Chapter 15

~Talfen, capital of Coldshore~

~The Wilton Manor~

"How about this one, sir?" Baxter, one of the men that had welcomed him to the manor asked as he opened the doors of yet another room and Andras couldn't stop himself from marveling at the way the sunlight came into the room unfiltered, making it seem like he was standing right under the sun rather than inside a building after he walked into it.

If Andras had counted right, this would be the tenth room Baxter has shown him. He had had no problems with the other rooms but after he said 'yes' whenever Baxter asked if he liked the room, the man would just stare at him for several moments, hum and then lead him to another room.

He didn't understand why the man had been doing that seeing as all the rooms looked the same - huge, bright, and opulent - and he felt bad for the other man who carried his box, following them from one room to the next. He had wanted to collect the box a couple of times but the man had insisted that it was fine and didn't let him even though he was obviously struggling.

"Do you like it?" Baxter asked as Andras turned around with his hand on the hilt of the sword at his side after glimpsing a garden, grander than the one in front of the manor, through the balcony in the room. His gaze darted to the other man who had just dropped his box next to the room's doorway with a weary look on his face, waiting to hear what he would say in response to that question.

Andras opened his mouth to say 'yes' but instantly shut it because the man might hum and take him to another room again. He wasn't sure if his saying 'yes' was the reason they have been on their feet since or if it was his facial expression while he said it so he wanted to choose his response and expression carefully.

The man had given him some information and history about some of the places in the manor as they moved from one room to another, and as much as he wanted to know more about the place, he would prefer it if he was given some alone time.

"You don't like it?" Baxter asked when Andras still didn't reply and the other man's eyes went round while Andras' held a hand out.

"I do," He said in a rush. "I do like it," He repeated with emphasis on 'I do' and Baxter stared at him for a couple of seconds without saying anything.

"Very well then. We'll leave you to get settled in," Baxter said when Andras thought he was about to hum and the other man sighed in relief, glad he won't be carrying the heavy box anymore. The two uniformed men then made their way out of the room and the moment they shut the door, Andras let out a soft sigh.

The first thing he wanted to do was sit but he was wary of sitting on the bed in the room so that he would soil it with his dusty travel robes. The bed was huge and its covers were cream and pale green.

The couches in the room were cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in spring and just sunk in. The cream curtains covering the huge windows were linen, the kind of soft cream shade that was untouched by hands and devoid of dust.

There were two chairs placed on each side of the fireplace and a wooden table, which had two candelabras on it, surrounded by a couple of wooden chairs on one side of the room; everywhere was free of dust and clutter.

As he moved closer to the balcony that overlooked the garden, he saw a couple of chairs there and decided to sit there but before he could move further, it suddenly felt like someone slammed a metal object on his head. He dropped to one knee silently, his vision blurring slightly as pain radiated through his head, he tried to push himself up to his feet but the pain worsened and he stumbled back to the ground.

Andras could feel the sweat drench his skin, the throbbing behind his eyes, the ringing in his ears, and the thumping of his heart against his ribcage. His fingers were curled into a fist, nails digging into his palms, and he couldn't hear his rapid breathing but he could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs.

"Andras," A familiar voice floated in his mind, his father's voice and Andras' eyes snapped open. "Where are you?"

He moved one of his hands to the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist and gripped it tightly like having something to hold would help him better understand what was happening. "Father…"

His father had never needed to communicate like this since he was always close by but now that he wasn't anymore, he now understood what he was told that communicating through the mind link when both parties were really far away from each other was a nuisance.

"How dare you leave without my permission! Return this instant!"

A hand came down on his shoulder the next moment and he reflexively drew his sword on the person while getting to his feet, only to see a middle-aged woman in a light blue dress staring at him with wide eyes.

"S-Sir!"

Andras' shook out of the daze that communicating with his enraged father had put him in, quickly moving the sword away from the woman's neck, only then could she take several steps backward, placing her hands on her chest to calm her racing heart.

"Mr… Mr. Baxter w-wanted me to ask if you… if you wanted something to eat," She said breathlessly, still very shaken up, "I- I'm sorry sir. I didn't-"

"I should be the one apologizing," Andras cut her off, sheathing his sword. His hands were still trembling and his head still hurt a lot but he managed to keep his voice steady. "And no, I don't want anything… Thank you."

The woman gave him a stiff nod before quickly heading towards the door and when she was finally gone, he leaned heavily against the wall. He drew in a sharp breath and regulated his breathing, the radiating pain had begun to fade and so did his father's voice.