The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Five

[Demosthenes' POV]

I did not know how much of what I said the raven understood, but sure enough it managed to follow my silent instructions without much delay.

The moment it sailed into the air we saw the lantern and its paper light, that lifted it into the sky, attached to the thread winding down to the raven, where it was tied in a knot loosely around his neck, but under the ruffled fluff of feathers that stuck out as a ladies fur scarf. And we followed hot on its pursuit.

In the case of an accident, should the string detach or the light inside the lantern go out, the string get tangled in the branches of the trees if the bird flew too low, too close, I had Cigol with me, riding ahead, following carefully. I doubted there was anything that could escape Cigol's eyes. 

With that we had ridden out into the dying light, our horses taking up much of the pathway. My armour matched closely to that of my knights, so that should someone suffer the idiocy of choosing to attack me on this evening surrounded by my men, they would struggle to find me.

Fifty or so men, about twenty in silver armour, double walled, so that each man sounded like two, and the sound of trotting racing through the gloomy pathway, torchlight making a pitiful attempt to light the way, as we followed the barest hint of light floating off in the sky.

Flickering against the dark blue curtain, swaying, changing course, but heading in one clear direction.

Large trees were black against the brighter sky, the path was cold and damp, a cold breeze pressing against us as the horses followed fast.

All the way to the Mitter on horseback. The consideration that the raven might just be taking us all to his nest resting in the back of my mind the entire trip.

When we arrived and the raven perched on that opening in the wall, the lantern drifting in the air still, I was apprehensive.

We marched up to the doors and opened them and eyes grew large as they saw the armour and the crest, glinting in the foggy dimly lit downstairs filled with degenerates round tables, drinking and gambling and hugging barely clad women.

A brothel.

I looked around the place, a deadly eye pinning back every person, cold and unhappy.

"H- How can I help you sirs?" A larger lady in later years with a long dress and apron came to greet us, her strongly flushed face reminiscent of someone well accustomed to drink.

"Do you know a man named Elpis?" I asked her, a slight smile on my face that did not bleed through to my eyes.

"Elpis..." Her breath shuddered, she looked up at me, one of her girls hovering behind her, drawing close, looking up at me as well. "Hm, ah..." She swallowed, looking around, the music had stopped, there was a crowd of people all looking, some squinting, some leaning back into their activities, some whispering to one another, wide eyes on us, standing up in fear.

"Yes," Cigol stepped forward, striding like a spirit dressed in block his cold impassive face staring down at her. "Elpis."

"I'm not sure I-" One of the palace guard lifted the hilt of his sword, only enough to scrape the side, let her hear the sound, see the portion of the freshly cared for blade.

Her second chin wobbled as she swallowed deeply and took a step back only to be followed by an even longer stride from Cigol. "Elpis, ah- well, yes..." She was turning white, which for such berry red person seemed quit the feat. "I- I may know the room..."