Castle of Flame

Chapter Eleven: Incidents Not Forgotten

When Elliott woke up to sunlight streaming through the window, he found that he had rolled over to face Laric in his sleep. Laric was watching him, his head propped up on his hand.

"Morning," said Laric, with a sly grin. "Sleep well?"

"Oh – yes, I suppose so," said Elliott. To his surprise, he had slept well, despite the horrific events of the day before. Laric jumped out of bed and began dismantling the pile of furniture and kitchen utensils so that they could leave the room via the door. "Well, we weren't attacked in the middle of the night, so that's good, right?"

"Yes, it's always nice to wake up with one's head still attached to one's body," said Laric. He finished clearing the doorway and unlocked the door. "Shall we have breakfast?"

Despite the light outside, it was before six o'clock in the morning, and the restaurant downstairs was void of patrons, except for one man sitting at a long communal table. He was in late middle age, with a graying beard and little hair, and he wore a heavy black cloak that seemed ill-suited to the summer weather. To Elliott, this wardrobe choice made him seem suspicious, but Laric led them over to eat with the man.

The man raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Laric and Elliott sat down facing each other on the long benches, a healthy distance from him, but close enough that it would be rude not to interact. Elliott wondered if talking to strangers was the sort of thing Laric did on a regular basis. Elliott didn't mind talking to people when he had to, but he wasn't likely to strike up conversations with strangers for fun. It was a skill he respected in others, but not something he felt a strong need to learn.

Laric tried speaking to the man in German, but at the man's blank look, he switched to English. "Do you live near here?"

The man seemed to consider for a moment, and then nodded, and spoke. "Not too far." His accent was hard to place; Elliott thought he might be from somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Laric took a sip of coffee, studying the man. "We're traveling through the area. Do you have any recommendations? Places to visit...or avoid?"

The man looked back and forth between Laric and Elliott. "The castle, usually. But I suppose you've heard what happened."

Laric glanced at Elliott. "No, what happened?"

"Wildfire. Took out the castle with all the royals inside." He grinned, showing yellow teeth. "Expect a descent into anarchy." So word hadn't gotten out that the German royals had, in fact, been murdered by Corvus's disciples. The fire might have destroyed all evidence that Corvus had orchestrated the deaths.

Laric's next words sounded offhand, but Elliott could tell they were measured. "That's concerning. Do you think there's anyone who will try to take over?"

The man's yellow teeth gleamed brighter. "He will come. Graf Corvus will come and lead us all into a better age."

Elliott sucked in his breath involuntarily, and he tried to conceal it by stuffing a slice of tomato into his mouth.

"I've heard of Graf Corvus," said Laric, "but he isn't well known where we come from. Can you tell us about him?"

The man glowed with excitement as he gripped his water goblet, the dull gunmetal rings on his fingers clinking against it. "He will change the world. Humans will no longer be subservient to fairies."

Laric frowned. "Are you human? Is this not a fairy establishment?"

"I am human, but not for much longer. When Graf Corvus has his way, fairies will have to share their magic with us."

Laric plastered a smile onto his face, but when he glanced at Elliott, Elliott could see the concern in his eyes. "How intriguing. And if we were interested in learning more about Graf Corvus, where would we look?"