strength. He still felt famished, however, even a bit lightheaded.

His eyes fell on Lord Ior's conscious figure and he wondered why they had not arrived at Medrial yet.

As though listening to his thoughts, the carriage gradually began to slow down and the gates into the town appeared in his gaze after he looked through the window.

It was still deep into the night. The world was still dark and silent. Only the sounds of their carriage traversing the streets could be heard, and that night Tristan felt his skin crawl.

The buildings passed and Tristan remained in silence, he desired the comfort of his bed. It had been a while since he was back there. He even envisioned sleeping on that comfort furniture.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the mansion and Tristan remained too tired to notice a few odd details.

One would be the fact that the guards at the entrance weren't people he knew. He essentially dozed as he took steps into the mansions courts. The low light around those strangers had also been a part of him not noticing.

Strangely, however, Lord Ior had simply walked past them even if he knew this detail. He wouldn't get the boy suspicious.

It seemed to take forever for Tristan to arrive at the mansion's door. His body hurt, and although he was used to pain this was just too much. He risked opening the many injuries he had suffered.

His slow walk toward his room seemed to take forever, but Tristan managed to notice a certain somberness in the air. All these signs mashed up but he couldn't get any proper meaning from them.

He simply believed Lucia's departure was finally taking its toll on him. He would consider it the last symptom before he could actually recover. Many days had passed after all.

Having left Lord Ior back at the entrance of the mansion, Tristan entered his room, removed the sheath he wore around his back, sheathed his sword, and placed it on the ground. After which he lay on his bed to sleep.

His hopes of comfort had been spot on. His injuries still hurt but the balms and the bandage caused them to not open, his bed further softened the stress he didn't know he had.

Tristan took a deep breath but in batches, the more his chest rose the more pain he felt. Now that he evaluated the fight it felt unreal that he would be in that situation.

Nida remained one of the strongest experts he had fought, but how he had not been able to notice her tactic shocked him the most. He usually praised himself for being able to figure out his opponent's plan.

He had been so engrossed and having too much fun that he forgot to check certain details.

'It's gone now. I can only heal… I have to admit I had a good time…' he thought, right before his consciousness turned black, enveloped by the caressing nature of sleep.

Unfortunately, he could only get about an hour of sleep before suddenly sitting up. Finding the pain he experienced bearable.

His state was agonizing enough to remove sleep from his eyes mere moments after he abruptly arose.

Despite the silver light that flowed into his room through its big window, and the little lights placed in his room, Tristan's expression remained mostly obscure. If not, his watchers would have seen that he noticed them.

Slowly getting off his bed, Tristan picked up his sheathed sword and something else from beneath his bed, before walking out of his room.

A few minutes earlier he had abruptly regained consciousness but remained unmoving.

Purely coincidental; at that very moment he took note of the deafening silence permeating the world, and of course, the shadow of a person's hand right outside his window. It had barely appeared for a second before vanishing.

Placing his hand on the doorknob he made sure to remain slow so whoever spied on him would not get suspicious. He of course knew that was futile.

Making unhurried movements down the various corridors, he simply held his sheathed sword in his right hand. It seemed loose, but only he knew he remained ready to attack at any point in time.

Tristan arrived outside the mansion. The world was pitch black as the silvery ball in the sky neared the end of its nightly reign. Dawn was close.

Alerted, he felt gazes arrive on his back, but they disappeared. His followers knew what they were doing.

Pushing the gate open and walking outside, he ignored the empty guard posts to journey towards his training area up on the mountain.

Tristan spent minutes traversing the ghostly silent town. And during those periods he noticed the number of his followers increased.

'I see… certainly this was planned,' Tristan commented, trying his best to remain upright and not fall grim. After all, who wouldn't be when they realized that ten men tailed them with none other than hostile intentions?