Chapter VI: Cloaks and Daggers [1]

City of Regalia, Early Summer of the Year 556 of the Runtallian Calendar... 

THE CRACKLING NOISE upon the hearth was buried amidst the blithe songs of troubadours and ruckus caused by drunken men, as the warming fire flickered along with the torchlights that illuminated the bustling Griffin's Porch, a tavern among its many kind that almost littered every alleys of the Autumn District in the Regalian city, situated near its northern gate and the slums of the Summer District. Barmaids and servant-boys scurried back and forth serving meals and booze at the numerous patrons, a mixture of local yeomen, travelers, merchants, adventurers and a handful of guardsmen free of sentry duties. Aside from a source of low-grade cuisine and cheap booze, the tavern was frequented by city dwellers for its gambling tables, a den for the daring gamblers, as well as shady characters in the form of ruffians, muggers and swindlers alike. 

"I'd be raisin' to fifty silvers, you callin' my bet, Night Owl?" said a broad shouldered adventurer with a burly physique, garbed in leather armor and steel greaves, upon losing his grip on a pouch full of coins at the center of the playing table. After dropping his purse with a jiggling noise, the adventurer took a swig upon the worn-out mug of ale beside the plate of bread, cheese and roasted mutton the barmaid laid beside of him, while glaring at his opponent mockingly. The four other players around the table gawked at the same man expectantly, losing faith upon their own pair of cards to pay heed upon the response of the man named Night Owl.

"You must have been rewarded handsomely from your last quest if you'd be this confident," Night Owl said in an impassive tone, examining the stack of coin piled at his side of the table. "The young master always reminds me that confidence is a good trait to have when playing Noblesse, yet to misuse it can be fatal as well."

"Stop the blathering 'bout yer lord and whatnot. Will you be callin' the bet or foldin' like these useless dolts arou–"

"I'd like to raise the bet threefold, Keldran!" Night Owl interrupted him before the adventurer finished his question, placing the same amount of silver pieces and adding a single gold coin from his own purse atop the pile. Night Owl's exclamation garnered a unanimous reaction of bafflement among the men at the table, while they vainly attempted to figure out the cards possessed by both the daring contenders. Some of the bystanders had swarmed around the betting table, too, at the sound of Night Owl's remark, drawn by the stakes which were high enough for a single betting by commoner's standard.

"Bluffin' yer way out o' this won't win you no coin, Night Owl," Keldran jeered. "I still remember the day you used to earn the same amount for a livin' back when you were at Commander Kursoe's wing at the City Watch. Aye, those boring ol' days of yers, guarding some farmer's haystack like an idiot. That reminds me, how's the old geezer these days?"

"He is well. Still good to swing his sword, I suppose. If you would like to pay him a visit, he always spent his time at the barracks berating fresh recruits. Now, will you be calling or folding?"

"You be takin' me for a coward, then you know nothin' 'bout me. No jesting, I'll be in for more for a good round or two even if I lose this one. Me and the band had been takin' a lot o' coin since the Duke's army left their garrisons empty to go fend off the barbarians. Last week, we took a mission from a village to kill goblins and gotten paid a thousand silvers for just killin' a couple dozen of those scrawny little greenskins! You should've seen the look on that desperate fool noble's face," Keldran said, tittering.

"The local lords are left with not too many options, one cannot really blame them. Since it happens to be vermin season at the time when some tribal chief-thane declared war on Regalia, the Duke has to pick to either defend Kurlon or the lives of insignificant village peasants. The choice is plain and simple, really. So given the situation, the remaining hope for the villages to survive is to depend on the protection of unscrupulous adventurers and mercenaries who charge exorbitant prices, such as yourself, for instance."

"Don't get me wrong, Night Owl. We be waging our own lives on the job, and we're not doin' charity here so our services aren't cheap. Doesn't the same apply to you, being knight and all? That actually begs the question, why aren't you beside your 'young master' this time? Isn't he fighting off those bastards from Norsmund like his father?"

Night Owl sighed heavily and responded silence, dropping his pair of cards for Keldran and his men to see instead of uttering a reply, revealing a jester and a duke.

