Fourteen

The days bled together. Marcus and Alissa kept each other busy by teaching one another how to read in their own language. After a week , Marcus was able to sound out the alphabet. There were over forty different letters to memorize, but after Alissa’s exemplary teaching abilities, he was able to recite them from memory. Alissa, on the other hand, could already read simple words in English and even understand them. Her ability to learn astounded him, and it was something that he had never seen before.

The nights were a little bit more tedious. Marcus was forced to sit through long lectures about the proper procedures a personal guard was expected to carry out. They were very boring and just as long, but Franklin always somehow made them worse with his unchanging face and monotone narration. Still, Marcus forced himself to pay attention. He knew how important it was that he fulfilled his duties perfectly. He didn’t want to give anyone any reason to have his mistakes fall back on Lady Alissa.

“No, no. That symbol makes a woo sound.” Alissa pointed out with her finger as the carriage rocked from side to side. Marcus had taken up driving the carriage with Lady Alissa sitting next to him. They had found this to be the best way for them to talk and teach each other, much to the chagrin of Franklin. He didn’t like the fact that Lady Alissa was sitting out in the open, he would have much preferred for her to be behind the protection of the carriage but had eventually succumbed to her authority when she pulled out the puppy-dog eyes.

“Haaa, I’ll get it eventually, I guess.” Marcus lamented, giving the reins a sharp tug to the right, doing his best to avoid a large rut in the road. “We’re going to reach Kinkaid in a few hours, right?”

“Yes, we should. It is the last village before we reach… Pol Trulant.” Alissa explained, her face and shoulders slumping.

The abrupt, solemn atmosphere beat back the warm sunlight around them, instantly killing the light conversation between them. During their journey so far, they had been so occupied with each other that even Marcus had forgotten what they were heading towards. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Lady Alissa would have to face her future head-on.

But that time hadn’t come just yet.

“You know what I’m looking forward to?” Marcus began after clearing his throat of the dust kicked up by the carriage in front of him. “A bath. I’m so tired of wiping down with wet rags.”

“Oh… yes, that does sound so refreshing,” Alissa replied after a brief moment, the back of her hand removing a tear that had attempted to escape her rosy cheek. “…Marcus.”

“Yeah?”

Alissa took in a shuddering breath as she wrung her hands in her lap. “Do you think I’ll be happy?”

“I…” Marcus stopped, mulling over what was the best thing to say. He was never any good at expressing or talking about feelings; it was one of his many flaws and the source of most of his failed relationships. “I don’t know. I’m not going to lie to you. I have no idea what is going to happen. But whatever does, just remember, I’ll be there with you.”

He punctuated his words by wrapping his sizable hand around hers that were still working at each other in her lap. Like always, they were soft and unnaturally warm, but he ignored the heat seeping into his chest and made sure that she was somewhat ok before changing the subject. “Do you think they’ll have beer in Kinkaid?”

“They have ale everywhere, Marcus,” Alissa said, turning to face him with red, puffy eyes coupled with a small smile. “I think I am in the mood for something a bit… stronger.”

“I didn’t take you for a drinker.” He said, releasing her hands and looking forward to make sure they didn’t run off the road. “You look more like a ‘stay home and play monopoly’ kind of girl.”

Lady Alissa stared at him open-mouthed as she saw Marcus’ lips curve up into a smile. “I do not know what any of that means, but I can tell that you are making fun of me?” She crossed her arms across her chest in mock outrage. “I will have you know that I was quite popular at all of the balls and banquets. There were many times my father chastised me for my ‘improper’ behavior.”

Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. He could practically see the diminutive girl doing keg stands at a fancy ball while her friends held her skirts or playing beer pong with crystal chalices against old, stuffy men with waxed mustaches. “I’m sure you were a real hellraiser.”

