The Dauntless Rook (§.16)

Continued from §.15   When Sprill realized his tenants were either sleeping, hiding, or vacant, he gave a soft grunt of irritation, produced a keyring and turned the lock. Adair followed the landlord and moved through the small, sparse room to the window and peered out into the cluttered lane below, spying only a grim,… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.16)

The Dauntless Rook (§.14)

Continued from §.13. Serlo Wealdmaer exited the cabaret to behold an angwissous man in a corvine coat, running full-tilt across the cobblestones of the main thorough. The sprinter shouted for aid as he sped, arms flailing like a beached and barmy cephalopod. Something about the manic figure seemed familiar to Serlo. He narrowed his gaze… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.14)

The Dauntless Rook (§.13)

Continued from §.12. Volfsige could not believe his eyes, for standing before him, in the litter-strewn alley that let out to the smokestacked north, was, against all reason, Oeric Adair, who only minutes prior, had stood in the market square, surrounded by gambesoned mercenaries. Adair had exchanged the stately clothes and short-brimmed cap for the… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.13)

The Dauntless Rook (§.12)

Continued from §.11. Serlo poured himself a tumbler of scotch as his father ambled into the drawing room of Wealdmar Estate, mahogany cane clacking violently off the decorative and newly-swept marble floor. "How is our dear Cerelia?" Grædig Wealdmaer inquired with scant concealed venom, taking a seat upon the leather armchair opposite his son, who… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.12)

The Dauntless Rook (§.11)

Continued from §.10 "Mr. Dren! I say; Mr. Dren!" Oeric lowered the silver bracelet he was considering purchasing for Cerelia and turned from the market stall to behold a garishly dressed man of considerable girth with a spruce mustache glaring at him. Oeric at first thought the man was speaking to someone behind him and… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.11)

The Dauntless Rook (§.10)

Continued from §.09 Volfsige hung back, adjusting his newly acquired beige traveling coat and melting into the crowd as Oeric Adair moved deeper into the eastern bazaar, ringed by a small retinue of guards. He cursed. The minor legion would make any attempt upon the noble's life impossible. "Despite his skill, he brings such a… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.10)

The Dauntless Rook (§.07)

Continued from §.06. Luned Fey leaned back in the old wicker chair she'd stolen four weeks ago, lowering the paper to behold a lithe, pale man, garbed in a corvine coat, who sat across the charred table. He settled down into the chair and poured some of the coffee Fey had freshly brewed looking impossibly… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.07)