The detective and investigator stood still in a moment of silence, never taking their eyes off the still force blocking their way, who in turn had also paused to examine the fancy carriage that had come to a halt abruptly.
Doran pulled his hood close to his face, his eyes barely peeking in between, and stuffed the loaded gun in his left pocket but kept his hand on it, Alexus interlocked his fingers ready to raise a barrier if things took a hostile turn. He slowly pressed the door handle open and let the door swing open, the opposite part had raised their shackles.
They both stepped down, with the detective moved into the investigator shadow as back up. Doran carefully analysed the group, they were masked and in uniform with a familiar badge pinned to their breasts, but he didn't jump to conclusions and went with negotiation as a first tactic.
'Good day gentlemen.' Even with the mask over his face, the investigator's voice was loud and clear cutting through the pensive silence. Someone stepped forward from the opposite group, his large frame towering over the others and flexing his gun slung across his shoulder with warning.
'What do you want? No one is allowed in or out, get lost!' He barked his command and aimed his gun at Doran threateningly.
'Now, now, isn't that a bit rash? I have come to deliver something to Lord Ernold, and it would seem it was for this reason exactly.' The lie slid off his tongue like butter on a pan. He knew he struck the right vein, when there was a pause of consideration from the opposition.
'Hand it over then, we'll make sure to deliver it to him.' The investigators hand flexed on his gun instinctively when the burly force started making his way towards him, he tried again. 'Unfortunately I'll have to refuse your consideration. This is something so valuable, Lord Ernold had made a good threat of his wrath if it were to be wrongly handled. I will give it to him myself thank you.'
By the time he was done speaking, he was at eye level with a hard stare. It didn't escape his observant eye, the tan line limit peeking out from beneath the mask. He spat in his face. 'I said, hand it over!'
Doran blinked unimpressed, 'And I told you, that won't do. I genuinely question your efficiency because the meeting has already begun with your master and here you are holding me back from fulfilling my errand.' The detective watched in fascination as the investigator grasped at straws to avoid a confrontation. There were seven men standing and if there were more in the motors, he wasn't fazed, he'd been trained to combat large numbers, his highest win count would be thirty three.
The only reason he had held back and watched the haggle in silence was from his conclusion that if he did things his way, the chances of having survivors was unlikely. He'd been advised by the governess thoroughly to avoid unnecessary murder, his kill count so far rounded up to a total of zero.
'And do tell, how would you present it? Where would you say you had come into its possession?' Doran spoke impatiently and genuinely irritated. He knew, if things took a violent turn it would be because the thick skull thug's ego won't back down.
'Renzo let him pass.' A voice called out from inside one of the motors and it must've been an important person because the investigator noticed the man before him stiffen like a soldier. Renzo stepped aside but his eyes were spiteful, Doran paid no mind and walked straight for the gates but his eyes scanned the motors trying to find who the voice belonged to.
The investigator and detective walked through the lane of carelessly parked motors and heavily armed bodies. While Doran stared straight ahead, Alexus could feel the slight shift of pneuma and looked at a particular motor, through its heavily tinted windows he locked eyes with who was behind it. He thought it unfortunate that he wasn't close enough to memorise the person's pneuma and they went on into the manor.
It was a lengthy walk from the gate to the main house, the road was levelled but was just dirt and it no sooner coated their shoes in a layer. Alexus itched to bend over every time to wipe it off but walked ahead looking anywhere but his feet, he spotted a flock of sheep on the trimmed grass lazily chewing away at what was left of it.
They were both sweating, with leg muscles strained by the time they got to the house. It was a standard structure of the times, its designs were modern and overdone, nothing exceptional about it, the detective did appreciate the canopy of trees around the building which brought a cool drift their way.
His breathing felt laboured, he looked at Doran how stood to his full height now composed. He wondered if he was out of shape, this might be true, but Doran's agility steamed from the consistent training he received in the Queens temple. Once the official house of the Queen's court, now the largest orphanage in the human realm, it wasn't out of the ordinary but the head of the place was a war veteran, so morning training of one hour was incorporated into the children's schedule. The head believed that every man, woman and child needed discipline and one of the best ways of achieving that was through exercise.
It's been four years since Doran left the orphanage and forgot all about the 4am regimen, but he found himself walking long distances that'd normally require a transport vehicle every morning. He considers it a form of saving and cutting back costs, but Doran has never had a financial setback in his life because he's well off to do. A single man, with a respectable job, living in a small comfortable two bedroom apartment downtown, the embodiment of a middle class citizen. In three years time, he would be looking for another place and considering finally building a family of his own, and the future would have ups and downs but it'll be alright. That was Doran's fate, living and dying an average man, he had nothing to worry about.
Yet he didn't settle into the lifestyle, eating certain meals, making every textile in his home and on himself presentable, sparsely buying luxurious things and believing in moderation, frequent health examinations, upkeep of his weapons and sublevel consciousness of how people perceive him. Like a soldier out of his element.
The investigator took confident strides and sluntered into another man's house uninvited and ready to face a possibly deadly situation. This was his reality, cold steeled thrill pressed against his neck in every mission and he enjoyed it, he wasn't born into the ideal role, he was made, and this was the present that threatened the future.