The rest of the way to Kinkaid was filled with teasing and laughter, the seriousness of earlier completely forgotten by the time they reached the outlying village. Kinkaid was hardly big enough to be marked upon the map, but it was nonetheless, and as Lady Alissa had said, was the last community within Lorenth before reaching the border. Its largest contribution to the city-state was the wool it produced from the thousands of sheep roaming the large plains surrounding its towering wooden walls and the smell that came with them.

The gates were wide open as they rumbled into the town. It seemed as if every single one of the village’s guards were lined up to greet them. Although their armor was in no way in as good condition as the capital’s guards, it still looked as if they had spent the entire previous day and night polishing them. Just like at birthdays and Christmas, it was the thought that mattered most.

As Lady Alissa’s gilded carriage passed the waiting lines of guards, they slammed their fists onto their bronze chest plates just over their hearts. The clash of fists on metal echoed off the timber walls, the sound muffled by the padding lining Marcus’ helmet.

Marcus was in full armor, and a crimson cape was even draped across his wide shoulders. It was part of his ceremonial dress and boasted silver thread embroidery along the edges that matched the nature-themed etchings of his armor. The looks the guards gave him as they passed filled him with pride, and the hushed whispers and pointing of the crowds behind them made him sit up a little straighter.

He only wished that Alissa was still sitting next to him.

Franklin had insisted that Lady Alissa stay inside the carriage as they entered Kinkaid. Not only was it much safer since any would-be assassins wouldn’t be able to get to her as easily, but apparently, it would cause a political scandal if she was caught in public riding on top of the carriage instead of inside it.

For being considered a ‘backwater’ village by the rest of the country, Marcus had to say that the roads were much easier to navigate than the capital by far. It could have been because there were only two main streets running parallel through the crowded buildings, but he liked to think it was simply because they were straight and didn’t wind all over the place , all willy-nilly and without purpose.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the largest inn in the village. It was three stories tall, well-weathered, and had a pair of chipped stone pillars holding up its front eave. Not a soul was in sight. The soldiers accompanying them had already arrived and driven out any other patrons who had checked in. Marcus didn’t really think that was the right thing to do but could understand the reasoning behind such heavy-handed tactics.

Marcus dismounted the carriage, taking care not to rock it more than necessary. He walked around to the side door and opened it, holding out his gauntleted hand for Lady Alissa to take. Neither he nor Lady Alissa felt it necessary for all of the pomp and circumstance, but just like her being unable to ride on the driver’s bench into the village, there were certain things that they could and could not do.

He took up his position just behind Lady Alissa and slightly to the left. He was always supposed to be close enough to react to anything that might happen but far enough away that it wouldn’t be considered ‘improper.’ Franklin really enjoyed throwing that word around during his lessons; Marcus thought it would have been easier for him to just list everything that was considered ‘proper’ instead, which would have really shortened his lectures.

They approached the front door, an attendant rushing ahead of them to open it. Lady Alissa, her shoulders back and her eyes staring down her button nose looked to be a picture-perfect noble lady. Her dress was made from the finest silk and was dyed a blushing pink that caused her golden hair to shine. It flowed over her body like a gentle stream, the sleeves opening at the wrists into large bells, and the hem would have dragged on the grimy floorboards if she hadn’t lifted it between her slender fingers.

Marcus had to duck to enter the reception area, the top of his helmet scraping against the top of the entranceway. Luckily, no one was able to see the embarrassment on his face, although no one in their right mind would dare laugh at him. Straightening up, Marcus did his best to look imposing and, from the anxious and terrified looks on the faces of the poor proprietors of the inn, figured he was doing a bang-up job.

He stopped as Lady Alissa did, just in front of the long desk separating them from the frozen owners, the floorboards groaning dangerously as they struggled to support his weight. Before he donned his armor, he was close to three hundred pounds; with it on, he was pushing four hundred and fifty. Silence reigned supreme within the inn; only the labored breathing of the plump woman and her rail-thin husband gave any hints of life. Marcus was wracking his mind on who was supposed to talk in a situation like this, but nothing Franklin had gone over had prepared him for this.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about it for long.

