Simply to avoid her

Fabian's eyebrows quite literally twitched at what he currently saw; right in front of him was a rugged building which was an inn, made of common stones and timber framing, that seemed to have seen better times.

It was nearly run down and had little in the way of security. What was his master thinking when he selected a place like this for them to rest in?

He looked back at the two Knights standing behind him, who were now wearing commoners' clothes and could immediately tell that they shared his thoughts.

Fabian stared down at what he wore—a common brown tunic with black linen trousers and worn leather boots—and his nose slightly wrinkled in displeasure.

He turned his attention to the man who stood beside him who was an inch or two taller than him; he wore the same common tunic but white, black linen trousers and leather boots that were in complete contrast to Fabian's own.

He had always appeared regal, but now, he couldn't even look more like a commoner if he tried.

"We've stumbled upon quite the place, haven't we, Fabian?" The man asked as his lips twitched slightly in amusement.

Fabian desperately fought the urge to sigh loudly in exasperation. "Honestly, Milord," he started. "Is all this truly necessary? We could have had things easier residing at Count Donvark's estate."

"That defeats the whole point." Azel told him simply.

His aide's eyebrows twitched slightly and he furrowed them in confusion. "The whole point of what exactly, Milord?"

"The whole point of keeping my arrival in Dalniar a secret." Azel told him. "I'd rather remain undetected for now."

Fabian huffed. "And why would you want to keep it a secret?" He asked. "Does your arrival pose any inconvenience to them?"

Azel stopped to think for a moment, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Yes it does," he paused. "They see me as some sort of threat, do they not?"

"Tsk." Fabian clicked his tongue. "That does not stop you from making your arrival known. They did invite you themselves."

He peered at his master suspiciously through his thin framed glasses. "This is quite unlike you, Milord. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Azel hesitated for a long moment. "...Yes," he stated bluntly. "Now come, the sooner we go in the sooner we get to rest."

He started to walk towards the inn's doors without sparing a single glance behind him.

"...Hah." Fabian sighed and then followed suit, accompanied by the two Knights in their commoner disguises.

Their coach had already gone to find accommodations of his own.

When they got in, Fabian couldn't help but scrunch up his nose once again at how unruly the place appeared, it was rife with the stench of alcohol and body odor, he could hardly bear it.

He looked over to his master and saw that the man didn't even appear the least affected by the condition and smell of the place.

Fabian couldn't help but wonder how he managed it, for his nose was far more sensitive.

Just at the corner of the big space, past all the tables and chairs, stood what seemed to be a front desk. It was worn and a stone-faced man sat behind it.

"What are you still standing here for?" Azel voiced suddenly, giving his aide beside him an expectant look. "Go and get rooms for us."

Fabian barely managed not to click his tongue and slowly but steadily walked towards the inn's front desk.

He truly wished the inn was full already. In fact, he wished all the inns in Lavim were full, then they would have no other choice but to reside at the Count's manor.

But to his dismay, even the first interior looked nearly devoid of customers, only a few peasants were present and they gave him disinterested looks as he walked past.

It was expected after all, Lavim was a city of trade near the border of Galiminea.

Merchants from the neighboring kingdom usually came to sell their wares and sometimes they stayed weeks or possibly months in the city.

Lavim's accommodation expenses had shot up for that very reason and an inn such as this one—run-down as it was—was bound to be among the failing minors.

'Honestly,' Fabian thought. 'If we are going to stay in an Inn, why couldn't he have chosen a more convenient one? If only it was completely occupied…"

But his hopes were totally dashed the moment he stood in front of the desk to make his requirements. "Two rooms," He stated. "Each for two."

The stone-faced man at the front desk eyed his clothes skeptically.

What the man in front of him wore didn't particularly make him look poor, but the inn manager had enough experience to know that some commoners usually dressed clean enough for people to believe they could pay for something they could not.

"That would be five copper coins," he grunted, then eyed him again. "Can you pay?"

Fabian's lips twitched in exasperation; five copper coins was absolutely nothing to him. Though to be fair, the price was somewhat expensive for a commoner and that was exactly what he looked like at the moment.

He dug his hand into a small leather pouch hanging from his belt and brought out one gold coin, placing it on the surface before him.

