Mordred Blois
"That concludes my report."
The officer before me shuffled his feet together and straightened his back as he spoke. For the past few hours, men just like him entered my office. Within that time frame, I was given important information about the state of our forces. This man, in particular, just informed me of a reported skirmish between two adventurers and the infamous Gold Coin Brigade around the village of Ava to our east. Ava is an important asset to Astana's security, so I find it baffling that they managed to seize control from underneath my watch.
With this duel weighing on my mind and Percival's decision seemingly being influenced, I find myself making more mistakes than I should have. Dealing with the constant influx of information can be demanding, but I prefer to believe that my father left me in this position due to my ability to withstand it. This job is still far more demanding than I could have imagined. With Governor Ana Von Angea missing and my father departed to investigate alongside my brother, I was charged with keeping order in our city.
I have been keeping matters in check with the cooperation of the Arch-Captains, but I can't help but feel that something is off. When Father has departed, destruction occurs outside our city limits, and bandits have become bolder.
"Very good. Have Arch-Captain Feathers deploy a platoon from the eastern barracks to track down those bandits. Arrest them, and then locate the identity of the adventurers who defeated them.", I ordered. My gaze didn't shift from the report present in my hand.
"As you command!"
Without wasting motion, the officer turned and made his exit. Before I had realized it, light from the moon peered through my window. The soft rain pattered against the glass as if requesting to be invited inside. It was a melody to my ears—a melody that quickly snowballed into a sharp crash of thunder. Despite that, I remained undisturbed.
My hands quickly went to work organizing the many documents on my desk. Most of them contained rough reports on incidents that transpired throughout the day. Many were minor, but I still looked over them with the utmost care. If small incidents are overlooked, then the prospect of danger increases. The smallest of sparks are often the catalyst for nature's most brutal wildfires. I know this well, so I must remain vigilant. As long as I stand guard over Astana, I will not allow this city to be engulfed.
Click.
I did not often get an unsolicited visitor to my office, but they would normally arrive through the door. It would be foolish to attempt any other way, but still, an individual seemed unaware of that fact. A tall, dark figure appeared at my window, blotting the moon's radiance. It was hard not to notice, so I quickly launched into action. I moved over the desk in smooth movements, and both feet were planted in front of my couch.
Undeterred by my actions, the figure pulled open a sealed window. Allowing that specific window to be accessed from the outside would be a security risk, so opening it should have been impossible other than smashing it. Yet, I stood vigilant. Almost on cue, lightning crashed, thunder erupted, and the window slid open with it.
'He perfectly timed his entrance with the thunder so that no one could hear him break in... should I request assistance?'
Those thoughts raced through my mind as I watched the figure enter. Within the lighting flash, a distinct gleam appeared in his eyes produced from the flash of light. Despite being caught, the figure persisted. In two wide steps, the cloaked figure appeared behind my desk. My heart skipped with its footsteps.
There was no reason for any of my men to appear in such a suspicious manner, but oddly, an assassin wouldn't normally persist with his attempt despite being caught. Is it arrogance, or perhaps he underestimated my abilities? No, just how did he get access to that window anyway? My office is located on the third floor, with no possible access routes without being spotted.
"Whew- It's raining cats and dogs out there. Nothing grinds my gears more than getting my clothes wet, but I suppose I'll overlook it."
There was a distinctive tone to the individual, an accent, and I recognized him once they entered the light of my office. In a swift motion, he pulled back his hood to reveal his face. The dark complexion paired with those hard-to-miss orange and white ears. His steps were heavy, but he soon moved from behind my desk with decisive steps. I knew he had never stepped foot in this place before, but he moved as if he owned the place. The foxel known as Mark Drago had appeared in my office.
"That is quite the unorthodox method of entry. I nearly struck you down where you stood, but I will continue to do so if you do not provide me with a substantial explanation for your sudden appearance.", I say to the man.
His ears flickered at my words as he continued shedding himself off his cloak. Underneath the cloak were gathered clothing with gaping holes exposed in the fabric. Dark red stained the green threads, giving off an unkempt state. It surprised me to see him in such a state. Covering his left eye was a black eye patch with a single strap covering an injury.
This one, like the damage to his clothing, must have been recent. Not even a week had passed since I first encountered this man, and here he stood with one of his eyes covered.
"Oh? That's cute, but you couldn't do that even if you wanted to.", he remarked.
Those were bold words, but that was to be expected. This man declared himself a god before many of Astana's most powerful residents. He had bravado, but he had one thing going for him. His anonymity shielded him, and I'm sure he knew it.
"Why are you here?"
The tall man removed his glasses and held them up towards the light. He didn't respond immediately and instead used the fabric on his wrist to wipe the lens. His silence roused my curiosity so I would question him again.
"I didn't think that you'd resort to cheating, Mordred. Honestly, I would have preferred that you sent someone more powerful to take me on because if that was a taste before our clash at the duel, then consider me unimpressed."
