A Gift Unto the King

Deals

There was nothing too terribly special about the cottage at the bottom of the hill. It was old, and worn, but modestly upkept. Some tall grasses and weeds protruded from the base of it with confidence. It looked incredibly ordinary. In fact, had three Honterran soldiers not just exited it, one would assume there was nothing amiss.

Remus gave the wooden door a few solid bangs with the side of his fist, causing it to rattle loudly against its hinges. Some faint shuffling cautiously approached the door, the lock clacking sharply in protest as it was tugged aside. Slowly, the door creaked open a sliver, and half of a shadowed face peered out towards its new visitors.

With a flinch of wide-eyed panic, the man moved to push the door shut, catching Remus's foot instead.

"That would be your second mistake for today." Remus stated flatly.

The man still held the door firmly against the dark-haired knight's foot, clearly contemplating his options. Growing weary of the prolonged deliberation, Lucas smacked the door with his hand, and gave it an aggressive kick, knocking the man off balance, and allowing the door to swing open freely.

"Mind if we have a chat?" A playful smile danced on Lucas's lips.

With a heavy sigh, and a droop of the shoulders, the man resigned, gesturing towards the dining table. Giving each other a quick glance, the knights took a seat in a couple of creaky wooden chairs, and their host did the same.

In the light, Lucas could see the darkness shadowing the man's face. Not a darkness of malice or evil, but a darkness of exhaustion. Dark circles tugged at his eyes, and deep creases outlined his perpetually worried expression. This was the sight of a man at his wit's end.

Taking a quick survey, Lucas noted a few plush dolls, and the beginnings of a fresh quilt, draped across the chair nearest the window by the fireplace. In the cooking pot, bubbled a beef stew, heavily saturated with the scent of blood. Normally, such a strong scent would unsettle his stomach, however, he was managing to find it less offensive than usual, and in fact, a little appetizing. Progress, he supposed.

"I assume you know why we're here." Remus broke the silence, snapping Lucas's attention back.

The man remained quiet, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

"Do you commonly enjoy afternoon tea with Honterran soldiers?" Lucas asked sharply.

Still, the man remained silent.

"I suggest you start talking." Remus pressed. "The longer you hold out, the worse it's going to get."

Slowly, the man lifted his gaze, glancing back and forth between the pair. He swallowed hard, a faint tremor dancing on his chin, but still, not a word.

After a few unproductive moments, Lucas's patience wore thin. He'd had enough of this nice-guy routine, and clearly, it wasn't producing results. With a sharp inhale through angrily flared nostrils, he slammed his clenched fist against the table, hard enough to make their host jolt.

"Talk," Lucas growled, with a piercing glare, "or I will start ripping you apart. Piece. By. Piece." His canines glimmered in the low lighting of the cottage, accentuating the hostility in his voice, and causing his host to recoil.

"You wouldn't." The man finally spoke with a tremble.

"No?" Lucas grinned. "You sure you wanna call that bluff?"

Remus observed Lucas for a moment—noting how convincing his display was—before his eyes returned to the shaken man sitting opposite them.

His heart pounded in his chest, so much so, it took him a moment to calm himself enough to respond. He'd never before been faced with threats from Valkevillan soldiers, and that had instilled in him a confidence that he'd never have to fear them. However, he couldn't help but feel that this wasn't one such occasion. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk, the man sighed, and averted his gaze, finally opening his mouth to speak.