Spirit Animals: The War For The White Bloom

Prologue

The Sun dipped below the horizon, and took the transient colours of the dusk with it. 

Jex inhaled sharply. He had been waiting for about half an hour now. The evening was cold. He definitely did not want to stay here the entire night. Euran nights were notoriously chilly, and his loose shirt and simple yet elegant trousers weren't meant for cold. 

He pulled on his goatee as he looked around, his eyes soaking up the sights like his shirt soaked up the perspiration. It wasn't the climate, but the tension that was making Jex sweaty.

He looked at the grand structure he was standing next to.

The clock tower was massive. Too big for the town, actually. He had been to impressive towns like Glengavin and Trunswick, back when the Conquerors were just a bed-time story, and hadn't seen such a clock tower anywhere. The clock tower seemed to more than make up for the lack of  a landmark in the Wellishere town. 

The grand clock, obviously, was the most notable part. How it still worked and still looked as grand as it ever did, was a question Jex found himself asking when he first saw it. 

There was a tiny maintenance shaft up there, but the ladder up to it had been moved and the residents of the city had made no efforts to put another one. The clock didn't seem to notice. It'd been over a decade since the only way to its maintenance was removed, but it still showed the precise time.

Six-thirty.

Jex's simply kicked a stone. Looking down at his feet, he grunted. His shoes were made for meetings with knights and kings and high authorities, not to be worn on travels to the middle of nowhere. He bent down and swiped the bit of gunk off the shoe.

Not that this meeting was any less important.

Jex knew that the meeting could possibly mean a promotion for him, which was part of the only reason why he still waited. He looked up at the clocktower.

Six-thirty-three.

Jex was getting annoyed. He began to look around. The grand palace that spread out, some distance from the clocktower and facing it, was not an eyesore, unlike most of the other things he had seen here.

The Wellishere palace, he had heard, was a grand one, but had been ruined because of the Earl's eagerness for luxury. When he'd first heard the story, from a Euran peasant, he had laughed haughtily, remarking how foolish a venture it was, for luxury. It was only when the man stared at him for a few minutes that he realized that he himself was dressed in luxurious Niloan silk. 

He still maintained the same opinion: Don't attempt to try on something not deserved for you. 

The Niloan silk cloths were discarded the next day, for Eura's climate was not what it was meant for. That had been eight months ago. Now half his wardrobe at the base at Newholmes was Niloan silk. He'd eventually decided that opulence and style has no borders.

He retied his shoelaces for the umpteenth time, and continued to look around.

Half of the town, the Southern and Eastern parts, were now under the Tomisill town now, mortgaged. The clock tower, which stood at the Northern entrance to the town, remained the only remainder of the old glory. 

He tied his shoelace again. He would have made for a curious visitor, standing by the clocktower for so long and tying his shoelace with fervour. But he felt no eyes staring at him through blinds and windows. 

Probably why this town was called a ghost town.

As he stood, looking at the jungles that surrounded Wellishere now, his eyes adjusting to the darkness settling, he heard a thump to his right. Startled, he looked over, to find an arrow exactly where he'd been standing a few minutes earlier.

The entirety of his five-foot frame trembled at the prospect of having just missed being skewered. His hands threatened to quaver. As he stared at the bolt, his eyes, still adjusting to the low light, noticed something tied to it. 

A scroll.

His adrenaline rush, ebbed. Now there was a faint feeling of frantic energy in his limbs. He stared at the scroll for long enough, and it had started to resemble a dragon to his eyes, which confused him. Being Niloan, the dragon wasn't his favourite animal.

He scrambled up to it. His shoes came untied, but he didn't care. The rough paper irritated his fingers, which were used to fine Garpentine paper. The scroll was actually rolled to resemble a dragon, and on his lips played a faint smile.

After judging the paper and running his fingers along the edges for as long as he could contain his impatience, he unrolled it. What he saw more than made up for his irritation at being made to wait. 

RAISHA LIN SPOTTED. 

~SILVERDEW.

He smiled. He reached out and took out the coin sack he had on his left pocket, and still smiling, threw it at the arrow. It looped and landed satisfactorily, and he almost clapped. 

Almost.

Then he walked back, not attempting to look back even once. The assassin had driven a hard bargain about her secrecy and mode of work. 

"I might not kill everyone I take money for.", she had warned, in that voice as sharp as the sword in Jex's scabbard, which, by the way, was Amayan steel. It was also the only sentence she had spoken in the last meeting.

Not that she could escape without completing the deal. His order would hunt her then, and she probably knew it. 

He could still not prevent his curiosity from sneaking a peek, and the fact that the coins were gone did not surprise Jex.

He quickly climbed onto his horse, which was left at the town square. The white mare was one of his favourites. He kicked into the ribs and its powerful legs took long steps as he left the town. 

Jex the Giant rode back to his base with a calm smile on his face, knowing that the Gerathon summoner's days were now numbered. He would definitely be promoted to the Commander's spot in Eura in a week.