"Here you are me dear."
Ethelston watched as the innkeeper slammed a tankard down on the wooden table in front of him. He licked his lips before looking up to the middle-aged woman that smiled at her new patron.
Placing the tankard to his mouth he could smell the delightful combination of honey and hop before taking the first sip of his new nectar. As he gulped he could taste something else, almost hidden among the other ingredients. Was that apricot?
"Delightful" he smiled taking a much bigger gulp this time.
"You're not from around here my love?" the innkeeper asked passing the time as the number of patrons in the inn was almost negligible.
Ethelston smiled at the paradox of a question. Yes he was from around here, but no he wasn't. Ravenscourt was very much his home, and very much didn't feel like it. "Recently returned from travels. Been away for some time."
"I thought you weren't familiar, would definitely recognise a pretty face like yours."
Did she just flirt towards him? Eyeing up the innkeeper, Ethelston smiled. He admired her figure, especially her large breasts which seemed more than a handful, but despite her looks being somewhat distinctly average there was certainly a charm about her.
The Rose on the White Road had been the last time he enjoyed the company of a woman, or in that case, women. That was also the first time he met Loldirr, and subsequently, Erdudvyl. Since he had travelled with these two women, it seems his normal lusts for life had somewhat faded.
He had been a traveller, an adventurer. He had loved his chaotic and debauched existence, it had been all he had known since he had to flee Ravenscourt what felt more than a lifetime ago, and it was all he had expected to ever do. Now, he was some duke of almost half of the Isovine Empire, now he was destined for the life of a noble.
Feasts, dances, the occasional tourney, intrigue, backstabbing and listening to his people complain about how the crops didn't grow as well as the previous harvest. That was his life now, or what he could expect it to be once the threat of the Emperor had passed.
Yet somehow, seeing the frustrated and hot-headed Loldirr becoming more mature, or seeing Erdudvyl smile for the first time, somehow it seemed like it was all worth it.
He sighed and took another sip of his ale. The smoothness of the taste was enough to quickly take him back to reality, and the large breasts that seemed to block all other views.
"It's rather quiet in here?" he asked, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place.
As if it was an invitation, the innkeeper sat in front of him, sitting to one side so she could keep tabs on anyone who entered the inn. "Been like it for a while now, " the innkeeper replied, a tingle of disappointment in her voice, "With most of the young men, and some of the older ones off to fight the Emperor's, gods save him, war and the extortionate, sorry, necessary taxes that the previous Lord Darke had thrown on us, business has been shocking."
Ethelston tried hard not to laugh at the obvious disdain this woman had for both the Emperor and his uncle.
"It did appear that not many people were out in the streets, and I didn't see many city guards around." Ethelston commented trying to coax more information out of her.
"The Black Knife Syndicate own the lower town and some of the upper town. The previous Lord Darke had an agreement with them that he would leave them to their business provided he get a share of the profit."
Ethelston gripped the tankard handle tightly in anger. His uncle was a menace to society which in due course he would have to deal with. "Is this rumour?" he asked, surprised that the woman was so candid with her responses.
As two new patrons walked into the inn, she looked up, aware that she would have to serve them quickly. Before doing so she looked towards Ethelston "Most of my clientele are members of the Black Knife Syndicate." with that she stood up and proceeded to attend her new clients.
Ethelston took another swig of his drink and admired its contents as he swallowed once more. Though before he could focus on how delicious the contents were, he overheard the new patrons conversation.
"News is Lord Millendahl has been imprisoned by his nephew Ethelston Darke. Apparently, he returned from gods knows where and kicked him off the throne. Not sure the bosses will take to well to it." the first patron commented.
As the innkeeper passed them a tankard each, the second patron replied "Didn't he run away years ago like some coward, surely he will be easy for the bosses to deal with."
'I was only ten winters when it happened' Ethelston thought to himself desperately trying not to rile himself up and blow his cover.
"Rumour has it that he's the Manticore Hunter, so he's not exactly a coward."
"Manticore Hunter my ass, some of these nobles make up stories to make them sound more fearsome than they actually are. Give me five minutes with him and I bet I'd have him begging for his life."
"Doesn't matter if it's true or not, what matters is whether he will continue the agreement with us or if he'll set the city guard to task."
