X. BLIND DESPERATION

  The streets were full of revelers and the sounds of music from pubs, taverns, and inns. Banners bearing the Dorso emblem were hung from the apartments above and the streets of Marquez’s Vineyard district, so named for the wine traders that passed through and lodged there. During off seasons, it was known as a gathering place for mercenaries and bounty hunters due to the plentiful taps and top shelf brothels. If Aichlan were to find more men, here would be the place. Though as far as he knew all available sell swords had been bought and dispatched.

  It had been two days since the wedding, and the parties had been damn near non-stop. He grimaced as he weaved his way through drunken well-wishers, many just using the event as an excuse to get drunk in public. Beside him, Francis seemed at ease as he smoked on an elven cigar, laughing and waving to the drunks that stumbled by, a thick cloud of purple smoke veiled about his head. Madden spent most of his time apologizing to the occasional startled drunk, but as a whole, his size afforded him a wide berth. Aichlan however, despite being visibly armed, found himself stopped constantly and forced to detour.

  “So, ya really think there’s a band o’ merc’s ‘idin out this way Gen’ral?” Madden asked as he waded his way through a sea of revelers over a foot shorter than he.

  In spite of his ill-fitting yet finely tailored waist-coat with tails, breeches and patent leather boots, Madden was still a bumpkin from the hills at heart. His simple nature had an endearing quality about it however, and Aichlan was keen to go easy on the friendly giant.

  “I don’t know and frankly, at this point,” Aichlan shoved a drunken man out of his way. “I don’t give a fuck. Francis, you’ve been here before, where do you suppose we should begin this goose chase of ours?”

  Francis exhaled a cloud of smoke and surveyed the taverns and inns. “Your picks as good as mine lad.”

  “Can we stop ta eat at least?”

  Aichlan ignored Madden’s grumblings of mouth and stomach, there had been feasts and banquets since before the wedding, though he did agree they should stop somewhere and gain their bearings. “Let’s try that inn, you can stuff yer face in there while we try and salvage this mess.”

  Madden had the effect of a boulder in rapids as he waded through the crowd. Aichlan and Francis found it much easier to just take cover behind him as he pushed his way through to the inn. They nearly fell over a man collapsed in the gutter who used the melting, dirty snow as a pillow. Despite it being nearly Bloomsun, the air was still quite chill, only the multitude of moving bodies kept things from being uncomfortably brisk. That and many senses that were dulled by alcohol.

  The inn was one of the classier spots with a full restaurant with street side windows, though the view was none too spectacular. Aichlan made his way around Madden and ignored the sign asking patrons to wait to be seated. He spotted a table in the corner and made haste to claim it. The restaurant was sparsely populated; it certainly didn’t look as if any present were swords for hire. The patrons looked like carnival staff and the possible tourists from other parts of the kingdom. Aichlan sighed and buried his head in his hands as Madden and Francis sat down to join him.

  “You picked the joint.” Francis snorted.

  “This is ridiculous. There are no mercenaries running around, Alice is an idiot and that makes me one as well for even listening to her.” Aichlan sat up and leaned back in his seat to stare at the ceiling. “She probably saw a soldier out of uniform or something for all we know.”

  “You put her in charge.” Francis teased as he ashed his cigar.

  Aichlan growled under his breath and jabbed his finger at the pirate. “I don’t need any shit from you Admiral, speaking of which, why’re you suddenly so cozy with that Siegrun woman?”

  “Yeah, I kinda bean wonderin’ bout that me self.” The table shook as Madden planted his elbow on it.

  “Wonder all ya like, ain’t nuh-ting ta tell.” Francis shrugged as he craned his neck to get a better view of a passing waitress. “I knew her Pa, promised I’d look after im kin. That's what I’m doin’.”

  “You know everyone’s fathers don’t you Francis?” Aichlan asked incredulously. “Did Garrick know ‘im as well? Funny to me seein’ as she’s Rhodarcian.”

  Francis sighed and put down his cigar. “Listen boy,”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “General.” Aichlan corrected.

  “Don’t sass me; its boy ‘till I say it ain’t ya hear?”

  “Francis,” Aichlan chuckled. “Come off it. Why’re ya ‘angin round with ‘the enemy’ all o’ tha sudden?”

  “I knew ‘er da’.” He said matter-of-factly. “It was ‘er ma’ dat fought Garrick, put a lance in im stomach.”

  “Her mother was Wolfmother?” Aichlan asked as he leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “Yep, an’ I had already promised to look af’er ‘is kin when Garrick killed ‘er.”

  “Whose kin?” Madden asked, equally interested in the tale.

