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Remis sat directly across from a younger, much thinner, version of the gentleman who’d offered his help. Likely his son? If not, the young man had to be of some sort of relation. He had the same thick blond hair, cut short, and brushed away from his face in the same fashion Remis preferred. He sat with his hands folded in his lap and his leg crossed over his knee. The leg of his pants was high enough from his position that it revealed the fine, polished leather and gold buckles of the stranger’s boots.
Gold, as it would seem, was everywhere upon these men. Their carriage shone with the fine details of it. They glittered like the midday sun with the rings upon their hands. The older of the two wore several thick chains around his neck and a gaudy ruby pendant. The younger had forgone the necklaces but sported two slender gold hoops in his ears.
It was the young man who watched Remis with quiet curiosity. He couldn’t be much older than Remis, if at all. Twenty-five? Twenty-four even?
Clearing his throat, Remis tried his best to give a genuine smile. He was thankful to be well on his way to help. “My name is Nikremis Lexmore. This is Percy Scout and Merritt Densmore.” He pointed to his friends.
The older of the two nodded but said nothing. Finally, the younger man spoke. “I’m Valen Brendal.” He extended his hand but grimaced when Remis reached out with bloodied fingers. Valen forced the grimace into a smile but slowly lowered his hand back into his lap. “This is my father, Vigor Brendal.”
“Vigor Brendal?” Merritt sat forward. “As in Warlord Vigor Brendal?”
That would explain the copious amount of jewelry and gold.
Vigor sat taller in his seat. “You’ve done us a wonderful thing on this night,” he began as the carriage jostled forward, “You’ve not only saved yourselves but protected our fine city. When we saw the fire in the sky we came right away.”
Not soon enough to keep Remis from his aching shoulder or Merritt from his blistered hands. Their timing had been near perfect that the actual terrible fighting of it was over.
“Where is your patrol?” Percy asked, not disguising his annoyance.
The warlord blinked slowly. “No one wants to be on patrol.”
Remis did his best not to scowl at his answer. No one wanted to be on patrol? It was a very honored position throughout all of Augustine. Not to mention the warlords paid a healthy sum of money to those who worked it. Most of the lower class tripped over themselves trying to get into the rotation and earn enough extra to elevate their family amongst society. He couldn’t fathom a city where no one wanted to work the job.
“As my father was saying, we would like to extend our thanks and welcome you into our home. We have a wonderful physician on staff who can take care of your injuries and then we can have a carriage ready to take the three of you over to the inn for the night. Your stay will be on us, of course.'“ Valen remained pleasant despite the way his father’s face had fallen at the mention of the patrol.
One of Remis’ hands fell to brush against his pocket, the only small bit of coin they had left. If the warlord wanted to cover their care and put them up in the inn overnight, then there wouldn’t be a word of complaint on his end. They all desperately needed this.
“That is most gracious of you,” Remis mumbled.
Now that the excitement of it all was fading his entire body felt sore. His shoulder, his legs, and those damn blisters on his feet made him want to curl up in bed and sleep for days.
“Where are the three of you coming from? What brings you to Olden?” Valen asked while looking out the window in such a way that it didn’t appear he cared much for the answer. What is so important that you’d risk your lives during dragonis season, was the unasked question.
Merritt's hands rested palm up, exposing his blisters. He stared down at his hands before answering. “Left Breock at dusk. Ran into some highwayman and walked the rest of the way here.”
“Highwaymen?” Valen sucked in a breath. “They must be desperate.”
They weren’t the only ones.
Merritt didn’t expand upon their reason for their travels and Valen didn’t press. One more thing to be thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what these men would think of them if they knew their true reason; that Remis didn’t want word getting out to anyone else who might have the same ambitions as them.
The rest of the ride was done in silence. Both the warlord and his son were content to leave their conversation at that while Remis and his friends slouched into their seats, exhaustion sinking into their bones.
It wasn’t long before they came to a stop behind a five-story manor. Gravel ran in an arcing drive behind the building and stopped at the bottom of the back steps. Someone pulled the door open, and the warlord rose first.
“Servant’s entrance,” Valen explained, “We both have some business to attend to but I’ll walk you in and get you acquainted with the physician.” He stepped out and waited with his hands clasped behind his back until the three had managed to step out.
The moment his feet touched the rocky drive, a shiver passed over him and the huntress mark on his hand pulsed. He let his fingers curl into his palm until his nails dug into the fabric tied there.
From here, Remis could get a good look at the warlord’s home. He’d never met the warlord that held his own territory. Nor had he ever seen a warlord’s house since their own warlord lived in the next city over, opposite the direction they had to travel today. Remis knew they were wealthy; the families that had helped Emperor Grandith claim the country were each rewarded with riches and land. Now they lorded over their slivers of Augustine like kings.
Remis thought his own home was grand, if not extravagant, but this…this building wasn’t a home, it was an altar made to worship man. The outside was plain but not in a boring way. The paint on the shutters looked fresh and the knob was an expensive gold to match the carriage. A few steps led up to the already open door which revealed colorful tile. He had to remind himself to shut his mouth for fear an insect might just fly right in as he gaped.
They entered a mud room of sorts with coats hung near the exit. Several closed doors to their right and a long hallway to their left.
“Follow me,” Valen said, walking quickly down the darkened hall. Whatever business these men had to attend to, it would appear by the pace Valen had set, that they were running late. Remis wasn’t particularly tall for a man, so in Valen’s wake, he took two steps for Valen’s one. The man’s long lanky body easily ate up the distance.
Percy was all out scowling now and holding his book so tightly his fingers were beginning to dimple the cover. Merritt had taken up position in the back, likely for the very reason that Percy might need an extra nudge to keep going.
