The Sloan brothers were grinning when they finally found Oliver.
"Little Lord! We saw you through the window and had to stop to say hi." The elder Sloan said.
Oliver sighed inwardly. They are the son of a wealthy Marquess. He spent too much time with them in bars, acting like a fool. It seems that these two are the ones helping to plot against him.
"It's never a simple greeting with you two. You have something fun planned, don't you?" Oliver said with a disgustingly fake smile. He hadn't had to be this greasy for a long time and found that he hated it.
The brothers laughed. "An interesting place opened up that's invitation only. We finally got one. Do you want to join? Drinks, gambling, and beautiful people."
"Some of my favorite things." Oliver grimaced when he said this. He grabbed a jacket from one of the staff members helping him with his clothes. "Good thing I felt like spending money today."
He motioned to Sarah and pointed to the jacket he was wearing. She nodded and continued to set up the payment and delivery.
"That's a little... plain for you." The younger brother said, looking at the grey and white outfit.
Oliver tied his hair back with a ribbon. "It'll do for now. Shall we go?"
He then wrapped a black cape around his shoulders and pulled the hood up to hide his silvery hair. Despite covering himself, he could sense several people following the trio. He trusted Ella's information but was surprised that it was all happening so soon. He observed his surroundings while walking, attempting to calculate every possible escape plan. Whoever was plotting against him could not succeed. This was supposed to damage his reputation and, in turn, the Kardoses.
The Sloan brothers were chatting down the street, and Oliver realized the Sloan brothers were nervous about what they had planned. Suddenly a boy a little shorter than Oliver crashed into the younger Sloan brother. The brother snarled and lashed out with his fist. The boy slipped past the attack but lost his footing and stumbled in front of Oliver.
A coin pouch with the Sloan sigil was falling from the boy's grasp, and a heavily accented curse escaped the boy's mouth.
The accent was clearly Abrorgean.
Oliver reached out, discreetly secured the coin pouch, and caught the boy from falling. He deftly stuffed the pouch back in the thief's hands. The boy looked up at him with surprise, his hood falling back a little. His skin was dark from the sun, and his black hair was shaved on both sides; the center was long and tied back. This was Abrorg's aesthetic.
They were strategists and stealthy hunters, using knives as their preferred weapons. They would test their children's stealth skills by making them visit foreign places and pickpocket.
However, it wasn't just his nationality that made Oliver falter. The kid looked similar to Savvi. His eyes flashed with joy and nostalgia as he looked at the boy. But he quickly gathered his wits, reached out, and secured the boy's hood so his foreign features would not be exposed in the middle of the street.
"Careful, kid," Oliver warned with emotion infused with his words. He coughed a little and urged him to run away. Without anyone noticing, Oliver wiped some fragrant oils from his hands with a handkerchief and discarded it. However, he could now smell a light lemon scent coming from the pouch that the little thief stole.
It was an old trick he had used on Savvi many times to stop him from ambushing him in the middle of battle. Oliver's senses were particularly high, and when a person is used to blood, he could pick up other smells easily. So Oliver commonly used light lemon oil as a tracer. Out of habit, he carried some with him in a handkerchief to be prepared.
The kid looked down at the pouch without any suspicions. "Thanks!" He said and ran away, the lemon scent now following him.
The younger Sloan brother huffed. "Why be nice to that brat."
Oliver shrugged. "It was interesting."
Oliver forced the Sloan brothers to continue walking to The Apex. They moved into a dark alleyway, which caused Oliver to tense for a moment. This would be the perfect place to attack him, so he remained vigilant; however, the road remained peaceful. They approached a large black door, and one of the brothers knocked on it. A large man opened it, glaring at the young men.
The eldest handed him a business card, and the doorman ushered them in. They walked into a simple bar filled with cheap alcohol and shabby furniture. The doorman point to a steel door in the far back corner. When they approached, a man in a tactful suit bowed toward them.
"The Sloan brothers and... guest?" The man inquired.
The eldest smiled. "Our guest is the Royal Consort, Oliver Kardos."
Oliver clicked his tongue in disgust. He hated how people used that title when he would never be the Royal Consort. But he refused to say anything and continued to conceal his presence. He only nodded lightly.
The man was suspicious because the hooded man in front of him did not seem like the infamous Oliver. Still, he opened the doors and let them through. After Oliver went through the door, he found himself in a large open area. The first thing he noticed was the noise. He adjusted his sense and finally looked around the room. The lights were bright and glimmered off the gold decor.
Gambling tables took up most of the space, while there was a bar and sitting area toward the back. A horde of scantily clad men and women were seated on patron's laps, serving them, or openly performing sexual acts.
Pure debauchery... and highly illegal.
His eyes continued to roam the room. He found stairs that led up to another level, which he assumed were the private rooms.
Oliver followed the brothers onto the floor and was instantly surrounded by the workers whispering coquettish words. The Sloan brothers were lapping it up, and Oliver kept his face hidden under his hood.
The Sloan brothers' voices were loud as if they were worried that people would not hear their bragging. They would boast about how they brought Oliver with them, drawing attention to them.
Oliver purposely started to walk slower than the Sloan brothers, who seemed to have forgotten about him and separated from them. He shook off the attendants clinging to him and then made his way to the stairs. There was a guard, but Oliver's handed him a couple of gold coins.
"Someone is waiting for you, sir?" The guard asked.
Oliver nodded.
"Do you know your room and how to get there?"
Another nod from Oliver. He just wanted to find another way to escape this place before the Royal Guards arrived.
He ascended the stairs and entered the dim hallway. He was greeted by moans and cries of an intimate nature coming from the rooms surrounding him. He blushed a little. Since joining the war, he hadn't had many chances for romance and pleasure. The only warm touch he had experienced in years was when Draco held him in the tower before he died.
