Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 55: Twisted

Francis, with his hands bound, was being dragged along by one of the elf-humans who was holding the end of his rope. Annoyance spread across the elf's face in the form of a tired frown and half-lidded eyes.

Marching ahead of him, Kori had been afforded the same dignity he had of walking. She had used her skills of negotiation (or skills of incessantly whining as Francis saw it) to convince the leader of the elf-humans, Hew, to let her walk with her hands bound instead of being carried over one of his peoples' shoulders.

He couldn't help but admire the tiny waif's gumption and her devotion to good manners and proper etiquette.

She seems like a smart and kind lady; if only she wasn't held back by an incompetent and cruel king. Francis thought to himself.

He felt sorry for her, but sorrier for himself. He had come to Maribel on a peaceful mission to collect the king's monthly debt and somehow ended up in chains instead.

He had had a long ride from Alanheim to Maribel, only to be captured by the king, set free by Kori and escorted back to Alanheim, only to be stopped by the elf-humans and dragged back to Maribel.

What am I to these swine? A rucksack to be hauled about? Francis thought to himself as he was dragged through sopping wet grass and a sticky cloud of mist.

Worse than the slimy, wet conditions of the environment was the sheer boredom of having nothing to do but walk in silence. He was a chatty man, and the elf-humans were a dour and quiet people.

Stars, it's like being locked in a room with Terran all day. Francis mused with his lips pursed. They don't even make much conversation among themselves!

The day dragged on.

His legs and feet began to hurt as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky.

His lips were chapped; his stomach growled at him. He was dizzily hungry.

"Let's take a break," Hew announced mercifully when Francis thought he could take no more.

Hew and the thirty soldiers he had brought with him came to a stop.

Francis, whose throat was sore from lack of water and whose nose was running relentlessly, thanked the stars for giving him a moment of rest.

The elf-human who was dragging Kori along approached Francis and his captor. The four of them sat down in the wet grass together; the elf-humans untied their captives' hands and passed flasks of water to them. The other twenty-eight elf-humans sat in a circle around Kori and Francis—watchful of their prisoners—and passed food and drink to one another.

Francis ravenously gulped the water down. Kori, who was sitting across from him, drank her own water with poise and dignity.

After he had his fill of water, Francis looked at the grim and haggard faces of the elf-humans with a roll of his eyes. "Such a sad, sorry bunch, wouldn't you say, Kori?"

Kori begged him with her eyes not to insult their captors. Francis chuckled at her tense expression.

Kori glanced at the stoic faces of the elf-humans, and then at Francis. She whispered, "I can't believe you told them I was having an affair with Laurence."

"I speak only truths, milady. I cannot lie." Francis replied with a wink.

Francis expected the waif to bite back with an insult, but for whatever reason, she decided to continue being kind to him like she had the night before. She merely made a face and then said, "well... I suppose this is a difficult situation for both of us."