Basil woke up and looked out of his bedroom window. Outside, he saw workers running back and forth, feeding horses and loading carts with the last supplies. The atmosphere in the hallways was strange, filled with a mix of melancholy and distress, like a sailor forced to evacuate his ship. As he walked through the house, he noticed the activity was less than usual, with servants occasionally passing by, carrying items that might be useful.
Nearing the entrance hallway, the sound of activity picked up. He saw his mother in conversation with Walther and approached them.
“Ah, we appear to be complete now. Got all your important things loaded?” Walther asked Basil.
“Yes, most of it was done by the staff yesterday. I’ve probably forgotten a few things, but I’ll manage,” Basil replied.
Talya looked at Basil, took a deep breath, and said, “Look, you will be traveling with Walther’s party. I didn’t tell you this yesterday for your own safety—you’re a keen talker to many people.”
This took Basil by surprise. Talya had anticipated that if any threat followed the family due to the transfer of the patchwork, it would likely target her first. She decided to act as a distraction, hoping Walther and Basil would have an easier journey.
“Basil, take care of yourself. You’re a smart young man, and you will do well, I’m sure of it. I wish we had more time for proper goodbyes. Know that I love you,” Talya said.
She then opened her pouch and handed him two patches.
“You have seen these before and know their function. I’m delegating these to you for now; they might be of use,” she explained.
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Basil was in awe; he had never been given a patch to manage on his own. It made him uncomfortable, as he didn’t feel ready for such responsibility.
He didn’t have much opportunity to ask anything else. The quartermaster ran inside and interrupted them: “Matriarch, I must report, the horses have been growing restless for the past twenty minutes. They sense something we humans cannot see or hear yet. If we are to leave this house behind, now is the advisable time,” he said urgently but respectfully.
Basil hugged Talya, and then they walked outside. After the goodbye, she mounted her horse and rode off without hesitation. Her small party of personal guards followed. She did not look back at Basil and Walther, consumed by the sadness of leaving and unable to bear looking back.
At the house, Basil and Walther were mounting the cart they would ride. A noise of stumbling metal from the open door startled them. A metal bowl rolled outside, clanging with each step.
Chef Samuel appeared, chasing after his cooking accessories.
Basil and Walther looked at each other and burst out laughing. The tension of the morning made Samuel’s clumsiness all the more cathartic—a welcome distraction.
“Sorry for that! I didn’t mean to cause more commotion!” Samuel shouted. “I’ve decided to join your party, so hang on!”
Samuel hastily threw his gear into the cart and climbed onto the seat next to Basil, who now sat between Walther and Samuel. It was an uncanny sight, with Basil, the thinnest of the three, squeezed between a teacher and a cook. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst way to travel.
“Samuel, you do know you won’t be paid for coming along, right? All staff are free to return to their homes. The house is being abandoned,” Walther said.
“I know, I know. But I realized this is my only home. I’m not moving in with Aunt Martha, the old cake!” Samuel replied convincingly.
Basil laughed again at Samuel’s remark. He was getting more comfortable with the departure. Just a day ago, he had been asking Walther about the purpose and meaning of his life. Perhaps this turn of events was an answer, albeit a brutal one.
Walther looked around, their party appeared ready, and he got the horses moving.
They hadn’t even left the property when Samuel started tapping his pocket. “Uh oh, spag-hetti-o, what could the big chef be carrying in here?” he asked with a smile, looking at Basil.
He pulled out a decent-sized flask of his homebrew mandrill, a special edition that had undergone multiple phases of distillation, turning the normally refreshing, low-alcohol beverage into a strong spirit. Samuel opened it and took a few big gulps.
“Do you want a sip, Basil?” he asked.
Even a whiff of the potent drink nearly knocked Basil out.
“Oh, I would feel bad for making you share that with me, Samuel. I’m sure you enjoy it a lot yourself,” Basil said.
“True, very true, my young friend. Your empathy impresses me,” Samuel replied.
And so, Walther’s party rode into the meadows beyond the house, planning to travel to the Auspex’s library to meet Nymous. Their carts would take longer to cover the same distance, giving Nymous, a fast solo rider, time to do his research in the library.