∼ Escort’s Duty ∼

Chapter - 079

‹ Eric ›

A firm knock on the door alerted Eric. It was time. Already outfitted and armed, Eric rose to his feet from the bedside where he sat, face solemn as he stared into the large mirror mounted to the wall. A stranger in black looked back. He was decked in black leather armor - a form-fitting slim cuirass that flowed into padded, round shoulder caps. Leather vambraces, and matching black greaves. Underneath the hard but flexible leather, he wore a tight-fitting sturdy but thin black cloth shirt and pants that'd withstand most cuts and jabs from common blades.

His outfit looked part uniform, part assassin's garb. It was meant to inspire fear. At his hip, was sheathed a simple, thin knife. Even while bearing no emblems, it still left no mystery to those in the city of Boreas for whom he worked. As his tousled black hair blended in with the attire, his green Moravian eyes contrasted it with a hard gaze. He couldn't recognize himself.

Eric sighed, moving towards the door and snuffing out the lit candle by a table on his way. The room was quite nice, furnished, and equipped with all the possible needs he'd have. Crowley really hadn't spared any expense making him comfortable. But as far as he knew, he actually treated almost all his men as such. Crowley was a practical man. Though, just as ruthless - if not more so.

Opening the door, Eric was met with the sight of six men clothed very similarly to him. They all stood at attention without missing a beat, It all felt surreal to him as he knew each of these men was stronger than him. Yet, here they stood. Him as their superior. Their captain. A man in front, older and taller than the rest, clothed more like him, nodded a greeting to Eric.

"Tarence," Eric acknowledged in a tone as neutral as he could muster.

Handing Eric a pin of metalwork, Tarence said. "Yer badge, sir."

Eric could've snorted, knowing that this man, Tarence, was not merely stronger than him - but worlds beyond. Someone that had reached his first advancement and specialized in his class, gaining power and experience far greater than any mere basic class holder like himself. But here he was, calling Eric - sir.

Looking down at the insignia in his hand, Eric couldn't fathom why he of all people had been given such a position. A captain leading people stronger than himself by many times over. And one now in charge of an individual apparently very important to the boss no less. He couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of trap, a test. Of course, it was a test. Everything he'd be doing from now on would be a test in that man's eyes. But with this, what exactly was Crowley planning?

With a sigh, he affixed the pin to his shoulder pad. Walking through the halls in silence, Eric and his men turned a bend. The instant he did, his world suddenly slowed down. A mountain of a man in black was walking towards them, a large cowl shrouding his features and a massive claymore strapped to his back. Eric recognized this man. This giant. Images of his wretched, beaten father returned to him as if unleashed from the flood gates. Images of three, chilling figures atop black stallions at Guard's Crossing.

Time slowed from a crawl to a near halt as the huge man was so close that Eric could hear his breathing. Heavy, like a mountain's croak. His presence was palpable. Something he could only remember feeling when in the same room as Crowley. Then... the giant passed them, having not spared Eric or his men a single glance. Eric wasn't even sure the man had noticed them there.

"Sir?" Tarence queried as Eric had stopped, looking after the man, the claymore at his back even larger than he had first thought. Longer than a full-grown man from blade to hilt.

Eric took a moment to respond to Tarence. "Who was that man?"

Now it was Tarence's time to look perturbed. A man of that caliber looking after the huge man with almost an equal amount of trepidation to Eric's. "That's Mason Fraser, The Butcher of Bainsbel. Also known just as Butcher."

A chill went down Eric's spine. He knew not of the name Mason Fraser. But Bainsbel. It had been a large town in Moravia that had been burned to the ground nearly a decade ago. Thousands of people, dead - slaughtered.

"Let's continue, sun's soon up," Eric said, stiffly, not waiting for Tarence to say anything as he began stalking down the hall in an even deeper silence than before. Tarence's eyes narrowed at the broad back of his young leader, curiosity dancing in his experienced eyes. But nonetheless, motioned the rest of the men to follow without a word.

With the rays of the morning sun beating at their eyes and the chill of the city coursing through the streets, they made their way down the pale avenue of the Ivory Lanes with calm but sure-footed haste. Nobles made way for their group, not even daring to utter a word of displeasure or the sound of hushed whispers. Neither were they accosted by any of the heavily-armored White Guard as they did little more than shoot scathing glares in their direction.

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The Stained Tooth's influence was that great - that even here in the noble district, they were just as feared.

Looking at the marbled streets and opulent homes, Eric hadn't expected to be back here in the Ivory Lanes so soon, not to mention with a reception this wildly different. This time, however, they weren't merely staying on the outskirts. Where minor nobles and petty merchants found themselves groveling their way into the elite society.

