Summoner: The Demon

Chapter 20

Note: Oh God so sorry I'm late!! (Even by an hour or two)Thank you so much for supporting my first official work on Wattpad! It means a lot to me, and I never imagined that It'd receive more than a hundred or so reads. But here we are, with over 200 votes and 3.4k reads. As a result of all your support, I've been able to find inspirations for new parts of the story. For the 20th chapter, I've decided to make an extra-long chapter (similar to chapter 8 in Ausar the Vile: Hero no More, but shorter). I hope you enjoy it!

P.S. Pardon the language - Just trying to preserve the story's integrity.

Ignatius could sense Master's anger, although he didn't know where it was directed at. Arcuturus? The Favershams? Himself? It was confounding - Fletcher probably was slightly emotionally unstable. The frustration washed over Ignatius as well. He hissed and spat randomly at dinner, then stole one of Seraph's potatoes when the boy wasn't looking. He ate it, then spat it out under the table. He honestly, preferred meat to plants. His peculiar antics seemed to amuse Fletcher, and he cheered up slightly, rubbing the Salamander's head.

"I'm not sure who why I'm angry, but you really don't have a clue," Fletcher said to his demon which perched on his shoulder as they walked up the staircase to their dormitory. When they reached the common room, they found Othello sitting beside Solomon on on one of the chairs by the far wall. 

"You okay, Fletcher? You seem kind of down." The bearded Dwarf said, leaning forward in his seat. Fletcher plopped down unceremoniously in the red and black cushioned chair that was his usual spot. 

Fletcher explained the situation to Othello, glazing over the details in order to get to the point. He seemed to always do this when he was stressed, remarked Ignatius, just like with Berdon after he gave Didric a facial 'treatment'. When he was done, Othello started to speak.

"If you ask me, I think Arcturus is reading too much into this. He's probably just desperate to find more of his family members. The Captain is ignoring several things that make your stories fit. I've heard of Lady Faversham for completely different reasons - she is the Old King's cousin, and was famous for her great beauty back in the day. I doubt King Harold and Alfric would permit Lord Faversham to continue shaming their royal cousin in such a matter. " The red-haired Dwarf said as he crossed his legs and stretched his short arms. 

"But what if Lord Faversham had a moment of weakness, after all those years?" Fletcher said. Ignatius was puzzled - Fletcher seemed to be defending Arcturus' side of the argument. Was it because he was desperate to find his origins? It seemed as if the boy wasn't sure himself. 

"But why would he do something so illogical? Plus, even a poor consort wouldn't leave her child buck naked in front of the gates of your village."

"Maybe she didn't want me to end up in the workhouse like Arcuturus," Fletcher said stubbornly. 

"Without any clothing nor blanket? That would never happen. Just be glad to have the Captain watching your back." The Dwarf stood up and padded out of the room, the rock elemental following its master. "Goodnight, Fletcher." Othello said with a yawn, left for his room. 

Fletcher followed suit felling a lot better and confused. What other excitement and problems would the next day bring?

Fletcher woke up late the next morning, leaving him little time to prepare for the day. Despite this, he managed to look sharper than usual with his new uniform, the deep blue fabric accented with a glimmering gold trim attracting the gaze of the others as he marched proudly along the hall, faithful Ignatius on his shoulder. 

"Nice togs," Genvieve said as she passed by Fletcher, who smiled in return. When they finally arrived at the summoning room, Fletcher paused. Lovett was out of commission, so no matter how much Fletcher and Ignatius didn't want a new instructor, she wouldn't be there. So who awaited them in the chamber? Arcturus? Major Goodwin? Dame Fairhaven?