"Would sir like to wait here?", the butler nodded to a humble bench by the entrance.

The question was delivered in that pitch perfect blend of supercilious disdain and contempt - and with that barest veneer politeness - that only the aides of the powerful could manage.

Elrik sighed. Some things never changed. On any plane of existence.

Outwardly though, he only shrugged, "As you like"

The butler, a tall, impeccably dressed vision of sartorial perfection, gave the barest hint of a bow, before disappearing into the inner chambers.

Elrik sat where he was bidden, in the foyer.

He resisted the urge to tap his his fingers as he waited.

The sooner he was done with babysitting this little lordling, the sooner he could get back to doing some real work

Akela manor was everything Elrik had imagined. It was after all, the city seat of one of the Imperium's great houses. It was vast - a massive hulking beast of a manor house, looming over a corner of the city.

It was imposing without being ostentatious. It was high ceilings and open expansive spaces - cool marble floors that echoed every footstep.

In a city hemmed in by the protection of tall narrow walls - it was a display of wealth that was subtle at first and awe inspiring once you understood it.

“Please, come this way sir” the butler reappeared from as if nowhere, and gestured, “follow close, sir, I would hate for you to misplace yourself”, and started immediately walking down the hall.

Elrik got up and followed, wordlessly rolling his eyes to himself.

…

A young man was idly lounging about the manor's sunroom, when Elrik entered, following the butler.

"Corporal Elrik, of the city watch, Sir", the butler spat it out as if he were announcing member of a street gang at a garden party.

Lord Sherlot Akela, third son of Duke Akela, was not what Erlik had expected.

Sherlot seemed slight, almost gaunt - to the point of near anorexia - at least in Elrik's eyes.

The young lord wore long azure robes, in the fashion of the nobles of the capital, that draped over his body. They hid his frame, but you could see his thin arms peeking out from the loose sleeves.

Elrik knew he was twenty years of age, but he looked older. More.. worn.

"Lord Akela", Elrik bowed

Sharp, bright eyes snapped to Elrik. The young lordling's eyes flicked to Elrik's feet, to his hands, to his clothes - like a cat sizing up a threat - before finally meeting his eyes.

"Leave us Harla. I wish to be alone with the Corporal"

The butler seemed to pause just a hair too long before responding, "Of course Sir. If I'm not needed", and then silently vanished into the manor.

Sherlot held his hands behind him. He wordlessly paced about the room, eyes never leaving Elrik, as he walked back and forth.

Finally, after a long minute of examination, he let loose a breath of relief, the tension leaving his lean frame, "You're not one of my father's, I see"

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Elrik tilted his head in confusion, what had he seen?, "No my lord, I am a corporal of the city watch. I'm here to accompany you as you assist the watch in our investigations"

Sherlot turned and began examining a showpiece on the window mantle, waving away the remark, "Of course you are. Please, try not to lie to me corporal, it may prove to be inconvenient"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

Sherlot looked up at Elrik, looking suddenly chagrined, "I just realized.. what I said may have sounded like a threat" he threw up his hands, "I do apologize, Corporal. I'm not good with people. I merely meant that I tend to be a little.. absent-minded about other people's lies. I don't care in the least, personally", he gave a disarming smile

Elrik wasn't sure how to respond to this strange birdlike little man, "My lord, I have to apologize - perhaps I don't understand - what makes you believe I'm lying"

Sherlot gave a long suffering sigh, "My father believes you're local, if my reports are to be believed - or he wouldn't have let you near me... But", he began counting off on his fingers, "You don't have the shoulders of a farmer, the knees of a woodsman or the hands of a craftsman. Your wrists say scribe. The reports say expert swordsman. There are no scribes who are from around here. And very few swordsmen from anywhere have impressed my brother"

Sherlot held up finger, "Most damning of all, to my lord uncle, the baron, you named yourself a local. You used the word. I know - I made him repeat your conversation to me - word for word.

The thing is.. anyone really from around here hates the term. It's just transplants from the capital that call people from around here locals. And they don't mean it as a compliment"

The skinny young man looked down, frowning, "Of course, it should also be obvious to anyone paying the least attention that you're not from the Imperium. Which begs the question, if you're not from the imperium, and you're not from here.. where are you from, my learned swordsman friend? And why are you lying about it?"

Then he looked up at Elrik, and smiled faintly.

[Warning: threat assessment revised: threat-level high: type info-hazard]

Elrik slowly realized his hand was now resting on his sword-hilt.

"That seems like conjecture on your part, my lord", he spoke carefully in an even tone.

"Of course", Sherlot threw up his hands, "Of course! That is just conjecture. You're probably not lying - and if you are - then you probably have a very good reason. I want to be very, very clear - I really don't care."

And Sherlot looked to Elrik with a dangerous look in his eyes, "I don't care in the least.. Just as long as you don't belong to my father", that last word was spat out with real venom.

For another minute the two stood there watching each other.

He's smart. Scary smart.. and he has very good eyes

Yena's words came back to Elrik, out of turn.

All the little lordling had was conjecture, but in a minute, with a glance, he had seen through Elrik, clear as glass. Who knew what he might dig up, with more time.

Elrik had kept his head down in Kalaghutta, for good reason. It wasn't just his mysterious adversary that had set things in motion. Or even his strange powers, that even in this strange world seemed .. unique.

He'd come to understand this world a little, since he'd walked out of that cave, all those months ago.

The great houses, the mages, the school of blades.. all of them had one thing in common: a need to gain control on any shred power - and an urge to crush anything they couldn't control. Secrecy was Elrik's one and only chance at surviving here.

Which made Sherlot very dangerous.

For the first time since he'd crawled out of that river Elrik felt like he was on the back-foot again.

[left arm, near the elbow]

Elrik's eyes flitted to Sherlot's arm which had become visible, the sleeve of the robe falling back as he'd gestured. There, at the corner, just above below the elbow, on the fleshy underside of the arm were a series of thin parallel scars.

They were selessi scars.

Addicts cut themselves on the arm, with a small knife coated with the potent hallucinogen. The scars were as distinctive as track-marks on the arms of a smackhead. Elrik had seen them more than a few times, on his beat on the streets of the city.

Sherlot noticed his glance. With a "Hmph" of disdain, he shot his cuff, the sleeve of the robe covering his arm once more.

He shrugged and gave Elrik a humorless grin, "I get bored easily Corporal"

Elrik sighed.. and decided to take a leap of faith

"I'm just a simple corporal, my lord Akela. Your.. conjectures aside, I'm just a simple man, raised right here. A local."

Elrik spread his hands wide and met Lord Sherlot's eyes, "I can assure you I'm the least interested in the game of the great houses - and least of all in working for your father"

Sherlot grinned at Elrik, "Wonderful, wonderful! Then let's get to work"