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Nattas

Dottore’s orders

Part I

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You could hear Cartagen waking up in the distance, Nattas thought.

Those living near the King’s Palace and in the famed White District, a place where typical later Lorian architecture was more prominent; with its spacious villas, the white terraces bedecked with flower gardens and hugging the edges of the aptly named Green Plateau; they will hear the distant buzz much later, the heights of the Plateau shielding them. The city was built on its slopes, spilling almost to the banks of the great Mabindon River, with its three branches reaching Cartaport twenty kilometers away.

Bordering the White District, on the East side of the city, opposite the river and the King’s Baths, was the Merchant District. While not as expensive to live there, or as prestigious, it was a far better choice, than opting for the sprawling People’s District at the mouth of the City, next to the majestic, as much as stinking busy and rumpus to the point of insanity, Hippodrome.

Of course not as expensive, doesn’t equal cheap, Nattas thought, a sour expression marring his tanned face. He’d given an arm and a leg to purchase the villa he was living in. So much so, he’d fallen in debt for several years, forcing him to eat and socialize with the plebs, to make ends meet.

The large balcony he now stood on, watching the sun behind him bringing slowly the city to life, was freshly clean, the white marble with rosy details, mainly in the two columns keeping the roof from falling on his head, gleaming like crystal. He brought the older style tall glass of wine to his lips and tasted it. An excellent vintage of expensive Flauegran, a special delivery just for him, a memento from the lands where his family was uprooted from and an indulgence of a man of prominent culture and taste.

“It is a wonderful sight, Lord Nattas,” Cartagen’s large library’s newest scholar said, a smile on his face. He was sitting across from him, a small marble table between them. Sirio Veturius, had followed Storm to Regia’s Capital at his insistence and was now busy scribbling into his parchments.

“Well, it is but a small indulgence,” Also a necessity, as owning property in Cartagen was expected of all aspiring lords wanting to climb the social ladder, or stay on it, for as much as fuckin’ possible, thought Storm.

“Excellent choice,” Sirio replied. Then wearing his historian’s cap. “Cartaport was at first chosen as the site to build the new city, but King Lucius’ the First horse got spooked and ran up the gentle slope, it is said. The King and his men ran after it and when they stopped and stared at the view, they changed their mind.”

“That horse had expensive tastes,” Was Lord Storm’s taciturn comment.

“Some animals do,” The young man replied cryptically. Storm turned to investigate his meaning and caught Sudi walking towards them, crossing his second story lounge, with his dirty boots still on.

“Boss,” Sudi started, before he’d time to admonish him for his bucolic manners. “I got news.”

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The Issir placed a wrapped object in front of him and looked around for another rattan chair to sit on, a grin creeping up his face when Sirio offered him the one he was sitting on.

“I need to finish this part today,” The young man explained calmly.

“Yes, go do your job, dear Veturius,” Storm said, keeping his tone polite. The moment he was out of earshot, Lord Nattas turned to his man frustrated.

“Couldn’t it wait? So I can at least enjoy my first morning here in peace!” They had left Aldenport almost a month back, sailed around the coast of Regia to reach Cartaport, an uncomfortable journey Storm vehemently hated, but it was a much better one, than what he had endured trying to reach Riverdor in the summer.

“Tryin’ to keep you informed. Better to know, than be surprised down the line,” Sudi repeated something Storm had said to him, on many occasions.

Nattas stared at the wrapped up object, he’d left in front of him in silence. Then he reached for his glass of wine and waved for Sudi to speak his piece.

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

“Your nephew is much better, Utnas reports,” His man started.

Great, starting with the lukewarm news, I see.

“So he’s walking about?”

“No.”

“Still in my house?”

“Aye.”

Storm cleared his throat, deciding not to say something he might regret down the line. “Continue,” He hissed.

“The man that recovered the message for King Antoon, was the son of the knight originally tasked to deliver it. No major surprises there.”

“He was traveling with his father?” Storm probed.

“No. Word is, he’s probably a bastard. Living on the Free Isles. Or used to.”

Storm scoffed, having another sip of wine.

“That’s fuckin’ convenient; right where his ship sunk. You said, used.”

“Aye, he boarded a ship headed to Raoz,” Sudi scratched his head, before adding. “Accompanied by a sizable number of men and women.”

“You mean, like circus dancers?”

“Nay, warriors.”

“Ah, do you get the fuckin’ difference?” Storm snapped at him irritated. “What kind?”

“Mercenaries, amongst them a Knight,” Sudi continued, keeping his cool.

“Given what happened to his father, I’d say that is a wise move on his part. Smart lad,” Nattas commented.

“There’s talk, people went missing in Castalor,” Sudi moved ahead not minding his comment, as if reading from a script.

“Drunkards?”

“I don’t know, but amongst them was a high ranking Port Custom’s official, a port’s guard and a port worker. On the same night,” Sudi explained.

“A serial killer?” He chanced, looking to refill his glass. Made a point not to offer his man any. There was wine in the kitchen if Sudi wanted to wet his gullet, a whole barrel of it. Cheap as hell and you could buy it in bulk.

An excellent vintage for the help and his lackeys.

“Word on the street is, it was the Silent Servants. The Guild, not the priests,” Sudi said, the subject making him uncomfortable. It didn’t exactly fill Nattas with confidence.

His killer being on the loose still.

The distinction thin, as a lot of people suspected the priests of Oras as being part of the same brotherhood of death lovers, or death bringers.

As stated, the distinction thin.

“You think they will try to get to me again?” He asked, matter worrying him more, with every passing moment. “Like another blatant attempt at assassination?”

“Probably. If I had to bet coin, I’d say for certain.”

“How much coin are we talking here?”

“I bet it all, chief. Clear as day,” Sudi said with a shrug.

Vile Abrakas rotten cock!

“You could be wrong though,” He insisted, hope still not snuffed out.

“Nah. Don’t think I am.”

Fuck.

God darn it!

Abrakas, you piece of decayed shit, if something happens—

“As I said,” Sudi cut into his prayers and cursing, all packaged together. “I was working on that, chief.”

“You did?” Nattas asked surprised. He’d sweat on his forehead.

“Aye, so I brought ye this,” The wrapped up object was his meaning. Storm glared at it, for a long moment. Then slowly opened it up, using a careful finger. A small vial appeared, tiny almost. Black cork keeping it hermitically closed, its contents a weird pale purple, with shades of gold in it.

Storm smacked his lips once, drained his wine in a go and then raised his eyes, to stare at his expecting lackey.

“What the fuck, is this thing?” He queried, in a non-nonsense kind of way and Sudi replied with an almost evil smirk.

“That’s poison, chief. Worst there is.”

“Who’s it for?” Nattas probed, not amused in the least.

Sudi shrugged his shoulders, as if it was clear.

“For ye, of course.”