“What’s wrong, Alie?” asked Lessa, her tone light as she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “You’ve been quiet ever since Bishop Rendel started his sermon.” Faced with a sudden breeze, she pulled her heavy grey shawl tighter around her shoulders, her thin, fur-trimmed overcoat not enough to stave off the late autumn chill.
Alistar, Lessa and Anice were currently following a lengthy throng of townsfolk down the great marble staircase of the cathedral, a large crowd visible in the surrounding square as was typical of the minutes following the conclusion of Sunday mass.
“I guess I’m not feeling too well,” he said, frowning down at his feet as they passed the halfway mark of the staircase.
“But you never get sick,” said Anice, who looked at him as if trying to spot a hidden mark on his face. “It was something the bishop said, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, though didn’t elaborate. Today’s sermon had been almost entirely dedicated to reiterating the degree to which Aglain the Betrayer had backstabbed all of humanity. The looks of disgust that all of the churchgoers had worn at every juncture within the tale’s telling had caused his stomach to turn, for if only they knew how much the so-called villain had suffered in the centuries since his disappearance then perhaps they would remember him as the hero he had once been known as.
Feeling the cold of his necklace’s oval headpiece, he felt the sudden desire to tear it from his neck and hurl it out into the buzzing crowd, though he naturally stayed his hand. He trusted Mr. Herst far more than any of the zealots that constantly denounced Drunish people as devils, the same people that would sleep with heartfelt smiles in the event that those like Mr. Herst and Ruk—even Emely, with her secret gifts—were subjected to terrible suffering.
“Is it because of Ruk?” Anice’s expression dropped at her own words. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, Alie. He probably just went to a quieter part of the county to get away from the city for a while.” She and Lessa had braided one another’s hair in several spots, lending them very pleasant looks that he normally would have appreciated with affectionate glances. Right now, however, he couldn’t muster so much as half a smile.
The young Drunish man in question had gone missing a little over a week ago, his kind eyes no longer greeting Alistar on his daily walks throughout the city whenever he cut across the craftsman district or passed through the marketplace. Hardly anybody seemed to give it any thought, and what was worse, many of the shop owners that the young man had done odd jobs for seemed particularly uplifted by his absence. He’d even overheard a couple of older women happily deliberating on selling their stores now that the property value was set to increase, words that had angered him nearly to the point of reprimanding them in public.
“He won’t come back.”
Alistar was positive that the quiet man’s disappearance had been nefarious in nature, for the day after he had last been seen Alistar had found his winter coat lying in a muddy puddle near a small business where he had regularly been employed to wash windows. This was the very coat that Alistar had paid for, a simple piece of clothing that Ruk had been endlessly grateful over, having thanked him at every opportunity in the days that followed the heartfelt donation. That, along with the fact that Ruk’s life signal was no longer present within the city, convinced him that somebody had taken their precious scriptures too seriously and done something drastic to the sweet-natured, innocent young man.
The girls frowned at the sureness of his words, both going quiet as they continued on down the stairs. Ruk hadn’t been the only Drunaeda to go missing in recent weeks, a frightening trend that seemed to have arisen in light of the holy delegation that was set to visit Mayhaven midway through the following year. Because of this, Alistar had grown very worried about Mr. Herst and had taken it upon himself to visit the man as much as his schedule would allow. On top of this, he’d also given him the protective charm that Mr. Albeck had made for him, just to be certain of his safety. After all, the elderly man lived alone on a discreet little plot of land, and due to his duties as a mentor for the city’s less fortunate youth, most people knew the location of his home.
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Visibly searching for another topic to transition into, Lessa forced a hopeful voice and said, “Do you two want to come over for lunch? Father invited some of his friends to come by and is planning to have a pig roasted today. I’m not too fond of that lot so I’d be happy if you both tagged along.”
“You hear that, Alie? Roasted pig! That means there’ll be plenty of that crispy skin you’re so fond of.”
He shook his head, glancing back at the cathedral with a complicated expression. How strange it was to feel such revulsion for a building, especially one with such vibrant aesthetical beauty. The marble sculptures that lined the staircase on either side, the tall, colourful windows of expertly-stained glass, the archways that were laced with dark, painted metal; the wonder he’d felt when he had first laid eyes on the place had long since left him.
“Did you two forget? Zech’s family’s opening up the tavern just for us today. We’re to celebrate the third star that he and the others just had put on their badges.”
“But that’s supposed to be around suppertime, isn’t it? We can still go to Lessa’s for lunch.”
“You two go. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before I head to the Lawson’s place.”
“But Alie…”
Lessa tugged at her friend’s thick, cotton sleeve. “If he says he has things to do, then he has things to do. We’ll see him later on, anyhow.”
Although his expression remained unchanged, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of appreciation for Lessa’s constant considerations. Although she never pried into his personal business past a certain point, she never failed to support his intentions and always spoke up on his behalf whenever he was pressed by others for even the smallest of things.
“I…okay then. Just make sure you eat something, Alie. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how little you’ve touched your food lately during mealtimes.”
He gave Anice a reassuring smile, or at least tried to. “I’ll see you girls in a bit.”
Breaking away from the mass of people at the bottom of the stairs, he hurried southward until he arrived at the central area of the city, falling into a measured sprint as he turned onto West Street and began heading toward the estate with purpose in his steps. He arrived home a short while afterward, rushing to his room where he tore off his holy oval and tossed it aside with disillusioned fingers. He was quick to replace the necklace with his mother’s locket, which had been resting safely within its hidden compartment behind his dresser along with the abundance of gold that the madman had given him. Included with these were the six golden lucets that he had been able to save up from both his allowance and his share of the reward money for the dozens of hunts that he had been on with his frontiersmen friends.
Opening the locket and carefully removing his precious, translucent red gem from within, he wondered why he wasn’t able to sense the limits to the energy it contained. Just like the most basic of magic crystals, exquisite-class ones were supposed to reveal the extent of their energy stores to anyone that made contact with them. This crystal, however, had never shown the slightest hint of what its true capacity was.
Returning his treasure to its place within the locket, he made sure that the locking mechanism was secure before he tucked it beneath his shirt and donned his darkest cloak. Stopping by the kitchen to fill up a wineskin, he dropped it off at the eastern gates on his way back toward the city, the little gift earning him the usual thanks from Harold and Rayson. These days the two guards liked to joke around by saying that he would never achieve his wish of sparring with either of them, for neither were of a mood to have their arses handed to them by someone a third their age. This time was no different, their lighthearted banter leaving Alistar smiling as he rushed down the dirt road that led to Mayhaven.