Lucky Prodigy

15: Homeward Bound

He nodded slowly. "Where'd you come by them, Mage?"

"Oh, 'Twas the damndest thing! I was walking along, and I find these three in a gutter near a tavern, with a jar of Lesser Demon Alcohol between them, mostly empty! And either they bathed in it, or they drank it, because I can't get a solid word out of any of them, so I just brought them to the gate, for the Cardinal to handle, you know?" I shrugged, leaning against the cart casually.

He hummed, narrowing his eyes at me, then looked at his partner. "You watch them for anything... weird, and this one as well. I don't trust mages." He sneered at me, and then walked into the gate, disappearing.

I smirked at the other guard, shrugging my outer robes off and laying them over my arm, then leaned back, fanning my face slowly. "It's rather hot today, isn't it? How do you manage in all that armor?"

He cleared his throat, using the vague shadows of his helmet, (which would've been opaque to a human eye,) to hide his sweeping gaze over my silk-clothed form, the luxurious purple fabric expressing every muscle I'd gained in the past year of training, as well as the natural advantage I'd always had, as a dragon. "You, uh... you get used to it, after a while, you know... it's the job." He gulped slowly, glancing at my waist and then looking forward swiftly, hearing what I'd heard for a few moments, the oncoming soldiers behind the gates.

I sighed and slung my robe back around my shoulders, nodding. "I'd hoped I'd have more time to tease you, but not the time or place... perhaps another time?" I smiled.

He cleared his throat, and nodded a little. "Perhaps."

The gates creaked open, and I frowned at the sight of the Cardinal, who was the de facto governor of this city, underneath the Pope, but beside him was the Grand Templar, Benjamin Waylon. Wyatt had told us stories of his little brother, many times, when we got him drunk and sentimental. Wyatt had raised him from birth, as they were both born bastards of the same house, of different mothers, and cast into the same orphanage, by some stroke of fate.

They had joined the church guard, as was expected, then fought in the early skirmishes of the later Holy War against the Maou, 330 years ago, as young men. There, he'd fought Ken to a standstill, and both of them were taught by an elf, Sword Saint Aihara. He returned to the Capital, evolved to his next form already, at 26 years old, and was Praised as a genius. Then he trained his little brother, and they rose through the ranks together, until the Actual Holy War, a few years after that.

Then, He'd lost his leg killing a Demon General, and mysteriously refused to continue fighting, even if healing was offered by the Saint of the time. So, he was excommunicated, while his brother publicly disowned him, and stayed behind, becoming his replacement as High Templar, the Grand Templar's undergraduate. About sixty years ago, he'd become Grand Templar, finally.

He glanced at the three men, completely ignoring my frozen form, and nodded. "These are the three... where's the Saint? You, Mage, was there a woman there, as well?"

I cleared my throat. "No, not at all, though I assumed that they wouldn't have brought her to that part of town... they were in the-"

"Tell the truth." He frowned, his aura overpowering the area, and then sampling mine, which had released reflexively to protect me. He blinked slowly, then frowned, recognizing what he tasted, no doubt. He bared his teeth in a savage grin, and pounced at me like a bolt of lightning before I could send myself away with teleportation.

I grinned and rolled with it, kicking him off of me and muttering the spell, until his knee slammed my mouth, sending my head back, as I rolled away ass over end. I pulled my Aura into my body, knowing magic would be useless. He wouldn't give me time for even my smallest spells, after all.