"Damn, I thought I had you!" Keldran shouted, slamming his cards– a king and a count– on the table, producing a clattering noise among the coins piled up at the center. "Jester annuls my king, but how in the hell did you know I have a king?"

"Remember I said that confidence can be fatal? The smug look on your face gives it all." Night Owl stretched his arms exaggeratedly, sweeping towards him the nightly earnings of three hundred silver pieces he won, his own earlier bets unaccounted. Night Owl raised his cup, placed the brim over his lips and heartily took a sip of ale, flooding his mouth to dampen his dried throat. Although Night Owl would consider himself not of a heavy drinker as much as his companion Keldran, the limited access to wells for fresh water granted to the peasantry, particularly in the Autumn District and Summer District, made alcoholic beverages the few viable options for consumable drinks to also avoid contaminated water, as the majority of the wells inside the city and the streams in the approximate vicinity of the city were mostly controlled by the local nobles and the influential merchant and artisan guilds.

"Should I deal the cards next rou–" Keldran started to say, but was halted immediately for some unforeseen development upon the tavern.

All of a sudden, the bustling of the crowd was momentarily shushed the moment a bald man stood at the entrance of the establishment, seemingly making a grand entrance like he was an aristocrat of great stature. Wearing a knight's armor with the raven crest of House Walruse, he walked brimming with dignity and pride, having the physique of a seasoned warrior despite being in his late fifties. Aside from the sword strapped beneath his waist, the stern look upon the man's face made him ever so intimidating at the sight of the yeomen who were formerly minding their own affairs moments ago.

"C-Commander Kursoe, what have brought you to my h-humble tavern?" the tavern owner stammered in a panicked voice, closing the distance between him and the knight. "I seem to not have been informed about an inspection today…"

The commander stood a meter away from the tavern owner, bearing a look as if he was sizing up the commoner, who offered him a forced smile and a wary face. "Fret not, I am here for no official business," the knight said, scanning the place around him. "Pay me no heed."

"Speak of the devil," Keldran cried, breaking the silence among the crowd, in an attempt to get the man's attention. "Commander, here! What a coincidence, Night Owl and I were just talking about you a minute ago."

The commander turned around, frowning at the sight of Keldran, who was waving his hands frantically. "Quiet down, you loud mouthed idiot," murmured him under his breath.

Ironically, the remark marked the end of the silent ambiance that enveloped the tavern, once again erupting in a chaotic mess when the bickering of drunkards, the flashy movements of barmaids and the loud orders from hungry patrons made the building all the more livelier. As Kursoe traversed the corner where Night Owl, Keldran and his men were situated, he cannot help but notice out of the corner of his eyes the prying yet cautious glances the patrons paid him, who knew Kursoe as a man of conviction and a vicious punisher in the eyes of the law.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of the City Watch commander paying us a visit?" Keldran promptly asked, extending his hand that held a mug brimming with ale.

"I am still on duty, so I came here not to enjoy myself, but to carry out orders."

"And that orders would be?" Night Owl queried, scooping his prize inside his pouch.

"Lord Varus has summoned you to Walruse Castle."

"I only serve Lord Velmund, you know that, old man."

"Renkou…" Kursoe started to say, seeing the dubious look on his former student's countenance. Instead of giving him a comforting gaze, the commander offered an authoritative, soldierly mien, the same manner he used when addressing greenhorns and veterans alike. "Lord Velmund is not here right now, and his brother is currently in charged of Regalia upon the absence of the Duke. By all means, he is your and my superior. Do you want to get flogged and lose your knightly status?"

"I care not about status and wealth, you also know that."

"I also know that you are rebellious to the core and hard to tame even when you were still a kid. Being such is in your nature, Renkou. I am surprised Lord Velmund managed to put you on leash!"

"The young master is unlike any noble. He is the only person I deem worthy of my service."

"And yet you are not with him right now, are you? Care to indulge me on the reason?"

"I…" Night Owl tried to speak, but his voice trailed off once he remembered the real reason he remained at the city by his lord's orders. "I cannot say."

"Then you have no choice but to come with me."

"Fine," Night Owl sighed in futile defiance, seeing that his protest would not persuade the commander otherwise. He stood up from his stool. "Lead the way, then."