"They wouldn't dare!"
It was obvious that these men were Black Knife Syndicate members, and there was an arrogance about these men that suggested that their organisation ran deep within the heart of Ravenscourt.
Continuing the arrangement with them was out of the question, but an all-out war in the streets would certainly not cement his position as Duke of Ravenscourt.
Suddenly, the two patrons noticed him, both smiling at him before smiling at each other. It wasn't long before they started walking towards Ethelston in a confident manner.
"Hey turnip" the first patron called.
Having been around similar men like this on his travels, Ethelston knew this could end up deadly, but he still wanted to remain anonymous. Leaving his swords in the keep, all he had kept on him was a dagger stuffed in his boot.
Taking a swig of his drink from his left hand, he quickly pulled out his knife and held it on his lap with his right.
"What's a pretty boy like you doing here?" the first patron goaded as they sat at opposite sides of the table to Ethelston.
Ethelston smiled and took a swig of his drink. "Enjoying this fantastic drink. I can't believe I found something so nice here." he responded as innocently as he could.
The second patron smiled and leant forward. "Listen, turnip, this here is Black Knife Syndicate territory. You don't just come here from wherever and drink what you want. There are rules, rules which must be obeyed."
Turnip? Bit of a strange nickname.
"Im sorry, I've been travelling for some time, I'm not aware of these rules you refer to."
The two men looked at each other and smiled.
"Rules are simple, " the first patron commented "You give us a fee, say everything you've got, and we don't cut off all your fingers." he said as he slipped a dulled knife onto the table.
"And your clothes, " the second continued, "they look reasonably good quality, so we'll take them too."
As they were spouting off and attempting to demonstrate their masculinity, Ethelston had already determined that he could kill them both even before they could reach for the dagger. Slicing their throats with such precision that they would be holding their throats in complete shock, desperate to stop the gushes of blood that would undoubtedly cover the table. The desire was great but unnecessary, this had to be resolved as peacefully as possible.
"You men seem like reasonable folk, " Ethelston commented, "I'm sure I could just buy you both some of this delicious amber and we would be done. Besides, that knife doesn't look sharp enough to be able to cut off my digits."
The second patron laughed at his counterpart as he looked down despondently at the knife placed in his hand.
"I'll beat you shitless instead." he responded as he started standing to his feet.
"Leave his face, " the innkeeper shouted across the room, "I like the look of it."
The patron sat down slowly again irritated by the innkeeper's comment. "Fine Bianca, but I can't promise the rest of his body will be ok."
"Wait, " Ethelston interjected, "did you say her name was Bianca?"
"Yeah, What of it?"
Ethelston smiled and rubbed his beard, "Of course she is, I should have known."
"What do you mean by that?" the second patron asked.
"Melons!" Ethelston responded wide-eyed.
"Melons?"
Placing his hands just in front of his chest, Ethelston smiled "Melons!"
The second patron spun around and looked towards the innkeeper and started laughing. Especially when the innkeeper returned a somewhat frustrated glance.
The second patron turned towards Ethelston once again and smiled, "You're an interesting character Turnip, we'll take your offer of a drink. But next time don't expect to walk in here again without an additional fee."
"Bianca, please get these fine men a drink of that fantastic ale." Ethelston called across the room. Now that the situation had been de-escalated, it was time to gain more understanding of this syndicate and their agreements with the previous Duke Darke.
***
The intense smell of horse manure smacked Ethelston as he entered the courtyard of Ravenscourt Keep. The clanging of metal as soldiers clambered onto their respective horses reverberated around the courtyard like the crackle of thunder as they prepared for their week-long trip towards the Isovine capital, Lionmane.
As he headed towards the carriages in the centre of the convoy, Erdudvyl greeted him with a warm smile. It was quickly forgotten the moment Kirken cackled with laughter.
Erdudvyl's scowl seemed to only make his high pitched squeal more obvious. The moment that Ethelston laughed at the expense of Erdudvyl's frustration seemed to only compound it further.
"I swear to God if he continues laughing like that, he shall wish he was never born." Erdudvyl glanced over an empty threat. "You were gone some time."
"Found myself a new watering hole." he commented, examining the preparations that were ongoing for the departure.
