The Last Favor

Chapter 6

They made it to the closest village late in the afternoon. Looking back, Tristan thought it to be quite a peaceful day. Well, as peaceful as can be with the kid around.

“GO MBEIRE AN DÁ DHIABHAL DEAG LEO TÚ,” a boiling mad voice roared.

Such a commotion is enough to attract anyone’s attention. Tristan turned to the miserable peasant with a wrath that shook the earth and saw his half-eaten field while Bryce was at loss as to what on Ecanistus did he say. Tristan got closer to the rotten crops to investigate what seemed to be the problem.

“Away wit you. I am naht in de mood fahr mahre trooehble,” complained the peasant who was mourning his crops.

“Ota Trops. They’re worse than rats,” explained Tristan.

“den what do you soehggest I do?” The desperate man finally turned to see who he was talking to.

“No sir,” intervened Bryce, “the right question is: how much will you pay us to solve your problem for you?”

“You gaht sahme balls lad.”

Tristan chuckled. “50 gold and 2 days is all I need.”

“50 gold each!” bargained the child.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Tristan reprimanded

“I’ll give you a tahtal o' 50 no mahre.”

“Any libraries near?” questioned Tristan.

“Selvester de mage does. 'e lives in de beggest 'ouse in de vellage. Can't mess it,” replied the peasant, “kend fellow, 'e wooehld 'elp anyone. Even you.”

And so, they both left, heading towards the biggest cottage they found.

And big it was. It was a delicate building with three visible floors and something about the house gave off a peaceful vibe.

Tristan knocked on the mahogany door and a Selgnirp opened the door for them. With a slim figure and 8 foot of height, the individual who Tristan assumed to be Silvester easily towered over them. His skin as white as the glow of the moon with blonde hair as golden as sunray and the smile of an angel, he welcomed them both with nothing but kindness in his heart which did nothing but alarm Tristan who was never used to such a warm welcome.

“I’ve been told you have a library.” Tristan as always went straight to the point without even bothering to introduce himself.

“So that, I suppose, is your business with me,” he said with a small voice, “I am called Silvester. The mage and healer of this village.”

“My name is Bryce sir and this is Tristan,” the kid introduced in singsong while Tristan eyed the Selgnirp carefully. He couldn’t help but notice that Sylvester did not state where he’s from as most people do in their introduction. It’s almost as if he omitted it purposely.

“Your son, I suppose,” he declared while staring at small little Bryce.

“No.” Tristan replied coldly.

“I’m his companion,” Bryce announced proudly with his hands on his hips while Tristan shook his head.

“Well aren’t you a precious little thing,” cooed Sylvester with honeyed voice as he grabbed Bryce and carried him like one would with a 2-year-old to see him clearer.

“I’m not little,” pouted the kid. “Oh sir, you have green eyes. So pretty.”

“Of course, I do,” he said taken a little aback by Bryce’s obvious statement, “I’m a healer. I use healing magic and beings who can use magic have eyes that have the same color as the type of magic they use.” He tried to explain as plainly as possible.

“Can’t you use many types of magic?”

“Yes. Yes, you can,” the mage kept on explaining, “your eyes show the type of magic you use most.”

“And who can use magic?”

“Well, only rational races can. Like me, a Selgnirp and your companion over there the Lezterp.”

“What’s the second type of race?”

“The Emotionals. They are f*******n of using magic.”

“I’m an Emotional?” the kid trying to understand as much as possible since Tristan wouldn’t explain to him.

“Yes and no. You’re human, my dear.”

“So, I can learn magic! Did you hear that Tristan? I’m going to be the best magic… magic user? Magic user there is,” Bryce excitedly announced. “Wait. Why can’t emotional races use magic?”

“Enough with the science lesson,” snapped Tristan, “we’re here for the books. Can we use them?”

“I will guess this: you’re here to take care of the village’s rat problem. Am I correct?” Tristan nodded.

“They’re not rats,” Bryce corrected, “They’re Ota… Ota… Loompa?”

Tristan shook his head as he tried to hide his chuckle “Ota Trops. They’re poisonous.”

“Yes that!” The kid agreed proudly.

“Is that so?” smiled the blond, “well you must excuse me for I have a rule: no one can approach my books with a candle and it is far too dark for you to use them without. How about both of you keep me company until the morning and in return, I shall let you use my library for research?”

For some reason, Tristan simply couldn’t trust this fella. Something about him seemed suspicious and he couldn’t put his finger on it. And why would he invite them to spend the night willingly instead of kicking them away as most do when he has nothing to gain? Or does he?

“Oh, come on in! I insist.” Sylvester beamed as he opened the door wider and went inside with Bryce still in his arms. Tristan hesitantly followed.

“I can walk,” Bryce said after poking the kind man’s shoulder awkwardly.

“Oh right, little one.” He put the kid down as he led the both of them to the guest room.

“You may leave your things in there if you’d like. This will be your room during the stay,” he instructed, “Would you like some dinner?”

“No.” Tristan’s catchphrase it seems.

“Thank you, sir” Bryce politely declined.

“Please, call me Sylvester,” he smiled, “if you’ll be needing anything, you are to find me upstairs.” And as he was about to close the door, he remembered one last thing, “Oh, and the third floor is off limit.”

As Tristan inspected the two beds in the room, the kid threw his satchel on one of them as he wondered, “say, Tristan, would you teach me magic?”

“No.”

“Why not?” nagged the kid.

“You talk too much,” he said as he laid on the other bed.

“And you, not enough,” grumbled the kid with a pout, “good night, Tristan.”