Miklos was feeling horribly exposed.
On a raised podium of sorts, with his back facing the north entrance of the mountain further behind, Miklos stood before an entire assembly of rogue mages who had gathered at Orichon's dining hall. Large tankards and steaming bowls of an unknown gourmet food lined the surface of the tables, untouched. Between them and their Wildlands Specialty Dish, the newblood's official introduction by Loric was in the way.
That probably wasn't a good thing.
For the most part, the mages of Orichon were a rowdy and restless crowd. At least a dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on him, but the other five dozen present were occupied with their own little pockets of activity that had sprouted up within moments of them gathering.
Leo, for instance, had decided that the contents in Rei's bowl seemed more appealing than his own, and was attempting to swipe it. She reciprocated by pointing her dagger at his face. Miklos supposed the prospect of certain death would have deterred anyone else from trying, but Zen and Alistair were both too daft (and suicidal) to get the message.
With two flicks of Luca's fingers and an exasperated sigh, wooden spoons flew across from their table and attacked them as Krea peered at the commotion through her hair. The smile on her rosy-pink lips was almost indiscernible. Cries of protest, along with Rei and Luca's subsequent chastising, rose momentarily above the din before dissipating; sinking beneath general hullabaloo.
Eager as he was to place each member of Orichon under his personal scrutiny, Miklos withheld himself from staring in a blatant manner. Although under more. . . comfortable circumstances, he would have allowed himself to gorge freely on the sight of the sheer number of rogue mages that had gathered under a single roof.
Instead, he allowed himself casual, sweeping glances across the dining hall.
What he saw was a hodgepodge of crude and boorish individuals, as well as several other bizarre ones. Three tables to his left, a scrawny kid with slitted eyes and dirty-blonde mopped hair was hand-feeding his pet snake: a crimson-coloured, yellow-spotted serpent that was coiled around its master's body. Beaded eyes, hungry and unblinking, stared at the squealing rodent that was dangled above its nose. Farther left, crumpled balls of parchment sailed overhead, and boisterous laughter erupted from tables where spontaneous fist-wrestling matches were taking place.
A bowl was knocked over. Its contents spilled over the table, and the vessel cluttered to the floor, followed by angry yells about the stupidity of bumbling idiots and food wastage.
As for the rowdiness and uncivilized tendencies of Orichon's mages, it was so unlike what he was used to that it slapped him in the face with astounding force. Yet to a certain degree, Miklos found their mannerisms endearing. The natures of the people here were stripped bare and exposed for all to see. There was an inherent lack of superficiality, no veneer of aloof, calculated words and refined gestures to pierce through, all of which characterized those of the upper class.
Of course, he was well-acquainted with that to make a fair statement.
However, despite their projected merriment and gaiety, the mages of Orichon were a roughened bunch; a community hardened by adversity. But they hid it well, such that one could barely see it in their strained eyes, the tightness of their shoulders, and the manner in which they seemed to move with coiled-up tension and guardedness.
Almost as if they sensed that an attack on their home was imminent.
Now, Miklos was one of them - a notion that he couldn't quite wrap his head around yet. He was a noble amidst outlaws; thieves; plunderers; and murderers.
Beside him, Loric tapped his fingers on his folded arms, surveying the scene with bright-lit eyes that grinned with affection. In the face of the wild fanatics of the mountain's occupants, he had more patience and tolerance than Miklos could ever give him credit for. Perhaps here in the Wildlands, one quickly learned to cherish the little things: small expressions of joy and happiness that brightened the perpetual bleakness of the days that trundle by.
Miklos inhaled.
He had no desire to stay where he was for another moment longer. It was embarrassing, and he disliked being stared at - much less wait around for a crowd of unruly monkeys to settle down. Just as he was about to storm right off the podium, a familiar garbled voice rose above the din, and the words that streaked across the dining hall tottered over the edge of comprehension.
"QUEEIT, YVOU STUPIT CHILDWEN!"
A sharp rat-a-tat-tat rang loud and clear as Leina rapped her walking stick against a table and glowered at Orichon's mages, six tables away from where Miklos stood on the podium. Her bun had come loose at some parts, causing strands of her wiry grey hair to stick out which had an uncanny resemblance to. . . well, spider legs.
Everyone groaned.
To his surprise however, the racket subsided and the crowd settled down. More or less. Pleased with herself, Leina clambered back to her seat as the mages around her gave her a wide birth, eyeing her walking stick distrustfully.
"Good evening, my fellow mages. May I speak now?" Loric addressed the crowd with a smile that Miklos had quickly associated with everything reassuring about the world. A warm summer breeze. Lush, rolling fields of fine heather. The hearty crackle of embers in a fiery hearth.
But of course, he was also a two-sided coin. As a noisy chorus of "yes!" and "sorry!" shot from the floor, images of Loric's anger directed at Rei earlier flashed in the boy's mind.