“Lady Alissa Merideth Dresden, Daughter of Duke Harold Exavier Dresden, requires a room for two days.” The male attendant announced the same one that had opened the door for them.

The thin, older owner of the inn wiped the sweat from his brow with a soiled handkerchief, his eyes wide and shifty as he chewed on his bottom lip. The poor man was as pale as a sheet and looked like he was liable to keel over at any given moment. His wife didn’t look any better; her large bosom was heaving as if she had just run around the village, and her wrinkled hands pulled at her threadbare apron.

“I… uh… um… Yes, a room…” The old man stuttered, bobbing his head like a starving bird. “A room, for… Lady Dresden, of course.” Marcus was beginning to suspect that he was suffering from some kind of disorder before he finally seemed to even out. “Our best room is… on the third floor. It was… occupied, but it will not be an issue. Please allow us to get it ready for your stay. It will only be a moment.”

Before the old man could dash away upstairs, the attendant stopped him. “That will not be necessary. Our staff will prepare the room. We only ask that you show us the way.”

“Ah, yes. That is fine.” The old owner agreed, although his face was still twisted in anxious worry. “Please, follow me.”

All around them, a flurry of activity unfolded. As the owner led the one attendant away, even more maids and attendants flooded into the inn, bringing along with them all kinds of amenities and furnishings from the carriages outside. They were transforming the entire inn into something much grander than it was, something fit for a noble. Though no number of potted flowers and golden baubles could cover up the pervasive smell of spilled ale and vomit that had seeped into the floorboards over the years.

“Come along,” Lady Alissa demanded as she turned back to the door. “I wish to peruse the local market.”

Marcus struggled to hold in a snort of laughter at the pretentious tone of her voice. She hadn’t talked like that at all since he had met her , and he knew she was only putting on a show. Although, he didn’t doubt that most of the other nobles really did talk like that all of the time.

“I don’t think Franklin will like you heading into the village by yourself,” Marcus said glibly, his voice coming out in a deep resonance due to his helmet.

“Nonsense,” she said as she turned and looked up at him with a bright smile. “You are with me. And he is not due back from the mayor’s office for a bit, so we should have plenty of time before he returns.”

“To think that such a refined lady would be such a bad influence,” Marcus said, shaking his head and grimacing at the metal-on-metal screech it produces. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Oh, hush. You are the one that abducted me from my tent in the middle of the night.” She chastised him, poking at his chest in a playful manner. “And I do not see you attempting to stop me now. If anything, it is you who is the corrupting influence.”

“I’m offended,” Marcus said, taking in a sharp gasp while placing his hand on his chest.

Lady Alissa rolled her eyes so hard that Marcus thought she might have pulled something. Usually, Marcus would have associated that small act with rebellious teenagers, not a ‘prim and proper’ noble lady. Seeing her behave in such a way reminded him just how young the woman really was and the fate that awaited her. He hated it. He just wanted to take her away, shield her from the responsibilities she couldn’t avoid.

“C’mon,” he said as he tried to keep his tone light despite his somber thoughts. “Let’s find that market while Mr. Grumpy Breeches is still talking to the mayor.”

The market wasn’t very hard to find. It was only two streets over from the inn they had commandeered. Two dozen wooden stalls were set up surrounding a tall oak tree that looked like it pre-dated the village as a whole, and the merchants operating them shouted over each other like they were seeing who could scream the loudest. There were brick-and-mortar stores as well, but not nearly as many, and it looked as if they were one of the first buildings constructed in the village due to their peeling paint and rotted wood.

A strong breeze could have knocked them over. He would have to keep Alissa out of those.

Marcus kept his position just behind Lady Alissa, the people going about their shopping parting in front of them like the Red Sea. Even with the waning sunlight, there were still plenty of people around them, all staring with fear and trepidation. Marcus wondered what interactions they might have had with nobles in the past; whatever they were, he didn’t think that they were good.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Lady Alissa approached the closest stall. Her head was still held high despite the gawking crowd. Marcus was a little concerned by how everyone was reacting to her presence and was starting to think that maybe it would be a good idea to return to the inn.