"Two rooms," he repeated. "Each for two."

The man's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the precious metal; he had seen gold only so many times in his life.

"Ri—right away…" he stuttered and began searching frantically for keys.

Fabian waited patiently for him to find them and when he did, he handed them over with trembling hands. "Se—second floor," he said. "The two rooms at the end of the hall on the right."

Fabian took the keys without saying a word and headed back to where Azel stood.

"Done?" He asked.

"Yes I am." Fabian responded. 'Unfortunately…' he thought.

Azel smirked at his aide's inner complaint but decided to ignore it.

He clearly heard what the man at the desk said and started to make his way up the stairs, followed closely by his escorts.

The inn manager watched them go nervously, then he stared down at the gold coin now in his possession.

Were they truly commoners…? No peasant would have so much as an inkling of silver on them, talk more of a whole gold…

He shook his head in an effort to dispel his curious thoughts; he was better off not thinking about things too much. He'd rather mind his business.

The small party separated the moment they reached the small corridor, the two Knights taking one room and Azel and his aide taking the other.

The moment Fabian and his master entered the space, he swallowed the urge to curse.

In it were two beds dressed in plain white sheets, they weren't particularly filthy but Fabian supposed they were clean enough for a peasant.

By the bedsides stood small tables carved of rough wood, and at a corner of the room was what seemed to be a work table with a chair behind it.

Other than that, the room looked almost empty and the two generous windows seemed to make it even more void.

Azel silently walked towards the beds, the only thing making a sound was the clicking of his solid boots against the hard floor.

He got to them and easily took the one at his right, the cleanest, as far as Fabian could see.

Azel tested the mattress. "It's not so bad." He concluded.

"What do you mean, it's not so bad?!" Fabian had apparently had enough. "This place, this room, it is the very definition of foul!"

"Calm yourself, Fabian." Azel growled lightly. "It is just for one night… perhaps two." He added as an afterthought.

"Two?!" Fabian exclaimed. "Why two, Milord? We need only stay here for so long before we head for the capital of Veldon!"

Azel simply shrugged and said nothing else, proceeding to relax his body on the small bed.

Fabian watched him dumbfounded for a while, then eventually conceded and went to sit on the bed across from him; he knew there was no use in trying to convince him.

His lord never bent to anyone once he had made a decision.

'Well, I suppose I will just have to make myself comfortable here for two days then.' He thought dejectedly and sighed.

Fabian, now sitting uncomfortably on the bed, eyed his master skeptically. "I cannot understand your reason behind all this, Milord." He blurted. "It seems to me like you are avoiding the Count's estate but… why?"

Azel's eyelids pried open and he stared up at the ceiling above him; he couldn't possibly bring himself to tell his aide what was on his mind.

He had after all, heard that Count Donvark had a lovely daughter, she was his last and his youngest.

Azel's mind went to the girl he had met the other day, the one that had threatened to have him hanged, his lips twitching slightly at the memory.

That aside, the problem was far more pressing;

She was clearly noble, and she was his… he still couldn't bring himself to admit it.

But judging by the way she spoke to him, he knew and somewhere deep within, he carried with him the possibility that she was Count Donvark's daughter. It was only an assumption.

Still, that was why he wanted to avoid the estate, seeing her once was enough for him. He didn't want to see her again, although every part of him—his body, his soul—ached for it.

He wanted to see her, to know her, to hold her, to breathe in her lovely scent…

But he knew… he knew he would undoubtedly get attached too quickly the moment he set his eyes on her again and that thought terrified him.

He had barely managed to control himself when he first saw her, the only thing that held him back was the disbelief of finding her and after he so playfully confronted her, the anger at himself for doing so.

But now he had come to accept the possibility, albeit reluctantly and because he did, her scent would affect him even more.

The only way he felt he could keep that from happening was to avoid her… but for how long?

He didn't think he could stay still without his yearn compelling him into doing otherwise.

He clenched his jaw with disgust at himself, since when was he this much of a coward?

Azel turned his back to his aide and faced the window beside his bed, his thoughts elsewhere as he watched the city below him.

"You may know with time, Fabian." He mumbled gruffly, "be patient."