Enforcer
Explorer
Part 3 of 3 (unfinished...I had to sleep!)
I awoke in my small but comfortable room to find warm water for shaving. It seemed that our reward for rescuing Sirene extended beyond just a free room. I dressed in my tight gray breeches that attracted a lady’s eye to my calves and my blue silk coat, embroidered in silver on the collar and cuffs. Resara was not the only one of the four of us that knew how to dress to catch attention. Besides, the crowd gathered to see the False Dragon might make way for a traveling Tairen Lord of the Land, whereas they would not budge for a man dressed as a commoner, even one with a sword. I only wish I had some jewelry to go with my signet ring to complete the image.
I came down the stairs into the common room of the Golden Stag. It seemed that life had returned to normal—merchants and travelers were having their breakfast, and the serving girls were performing their duties with good cheer. Tarlan was checking a bowstring for wear as Ronan was finishing a biscuit. Resara was chatting coyly with some merchants. She was wearing another Domani dress—it went from toes to chin, although it clung to every curve and was only barely opaque. The merchants were paying so much attention to her chest that they did not notice when she pocketed some coins from their purses. I doubt they would care if they did. I, for once, had other things on my mind besides Resara and her dress.
“So, shall we head out to the parade ground and find ourselves a good viewing spot? This will be the only chance we will have to see a False Dragon, the Light willing,” I said, not taking care to conceal my excitement.
“I suppose we should, besides, you’ll need someone to watch your back,” Tarlan seemed amused at my anticipation—I suppose I would react the same way to a man my age acting like a child. Of course, Tarlan looked like he was almost ten years my senior, so perhaps he did think of me as a child. Resara seemed to share my eagerness, and Ronan simply shrugged in a manner that might have suggested agreement. I wonder what his reaction would be if I punched him in the mouth…
And so, we gathered our weapons and our cloaks and went outside, into chaos. Caemlyn had been crowded the past couple of days, but this was insane. Tarlan and I had to use our strength to force a path through the crowd, until finally we reached a small square right inside the New City where we had a good view. There were onlookers everywhere: standing on balconies, looking out of windows; but mostly in the streets with the four of us. All we had to do now was wait for the parade.
“You! Halt!” came the cry from a heavily armed man dressed in gleaming full mail, wearing a pure white cloak with the golden sunburst symbol of the Children of the Light. I hate bloody Whitecloaks, I hate Whitecloak officers even more, and this one had a silver lightning-flash emblem that denoted rank. Worse, he was trailed by three more of them.
None of my friends were enthusiastic at the interruption either. Resara looked ready to either draw her bodice-dagger or run, it was too difficult to tell which. Ronan had a hard look in his eyes, of course, though he looked pale and sweaty again, as he did when we fought the Trollocs in the copse.
“Yes Captain, how can I assist the Children of the Light?” I asked. In my experience, it is better to flatter these idiots, instead of breaking their noses as they deserve. Besides, they could find out where I was staying and convince some fool to scrawl a Dragon’s Fang on the door to Master Ferrin’s inn. I would not allow that, not after the kindness he had shown us. Tarlan’s expression illustrated his shock at my good manners—he must have thought I had grown Trolloc horns, being polite to a Whitecloak.
“Hmph, that’s Underlieutenant Arlvin and I’m looking for Darkfriends from the country. Unsophisticated louts who all serve the Dark One. You four fit their description, what’re your names? Do you walk in the Light?” he sneered. Unsophisticated? Unsophisticated! If we were in Tear, I could have had this man jailed, possibly executed. Were it not for the crowd, I would have surely drawn steel. Tarlan had similar thoughts, as his hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his Warder’s sword. I had to diffuse the situation and quickly.
“You see this ring, peasant?” I said in a raised voice, all but hitting this “Underlieutenant Arlvin” in the eye with my signet ring. “This ring bears irrefutable proof that I am Reimon Jaspur, the son of Marcos Jaspur, Lord of the Land of Tear. I may be outside of my home country, but I have friends in high places here, even some who have the ear of the Lion Throne. If I were you, Underlieutenant Arlvin, I would cast your unpalatable accusations upon one who fits your description. Surely you cannot name me an ‘unsophisticated lout,’ and certainly any friends of mine could not ” My statement was bold, and probably over the line. At least what I said was true, I probably could call in a favor with the Rose Crown, though it would be difficult at best. I was gambling here, and the price I would pay if I lost could be most handsome. My only hope was that he backed off.
“Even the noble-born may cast their lot with the Dark One, Reimon Jaspur. See to it that you do not make that mistake, for I will know it when it happens,” he said, though his eyes betrayed his confidence—I had won this test of wills. “Come men, these are not those whom we seek, though they would do well to walk in the Light.” They left, glaring around at everyone as they made their way through the crowd. To my delight, one of the onlookers bumped into one of Arlvin’s men, knocking him to the ground. By the time the Whitecloak had regained his feet, the man had disappeared into the accommodating mob. A Tairen peasant would have prostrated himself before even this common Whitecloak thug and begged forgiveness had he done such a thing, and here this Andorman had done it on purpose! It is no wonder that my people’s skirmishes with the Queen’s Guard rarely met with much success, given the bravery of even the lowest Andoran citizen.
The four of us breathed a sigh of hearty relief as the last of them vanished in the crowd. To his credit, Tarlan gave me a friendly pat on the back and offered kind words about a job well done. I do not think he will look upon me as an intemperate youth any longer.
