Chương 77: Book 2 Ch 15: Trek

Orcs are honest enemies. They kill and conquer because they want more and never pretend otherwise. Account of a Soldier during the Green Wave Solomon stood in front of his assembled servants. Normally they were all only gathered in numbers when they went to church at the end of the week, but as he was leaving Melissa had taken the liberty to have them prepared for a sendoff. They all stood with their heads slightly bowed in the atrium. It had been only a few days since he'd killed Dukat and summoned the demon.

Those Etling guards who'd come to collect him for hanging had left empty handed and in search of what criminal elements in their own city could've murdered the captive dissident.

"I don't have much to say. I know you can continue without my input, because you are often without it anyway. Please continue the quality work I have grown accustomed to even in my absence." There were bows and curtsies as he made his way through the atrium. Barnabus and Bart opened the main doors for him and Melissa was waiting at the carriage with Duncan already seated and ready for them to head to Etling.

He'd already left detailed instructions with the servants as to what they should be doing, as well as what to do if there was an emergency of any kind. They were all competent, but none of them were accustomed to being in charge. That was his own fault. He had no head butler, or maid to direct them, and had instead allowed Melissa to fill in the role as his valet and representative.

He climbed into the carriage and waited for Melissa to settle across from him before tapping the space next to Duncan's head twice so that he could move them forward. After only a moment, the carriage lurched forward and they were on their way. The first stop was Etling, where he'd spend the evening with the Viscount Byar. After that they'd head toward his family's estate between Brevantiss and Ventariss.

There he'd spend at least one night, and retrieve Crimson Command before heading to Ventariss where he would board a ship. He yawned, the very idea of the trip making him feel suddenly exhausted.

"Did you sleep alright, Solomon?" asked Melissa.

"Yes," he lied with a small smile. He'd had a familiar nightmare. Walking through the halls of the Morrow estate. A woman whimpering. He hadn't been plagued by that particular dream for years. Melissa frowned, but was placated enough to draw her book from her coat pocket. It was The Endless Gutter. Which volume, he was unsure. It didn't really matter, one could jump into any of them and find themselves some grimy entertainment.

He looked out the window watching Moonfallow fade away as he took a few final moments to review all of the spells and rituals he'd been holding in place with perfect recall. He wasn't sure when his ability to maintain the spell would fade and wanted to be sure he had truly memorized what he needed to. He saw a few guards on patrol, a trapper on his way into the safer woods between Etling and Moonfallow, and a wagon of men heading back into town from the Etling factories.

That didn't bode well, it wasn't yet the end of the week. It wasn't until they were nearly halfway to Etling that Solomon felt his mana begin to churn. He released the perfect recall spells rather than trying to maintain them and causing himself a mana induced headache. From there he monitored his mana carefully as it became more and more unstable. It didn't reach the whirlwind of instability it had been in the past, but it was still unstable enough to make the casting of spells outside of his focus tricky.

Melissa across from him continued to read, but occasionally would stop, glance at him, furrow her brows, look outside for a moment, then go back to reading. She was upset, that was clear, but he was glad she had the good manners not to argue the point any longer. Due to the nature of his trip he would be leaving her and Duncan when he left the Morrow estate. They would ride back to Moonfallow, and his old valet, Edmure would return to his previous role for the trip to the front.

It was, quite simply, not safe to bring a young woman with him to the orcish front in Manacht. He was sure she understood, but there's a difference between understanding something and having it truly settle in one's mind. It was late afternoon by the time they reached Etling, and later still when they reached the Viscount's manor. The gate was opened for them and Solomon took a moment to lean toward Melissa.

"Remember to be cautious. Remind Duncan of that as well." She nodded. They were all much more aware of who Viscount Byar was then they had been last time. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. She got out of the carriage, opening the door for him. He stepped out behind her, seeing Viscount Byar waiting for him at the top of the steps leading into his manor. His gold eyes glinted in the setting sun.

He wore a tobacco colored suit and smiled as he took Solomon's hand and shook it.

"Welcome back, Solomon."

"James. Thank you again for allowing me to stay the night here."

"Of course, we're friends aren't we?" He gestured to the doorway.

"Please, join me for a drink." Solomon nodded, leaving Melissa and Duncan to deal with his luggage as they made their way through the atrium and into the parlor. It was unchanged from the last time he'd been there, and he sat in front of the large window that looked out into the garden as James shut the door and poured each of them a drink. He handed one to Solomon. It was clear and vaguely fizzy, he took a sip and found it strong, but with a floral taste to it.

