1.3 Dark and Cold: Enter, Aerion

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Full of shame, the six Royal Guards stood in front of the door to the king’s room. Quarrelling, unable to decide who would deliver the bad news.

“You do it, Hugo, you failed to snipe him down,” Ultan aggressively whispered.

“The heck you mean? I’m the only one who tried sniping him down!”

As their bickering continued, a man shining in his noble attire with his long brown hair swaying over his cape, walked through the hallway towards them.

“Be damned, you cognitively challenged buffoons. What do you think you’re doing in front of His Majesty’s room?”

“Aerion?!”

Without losing the intense glare in his eyes, he gave two heavy knocks on the door. In nearly the same tick of a second, the butler slid the peep hole up and down and opened the door.

“Please, do come in.”

The six guards looked at Aerion, who had his arms crossed and was still staring at them as if they were the very scum of the earth.

“You heard him,” he said.

A couple of glances were shared among them. Taking turns pointing at themselves and each other, until one of them said, “All six of us?”

He lost his cool, slammed his fist against the wall and yelled, “Get the hell in!”

The king, seated at his desk, turned around and calmly shot a glance at Aerion. He could read his eyes without the need of words and slightly bowed down in apology for being too loud.
With his right hand, the king lifted up his cup of tea. As he took a sip, he dipped his quill in ink and continued writing his letter to the ruler of Stormridge. Putting the tea down, he used his right hand to resume writing.

“I’m sure my ambidexterity on display is not what brought you here, is it,” the king remarked while he kept writing. “Out with it.”

The guards took turns pointing to each other all over again. This time, Aerion took a deep breath, picked Ultan up by the back of his collar and dropped him off next to the king.

“This one had something to say. Or so I am inclined to believe.” His deadly-dagger gaze gave Ultan the shivers.

“Well… You see… I– no, we lost him.”

Aerion placed his hand on Ultan’s shoulder and firmly clenched it. “How are we supposed to know who “him” is?”

The king put his quill down and pinched the top of his nose bridge. “For three years, that young man was under my supervision. I leave him in your care for two weeks, and you want to tell me he’s gone?”

He didn’t raise his voice, nor did he appear to be angry, but the guards knew that they screwed up big time.

“We… we regretfully report so.”

Without a single muscle in his face changing his expression, he stared at the letter in front of him. After some deep thinking, he lifted the sheet of paper off his desk, crumpled it in a single clasp of his hands and turning it into a palmtop houseplant using his magic.

“Place this wherever you like, Robin,” he said as he handed it to his butler.

He looked Aerion in the eyes, “You can all leave now.”

Everyone, but Aerion, walked out of the door. That single glance was enough for him to understand that the king wanted everyone but him to leave the room.

As cool and calm as ever, the king said, “We’re in real trouble.”

He raised his eyebrow in response, hardly able to grasp the severity of the situation. Well, he hadn’t set foot in the castle’s basement when that certain “him” was still around. Unusual for the king’s right handman, but he was left completely in the dark this once.

“There’s a young man on the loose.”

Aerion sat down on the chair against the wall across the desk and nodded. “That, I understood. Though I fail to understand what the big trouble is. I can summon my wyvern and track him down in no time.”

The king closed his eyes and shook his head, “You ought not to. If he realises our desperation, he’d understand what sort of monster he has become.” Aerion was carefully listening, but couldn’t quite follow his words. “If this ends up in a battle, you’d certainly die.”

Excessively offended, he jumped up with his fingers pressed against his chest, “Me? …Die? Your majesty, are you out of your mind?”

The king’s eyes said, “Sit down.”

“We need to capture him quick, but we can’t turn our glory-land a ruin. Speak to Cian and come up with a plan. There is no limit to your resources, but I won’t accept a single drop of blood spilt over this.”

“…Understood, Your Majesty.”

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