CHAPTER 71: STRANGE MEETINGS

Marcus woke early and spread his notes across the shed's makeshift table. His ideas for Lord Hammond needed to look professional, though he had no idea what sort of man he'd be meeting. Commander Cain seemed decent enough, but that could be obligation, fear, or generational duty. Marcus had no clue what to expect.

"Tom, wake up." Marcus shook his giant cousin's shoulder, trying to stay quiet. "Tom, did you pick up any mushrooms like I told you?"

The young giant yawned and suddenly jumped to his feet, throwing a few punches at the air. "Good morning Marcus!" he said with too much energy for dawn.

"Keep it down. I don't want to wake everyone. Did you pick any mushrooms?"

"Yeah, I foraged some. I think their time is about to pass. There were many woody ones, less so the edible types." Tom walked toward the corner of the shed, picked up some laundry, and revealed a cloth bag with several mushroom varieties.

"I think Aunt Elara cooked some of these. Are these enough?" Tom showed Marcus the bag.

"I don't know, but enough for now. I'm going to meet Lord Hammond. Sergeant Harwick will be there. You want to come?"

"Sure. Today was an off day at the Academy anyway."

Marcus picked out two silver coins from yesterday's earnings and gently placed them beside sleeping Grandpa Aldric. He gestured for Tom to follow and grabbed his mushroom spawn jar on the way out.

The city of Drakmoor stretched before them like a wounded beast. Marcus could see the strain of war in every corner refugees huddled in makeshift shelters, merchants with empty stalls, and the constant murmur of worried voices. The eastern quarter, where the refugees piled had showed signs detoration.

People moved through the streets with hurried steps, their faces drawn with exhaustion and fear. Marcus noticed more guards patrolling than usual, their weapons at the ready. The tension was palpable—everyone knew another attack could come at any moment.

As they walked toward Hammond's temporary camp, Tom chatted about old times.

"Oh, I missed Sergeant Harwick and his men. They were so fun. I hope they're okay."

"Yeah, me too. But Tom, if they want to recruit you to Hammond's military, please say no."

"Do you think they really want me as their soldier?"

"You have formal education now and magical strength. Everyone wants people like you, and not just as a soldier. They'd probably raise you as a military officer or something."

Tom's eyes sparkled with the idea. "Really?"

"Tom, we need you. I need you more than they do. I feel strange things are about to happen. Please don't commit to anywhere. I know I'm blocking your future, but after we solve the food and residency crisis..."

"Okay Marcus, whatever you say. I trust you."

When they neared the temporary refugee area, Marcus heard a voice calling his name.

"Marcus! Hey Marcus, dear, over here!" The voice came from an ominous alley. Marcus turned to see Celestine waving at him, wearing strange clothes that were out of context as ever.

Marcus sent Tom ahead to the camp. "I'm coming after you."

He jogged toward Celestine. "Where were you these past weeks? You showed up in the other world, said we had to talk. Who are you? What do you want?"

"Hello to you, darling. But I had other business. Urgent matters."

"What urgent matters?"

"Another recruit was in danger. I had to get her to safety. Time flies when you're not..." She trailed off, meaning something Marcus couldn't understand. "Never mind."

"Another recruit?"

"Yeah, come with me. I'll introduce you two."

"Right now? I can't. I have a meeting with Lord Hammond about..." Celestine cut him off.

"Kings, queens, lords. These are not important. There are more urgent matters."

"Like Malachar?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, like Malachar and more," she said ominously, smirking.

"I don't have time right now, but..."

"Darling, meet me tomorrow at Roady Inn on the north side of town. Tell the innkeeper you need to see the crazy old lady. He'll understand."

That was probably my description of you anyway, Marcus thought.

"And bring two roasted chickens," she said, walking deeper into the alley.

"Chicken?"

Marcus stood there confused, with more questions than ever, then walked toward the temporary refugee area. Whatever Celestine was planning would have to wait. Lord Hammond and the city's food crisis couldn't.