"Excellent. Now, I'd like to introduce our newest member. His name is Miklos," Loric said with a hand placed lightly on Miklos's shoulder.
All at once, six dozen pairs of eyes swiveled towards him, and Miklos became acutely aware of the perspiration that was trickling down his shoulder blades. He swallowed, flinching a little inside at the mention of the name.
Well, too late to undeclare that now.
"Remember, folks. There will be no harassing the newblood, and no over-the-top pranks until he has. . . er, adjusted himself sufficiently," Loric said with questionable seriousness.
He flashed Miklos a reassuring smile.
Miklos couldn't tell if he was joking. Judging from the grumbles that were exchanged between the mages. . . Probably not.
"Leo and company, I do hope you three are listening," Loric's keen eyes found them in the crowd and he narrowed his brows at them. "I'm sure Miklos would not appreciate waking up to find himself smothered in one of your horrid concoctions."
Sheepish grins were etched on the trio's face. Rei smacked them over their heads, while Luca heaved a muted sigh.
"You too, Roane." Loric directed a raised brow at someone in the crowd, and Miklos realized it was towards the scrawny mage with the hideous snake that he had spotted earlier.
"What? I ain't done nothing yet!" Roane protested indignantly. Laughter rippled through the dining hall.
"Hey, newblood! You scared of snakes?" he yelled across to Miklos. His serpent friend shifted and nuzzled his jaw, and the skin on Miklos's arms crawled.
Miklos scowled. "No."
He regretted his response an instant later.
"See! He's cool with it!" Roane grinned. There was a mischievous glint in his slitted eyes which reminded Miklos very much of the thieves that were always slinking around in shadows of Merralith City. It didn't help that his scrawniness and dirty blonde hair accentuated the shady look. Automatically, Miklos found much to be wary of him for.
"What? Cool with what?" Miklos glared at him. "I don't want that snake of yours anywhere near me."
"Ooh, feisty!" someone called out.
"I like him!" another yelled.
More bouts of laughter rolled across the dining hall. Miklos burned with embarrassment, but he kept the scowl on his lips and the defense mechanism locked in place.
"Alright, settle down folks." Loric raised a hand in appeal for silence.
Located nearest to the podium, the only table that so far hadn't been subjected to the hilarity of the masses was occupied by a dozen or more calm, serene and level-headed adults. Amongst them was Balthazar, the stoic and solemn man in black that Miklos had met (and been intimidated by) earlier in the evening, as well as Cavlon, who looked terribly bored. If Miklos hadn't known better, the young boy's presence at that particular table might have been utterly bizarre.
On the other hand, the woman next to him arrested Miklos's attention.
Seated in a relaxed, sanguine fashion, her fiery-red hair flared outwards like a lion's mane. Enthralled, Miklos gawked. Her eyes were as bright as her hair - a clear dazzling blue, but with a warmness that contrasted the ice-cold harshness of Cavlon's eyes, and were alight with a wild feminine charm. At present, she was having a quiet, intimate conversation with Balthazar, twirling strands of her hair between her fingers as she spoke.
Then, she caught Miklos's stare, and gave him a wink. He reddened in the face and yanked his attention back towards the guild master.
"All manner of jokes aside," Loric said in a more serious tone, his expression a little more guarded, "I believe acknowledgements are due tonight. We have Luca, Rei, and Krea to thank for escorting Miklos safely here. Starting tomorrow, they will assume mentorship over him."
Excited murmurs swelled within the four pillars as all eyes swivelled towards them.
Rei cringed. Luca's face was passive and nonchalant. Krea swayed ever so slightly from side to side, her cheeks a deep shade of red and looking on the verge of passing out.
Then, loud applause and sharp whistles of approval pierced the air.
Amidst the riotous cacophony of noise, Miklos noticed that the mood at Cavlon's table in stark contrast was largely uncertain - sceptical even. Some gave what appeared to be grudging applause, their faces solemn, while a snort of laughter erupted from Cavlon, earning him an unhappy look from the fiery-haired woman and a few others at the table.
"On that note, my fellow mages," Loric broke into a satisfied smile and made a sweeping gesture, "let us commence with dinner."
Outside, the storm was still raging. Unfazed by the catastrophic uproar that was brewing over the mountain, the mages answered with enthusiastic cheers, and with a sudden pang of realization, Miklos noted that Loric had omitted the mention of two things:
One, that he was a healer.
And two, that he was the son of a Grand Duke.
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A/N: Hola amigos. I originally intended for this chapter to include another scene (which will now be pushed forward to chapter eight), but writer's block smacked me hard in the face. On another note, I hope you readers aren't overwhelmed by the number of characters being introduced. If you are, kindly let me know. Thanks!
Happy reading.