17: Consequences

Oliver had carried Liran to a room and laid her on the bed. He healed what he could.

Annoying Imp was also in a coma on a bed after draining that black energy. He didn't wake the next morning. Rat had fretted by his side. Not even Oliver's healing ability could stir him from his coma, but he was able to ensure the imp's lingxi continued to flow within his body.

"That freak is a nigen. No way he's going to die from a bad meal: leave him be." Oliver had flippantly noted earlier. Having done all he could, he left the tavern with a lame reason of hitting other taverns to woo ladies.

"Is he truly her fiancé? Can't imagine a man that shallow being one." Aiden frowned as he stabbed and hacked at his cooked steak. He was having lunch with Scot at his bench. Bosnia and Clover were tasked with scouting the streets and, in particular, keeping watch for Lord Malcolm's returning forces.

Scot chuckled. "That human is a known lady killer and, like all bards, completely carefree." He wryly added, "Does it bother you?"

"Tsk." Aiden answered and forced their topic onto something else. "Do you know about this vile magic affecting Liran-sai?"

Scot's expression sobered. "No, but whatever it is, it's not something Liran-sai should carry."

Aiden nodded and continued eating. He was almost finished when Bosnia rushed in, looking flustered and panting.

"Not good. That poncy human is coming up the street with an army!"

"Army? Are you sure?"

Bosnia growled. "I know what makes an army. Lots and lots of warriors!"

Clover dashed into view to sit next to Aiden. "I counted twelve mages carrying the same kind of staff."

Aiden gulped. "What does the head look like?"

"The same symbol on your shield."

Aiden fretted. Did Malcolm-ta unleash his garrison?

He shook his head, as it didn't feel like something he would muster for personal revenge. "Unless a higher authority ordered him to attack, like one from his father, the duke."

Scot paused his bookkeeping work to peer at Aiden. "Are we about to be under attack?"

Aiden nodded. "If Lord Malcolm is returning with an army, he's going to destroy this place."

Scot closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh before opening them again. "Naturally. I knew this sunturn would come."

"Fret not. We can always rebuild if we stay alive." Beserk reassured him as he entered the conversation.

They saw that he was dressed just in his armor with his halberd holstered to his back. The tavern had been emptied, and the entrance was closed.

"I saved the crucial items. Time to fight our way out of this town." Beserk crunched his knuckles.

"Don't be stupid. We don't have the manpower. No, we have to flee. Let me handle this." Scot got up. "I had prepared the building with trap and barrier arrays for this kind of necessity."

"What about Liran-sai and Annoying Imp? Neither has woken," Clover looked worried.

Beserk patted her back. "I'll leave it to you to get them up and out."

"I'm staying to fight." Bosnia crunched her knuckles.

"Only if we need to. For now, I'll check to see how close they are and do some scouting. Help Beserk to get ready to leave." Scot transformed into his cat form and raced out of the tavern.

"I'll try to wake them with Rat." Clover rose.

"Use this: smelling salts." Beserk tossed her a vial, which she caught and nodded.

Stomping boots and unified shouts outside alerted their attention.

Clover sprinted up the stairs for the bedrooms.