Youth

#59 - Empty Handed

Laion had watched the door for a little while, nervously awaiting [Y/n]'s return.  The longer she took, the more anxious he became.  Had this been a bad idea?  He'd find out when she came back, he supposed.

Eventually a short-ish man with cropped brown hair and hazel eyes opened the door, dipping his head respectfully to the prestigious guards that manned the door.  He turned to look at Laion.  Where was [Y/n]? 

"Sir, the king requests that you return to your quarters now," the hazel-eyed butler said quietly, seemingly caving under the weight of Laion's green gaze. 

"Alright," Laion dipped his head, "where's [Y/n]?"  He peered through the door behind the butler,  his eyes narrowing as he tried to locate the [h/c] haired girl.  The doors shut behind the smaller male, which only caused Laion more confusion.  He cleared his throat when his question went unanswered.  "Where's [Y/n]?" he repeated, firmer this time, though there was obviously a little panic in his eyes.

"[Y/n] will be transferred from your care to His Royal Highnesses'."

Laion stared blankly at the butler for a while, his shoulders slowly dropping.  His eyes clouded over and his lips were parted ever-so-slightly.  It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, but even then he couldn't move.  He stared at the door, his breathing slowly deepening.  After a while, he felt a presence behind him.  He turned around lethargically to see Erda reaching out to place his hand on Laion's shoulder.  Laion brushed him off immediately, a scowl now contorting his countenance.

"You should leave," Erda voiced calmly, his russet eyes seemingly staring right through Laion.  It was unnerving to say the least. 

"Why?" Laion spat back, mustering the little courage he had.  "I won't leave without [Y/n]."

"Then you wish to disobey direct orders from the crown?" he questioned.  Laion glared.  "If you truly desire to do so, at least prove yourself of some worth," Erda said easily, the words rolling off his tongue like honey.  Despite his obvious threat, he had a singer's voice, each word holding its own melody.  Laion's own voice was certainly smoother before Rayne had assaulted all his senses with the smell of his basement.  The chemicals and rot certainly hadn't helped him. 

When Laion didn't react, Erda huffed and decided to show exactly what he meant.  He pulled his chosen weapon - a spear-like object with a secondary blade on the side of the wood - from behind him and held it out in front of him.  "Do you have a weapon with you?"

"I don't fight," Laion said shortly, which earned a laugh from Erda.

"You talk so big, though you seem to have nothing to back it up.  You should have a little dignity," he scolded. 

"Sir, that boy works under Rayne.  Asking for dignity is like asking a siren to stop singing," another of the guards muttered. He was the second tallest of the group (under Erda) who's long dirty blonde hair was braided behind him all the way down to his lower back, with misty blue eyes and a solemn gaze. Laion recognised him as Ren, the Patrol General.

    "I am nothing like Rayne," Laion hissed indignantly.

    "Then pick up a sword and prove it, boy," Erda taunted.  Laion's gaze flicked to Zeron, who seemed to be smugly enjoying the show.  The last guard of the four, a lithe looking man with thick black hair and a couple of canisters of some liquid attached to his belt, finally stepped forwards. 

    "If the boy was like Rayne, he'd have a coat and a scalpel," he hummed.  "He doesn't advertise who he is.  He doesn't hold much pride about him, either.  In my eyes, he appears to be worried about his friend.  That is all."