Marcus leaned forward to whisper in her ear through his helm. “Do you think we should head back?”

“Why would we want to do that?” Alissa asked him as she picked up a juicy-looking apple from the stall in front of them, the cowed vendor staring intently at his feet.

“No one will even look at you. I don’t think they’ve had very good experiences with nobles.”

“Marcus,” Alissa said, turning towards him and offering him the apple. “It is not me that they are frightened of.”

Plucking the fruit from her hands, Marcus scanned the crowd from behind the slit in his helmet. Alissa was right; every time he moved his head to look in a certain direction, the crowd would flinch and immediately lower their heads. It wasn’t the beautiful noblewoman that they were wary of.

It was the nearly seven-foot tall, massive, armored man accompanying her.

Letting out an internal sigh, Marcus quickly thought up a plan that would either help or make everything worse. Spotting the nearest child clinging to his mother’s skirts, Marcus clomped directly towards them. Of course, this caused the child to let out a small whimper and his mother to hide him behind her. Not the best start he could have imagined.

He stopped right before them both, his towering body casting a large shadow that blotted out the setting sun. With one hand, he freed his head from his helmet, giving the woman and her son a large, disarming smile. He crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, and presented the apple to the small boy.

He looked like he had been fed well enough but still looked like he could eat some more. “Here, take it.” Half the boy’s face peeked out from behind plain tawny fabric, his dark brown eyes looking at the apple with open desire. “Go ahead.”

Cautiously, the boy reached out with a grimy hand, the clear signs of making many mudpies underneath his nails. His little fingers wrapped around the red fruit and gently lifted it from Marcus’ palm. Marcus really hoped he washed his hands before he ate it.

“There you go; enjoy it,” Marcus said, standing up. He gave the boy a smile before directing it towards his mom.

The crowd around him started to murmur in hushed voices. From what he could overhear, Marcus concluded that his plan worked, more or less. Many people still looked at him with trepidation and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, but the obvious fear on their faces was gone.

“That was very sweet of you, Marcus,” Alissa said as she bounced towards him. The crowd was still giving her plenty of space but moving as it had before they arrived. The hawkers had started squawking once again, but just like the crowd, their voices were much more subdued.

Marcus ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he tucked his helmet underneath his arm and looked down at the bubbly woman. “People just needed to see that I wasn’t going to crush their heads with my bare hands if they looked at me funny.”

Alissa laughed like a bell as she smiled up at him. “You are very scary…”

“Marcus? Marcus, is that you?!” A voice shouted out over the crowd, drawing Marcus and Alissa’s attention away from each other.

Marcus’s great height let him peer over the crowd, allowing him to see a familiar face he thought he would never see again. “Jorel!”

Marcus almost pushed his way through the crowd but stopped himself before he could. He couldn’t leave Alissa standing there by herself amongst so many people. So, instead, he waited there watching the long-haired, half-elf weaving through the crowd towards him.

“The Gods have truly smiled upon me today!” Jorel cried out as he clasped Marcus’ forearm, Marcus doing the same. “How are you, my friend? I would have never thought that I would ever see you again.”

“I’m happy to see you doing so well,” Marcus said, slapping the much smaller man on the shoulders. “You were in really rough shape…”

“And I have you to thank for saving my life.” Jorel asserted, bowing his head low before turning his amber-colored eyes to his silver armor and crimson cape, then to Alissa, who was standing quietly by. “Oh, please forgive me. I should have known… I didn’t mean to interrupt you in your duties.”

Jorel knew that Marcus was a branded slave. Although Marcus had never told him anything about his master, he could still put two and two together. He could only hope that he wouldn’t be punished too severely for the interruption.

