Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 62

The setting sun painted the Henris manor in a russet glow. In the darkening gloom of the gardens, fireflies flickered and crickets chirped. Soft sounds of flowing water came from somewhere unseen.

Alastair lowered his hood, standing before the front gates.

Whatever his plans may have been, coming home was not one of them.

Yet here he was.

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The carriage of the Council Mages had forcefully broken through the Brittlerock checkposts shortly after the party of soldiers and mercenaries had set off for Byton with Clearstrike. Hence, the Second Lieutenant sent forth a small unit to warn the party of the pursuing mages.

Besides Eliora, Captain Rivera and some patrollers, Alastair was one of them.

Yet when they finally caught up, it was too late. The mages managed to get to them first--and off they all went behind the closed doors of the Council Headquarters.

Having not the patience to wait outside the entire day, he wandered the city, hood drawn, face lowered-- and none spared a second glance at the youngest of the Henris passing by them. He lingered in the gambling houses of the upper district, catching brief glimpses of his old pals he had left behind when he'd set off for Kinallen in search of glory, accompanied by his newfound trusted friend, Dion. A hired killer who now sits at King Forthwind's dungeon.

He knew not where to go, for everywhere there was naught but loneliness--be it the peaceful streets of the temple district, crowded lanes of the marketplace, or the squalor of the taverns in the lower district.

Wherever he went, the visions haunted him; images of Dion being dragged into the underground cell where Alastair been locked up, the soldiers beating him senseless when the assassin attempted the swallow Glikayne from a pendant around his neck. The sounds of fists hitting flesh rang in his ears, crystalline grains of the powdered poison spilling from the hollow pendant and glittering like diamonds in dim light flashed before his eyes, the way they had been for the past few weeks.

He had kept that pendant. Thankfully, there was no one to stop him if he tried to make use of it.

Only one person in the city of hundreds of thousands awaited his arrival--too bad that she happened to live with the one who wanted him dead.

Nothing scared him any longer. Alastair Henris was already finished.

And thus, the sole reason he stepped foot in the premises of the Henris manor today was Lady Tassya, his older sister.

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He went in.

Past the front gates, past the flanking marble columns adorned with flowering vines, and into the great hall.

"Young master?" said an awestruck old servant.

"What?" snapped Alastair, letting his heavy knapsack hit the floor and ease off his shoulders.

The old man flinched, but regained his calm soon enough, as though he expected no better from the spoilt young Henris. "Nothing, young master," he said with a soft smile. "It is good to see you again."

Rolling his eyes, Alastair stormed past him without acknowledgement, boots stomping on the staircase.

"The Lady is in her chambers," said the servant without him asking, then collected his knapsack from the floor to take it to his room upstairs.

Alastair halted at the top of the stairs, watching the old man struggling to climb up.

The disdainful looks of the soldiers from Kinallen flashed in his vision.