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Airathel watched as Valten departed, leaving his cup of wine nearly untouched. From her vantage at the table, outside of the Second Wind, she had a clear view of the road and the man now walking it. His armor and weapons clanked softly, his cloak and hood shrouding him from all but the most prying of eyes.
The mercenary had been in a good mood today, which was to say he had smiled once and had a few sips of wine. He had spoke more then usual, something Airathel sensed was unintentional. The man was nothing if not reticent.
As his silhouette slowly faded from view, Airathel's thoughts drifted to another man, similar in many ways to Valten.
Garret. She had not seen him in close to ten years now. The stabs of guilt and heartbreak had long subsided, given way to only the occasional feelings of melancholy.
Her thoughts turned inward, Airathel didn't even notice dusk arriving.
Upon her arrival in Berdusk, she had been unceremoniously dumped from the wagon that had been her prision, into a room not much larger. Briate had sneered at her one last time, then quickly departed at the ill-tempered urging of the man in black. They had locked the door behind them.
As she looked around the room, her eyes wet with tears, she missed her parents more then ever.
The abrupt opening of a door startled her, a yelp leaping unbidden from her lips as she spun around. Two men entered without preamble.
The first dressed in dull chainmail armor and carrying an array of weapons. Tall and powerfully buillt, with black, close cropped hair and a unshaven face, he had a hard appearance. Airathel could not meet his eyes.
Thus, she turned to the second man, who was only a step behind the warrior. This one had a more affable disposition. His dress was not so militant, though a small blade did swing at his hip. He wore a smile upon his lips, and immediately stopped to inspect Airathel. She had only been eight going on nine, and thus met his stare without a thought to her unkept appearance.
The warrior moved into a position beside the door, taking a relaxed stance and affecting a look of disapproval and disinterest. The other, having finished his inspection finally spoke, his voice with only the slightest of accent.
"Welcome my dear, Airathel is it?"
He waited only a second before continuing, it had been a redundant question.
"I trust you have not been mistreated by your travelling companions my dear." This time he paused for a moment, studying her closely. A sheepish shake of her head, in the negative, was all she could manage.
The man gave a quick glance back to his companion, who nodded to the unspoken command and departed at once.
"Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fortello, ah shall we say, your foster parent. I will be looking out for you from now on, and seeing to your studies." He seemed quite pleased with himself, though Airathel couldn't imagine why. Adults rarely made sense.
When she didn't say anything, he continued.
"I expect you would like to see your room, and some new clothes of course. You will need to look your best before I present you to Garret."
"Who is Garret?" she had asked, the question spoken before she could stop herself.
Fortello's smile broadened, apparently happy to hear her speak. His reply was, however, typical of an adult. Cryptic and condesending.
"Garret is someone you will be spending alot of time with my dear! I am sure you will get on famously."
After that, she had been handed over to two woman who refused to speak and had a haunted look about them. Both we're greying in the hair and the one in charge, Milsa, spoke with a heavy accent. Fortello simply introduced them and told them to have Airathel ready by the hour.
Outside the room, she was quickly lead down a long hallway, it's walls replete with oak. Gilded skances holding large blue candles lit the way, and they soon began to ascend a dark set of wooden stairs. Spiraling upwards of three floors, Airathel had little time to see what lie beyond the occasional doorway.
The destination was a well appointed bathroom with a steaming washtub already prepared. It was some kind of palace, or so she had thought. The woman set upon her with practiced, silent efficeny. Whatever her objections, it felt good to be clean so Airathel made no fuss.
Soon, she found herself in a small library or study, dressed in what she was sure had to be the most beautiful dress in the world. Milsa, and the other woman, Unsel, had helped her get into it. Along with new, leather shoes and a rigorous brushing of her hair, they had made her more then presentable. For a moment, looking the mirrior, the first smile since this had all begun, crossed her lips.
It had been then that Garret had entered, speaking as he did.
"Good afternoon, Airathel. My name is Garret. I am to be your tutor, did you know?" he asked.
Garret was a tall and handsome man, with medium length blond hair, his temples only a touch of grey. His clothes we're at once formal and relaxed, with knee high polished leather boots and a long light grey cape. Airathel didn't know what to say, so she simply shook her head.
"Well I am." Garret replied, expression jubilant as he slowly inspected her.