The man's words confused me. I had assumed that he had some valid reason for approaching me in such a way, but it appears that I have given him too much credit. This man is just insane. He is far from the grand mastermind that I had envisioned him as. The fact that he wore both his usual glasses alongside an eye patch was clue enough of his unseriousness.
'A god? Cheating? What ludicrousness is this?'
"I assure you I don't know what you are talking about, and I don't appreciate you appearing here without notice. It is not appropriate," I responded to him.
The man must've detected the change in my tone as he stared at me. His tail flickered back and forth before he returned his glasses atop his snout.
"You don't do you?" he remarks. The foxel would move his hands behind his back before looking around the room.
Normally, I would not allow such a thing, but I overlooked it on this occasion. He didn't make any hostile movements toward me, and instead, his focus shifted to the various pictures on my wall. One specifically caught his focus the longest: a portrait of me and my brothers, Percival and Gareth.
"There's one problem, Mordred. I do believe you, but there lies the problem. There are only a handful of people in this city who even know of my existence. I have rubbed a few of them incorrectly, but many do not command power like you do. Sending the goon squad to rough me up is a characteristic of a coward. Perhaps, a foxkin such as myself has gotten a bit too uppity for the tastes of the elite.", the man says before turning to look in my direction. "That is what the assistants said anyway. I found it entertaining."
"Perhaps you have given yourself too much credit. Many men in this world are looking for a quick buck. I can see that aligning yourself with Lady Clarice has done wonders for your pockets. Your clothing has improved in quality. As sad as it is to say this, Foxels are easier targets in the eyes of many."
The man tilted his head before returning to face that portrait.
"If not you, then it is Percival.", the man responds flatly.
"Percival would never do such a thing. He is a man with his pride. Organizing such a-"
"Doesn't mean a goddamn thing.", the man shot back. He quickly snapped his attention back to me, and his tail stood on end.
I prepared to defend myself in the event that he decided to attack me, but instead, he remained in his current position. His face was painted with amusement.
"His pride is the reason that ya'll will end up suffering a crushing defeat. It is said pride that will make it all that much easier to win our clash. I'm sure he also knew that, so he decided to land the first blow. Had he succeeded, an innocent boy would have been caught in the crossfire! Then again, ya'll would probably overlook it since we're both demi-humans. I expected you to be different, but I can see through you."
"And what about you? Your masters back in Biikar would be displeased when they learned that your arrogance foiled your espionage."
My words seemed to strike a chord with the demi-human. He looked towards the window, and I fully expected him to attempt to make his escape.
"That is the third time someone has made that misinterpretation. I suppose that many of the elven elite here are so used to being above everyone else that once faced with their superior, they automatically assume that I am an agent from a foreign. At this point, I should accept it as a compliment."
"Surely, they could have sent a more competent spy if they would put in the effort. Instead, they sent you—a man who can not see past his nose and lies through his teeth," I said.
"You talking about me or Percival?"
I couldn't prevent myself from frowning; with it, a feeling washed over me. Why does it feel as if he's solely attacking Percival? Even as I insult him with intent to rile him up, he defaults to my brother.
"Percival has nothing to do with this. I should have you detained and questioned by my men, so you should be grateful for my generosity towards you despite your disrespect to my house," I responded.
I moved towards my desk as I spoke to place myself between the window and him. He realized, but he did not attempt to deter me. Instead, he wore a confident smirk on his face. His hand moved from behind his back as he pushed his glasses in place on his nose.
"Ah, yes. The Blois are so respectful. I suppose your house is generous. It's not every day that a man of my race gets to kick the ass of nobles of your caliber. Normally, they'd get put down and compared to dirt. That is, if they are lucky. Not to mention all the demonization that they endure."
"So that is your goal? Perhaps you aren't a spy from Biikar but a mere radical. Likely your delusion had you chased from your homeland."
I would imagine that my words would incite a more charged reply, but instead, soft laughter escaped from the man's lips.
"In a way, you are right, but I'd rather be a mere radical than a puppet any day of the week."
My mood soured greatly. To be insulted in this manner by a stranger is...is...
"I am the commander of Astana's guard. I have safeguarded this city from threats beyond your comprehension. A puppet is one thing that I am not."
"So you say, but apparently, you don't even know about the threats festering underneath that fat nose of yours. You brandish your credentials as if that gives you authority over me. In a traditional sense, perhaps it does, but being commander means nothing, when your own family oversteps, said authority." The man shadows my steps in an attempt to retake his position at the window.
"You're accusing him of misdoing again. I already said-"
"I know what you said, but I know better than to listen to you. It is the job of elders to look after the wellbeing of the youngins'. That especially applies when it comes to brothers."
"My brother is more than capable of taking care of himself. He is a man of the Blois household. An outsider has no place to question his competence."
"We both know that isn't the case, Mordred. If that was so, then you shouldn't have embarrassed him at his banquet. Stepping in to protect his honor, but then allowing your brother to tarnish it by sending goons to rough me up. This may not be new to me, but I don't appreciate being underestimated. I don't appreciate what you are doing now either, so I'll warn you against it."