"I heard about your recent trouble," he said as he took the seat across from him, facing toward the garden.

"Or I suppose, troubles. There's certainly been more than one for you since you were last here."

"Nothing I can't handle," responded Solomon with a sip of his drink.

"Though I do appreciate the warnings you provided."

"A small courtesy. I'm sure you would do the same."

"Of course," responded Solomon, turning to him.

"Perhaps I wouldn't be so courteous had you told me you were selling guns to dissidents." James was in the middle of sipping his drink, but didn't stop mid-sip, rather finishing calmly and smiling.

"It was you then. I thought the Tide may have somehow managed to get people into Moonfallow without my notice, but if you were the one that killed Dukat that makes far more sense. I'm surprised he talked. From what I'd been told he could be…intractable. Especially to those of our stature. You even took the time to frame me," his tone almost made it sound as if he was touched by the gesture.

"He shot me more than once with a rifle he stole from you. I was unaware your clientele included dissidents." James smiled and nodded.

"I do sell guns to dissidents. I sell them to anyone who will buy them."

"And you don't worry that they will turn their guns on you?"

"That would be a foolish decision. I am nothing but a third son and a criminal that's supplying them with weapons. It would be a waste of the ammo I've provided them." Solomon swirled his drink in his glass.

"And when one is turned on me? Or our families?" He asked the question in an even tone, not an accusatory one. James shrugged.

"Then I would make them know I am dissatisfied with them in the most thorough ways possible. My business is a bloody one. The ripples I create can't be controlled fully, only managed and mitigated. Surely you understand? How many unexpected ripples does magic create?" Solomon smiled faintly.

"Many more than one would ever anticipate." James lifted his glass in Solomon's direction and took another long sip.

"Let's just agree to try and ensure that our ripples don't collide," said Solomon holding his glass toward the viscount. James clinked his glass against Solomon's and they shared another quiet drink.

"A shame you're not staying for more than a night. We could have another night of gambling. Though with your abilities I think I'd avoid being at the same table as you." Solomon shook his head.

"I don't need magic to win at cards." He didn't have any spells that could help him, but James didn't need to know that.

"I do have a small favor I was hoping to ask you. If it's not too much trouble."

"Depends on how small," replied Solomon. James stood and walked to the door of the parlor, gesturing for Solomon to follow, which he did. They walked through the hall and up some stairs into a large room with no windows and walls covered in plain covered black books. There were chests inserted into small shelves all around the room with everything labeled with different numbers. He approached shelf twenty-seven and pulled a key from somewhere in his pocket, unlocking the chest upon it.

As he opened it, Solomon could see the faint glowing of mana. Inside was a small dagger with a hilt of bone and an orange blade. He gestured carefully to the blade.

"This was given to me as payment by a man that placed some poor bets. His family is old, a branch of the Thorne's I believe, and he claims this is an ancestral weapon. I was hoping you could help me find a way to use it." Solomon looked at the dagger. The mana emanating from it was mild, staying dormant with only the occasional flare. It was different from what he'd seen on other magical objects.

The hermit statue and his uncle's walking stick had a steady glow when they were active, but the dagger was more variable, almost as if it was reacting to what was around it. It reminded him more of Threen. The suit of armor that guarded the entrance to the hidden study also seemed to be more reactive. He looked up at James, whose golden eyes seemed particularly focused. He was glad he'd just learned more about ancestral weapons at the last Arcana meeting.

"There are ways," he said, finishing his drink.

"The easiest methods would require having the blood that the weapon is attuned to. Is that something that you could get your hands on?"

"Very easily." Solomon nodded.

"I'd need to review my research and the cost of something like this will be substantial. Of course, I won't be able to do anything until I return."

"Are you sure you can't just snap your fingers and say some words?" asked the Viscount with a smile. Solomon smiled back.

"I certainly can, but it won't help much of anything." James shrugged, finishing his drink before slamming the case closed.

"We can revisit this when you're back then. Solomon nodded and they made their way back to the parlor where they drank and smoked until dinner, and afterward they drank and smoked some more. At the end of the evening Solomon laid down in the guest suite and looked at the shadow above him, noticing a pair of purple eyes hanging above him. He had several questions he wished to ask the demon, but was wary of the fact that James likely had the rooms watched.

Instead he closed his eyes and, after a brief period where he felt as if he was spinning, he managed to fall asleep.