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)