“Say what, brother?”
“Yes, milord. Lord Güd wishes to speak with you.”
“Sire Gůnthræ does, huh? Well, I don't know what we have to talk about. Perhaps, since it has been a while we had a conversation. I do not know what topic we should discuss.” I sigh.
“Certainly, milord. Our life is pretty messed up, in that sense. The Inglovians. Lord Rayl. And our current state of our enterprise.” Quexajo says, as I concur with him - most of the degree.
It's been an hour since we left. Around two thousand (2,000) steps away that we had traversed. From the west to where we came from - Kehina is not visible anymore. And to the east is where my home is, Haganolopolis. The squall of breeze is cruising over to the direction to where we are heading. Maybe in no time, we will arrive in a week or two… minimum and maximum, respectively. And at low and at tops. In the end, Sire Gůnthræ bothers to approach us instead. Rather than answering his invitation.
“How are you, Lord Geoff?” Lord Gůnthræ Güd appears from our behinds’ sights.
“It is just fine, Sire Gůnthræ. I have been busy for a while ever since tensions are rising from one of my domains.” I explain and as I offer myself a handshake to him - for gratification's sakes.
He accepts the gesture and once the other party has established the beckoning, Quexajo makes his leave. Earlier on, he told me that he wanted to meet Akialom… one of the multi-weapon expert artisans, so he claimed to say. As he had said later, he desired to have a match with him in any stipulations. Unarmed. Short arms. Regular weapons. And two-handed weapons. It is a long shot when he is talking about being on par with the man - albeit, I don’t even know what that man is capable of. Let’s wait and see, then. What stores between this conversation.
“Lord Güd, Lord Hagan… If you would excuse me.” Quexajo initiates, as he awaits our response.
“Sure…” I say.
“I will catch you later, Quexajo. After I am done with Lord Geoff, I have something to discuss with you.” Sire Gůnthræ replies and waves his hand. Where all of us laugh.
“I shall take my leave, then. Good Lordships.” as Quexajo leaves us in the process.
“So, what do you want to talk about, Sire Gůnthræ?”
“Hey, Lord Geoff! Don't give me that look! It is just a coincidence that we have met since then. How long is that?“ he protests and at the same time, he asks about the times - back in the day.
“Six? Seven? I don't know. However, it is nice to see you again in great shape, Sire Gůnthræ.” I reply.
“Since you have been here. Actually, I desire in a personal matter to visit you in Haganolopolis…” he utters, which makes me contemplate what he wants from me in the first place.
“Oh, really?”
“Truly am, milord…”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“So, Lord Gůnthræ. Why is my presence of needed? Or why is my consent truly necessary?” I ask.
Does his offer mean coercion or something? The ten stashes of gold and silver are not enough to suffice the bargain between him. He is a high stake gambler. He wants to invest if the return pay is substantial and apparent. But let's say what he has to say about this - let us see, then.
“Well, to be honest. I am just asking whether your current state of your well-being is in the phase of alright to begin with or whatnot.”
“As you can see- -...”
“Of course, I have this…” Sire Gůnthræ interrupts me and as he flutters a piece of parchment in between his fingers.
“An invitation? An invitation to whom?” I ask. On second thought, I presume that I know from whose invitation it is.
“An invitation to your father's funeral, I believe. You have my deep condolences.” he answers. I am correct about my assumption. Sire Gůnthræ Güd pays his respect via my consent.
“Indeed.” I thank Lord Güd for coming to my father's funeral.
“Aside from showing myself to pay my homage towards Lord Rayl, I have something for you.”
“Oh, what is that?” for the second time, I reply to Sire Gůnthræ Güd with a sarcastic tone.
He gives me a note, wrapped in a clean and in a neat envelope with a seal on it - Güd stamp. Of course, I was cynical about accepting the letter in the first place. Who knows what is inside the mail. Gůnthræ Güd then forces the letter on my hand, there is no way I could return it back since I refuse it the third time but he imposes to me to take a hold on the missive. I give him a stern look when I am staring at him, and later, he just entails me with a smile. Sire Gůnthræ Güd, nevertheless, is not too enacting about his action earlier on me. And this is the first time, he makes an initiative to probably catch me off guard and all. Sire Gůnthræ Güd was not too imposing when we were studying at the University of Inglovian Occidental. After all these years, Lord Güd is maybe making a damn straight point of expressing himself through this letter - presently, it is in my hands. After a while, he looks me in the eyes with a stern and an intimidating gaze.
“I guess I am going to take a hold onto this.” I add.
“Great. I appreciate it.” Lord Güd replies to me with gratitude afterwards. As for this moment, I take his word seriously and not in a light manner unlike what I've done unto him earlier.
He nudges me on my shoulder, whereas he points towards Quexajo and Akialom doing a sparring duel with his index finger. He says: “Something is about to transpire.” predicting, as in accordance to both men's beckonings - they are eyeing each other… preparing to trounce or to swish. Quexajo plays an aggressive stance and Akialom undertones himself with a defensive counterattack style pose. The crowd is touting up the tension whilst, as far as you could see; both of us, Lord Gůnthræ and myself are just observing between the two performers from the distance in an ease and a steadfast motion.
“Won't you cheer for your boy - Quexajo, Lord Geoff?” Sire Güd asks, engaging with me in a whisper mood.
“Nah, let us enjoy what they are going to deliver.” as I dismiss his inquiry.
“Fifty (50) silver coins upfront?” Sire Güd is eager to make a wager to make a wager against me, just for fun, I guess. I make a gesture with my hand in a respectful manner to waive his offer. His kind of additional entertainment.
“Just like the old times, eh?” I tip Sire Gůnthræ Güd, where I offer him a fistbump.
He takes my gesture, replying: “Sure thing, Lord Geoff. How about for good times’ sake, another round of stake?” as he is still persistent about the bargain of making a bet with me.
I decline him the second time, as he is getting not inside of his thick skull - it is not that I meant that I don't trust my prizefighter - Quexajo. My adjutant told me earlier that he doesn't want me to get involved in such activities… gambling, in general, or things that contain winning through luck. He respects the value of diligence and grinding. It would be a rude act for Quexajo, if I ever do this behind his back. A betrayal for him, to be precise. I don't want to break Quexajo's trust that he endows me. Thus, I am really sorry Lord Sire Gůnthræ Güd... I won’t be dishonoring the words of my trustee. Whence, I have known Quexajo more than you, Lord Sire Gůnthræ Güd.