His mind lingered on Draco and the many questions he had stirred. He sighed and then shook his head to escape the thoughts. It was not the time for yearning.
He continued down the halls when he saw another figure turn a corner ahead. The figure's cloak fluttered behind him, and Oliver noticed the hem of a white robe with silver stitching.
"An Osmelan Priest? The day is full of fun encounters."
He quickened his pace and started to follow the priest, who was desperately trying to find a room. When he passed by rooms exhibiting vigours noises, the priest would cover his ears and walk faster. Oliver chuckled every time he saw this.
The priest paused at a door and fumbled with the lock before he closed it behind him. Oliver paused in front of the door and smiled when he noticed a light lemon scent near him in the shadows. A little thief must have found another entrance so he could follow him.
Oliver tested the door and found that the flustered priest was so rushed to escape to his room he forgot to lock it. He twisted the handle and confidently walked in. The figure inside yelped and fell back to the bed.
Oliver looked at the fumbling person. "I'm not looking to bed you. Aren't you assuming too much?"
"A... Assuming? What the fuck do you mean? Assuming!" The figure yelled and then paled when he realized he was on the bed. "This isn't what it looks like, fucker!"
Oliver shook his head and kept the door open. He then called out into the hall. "Hurry up if you still want to follow me."
A short hooded figure stepped out from the shadows and rushed into the room. Oliver caught his face turning bright red because of the obscene noises in the hall.
Oliver looked back in the hall and confirmed that he didn't see anything suspicious. He then closed the door and locked it behind him.
"Listen, fucker, I'm not into this shit, so you better not get any fucking ideas." The figure said with clenched teeth. He then pointed to the petite Abrorgean. "And you shouldn't do anything to him either! He's a fucking kid!"
The boy rounded on him. "I'm not a kid! I'm 17!"
"Still underaged!" The boy exclaimed and turned his finger to Oliver. "You fucking monster!"
"I'm seen as an adult in my tribe!" The boy stomped his foot with dissatisfaction.
"Silence." Oliver's authoritative voice made them stop their chatter. Oliver rubbed his eyes, already exhausted from dealing with them. "You two have no business being in a place like this."
"I didn't come here by choice! I was tricked!" The priest protested.
"I was too! You led me here!" The little thief cried out.
Oliver held up his hand and stopped the two again. He then pointed at the priest. "This place was suspicious even before you knocked on the door. Are you truly that naive to come to a place like this?"
Oliver turned his finger to the thief. "You followed me here, little Abrorgean thief. That does not mean I brought you here. And I could have left you out in the hall so you could experience the soundtrack of a pleasure den."
The boy clicked his tongue. "Then why are you here."
Oliver leaned up against the door and shrugged. "I was tricked."
"Asshole." The priest hissed.
Oliver chuckled lightly. "Naive little priest"
The figure faltered and then pulled off his hood. "How did you know?"
Oliver's eyes trembled when he finally saw the person under the hood. Gallio. There was no mistaking it. Younger and wet behind the ear but just as fouled-mouthed as ever.
The kid followed suit and pulled off his hood, revealing his Abrorgean features. "You also knew I was from Abrorg."
A smile tugged on Oliver's lips. The boy was indeed Savvi. What were the chances he would meet these two great Generals so early after his regression? Suddenly his heart pulsed with the hope of seeing Draco as well.
He turned his head, hiding his joy. "The hem on your robes, Priest... And kid, you can't hide your accent. Perhaps you should work on that."
"How did you know I followed you?" He asked.
Oliver decided to hide the truth about the lemon scent. "I guessed."
"Who are you?" Gallio asked, narrowing his eyes at Oliver, who was still concealing his features.
Oliver didn't answer. Instead, he pressed an ear against the door and made out the distant screams from the gambling den. He cursed inwardly. He thought that he would have at least a couple of hours before the guards came, which would have given him plenty of time to escape, go home, and perfect an alibi. However, his enemies seemed anxious to catch him.
He cursed again as he looked around the room. There were no hiding spaces, so he rushed to the window and tested it. It was locked, but he knew he could break it. He positioned his elbow to break the glass, but Savvi stopped him.
"What are you doing?"
"It's locked, and I'm pretty sure the Royal Guards are raiding the place right now," Oliver explained.
Gallio paled. "Fuck!"
"So, as I said, this is no place for a priest and an Abrorgean thief." He said as he pulled back his elbow.
"But you don't have to break the window."
Oliver's tone became impatient. "It's locked."
Savvi pulled out a couple of bronze picks. "Yeah, and I'm a thief."
He pushed Oliver aside and started to pick at the lock. Within seconds they all heard the satisfying click.
They all started to feel the anxiety building because the screams were getting louder. The guards are going through the rooms. Out the window now."
"Out the window? Do you know how many fucking floors we are up?" Gallio nearly screeched.
"Then be caught by the Royal Guards, but I'm sure that will place the church in a bad light. It may even give the Belelots a valid reason to remove the church from the capital." Oliver goaded.
Gallio groaned and climbed out through the window. A slew of curses followed. Savvi followed behind Gallio while laughing at his discomfort.
Oliver quickly checked and made sure no clues were left behind that they were there. He dug through a drawer by the bed and found a purple bottle. He smirked and covered his mouth and nose with a cloth. He poured the bottle by the door, and a strong smell permeated from the wet carpet.
He ran out the window and closed it. He pointed to a pillar. "Climb to the roof!"
Gallio wanted to cry, but he obeyed and climbed up higher.
Oliver urged them to keep going with a smile tugging on his lips. Royal Guards were chasing him so his fiance could frame him, but he had to marvel at how much fun he was suddenly having.