"Watering hole?" Erdudvyl asked, still adapting to some of the bizarre comments that humans tended to blurt out.
"Sorry, an inn, somewhere for me to drink."
There was a small look of disgust on Erdudvyl's face. "I never quite understand human's unparalleled desire to spend hours sitting and drinking to acquire levels of intoxication. It's like brothels, why you spend money to release your base desires is beyond me."
Ethelston chuckled at Erdudvyl's attempt to understand the human psyche. It always seemed to bring a little quiver on her lips as she thought so deeply about things of little consequence.
"Inn's are places to to unwind, and sometimes meet fantastic new people of all walks of life, where all of a sudden you have something in common, the tankard placed in your hand. Brothels, well they are there just to unwind." he smiled.
"You realise that soon you will become too well known to attend local inns and brothels."
"Inn's yes, brothels no." Ethelston said, realising how uncomfortable he was discussing brothels with his small elven companion. Perhaps it was how candid she was when discussing it?
"I was information gathering anyway." Ethelston explained.
"About what?"
"Met two lovely chaps who decided to give me a rundown on the Black Knife Syndicate."
"Are these, umm, chaps, still alive?" Erdudvyl asked.
"They are, even bought me a drink in the end." he responded with a smile "As for the Black Knife Syndicate, they run deep in Ravenscourt and the city guard. Dealing with them will be a challenge."
Erdudvyl looked around at the city guards who were escorting them to Lionmane. She had to trust that Arminell had chosen the men well and they would all be loyal to Ethelston.
"Some weeds are dangerous, " she explained turning her head back to Ethelston, "if you start ripping them out, you could end up pulling up some perfectly flawless flowers. You'll need to investigate the roots and the ground they belong to in order to reduce the amount of damage caused."
Ethelston nodded knowing that Erdudvyl spoke true. He knew that in order to get Ravenscourt back on its feet, he would need to do an excessive amount of pruning.
"Where's Loldirr?" he asked knowing that their departure was imminent.
"Putting on that dress that you instructed Chrys to make for her. It took us a while to convince her that wearing dresses would be far more acceptable than wearing hunters garb in front of the Emperor." Erdudvyl laughed.
As Ethelston joined her in laughter, the courtyard heard the groaning of the Keep's outer doors as Loldirr, followed by Chrys entered the courtyard.
All eyes were on the beautiful redhead as she carefully walked along in her long black gown. The dress hugged her well-formed figure, it's texture appeared to ripple like water in the sunlight. Her neckline was exposed and complemented by gold and black embroidery designed to expose and enhance her features above her breasts. Her sleeves brushed the floor beside her long fluffy dress, exposing her hands just up to her wrists. As she stepped forward awkwardly, the insignia of house Darke, the raven, could be seen stitched onto the sleeve ends.
As Loldirr clumsily edged her way forward she smiled at both Ethelston and Erdudvyl. "I'm not sure what is wrong with my normal clothes?"
"Hunter's garb is not exactly what is expected of a lady when being presented towards an Emperor." Erdudvyl explained.
"Especially this Emperor." Ethelston confirmed.
"Despite Chrys doing a fantastic job, this is not exactly comfortable." Loldirr complained and she found herself routinely stepping on the dress which flowed around her.
"It's not meant to be." Erdudvyl smiled.
All eyes were on Loldirr as, with Ethelston's help, she pushed herself into the carriage with Chrys closely behind. As Kirken and some of his staff entered another carriage it prompted the soldiers to assume their escorting positions.
As the courtyard echoed with the clopping of hooves, Erdudvyl turned to enter the carriage, only to have Ethelston stop her by placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Please be careful, " Ethelston reiterated, "Bring both of you back safely."
Erdudvyl smiled before entering the carriage. As Ethelston closed the door behind them, the convoy burst into life and headed to the exit and towards the heart of Isovine, Lionmane.
The thundering noise of hooves, armour and carriages gradually dissipated until the only sound Ethelston could hear was the brutal squarks of the seagulls circling high in the harbour.
Seeing the final soldier travel through the gate he was left with a feeling of dread aching through his body. Knowing that he had sent them both to the lion's den, to face the worst Emperor that Isovine had recorded in over four hundred winters, he wondered if it was indeed the last time he would see one or both of them ever again.