Lucia

Chapter Three

III. An Unfelt Warmth

The dark walls stretched to a ceiling of dim lights, the curtains draping over the translucent windows neatly, generously letting the moonlight touch a part of the room with gentleness and calm.

I removed my coat and hung it on the rack beside the entrance before walking past every other object in the room with a lack of appreciation. I let myself collapse on the spacious cot not because of physical exhaustion but because of mental stress. My eyes stung slightly as I closed them.

I sighed in frustration, we might need to return to our kingdom. We cannot simply delve into nowhere in search of a woman presumed dead. Although I cannot help but think of possible reasons for their presumption.

My pondering would only serve to be helpful if I could arrive at a confirmation. But I knew it was not the case right now. What solid information do we even have aside from the body being found in Wrandolf?

The corpse has been investigated, but there were not much findings as to who had killed my brother. The mage suggests suffocation as the cause, but there were no physical wounds or cuts. Even in careful observation, it seemed as though there was no physical contact. The physician agreed with the mage's assumption, adding that no regular person will be able to do such a crime. The murderer may be an unknown creature, an extremely smart and strong individual, or even a mage.

The second choice seems most plausible. Unknown creatures stand out, and in a bright place like Wrandolf, they would be easy to detect. Mages, on the other hand, are in-born and are extremely rare. As far as my knowledge goes, Wrandolf has only one mage, is still extremely young, and is currently undergoing much training. The child's seniors would surely have their eyes on each move. That leaves us with an extremely smart and strong individual.

It is then time to consider the fact that there were no signs of any physical attacks.

Is it poison? Or perhaps a potion? Then, it would not take much wit and strength to kill my brother.

Mages are rare, but potion-making is not. As we were passing by the streets, I was confident I had a glimpse of a magic stall. I shall take a visit tomorrow morning as it will be closed at this time.

After returning, I shall ask the royal mage to detect any unfamiliar substances in the corpse once more. I have accomplished my duties before advancing to this kingdom, but the lack of my assignment does not last long. I need to think and act while tending to my duties. Thus, we shall return after visiting the stall.

Emotional decisions are burdensome and rash.

For now, rest is what I need.

But the comfort of the unfamiliar cot never arrived at my call.

The memories of my brother kept returning in a bittersweet march, not once acknowledging serenity as a worthy neighbor.

"If you intend to banish yourself from your position, your power, your family, and your life..." our father roared, overcome with wrath, "...then speak of it! All will be gone in immediacy!" my brother hung his head, but nothing was expressed in his stance nor his expression. He merely did so out of respect for our father's position.

His indifference did not ease father's wrath.

I cared for my brother, and I knew father did too even in spite only of position, image, and power.

But his indifference pulls a little part of me to agree with the King.

Even if I did not speak of my slight accord, I shouldn't even have felt any slight agreement with my father. Why would I wish any negativity towards my brother?

I felt uneasy as time continuously walked its never-ending stride.

It was midnight when I finally rose to sit at the end of my cot. I was not drowsy despite my fatigue.

Gazing out the window, the expectation of silence was unmet by a familiar noise in the distance. It was the sound of men laughing and shouting at the company of ale.

Almost a block away, the lights inside the small pub revealed the lively presence of the people within.

I stood up and grabbed my coat. I needed to get my mind away from self-accusation. I have not yet mourned the death of my brother. A drink would help even slightly.

I wished to come alone, but one of my loyal guards would not seem to let that be.

"Sebastienne, good evening."

"I am surprised that your instincts are still intact, Rogue."

"Do not underestimate me," I scoffed, "You know my appreciation of solitude."

"Then unfortunately, you would be unable to show any appreciation tonight," he only wanted to keep me safe. I had guessed my father instructed him to not leave me unescorted, which is quite burdensome in itself.

"Where are you headed off to?" he asked.

"I need a drink."

He looked straight to where I was headed, scrutinizing the place even from a distance.

"Unless father also instructed my prohibition from such places," I glanced at him to see him quiet, "Then I shall proceed without further intrusion, no?"

He lowered his head, "Yes."

I underestimated the rowdiness of the pub. It was more full than I had expected. I looked around to see joyful smiles and sincere laughter from the numerous men inside. It seems that the women of Wrandolf are not accustomed to visiting such places at this time.

The bar steward, who I assumed is also the bar owner, nodded as we entered. He was quite busy tending to the orders of all his customers and taking care of the place. There was only one worker helping out. It seemed like a busy night. I wonder why he doesn't hire more workers to ease the work.

I looked to see Sebastienne's eyes on the same man.

"Proceed." he looked at me in confusion.

"I am not to leave your presence."

"I will be sitting in the far corner. I am still in your presence."

His contemplation did not last long as he finally nodded and walked to introduce himself and the assistance he wished to give.

Part of the high significance of meals are drinks in Reivemour. If one wishes to drink with another, an invitation must be given. It is ill-mannered to barge with no invitation. Sebastienne will not share a drink with me unless given the permission to. This is an opportunity to be unescorted.

The mug of ale I asked for was delivered by Sebastienne himself.

"Faring well, I see," I approved.

I looked around the place, noting the red walls and the dim lights.

There is a similar pub in Reivemour with tall walls and dim lights, but there were no joyful patrons or at least any regular visitor at the place. If anyone ever visited, it would be because they needed to empty their minds.

Meanwhile, Wrandolf's people seem to visit the place both for relaxation and joy. I am sure they will manage to accomplish my current endeavor with bright attitudes. The question is how they can. Wrandolf is quite a place.

It is a kingdom of joy and peace. I wish to give the people of my kingdom the same living.

I must have been desperate to accomplish my desires. The mug once filled to its brim was now empty. I hardly felt the heat of the drink as I called for more.

Before I knew it, another mug was empty in front of me. I sighed in frustration. Still no effect. I continued in a frustrated routine, calling for more and finishing before I was aware of it.

I looked around once more, now carefully observing each patron as I drank slowly. It was a poor attempt in distraction, but it worked better than drinking mindlessly.

I sat at the far end, but never did I notice the presence of the individual alongside. Not until the owner had walked past each table with one specific drink and placed it down the wooden table beside mine.

His exhaustion evaporated and vanished immediately as he went back to tend to the business of his pub.

I glanced at the table to my left, where the customer sat. She seems to be a relative, for the owner's smile easily introduced the receiver as family.

"Good evening," I started out, "Are you the owner's relative?"

She glanced at me before looking at the owner, "You could call it that."

"May I ask?"

"You already are asking."

I chuckled, "I see. Then excuse me if I do so some more."

She merely nodded and I was somehow relieved to receive her consent, for I was oddly curious.

I never socialized unnecessarily, but I was completely succumbing to the spontaneity alcohol brought me.

"Is he not your direct relative?"

As she spoke, I then just noticed the dark cloth hanging loosely below her eyes, covering the rest of her face, and so her identity.

"He is a close friend."

Her simple answer had burned questions I have never considered, interest in something unrelated to the purpose of my travel growing unnecessarily.

By each word, the night ticked faster owing to the unexpected rise of a conversation with the unknown lady, with it holding out for more mugs of ale than I had intended to have.