“Jorel. This is Lady Alissa Dresden. Alissa, this is Jorel.” Marcus introduced them to each other, noticing Jorel’s suddenly pale face at the mention of Alissa’s last name. Jorel immediately kneeled, his knee sinking into the soft dirt. His loose hair fell towards the ground and fluttered in the cool, late summer breeze. His actions caused the crowd around them to grow still for the second time that day.

“Oh, my.” Alissa gasped, “Please, stand. I cannot have a friend of Marcus dirtying himself on my account.”

Jorel took a few deep breaths before slowly getting to his feet. A smile found its way onto his handsome face, but Marcus could tell it was forced. “I pray your forgiveness, my lady. If I had known I was in the presence of a high-born lady such as yourself, I would never have been so rude.”

“You are forgiven.” Lady Alissa said with a nod of her head, her own face displaying a range of emotions Marcus found difficult to identify. “Now, do not let my presence interfere with your fated reunion, but perhaps we should move somewhere more private.”

Marcus plopped a little cube of sugar into the steaming cup of tea in front of him. He had never been one to really enjoy tea; some of it was ok, but tea just lacked the oomph of a good cup of coffee. Still, the hot liquid coated his tongue with a pleasant flavor of citrus and mint, a strange mixture that somehow worked very well together.

Jorel sat across from him, the anxious look on his face not having gotten any better since the market square. The half-elf held his teacup between his hands, his eyes gazing past the ribbons of steam rising lazily into the air. Lady Alissa took up the chair right next to Marcus and was enjoying her own cup of tea. Her posture was perfect; her hair hung in loose curls that fell to her shoulders, and she hummed a happy tune as she sipped at her cup.

Marcus had decided it best to make their way back to the inn. Lady Alissa hadn’t objected to the idea; their shopping trip was only spur of the moment and had been ruined anyway because of the way they stood out. Neither of them thought their presence would have caused such a scene.

“Why do you look like you’re sitting on death row?” Marcus asked Jorel, his baritone tenor startling the half-elf out of whatever horrid thoughts were racing through his mind.

Jerking his head up, Jorel looked at him, then to Lady Alissa, who gave him a bright and friendly smile. “You remember what I had told you about my mother?” Jorel asked Marcus in a retrained voice. “My father was… he was of noble birth…”

“Ahh…” Marcus nodded, his eyes going wide before they naturally drifted over to Lady Alissa. Ever the brilliant mind, Lady Alissa looked to Jorel’s long, tapered ears and warm, amber eyes. His skin was void of any imperfections, his build was slim and elegant, and his features bordered on too perfect; it was abundantly clear that he was not fully human, and from his words, she could figure out why.

“Marcus,” Lady Alissa said as she elegantly rose to her feet. “It is growing late. I believe I will retire for the night. Sir Jorel, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you know that any friend of Marcus is a friend of mine. Goodnight to the both of you.”

“Goodnight, Alissa.” Marcus bade as he and Jorel both stood.

“Goodnight, Lady Dresden…” Jorel squeezed out, his eyes on the heavily stained table in front of him.

They both waited until the young woman disappeared up the stairs before retaking their seats. Jorel’s complexion already looked much better, but his voice was still low like he was afraid of someone overhearing him as he spoke. “You never mentioned your master being Lady Dresden.”

“She isn’t,” Marcus said, finishing his tea in a single gulp. “Her father is.”

“…oh…” Was all Jorel said before he looked up at Marcus, his eyes welling with guilt filled tears. “Marcus, I’m so, so sorry…”

“What for?” Marcus asked, genuinely confused. Jorel had been terrified ever since hearing of Alissa’s status. He knew that his mother had been a slave, and from what he had said, his father was a nobleman, but Jorel never went into details about everything that had happened between him and his father.

“Your punishment will be severe, and it is all my fault. I should have never interrupted you in carrying out your duties. You see, my father was not a good man. When my mother displeased him…” Jorel explained as he subtly shook his head. “After everything you have done for me… and this is how I repay you.”

Jorel’s tone was distraught. Marcus could feel the pain that those memories brought back to him. Reaching over, Marcus grasped his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “Jorel, Lady Alissa is the kindest soul I have ever met. Relax. I will not be punished, not for anything you did.”

