Claude de Lune

Himalia

Claud leaned closer to Amadeus. "Is this a haven city?"

"Not exactly." He didn't shout, yet Claud heard his as if they were sitting quiet room together. "Necromancers are allowed to live here, but not in any official capacity. It's a decent enough go-between for the southern and northern havens."

He nodded and sidestepped a group of sailors stumbling out of a bar. The stench of alcohol wafting off of them made his eyes burn. If the gods favoured him, they wouldn't be working on whatever boat whisked him away from this place.

Undine led them into an alley at the heart of the market, just big enough for the wagon to squeeze through.

A mile from the buildings, a manor sat on a grassy patch of land. Stables hugged its south side, but there were no horses as far as Claud could see. The bison clopped along the stone path it head low and nose snuffling at the bushes and flowers.

Not a castle, Claud mused, but very close. He craned his neck up at the building, eyebrows raised. Gleaming windows stared down at him from walls that reminded him of an old man's hair. There was something wise about the structure, as though it had seen the first sunrise and wanted to tell him about it.

"Nice, hm?" Amadeus stood next to him with hands atop his head. "This is our hub between the south and the north. More necromancers pass through this place than all the haven cities."

"We'll rest here until tomorrow Amadeus," Undine said. "You still need to recover." She brushed past them and pounded up the porch steps. Instead of knocking, she rang her bell, and half a second later, the door swung open. A little girl stood beyond the threshold, twisting a black pigtail around a finger. She couldn't be over five years by Claud's estimation.

"Ami!" she shot off the edge of the porch, straight into Amadeus' arms.

He stumbled back into the bison with a half laugh, half grunt. "Evie. You've gotten so big. And heavy." He set the girl down and rubbed her head. "Where's everyone else?"

"They went to run errands, except Feyra, she's inside making tea or something." She pointed at Claud. "Who's that?"

"That is Claud, and both he and I would appreciate it if you remembered your manners."

Claud blinked at Amadeus' serious tone. Had he closed his eyes, he would've thought someone else was admonishing the little girl.

"Sorry." Evie rocked back on her heels. "Would you like to come inside and rest your feet, Mister Claud?"

"Please and thank you." Claud followed her up the steps into the manor. The floors shined with a fresh layer of pine-scented polish, and he slipped off his boots to keep the many miles' worth of dirt at the door. Unlike Amadeus, who had no problem leaving dust tracks in his wake.

The sitting room, with its rough, exposed wall, had a dungeon-like feel to it, balanced by the comfy couches, armchairs and hearth. Claud drifted around, the floor cold yet comforting under his bare feet.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought this was the den of a royal—a place to retire after a long day of whatever king and queens did. In the stories Gwenore read to him all they only attended lavish parties and give order from atop a throne.

Evie skipped through an open door, the frills of her dress swishing around her legs, while Amadeus lounged on one of the couches and propped his feet up on the low table.

Claud raised an eyebrow at him. "So... Ami..."

"Don't you dare, Priest." He leaned back and closed his eyes, hands linked behind his head.

"I'm just curious is all. Is she your sister or...?" Claud raised his hands, palms forward.

"No, we found Evie in Rusted Isles when they fell to the netherborne. And we sort of... adopted her after we couldn't find her parents. She's been with us since." He smiled at the door Evie had gone through, and for a moment, he looked like a proud father. "She a good kid, spritely and too quick for her good."