I awoke in my small but comfortable room to find warm water for shaving. It seemed that our reward for rescuing Sirene extended beyond just a free room. I dressed in my tight gray breeches that attracted a lady’s eye to my calves and my blue silk coat, embroidered in silver on the collar and cuffs. Resara was not the only one of the four of us that knew how to dress to catch attention. Besides, the crowd gathered to see the False Dragon might make way for a traveling Tairen Lord of the Land, whereas they would not budge for a man dressed as a commoner, even one with a sword. I only wish I had some jewelry to go with my signet ring to complete the image.
I came down the stairs into the common room of the Golden Stag. It seemed that life had returned to normal—merchants and travelers were having their breakfast, and the serving girls were performing their duties with good cheer. Tarlan was checking a bowstring for wear as Ronan was finishing a biscuit. Resara was chatting coyly with some merchants. She was wearing another Domani dress—it went from toes to chin, although it clung to every curve and was only barely opaque. The merchants were paying so much attention to her chest that they did not notice when she pocketed some coins from their purses. I doubt they would care if they did. I, for once, had other things on my mind besides Resara and her dress.
“So, shall we head out to the parade ground and find ourselves a good viewing spot? This will be the only chance we will have to see a False Dragon, the Light willing,” I said, not taking care to conceal my excitement.
“I suppose we should, besides, you’ll need someone to watch your back,” Tarlan seemed amused at my anticipation—I suppose I would react the same way to a man my age acting like a child. Of course, Tarlan looked like he was almost ten years my senior, so perhaps he did think of me as a child. Resara seemed to share my eagerness, and Ronan simply shrugged in a manner that might have suggested agreement. I wonder what his reaction would be if I punched him in the mouth…
And so, we gathered our weapons and our cloaks and went outside, into chaos. Caemlyn had been crowded the past couple of days, but this was insane. Tarlan and I had to use our strength to force a path through the crowd, until finally we reached a small square right inside the New City where we had a good view. There were onlookers everywhere: standing on balconies, looking out of windows; but mostly in the streets with the four of us. All we had to do now was wait for the parade.
“You! Halt!” came the cry from a heavily armed man dressed in gleaming full mail, wearing a pure white cloak with the golden sunburst symbol of the Children of the Light. I hate bloody Whitecloaks, I hate Whitecloak officers even more, and this one had a silver lightning-flash emblem that denoted rank. Worse, he was trailed by three more of them.
None of my friends were enthusiastic at the interruption either. Resara looked ready to either draw her bodice-dagger or run, it was too difficult to tell which. Ronan had a hard look in his eyes, of course, though he looked pale and sweaty again, as he did when we fought the Trollocs in the copse.
“Yes Captain, how can I assist the Children of the Light?” I asked. In my experience, it is better to flatter these idiots, instead of breaking their noses as they deserve. Besides, they could find out where I was staying and convince some fool to scrawl a Dragon’s Fang on the door to Master Ferrin’s inn. I would not allow that, not after the kindness he had shown us. Tarlan’s expression illustrated his shock at my good manners—he must have thought I had grown Trolloc horns, being polite to a Whitecloak.
“Hmph, that’s Underlieutenant Arlvin and I’m looking for Darkfriends from the country. Unsophisticated louts who all serve the Dark One. You four fit their description, what’re your names? Do you walk in the Light?” he sneered. Unsophisticated? Unsophisticated! If we were in Tear, I could have had this man jailed, possibly executed. Were it not for the crowd, I would have surely drawn steel. Tarlan had similar thoughts, as his hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his Warder’s sword. I had to diffuse the situation and quickly.
“You see this ring, peasant?” I said in a raised voice, all but hitting this “Underlieutenant Arlvin” in the eye with my signet ring. “This ring bears irrefutable proof that I am Reimon Jaspur, the son of Marcos Jaspur, Lord of the Land of Tear. I may be outside of my home country, but I have friends in high places here, even some who have the ear of the Lion Throne. If I were you, Underlieutenant Arlvin, I would cast your unpalatable accusations upon one who fits your description. Surely you cannot name me an ‘unsophisticated lout,’ and certainly any friends of mine could not ” My statement was bold, and probably over the line. At least what I said was true, I probably could call in a favor with the Rose Crown, though it would be difficult at best. I was gambling here, and the price I would pay if I lost could be most handsome. My only hope was that he backed off.
“Even the noble-born may cast their lot with the Dark One, Reimon Jaspur. See to it that you do not make that mistake, for I will know it when it happens,” he said, though his eyes betrayed his confidence—I had won this test of wills. “Come men, these are not those whom we seek, though they would do well to walk in the Light.” They left, glaring around at everyone as they made their way through the crowd. To my delight, one of the onlookers bumped into one of Arlvin’s men, knocking him to the ground. By the time the Whitecloak had regained his feet, the man had disappeared into the accommodating mob. A Tairen peasant would have prostrated himself before even this common Whitecloak thug and begged forgiveness had he done such a thing, and here this Andorman had done it on purpose! It is no wonder that my people’s skirmishes with the Queen’s Guard rarely met with much success, given the bravery of even the lowest Andoran citizen.
The four of us breathed a sigh of hearty relief as the last of them vanished in the crowd. To his credit, Tarlan gave me a friendly pat on the back and offered kind words about a job well done. I do not think he will look upon me as an intemperate youth any longer.
I, for one check daily to see if an update has been posted 
hehe
