4 Vier

Die letzte große Stadt

vi.

When Danveur arrived in the next town, no one recognized him. It was nightfall and the townspeople barely glanced at his direction, too busy minding their own businesses.

Danveur, exhausted from the lack of sleep and too anxious to even function properly, decided to hop off his stallion and saunter towards an open tavern. It looks welcoming through the large windows although it was swarming with rowdy people enjoying and being drunk. The amount of living humans was all that mattered to him anyway.

"Evening!" A stout and short man with a loud and gruff voice beamed at him, banging the counter with his fat fist before chuckling. The yellow light from the ceiling was a little cheery, and tobacco smoke wafted in little spirals around them. "Never seen you before, lad."

Danveur looked down and clenched his jaws, avoiding his gaze to indicate that he didn't want to converse. He was still wearing the clothes from church and the cross around his neck started to itch, he was wondering if he could pull it away without being suspicious.

"A tight-lipped one, aren't we? And you look a little too worn out, you must have swallowed a thunder cloud!" The man tutted, before turning away to pull at one of the bottles in the shelf and turned back to him. "Ale?"

Danveur looked up. "No, thank you." He said calmly though there were traces and hints of frustration in his voice. "I need a room to stay for tonight." He pulled out a small bag filled with coins and dropped it on the counter. "If possible, away from the others. The noises usually hinders me from my study."

"Now I see," The keeper chuckled, picking up a bell and waving it boisterously before screaming, "Thomas, lead this gentleman to that one spare room in the attic."

A young man with prominent jaws and nose walked out from the kitchen door, sending a curious glance towards Danveur's direction. He was tall and pale with disheveled light, chestnut hair and with eyes as warm as honey. He looks baffled and he leant towards the keeper's ear, whispering something out of earshot.

"I have not a single idea," The stout man who offered Danveur ale said before snatching a small bracelet of keys and tossing it to Thomas. "What his personal issue might be is never my concern. A customer must always be given what they wanted!"

Danveur knitted his brows and fixed a stare at the new face. He was cautious. The man called Thomas looks young, though Danveur himself must be younger than him. His ingenious eyes were a nice touch to his features which screams intelligence and wit. Danveur thought he was one of the few who could see pass the lies and stories.

Danveur shook his head and cleared his throat before picking his bag from the floor. "Shall we?"

Thomas smiled bashfully and nodded, asking Danveur to carry his load for him which he declined politely.

As they went up the flight of stairs, Thomas tried to create a conversation. "I see you're from the convent?"

Danveur bit his lower lip and adjusted the cross swaying at each step. He nodded. "Yes,"

"And you're not from here."

"Yes,"

"Any chance I'd know where you're from?" As Danveur made no qualms in replying, Thomas tried another question. "May I know your name instead? If that's alright with you."

Danveur pondered for several seconds, debating whether he should give the other what he wanted so he'll leave him be or ignore his gnawing demeanour. Thomas was too chatty but it wasn't the bothersome type so he went with the former. "William,"

"Brother William it is then. I am Thomas," He said, smiling that coy smile of his before they reached the landing where a small wooden door to the left was present. He inserted the key inside the keyhole and twisted it countless times before it budged open. Danveur stepped in and placed the bag on the nearby stool.

"Before I go," Thomas once again muttered quickly under his breath, his brows furrowed and his face completely inquisitive. "Why in the attic with no company? I hope I am not prying but it has been awhile since this room was last used."

"If you want to know more, then you shall come inside." Danveur said, gesturing for him to step in. The other man felt abashed and he hesitated at the door step, fingers wringing the hem of his shirt.

Danveur urged him. "I assure you it's alright."

"I'm not meddling, then?"

"Not to what I believe, Thomas."

So he stepped through the threshold and into the lukewarm cosy room and stood unsure across from Danveur, who simply walked towards the window and gazed outside.

"The night doesn't seem to die in this town."

Thomas shrugged halfheartedly and replied, "It is how it works here."

"I see,"

There was a long pause, and the muffled clinking of bottles and guffaws from downstairs overtook the silence. After a while, Thomas spoke without any urgency. "What are you running away from?"

The bluntness of the question caught Danveur off guard. Perhaps it was the bag. Or it was his choice of room. Maybe it was painted all along in his face.

Danveur managed to reply in a quiet whisper, "I am in danger."

Thomas breath hitched within his throat and he stepped back a little. "I beg your pardon, sir?

"The reason why I am alone and needed to be alone was because my life is in danger. I need you to help me." He turned to look at Thomas with tired eyes, the rims red and puffy, and for a second, he wondered how he was able to keep them open for so long.

"But I am just a houseboy, a helper. How could I possibly help you?"

Danveur scrutinized him from his boots to the tip of his hair, then he let out a loud sigh. Though Thomas spoke like he was a rank lower than Danveur, it was obvious he was older.

"You look far more intelligent than being a houseboy, Thomas. You proved it when you knew why I was here. Maybe if I tell you, you would know about a thing or two."

"How will I know that you won't use me? Heaven forbid, you might turn out to be a murderer."

The last word rang in Danveur's ears and he feared that he may have bolted away if Thomas wasn't blocking the path towards the doorway. Instead, he slowly spread his arms and stood straight, showing off his church attire in its full glory.

"Do I look like I am one?"

And the tone of his voice, and the look of utter despair and desperation were all that Thomas needed before he decided that this man was telling the truth.