Filleon stumbled through the winding streets of Halia city, his breath coming and going in ragged gasps. He felt dumb for not letting the paladin know his identity and simply paying him off. But trust runs thin. Even after payment.
Filleon’s arm surged with pain again as he remembered another city guard that tried to stab him a week earlier. The nobles have their hand in everything at this point with their weekly attempts to weaken the royal faction.
It didn't take long before he began to hear the thunderous footsteps of the paladins behind him. Their voices rang out in challenge. Filleon ducked into an alleyway, hoping to lose his pursuers in the maze of twisting lanes and cobblestone streets of the inner district. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins. His arm was bleeding again and it throbbed as a reminder.
The clatter of swords and the pounding of boots closed in on him. He tried to move faster, but his arm made it difficult to keep up the pace. Filleon’s lack of training and ale-aging body only made things worse. He stumbled over a loose stone and nearly fell, but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground.
Unfortunately, it was with his injured arm. A sting pierced his bones and made him grunt loudly, followed by a blood smear from his hand on the ground.
“Oi! I heard something this way!” a shout came from a nearby paladin. Filleon cursed his unfiltered cry under his breath.
As he turned a corner, Filleon found himself face to face with a dead end. Panic coursed through him as he realized he had nowhere left to run. A moment later two paladins turned the same corner behind him. Filleon could see the determination in their eyes, and he knew they would not hesitate to strike him down. With a sinking feeling in his heart, he backed up against the wall, still unsure if he should reveal himself or not.
But then, he noticed something strange. His hands and upper back were sinking into the wall. Almost like a pillow made of goose feathers, Filleon felt as if he was softly supported by the wall as it folded around him. He saw the guards sprint towards him but, not five steps later, he was gone. Filleon left the paladins with nothing but a small pool of blood on the ground.
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“Ho-ho-ho, that was close,” came an elderly chuckle behind him.
Filleon’s eyes slowly opened with a groan to follow.
The voice spoke up again, “So, my King, shall we get going or do you need more time to wake up?”
Filleon couldn’t get his head together and felt groggy. “W-what happened to me?” The last thing he remembered were two paladins raising their swords to him, now he was lying on a wooden floor.
“Not to worry my King, no one will find you here,” the voice continued. “Though the magic I had cast will not hide your presence forever considering your…elf is rummaging around. Ho-ho.”
“W-what do you mean? Elf?” Filleon said. He felt a pitting feeling in his stomach and put his hand to his head as if it would help him focus.
“Is Illiah Dae Varos not an elf?” the voice questioned sarcastically.
Filleon’s eyes darted open in shock, immediately sat up and scanned the room. It was nothing more than an old food storage shed. Seemed to belong to an upscale tradesman considering how many of the wares had base ingredients, like wheat and various grains and spices sitting in open wooden crates and barrels. Very high end ingredients.
Upon turning his head and catching notice of the hunched, cloaked figure standing by the open window, a large dragon flew directly into the young night sky against the light of the rising triplet moons and bellowed an earth shattering roar across the city. The hairs on Filleon’s neck and arms almost stood through his linen shirt and cloak. He fell and crab walked himself back into the wall that spat him into the shed.
“With a reaction like that, I do believe you need my help to exit this city, no?” the figure said as a raven cawed and flew through the window and perched on top of the skull resting on the figure’s staff.
Filleon merely looked at him inquisitively.
“Oh my, where are my manners – my name is De’jard. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” De’jard said with a lazy bow, revealing large horns that refracted some of the moonlight.
Filleon was taken aback at first as not many demonbornes have been sighted in his land, but then his eyes squinted, “That bird –”
“Ah yes, Precious,” De’jard said, tapping the raven’s beak playfully with a long finger, “she has been watching you for some time now. You are quite the slob.”
Despite the mocking, Filleon could only find himself speechless.
“Oh, don’t feel too bad, it is not as if you people see many familiars in this day and age, ho-ho,” he chuckled. “Even demonbornes like me, I would imagine. Now then, pleasantries aside, let us talk about this escape plan of yours…”