The Thief King

7 | Parlour Politics

Chase grabbed the last piece of bread as he passed the table. A female chorus of complaints followed, extracting from him a bread-filled grin. He held on to the honeyed slice with his teeth as he pulled on his tight waist coat. It was a size too small—originally made for a smaller man—but at least it accentuated his wide chest.

"You leaving already?" a small voice asked.

Chase turned, his mother and four sisters watched him, but it was the youngest that spoke.

"Aye, love." He knelt beside her seat, the bread gone. "But do me a favour and promise to help ma clean up. Can you do that?"

Penny's six-year old button nose wrinkled. "I don't like doing that."

"I know, but will you do it for me?"

After careful deliberation, Penny nodded.

He left after planting five kisses on five auburn heads. Chase was the only one that had come out fair. He walked with purpose to the Silver Moon, a noble inn as close to the palace grounds as inns could get. Searching for a noble with thoughts of grandeur and power, he would at least find a name behind its walls.

Traversing the city in a noble's attire made life easy. He had forged papers for a Lord Chestwick, a nobleman of reasonable wealth from a family in the outmost reaches of Southland with interest in trading ties and deals in Lethilian.

The peacekeepers waved him through, more concerned with the ragged populace than a man in a cardigan and long coat. Chase smiled politely, pulling up his collar against the cold wind funnelling through the main thoroughfare.

He was well-known at the Silver Moon. The doorman and porter knew him by pseudonym. Both greeted him with a nod. The inn dazzled onlookers and passers-by, large and surprisingly spacious. A small rose garden led to a terrace framed with large golden pillars. No roses bloomed in the sodden garden, winter having stripped the plants of all colours, leaving only dull browns and grey stalks. The hedges somehow flourished; healthy and bright green, they traced the walkway and spiralled a pattern on either side until they met twin fountains filled with dark limpid water two breaths from freezing.

Inside, the entrance hall was grand: A check-tiled floor with golden decals enclosed by walls depicting scenes of a summer garden party in full swing; above, the multi-chambered ceiling, lined with stucco frescos of garden nymphs and sprites morphing into floral patterns spoke of the buildings true age.

"Lord Chestwick?" A bustling man with thinning hair and a full moustache met him. He seemed surprised at Chase's appearance and faltered to a hesitant stop.

"Master Ivan." Chase smiled. Ivan was of formidable size, his belly extending so far Chase thought the man had likely not seen his toes in decades. As big as he was, Ivan was sharp. He knew Chase was not who he claimed to be but tolerated his presence for his own reasons. A silent agreement existed between the two men that worked to their mutual benefit; Ivan was wise enough to know a good bargain when he saw one.

"I...uh...was not expecting you this week..." he moved closer, rubbing his beefy hands on his trousers. "You'd be wise to seek caution in these walls, Lord Chestwick. You would not want eyes to fall upon you while accompanied by a good number of possible individuals."

Chase regarded the man. "What are you talking about?"

Ivan cleared his throat. "Would you do me the decency of waiting in one of the parlours? Hep can show you. I will speak more plainly on my return, but for now I beg you to wait until you seek out whatever meeting you had arranged."

Chase smirked. "I can do that."

He was led by a scrawny youth to a parlour with a large fireplace, wooden floors covered by Cylindalian rugs and three large couches. Smaller than most, the room smelt of old fabric. A floor to ceiling window looked out on an empty garden, beyond that the stables. Not many inns provided stables for their travellers. Often, horses and carts boarded elsewhere, since space was a commodity in Lethilian. The Silver Moon, being so old, was lucky in a sense to be the largest inn and so the most sought out. Yet it was in no way the most luxurious, an incredulous fact.