Blueprint

12: Disrespect

Astrid Vuric had been captain of the guard for several years. She'd been disobeyed before. She'd been disrespected before. But by a civilian? By Amari Alantar, the small, shy, weak wood elf from her own hometown? The same little twerp she'd known all her life?

No, that wouldn't do. Not a bit.

She sharpened her blade while sitting on her bed, not caring in the slightest if bits of metal or sparks of fire flew onto her sheets. She was too angry to care.

In truth, Astrid had always had poor anger management skills. She was irritable, and when she got angry, she would stop at nothing to pain whatever poor soul crossed her. It wasn't healthy, and Jharvelle may have been the only person able to drag her out of such a state. But Jharvelle wasn't there, so she continued to stew.

"Captain—holy—shit!"

As soon as she heard the noise, Astrid had pulled a dagger from her belt and thrown it into the door frame. It was a warning; she didn't want to be bothered. Whatever this guard wanted, it better have been important.

"What?" She asked, her brows furrowed together.

"I— erm, well," he pulled at the padded armor around his neck, "the King requests your presence."

"Of course he does," she seethed, standing up and pressing the sword into its sheath. She yanked the dagger from the door frame as she passed it, similarly tucking it away in her belt.

The guard that had disturbed her followed at a healthy distance behind her, and though she knew her anger shouldn't have been directed at him, all her ire was currently focused on him.

He was a high elf, though a bit short for one—possibly a half elf, she supposed. He had white hair and a gaunt face that made her all the more angry the more she thought about it.

"Who hired you?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder. He looked startled, blinking twice before answering.

"Uh, uhm," he cleared his throat, "I believe I was selected from the local guard in my town. The recruiters were impressed by my abilities, and offered me a job. I can't think of one single person that hired me—"

"Oh, so allowing Wallendians among our ranks isn't a singular issue? We've got several people dragging your kind into places they don't belong?"

There was a beat of silence. "Excuse me?"

"I believe you heard me."

The footsteps behind her slowed. "I did." The man answered. "I was hoping I misheard you."

"Ah," Astrid replied, knowing full well what she was doing. She was provoking him—for no good reason—to prove that there was something wrong with high elves. She couldn't stand them. Especially after the events with Amari and the thief.

They walked in silence for a while,  Astrid considering her next words carefully. She was picking fights, but whether or not those fights were worth picking, she wasn't sure. She tapped her fingers along the pommel of her sword, waiting for a response.

She didn't receive one.

"So," she clucked, "are most of your kind born with white and grey hair, or do you just age that quickly?" She prodded, already knowing the answer to that question fully well.

High elves did not age quickly. In fact, they aged slightly slower than wood elves and humans, continuing to grow in height until around age 25. However, their hair lost all its color very quickly, usually devoid of its original coloring by age 10. The reason for this wasn't quite known, but "Grey Parties" were common in Wallendia as a sort of marking of the transitional period.

"I'm not sure what I did to offend you," the high elf finally relented, "but I'd appreciate if you stopped. You're making me uncomfortable."

"My, you're uncomfortable," Astrid sneered, "think of how I feel. I'm afraid you're about to plant a fireball in my back."

"Well, we're here," The high elf snapped, ripping a large door open. It beheld the long white carpet that led up to two thrones, only one of which was currently occupied.

Astrid righted herself, clearing her throat and holding her head high as she walked down the aisle all alone. The door thudded closed behind her and she knew that the guard had not followed her inside. She would've heard his armor if he had.

"Your majesty." She drew herself into a deep bow.

"At ease, Captain Vuric," the king replied. Astrid may have disliked him for his treatment of Jharvelle, but otherwise, she and the king got along splendidly.

Astrid stood tall, her arms clasped behind her back. "How can I be of service?"

"I am sure you've heard of the Wallendian spy that infiltrated our castle a few nights ago." The king got straight to business. "A little bird told me that you have your suspicions about his whereabouts. So," he leaned forward, a small smile crossing his fat lips, "do tell."

Astrid allowed her arms to fall to her sides as she relaxed further. Astrid was not stupid. Telling the king her ideas would get Amari hurt. She knew that much. If Amari was truly harboring the spy, the king would have him thrown in jail. Maybe not killed, but likely tortured.

Then again, if Amari wanted to be protected, he would've let Astrid help him.

That, and he most certainly would not have disrespected her.

"My suspicions," she clucked, beginning to pace in front of the king. "Why, I of course have nothing but respect for inventor Alantar," the king leaned in with interest, "but I believe he has... fallen from the light, so to speak. I have a feeling he is protecting this spy from the law."

The king raised his eyebrows, evidently in thought as he leaned back in his chair. "You think the spy is here? In the castle?"

"Yes."

The king sighed, placing a large hand over his mouth.

"I give you my permission to tear his laboratory apart, then. His room too. If you truly think Alantar would stoop so low... then find the spy. Don't let Alantar get in your way. I want a full investigation. I want that spy found, and I want his head on a platter."

"Of course, your majesty." Astrid bowed one last time, then promptly took her leave to assemble her own investigative party.

She felt a little better now that something was going her way.