  “Her father, who else?”

  “Yes, but who was he?” Aichlan pressured.

  “Oh, well that’s a secret.” Both Aichlan and Madden groaned and pushed their seats away from the table. “Don’ go nowhere lads! It ain’t through yet!”

  “Well, get on with it.” Aichlan said as he waved off the waitress.

  “Tea for me please love.” Francis said as she turned to him. “I only jus’ found out she was im daughter. Ya see, mi only think he had da boy.”

  “Izarius. Right?”

  Francis shook his head and wagged his finger. “No, that’s her half-brother. She was born after his father was killed in the war, and she was only about three or four years younger ‘n you when ‘er Ma was slain. Nevertheless, lookin’ at dat lass; there’s no doubt. And her story adds up…”

  Aichlan watched as the waitress picked up their menus and left, and wondered how much it was going to cost him to feed the giant that was Madden. Whomever that man took for a wife would have her work cut out for her. He sipped his water and tried to decipher the Admiral’s tale. How did he meet Siegrun’s father, and who was he to warrant making such a promise? Who was Francis for that matter, the more he knew of the Admiral, the more of an enigma he became.

  “Wolfmother was an odd woman, abandoned or somethin’ at birth, raised by wolves. Damn beautiful, and knew how ta use it. Surprised she only ‘ad tha two.”

  Aichlan looked Francis over, trying to get a read as to what he was getting at and why. “I suppose.”

  “Wait!” Madden blurted with a snap of his fingers. “Isn’t she the broad tha’ fucked dags?!”.

  “They were wolves, and no.” Aichlan corrected, meeting the curious glances of fellow patrons with a cold gaze. “I don’t believe so…”

  Aichlan and Madden looked up to Francis for confirmation, but he did not seem to be paying attention. Aichlan found himself actually wondering if there was any substance to the rumors that surrounded the Rhodarcian military icon. Obviously, the brass at Rhodundal did not care for the associations, but there was little they could do at this point.

  “We’ve other things to worry about than some bird that may or may not ‘ave fucked dogs.” Aichlan snapped.

  “Mi think mi found our merc’s.” Francis said suddenly, causing Aichlan and Madden to whip around to track his gaze.

  Three men came down the stairs, their mail jingled with each step. They were huddled around a lead man, who was pointing out something or another on a piece of parchment. Perhaps the logistics of a large military company garrisoned nearby. Alternatively, perhaps a carnival troupe that came through for the wedding festivities.

  When they turned around, Aichlan was able to get a better look at them, and his stomach dropped to his feet. They wore faded blue trench coats with black leather belts and large polished buckles. All three had several medals and ribbons upon their jackets left breast. They were either costume players or actually ex-Rhodarcian military.

  “Aw hell.” Aichlan groaned.

  “Go on Aichlan, all tha’ time in Elysia sof’ened yer accent, dey may listen to ya.” Francis teased.

  “Oh bugger off.”

  “Wha’ about the woman we were jus’ talkin’ bout?” Madden leaned forward on the table, causing it to lean and creak. “Can’t she talk to ‘em?”

  Aichlan looked to Francis, then back to Madden. “That…is bloody brilliant.”

  “No it ain’t.” Francis shook his dreadlocked head as he folded his arms over his chest.

  “An’ why the devil not?” Madden countered as his plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, ham and potatoes was set before him. “Admiral?”

  “Yeah Francis, why the devil not? You could—”

  “Ah! That’s it right thar!” he roared with indignation as he jabbed at the table with his finger. “An’ I ain’t gettin’ ‘er involved. She’s got a job an’ it ain’t runnin’ erran’s fer you lot!”

  Aichlan watched Francis for several moments, a grin spreading across his face. “Very well then Admiral Donnelyn, I will speak to her personally.”

  Francis crossed his arms and turned up his nose in a juvenile gesture. “Well I’ll ‘ave no part init.”

  “Next time I speak to Garrick I’ll be sure to tell him how well you’re watching out for his only son.” Aichlan badgered as he stood.

  “Assumin’ you suddenly talk to the dead, I think he’ll agree with ma methods…” Francis muttered sarcastically.

  “What? We leavin’ now?” Madden said through a mouthful of sausage and eggs.

  Aichlan sighed and tossed a wad of crumpled banknotes onto the table. “No. You stay here and watch them or something. I’ll return shortly, hopefully with that Rhodarcian witch in tow.”

  “Good luck.” Francis chuckled.

  “You could always help me.”

  “I could.”

  “Bah!” Aichlan waved Francis off as he hurried to the palace.