My eyes narrowed at the man, but he returned the gesture. His tail swayed with his every movement, and his ears flickered as if he was detecting something. While it is common knowledge that foxels have superior hearing than your average human and elf, it is said that certain foxels also possess Echo Hearing, much like their elven counterparts.
He wouldn't have known it, but there was one more person from whom I was expecting a report—someone whom I assume he has concerns about considering how ready he appeared to leave. While I have no concerns that I could defeat him now, I weighed the benefits of clashing with him now. There was one option left for me to take: I must hold his attention until my final guest arrives. Then, for certain, I will get the answers that I require from him.
"You come here with great claims, but do you have any proof that an attack even transpired? Anyone foolish enough to sneak in here could not be trusted on his word alone," I said.
There was no immediate response, but I could see the thoughts racing inside the man's mind. Upon making a decision, he moved one of his hands into his cloak and shuffled around. After a second, he pulled it out. He pointed his balled hand in my direction before opening it, revealing a ring. It was made of a plain silver band with a small blue crystal nested in it.
"You seem confused about what you're seeing, so I'll educate you. The weakling with this little trinket thought it was enough to shorten the gap between him and God. For a time, it did, but being able to cast magic without chanting would give someone a slight edge against an ignorant opponent."
An artifact that allows an individual to cast magic without chanting. From my understanding, artifacts of that nature were supposed to be difficult to obtain. Only a select few, such as High Mage Cofers, should have access to them. That is if they went through legitimate channels.
If he is saying is true, then something sinister might be on the horizon. If bandits got ahold of this type of equipment, things could instantly turn against Astana. The ability to cast magic without an incantation undoubtedly places the caster above your average soldier by leaps and bounds.
"Even if what you say is true, no man associated with our family would have access to such an artifact. Even if we did, what makes you think we would waste such resources on you?"
"I was thinking the same, so I decided to share some generosity your way tonight. Do not send any more people after me. I can overlook them spying on us, but I will not tolerate another attack."
My face straightened itself upon hearing his words. His intentions were clear, but his tone walked the thin line between jovial and serious.
'So they were onto our spies?'
I became more curious by the second, so I decided to try a different approach. Stepping away from my position before his exit, I approached the case where I stored my elixir. I felt the burning eyes of the foxel on my back as he watched me with great amusement.
I questioned him, "Would it be strange that not long after Governor Angea and her daughter's sudden disappearance, a woman claiming to be their relative appeared?"
There was not an immediate response, but I continued with my action. Pulling open the case by its handle, my eyes overlooked the various flavors of my elixir. Without deliberation, I chose the one that I desired.
"It would be peculiar, but the timings can be a coincidence.", the foxel responds.
"A coincidence, you say? So it would be a reasonable response to have reconnaissance on said relative?"
As I stared at the man's reflection in the glass pane of the display case, bright yellow filled the room. Lightning crashed outside and, with it, brought its mate in thunder. Despite the sudden interruption, the foxel man didn't flinch. His face was as cool as marble, as if molded with his self-confidence.
"With enough justification, anything could be seen as a reasonable response. Hell, if you were to send your goon squad to capture and interrogate her, then that action within itself would also be seen as reasonable if you spin it well enough.", he responded while running his facial hair.
"And why would I do that? There is no basis for true suspicion. Doing so could splinter the established relations between our families."
"If you are that worried about making enemies, then I know you don't have the fortitude to make that call. You may hide it well, but I know your type, Mordred. As they say, a nose knows."
With his words spoken, Mark Drago returned his hand inside of his cloak. His expression seemed relaxed, but his ears were on high alert. I studied his features, hoping to gain any semblance of deceit in his words.
"There is something off about this situation, Commander Blois. If you value secrecy in your actions, then I'll make a recommendation. Keep your nose out of Clarice's affairs and instead look into your own."
"Hm- And what does that mean-"
As I spoke, thunder once again rattled the heavens. Lightning flashed, gracing me with its blinding brilliance. When it cleared, I found myself alone in my office. Only the subtle breeze of the disturbed air accompanied me, but I did not mind. With my elixir in hand, I approached the ajar window.
"Leaving without further clarification is... unfair."
There was one thing that I discovered just now. Something, no, someone wishes to harm Astana. Govonor Angea's disappearance and my father's relocation have weakened Astana. I do not know where this Mark Drago comes from, nor can I confirm Clarice's connection to the Angea. Yet still, I must remain steadfast in my duty to the people of Astana.
There are forces at work that likely wish to weaken our faction, and with this duel, I may have fallen for their trap. I must push Hildebrand to rejoin Percival's circle to get our representatives in shape. A man who can sneak into the Golden Manor underneath the guard of Astana's finest is no normal man. Now in his possession is an artifact that tips the odds in their favor.
This is a predicament that I could not have foreseen.