A carriage was waiting for them, tethered to strong black stallions with a cabin just as dark a shade.

Tarence settled himself as the coachman taking reins as Eric sat beside him, gazing at the surroundings whilst they moved by. The further in they traveled, the more decadent the houses became. To the point that some rivaled small castles. Comparing these nobles to his uncle, they seemed worlds apart.

At nearly the other end of the Ivory Lanes, towards Castle Caldshire that overlooked the entire city with all its grandiosity, Eric and his group came upon a colossal mansion. Pulling up to an iron-grated gate at the far end of the estate, past all its gardens and grounds, Eric noted the multitude of guards stationed all over and deep into the flower-bedded courtyard. If not for the mansion's luxuriousness, he would've thought it a fortress.

"She's here," Tarence said suddenly, bringing Eric out of his reverie.

He blinked in confusion. "She?" Tarence, however, did not get a chance to respond to Eric as a procession of people was approaching the gate. Guards parted to make way in an orderly fashion, revealing a petite figure flanked by a lanky custodian, a freckled maid, and two ominous bodyguards clothed like the men now under Eric's command.

Sitting there, Eric watched in captivated silence. A girl. Raven-haired and pale. She wore a graceful black dress that left only her slender arms and delicate ankles exposed, the picture of elegant innocence. Her green eyes told of Moravian descent, but looking closer, they were almost cyan. Meeting her gaze for the briefest of moments before she entered the carriage, she gave him, to Eric's surprise, a coy smile.

Unable to process the situation, Eric just sat there. The only other girl in Eric's memory that could possibly hope to match her was Aria in beauty. But dressed up as she was with her natural grace put up against Aria's concealing robes and shy disposition, it was a hard comparison to make.

Then it dawned on Eric. "Don't tell me... she's..." He paused, turning to look at Tarence.

But to Eric's dismay, the man nodded knowingly in affirmation. "Boss's daughter, Freya."

Without as much as another word, Eric wallowing with the earth-shattering revelation, Tarence pulled on the reins. In the silence of clipping hooves on marbled streets that followed, Eric's mind was steadily going down the road of turmoil. A multitude of paranoid questions racing with no apparent rime or reason. He had no answer. No logical explanation for that damned man's orders. Eric was at a total and utter loss.

"So∼ you're my new escort?" A voice as gentle as a calm breeze sounded. But it startled Eric nonetheless. Sitting in the front of the carriage Eric hadn't expected the sudden voice from just behind, and when he turned to face the voice, he saw the two cyan-green eyes peering out at him from a small hatch in the carriage with an eerie intensity.

"Hi Tarence," The girl said joyfully, taking a moment to greet the man before dragging her eyes back on the befuddled Eric. "My lady," Tarence simply nodded back, sparing her a glance before going back to watching the road.

"So?" She coed.

"I am..." He coughed awkwardly before adding. "My lady."

As if waiting for something more, she just stared at him. Though as to what, Eric did not know.

"Your name, silly." Said giggled finally, seeing Eric's perturbed expression.

He stated clumsily. "William,"

Cocking her head to the side as her face scrunched a little, she got a little closer to the opening, making him even more unsettled. "Oh yeah..?" There was a pause where something unrecognizable entered her all-too-keen eyes. "Well... alright then, I'm Freya. It's a pleasure, William."

Eric didn't know what to say back, not really knowing his place here. He knew he had been assigned as the captain of an escort, but what was proper? How did he speak to nobility, or at least someone with the status of one?

He looked to Tarence for help who merely sighed. "He's new to the family, my lady. Recently appointed by your father. So, it's Captain William." With some relief to Eric, it would appear that this behavior of hers, wasn't abnormal. But whether that made it easier or harder for Eric remained to be seen.

She gasped. "Captain? So young, though." She suddenly giggled. "What Tarence, have your old bones caught up to you?"

"I suppose so, my lady," Tarence said simply, holding himself almost as if an uncle to the strange young woman.

"Well, I'm sure William will do the job just fine. Won't you, Will?" Eric's brows rose, looking to Tarence as he hadn't really known just whose position he had taken. But as Tarence looked back at Eric, he was relieved to see no malice or anger in those weathered old eyes. Just the stone-hard determination of a seasoned warrior sworn to one task and one task only. To protect.

If Eric screwed this job up, it would seem that Crowley would only be one of two problems.

"I will," Eric said firmly, surprisingly without hesitation. Crowley's daughter or not, this girl felt as pure and innocent as a lamb. The only thing he had to worry about now were those piercing eyes that felt like they were peeling away at his facade, layer by layer. Or was it just his imagination?