“…truly?” Jorel asked, looking back at him.

“Really,” Marcus said with a smile before giving him a good shake and leaning back in his chair. “Now, tell me, how have you been? What happened to you after you woke up?”

Jorel finally took a sip of his now lukewarm tea, clearing his throat before he began. “Well, as you can imagine, I was very confused when I awoke inside my home.”

“Your house?” Marcus asked, interrupting him. “How did they know where you lived?”

“My hunter’s insignia,” Jorel explained as he uttered a few strange words, causing a small tattoo to appear on the back of his hand. “It is registered at the Hunter’s Hall and holds all my personal information. That is how Sir Haverdash was able to find my home. He is the healer who was with me when I regained my senses and explained everything you had done for me.”

Marcus thought back to the old healer that had initially saved Jorel’s life, and immediately discounted him being this Sir Haverdash . That man was much too foul-tempered to be willing to look after the half-elf unless someone had offered him a large amount of money. He was sure that gold coins were able to move that miser’s heart more than anything else. “What did he look like?”

“Sir Haverdash? He was of middle age, my height, with brown hair and black eyes.” Jorel described him. “Very well-mannered for a mage. I was equally surprised as I was confused, in all honesty.”

“He’s not the one I was thinking about then,” Marcus concluded out loud. “What happened next?”

“After explaining how I got home, he left,” Jorel explained as he shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me where I could find you or give me any other information. I tried for some time but had no luck in finding you. Now I understand why.”

“They were pretty tight-lipped about you as well, but I’m happy to see you’re doing well.” He said, waving over a passing maid for more tea. “So, what are you doing all the way out here?”

“I should ask you the same question,” Jorel said, leaning back to allow the maid to also fill his cup. “And what is all of this? If I didn’t know better, I would say that you were the nobleman here.”

“It’s a long story. So, to sum it up, I’m Lady Alissa’s guardian.” Marcus told him, resting both of his elbows on the table between them. “She’s off to get married, and I’m going with her.”

“So, you are leaving Lorenth?” Jorel asked after a moment of thought.

“The day after tomorrow, and I doubt I’ll be back. Not for a long time.”

Jorel worked at his bottom lip for a bit before nodding his head. He leaned over and started rummaging around in his pack, taking out a familiar water skin and plopping it onto the table. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Marcus reached over, taking the leather pouch in his hands. He rolled it around between his fingers, feeling the few dozen pea-sized mana stones rolling around inside. “You went back?”

“I did. It took a little while to find where we dropped them; as you may recall, it was a little hectic at the moment, but I eventually found both our packs.” Jorel then plopped down another leather pouch, this one making a very distinctive clank as it hit the table. “This is yours as well. What I owe you for the healer you hired.”

“I can’t take that, Jorel,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “You need it more than I do. I don’t mean that in a mean way, but I have everything I could need.”

“Marcus, I insist. You may not think you need the gold, but should you ever find yourself in a precarious situation, you may find a use for it.” Jorel told him as he pushed the pregnant sack of coins across the table towards him.

Marcus crossed his arms across his chest, his brows furrowed as he stared down the money pouch. He knew that Jorel had a much more dangerous occupation than he did and could definitely use the money. Then again, the half-elf made a very good point. Marcus had no money to his name and would never get paid for his services. It would be a good idea to have some means of supporting himself, and possibly Lady Alissa, should something unforeseen happen to them.

“This won’t put you out?” He asked, looking away from the pouch and over to Jorel.

Shaking his head, Jorel’s silky black hair shimmered in the torchlight. “Not in the least. The eggs we collected went for a premium, not to mention the parts from the Bramble Wyrm were most welcomed by the Hunter’s Hall. They had not seen one of those in ages.”

“Well, if you’re certain…” Marcus said as he scooped up the heavy pouch. He was still a little reluctant to take money from his friend; he really hoped he wouldn’t need it.