"Now then, where, shall we, begin?"
Reaching for her glass of wine, Airathel realized it was empty.
When had the sunset, she wondered.
The mercenary had been in a good mood today, which was to say he had smiled once and had a few sips of wine. He had spoke more then usual, something Airathel sensed was unintentional. The man was nothing if not reticent.
As his silhouette slowly faded from view, Airathel's thoughts drifted to another man, similar in many ways to Valten.
Garret. She had not seen him in close to ten years now. The stabs of guilt and heartbreak had long subsided, given way to only the occasional feelings of melancholy.
Her thoughts turned inward, Airathel didn't even notice dusk arriving.
Upon her arrival in Berdusk, she had been unceremoniously dumped from the wagon that had been her prision, into a room not much larger. Briate had sneered at her one last time, then quickly departed at the ill-tempered urging of the man in black. They had locked the door behind them.
As she looked around the room, her eyes wet with tears, she missed her parents more then ever.
The abrupt opening of a door startled her, a yelp leaping unbidden from her lips as she spun around. Two men entered without preamble.
The first dressed in dull chainmail armor and carrying an array of weapons. Tall and powerfully buillt, with black, close cropped hair and a unshaven face, he had a hard appearance. Airathel could not meet his eyes.
Thus, she turned to the second man, who was only a step behind the warrior. This one had a more affable disposition. His dress was not so militant, though a small blade did swing at his hip. He wore a smile upon his lips, and immediately stopped to inspect Airathel. She had only been eight going on nine, and thus met his stare without a thought to her unkept appearance.
The warrior moved into a position beside the door, taking a relaxed stance and affecting a look of disapproval and disinterest. The other, having finished his inspection finally spoke, his voice with only the slightest of accent.
"Welcome my dear, Airathel is it?"
He waited only a second before continuing, it had been a redundant question.
"I trust you have not been mistreated by your travelling companions my dear." This time he paused for a moment, studying her closely. A sheepish shake of her head, in the negative, was all she could manage.
The man gave a quick glance back to his companion, who nodded to the unspoken command and departed at once.
"Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fortello, ah shall we say, your foster parent. I will be looking out for you from now on, and seeing to your studies." He seemed quite pleased with himself, though Airathel couldn't imagine why. Adults rarely made sense.
When she didn't say anything, he continued.
"I expect you would like to see your room, and some new clothes of course. You will need to look your best before I present you to Garret."
"Who is Garret?" she had asked, the question spoken before she could stop herself.
Fortello's smile broadened, apparently happy to hear her speak. His reply was, however, typical of an adult. Cryptic and condesending.
"Garret is someone you will be spending alot of time with my dear! I am sure you will get on famously."
After that, she had been handed over to two woman who refused to speak and had a haunted look about them. Both we're greying in the hair and the one in charge, Milsa, spoke with a heavy accent. Fortello simply introduced them and told them to have Airathel ready by the hour.
Outside the room, she was quickly lead down a long hallway, it's walls replete with oak. Gilded skances holding large blue candles lit the way, and they soon began to ascend a dark set of wooden stairs. Spiraling upwards of three floors, Airathel had little time to see what lie beyond the occasional doorway.
The destination was a well appointed bathroom with a steaming washtub already prepared. It was some kind of palace, or so she had thought. The woman set upon her with practiced, silent efficeny. Whatever her objections, it felt good to be clean so Airathel made no fuss.
Soon, she found herself in a small library or study, dressed in what she was sure had to be the most beautiful dress in the world. Milsa, and the other woman, Unsel, had helped her get into it. Along with new, leather shoes and a rigorous brushing of her hair, they had made her more then presentable. For a moment, looking the mirrior, the first smile since this had all begun, crossed her lips.
It had been then that Garret had entered, speaking as he did.
"Good afternoon, Airathel. My name is Garret. I am to be your tutor, did you know?" he asked.
Garret was a tall and handsome man, with medium length blond hair, his temples only a touch of grey. His clothes we're at once formal and relaxed, with knee high polished leather boots and a long light grey cape. Airathel didn't know what to say, so she simply shook her head.
"Well I am." Garret replied, expression jubilant as he slowly inspected her.
"Now then, where, shall we, begin?"
Reaching for her glass of wine, Airathel realized it was empty.
When had the sunset, she wondered.