When Gerrard saw the snow-white polar owl land on his window, insistently chipping on the wooden frame with its beak and staring at him with his red eyes, unwilling to even move at his presence, he knew what was coming. Already a young man, of around twenty years, Gerrard had remembered the strangers that his father had welcomed into their house as honourable guests, asking him and his sisters to serve them food and drinks and even sleep in the barn for the night, offering the newcomers their beds. He was too young to understand it back then and too naive to suspect the reason his old father, who wasn't afraid to tell the King's tax collectors to fuck off, would tremble like a leaf at the sight of the men who arrived in the dark, cloaked in black, their leader being a slender, bearded man of no particular strength. He also did not understand why exactly did his dad never allow him and his sisters to speak to the guests and instead dealt with all the interaction himself.
A few years ago it had all become clear, though. On his death bed, his father had conveyed to his first-born child and heir to their already well-off farm, what the source of their upheaval was. They, he had explained, had come when he was still in his thirties and still poor. They were Nosferytes – men of the night, men with craving for other men's blood. He had been terrified back then and still was, to the day of his death, but the group of six did not bring him harm, in fact – they brought him gold. Gold that he bought their cattle and extorted himself out of poverty with. Apparently those who came were no ordinary killers, like the rest of their cursed kin, they were royalties, or something along those lines – men with power. In exchange for a safe place to stay, provisions and information, they wouldn't harm him or his and would pay heavy coin – each time they came. The only demand they made was that for complete and utter secrecy, which is why the old man had waited until his last hours and had even then, chased all the servants from the house and had the curtains closed, before disclosing it to his only son. "The Nosferytes live for thousands of years, my child, so they are bound to come again. Every time before they come, they send me a message – an owl from their lands that you cannot miss. Their leader stares through the bird's crimson eyes, so do not even think of running away or exposing them. It falls to you, as my heir, to accept them. Treat them with the highest honours, and they will honour you like they did me. Do not ask them anything and do not let the servants know." His dad had gripped Gerrard's shirt with unexpected strength at that moment "Do not tell anyone! Nobody must know of this!" The man who had brought him into this world died a few hours later, leaving Gerrard to pounder if that was just the wild imagination of a mind, taken over by old age and impending death. Perhaps his dad merely wanted to think of an adventure in his relatively boring life of hard labour and slow success?
Such were the thoughts, that Gerrard comforted himself with, whenever he thought of his old man's message in relation to the visitings he had witnessed as a child. But as the polar owl stared at his kitchen, he couldn't even swallow his breakfast properly. His young bride seemed concerned, as his own face showed concern the youth rarely exhibited. Nevertheless, despite all her pleas, the husband was adamant in keeping silent. In the days that followed, Gerrard personally rode to the nearest town to shop for the finest possible food and wine the merchants could offer, not even phased by the steep prices that would sustain his entire household, including the servants him for a month at least. Coming back, he ushered his pregnant wife and the maid that lived with them out of the house, to visit her mother. Despite her sheer amazement and protest, he also had almost all the servants travel with their carriage, under the pretext of protective escort. Emillia wasn't stupid, he knew something awfully odd was taking precedent over their normal lives, but her husband, who would usually hide nothing from her, even the time he cheated, remain silent and stern in expression. With some visible discontent, she kissed him and bid him goodbye, moving away with her escort.
In the next few days, Gerrard would prepare the rooms of his empty house, as if he was expecting the King himself to pay a visit. The only two servants that remained in the large farm were both old and had also served under his father – they knew what the preparations their young master was making meant, but spoke nothing of it. A few more days had passed and Gerrard was getting anxious, even asking himself whether he wasn't just plain silly in doing all of this…. And at that night, the night watchman – a man in his sixties, with hair already white, knocked on the door in the deepest of nights, holding an extinguished lantern in his hand. The sleepy Gerrard could barely spot a dark figure standing behind him. The young man's blood froze and all his drowsiness suddenly vanished, as he rushed to open the door, cursing himself for wearing his pyjamas, instead of sleeping with his best clothes, as he had originally intended.
"Welcome, welcome, my lord!" he opened the door widely, gesturing what seemed to be a man of undistinguishable age, pale complexion and red, almost glowing eyes, in. "Begone, Vaskes, and speak none of my guest, he is… just a good friend of the family." Gerrard tried to speak confidently, as he addressed his old servant, but his voice was trembling at times, especially when he spoke the word "friend".
"That's quite alright" the stranger had spoken for the first time – it was a weird way of talking, he sounded detached, as if his thoughts were somewhere else, his voice close to a whisper and yet, somehow deep and penetrating the quiet of the night "Old Vaskes is an old acquaintance of mine too. Thank you." The last was addressed the old man, who nodded back at the Nosferyte and as he was about to leave, the newcomer pointed with his left hand, that wasn't holding the long silver staff, at the extinguished light and the flame inside loomed once more.
"Please excuse my attire, I am not prepared to receive. Would you like to take a sit and will change quickly, until your friends arrive?" Gerrard asked, trying to regain his composure, after witnessing the casual display of magical power the stranger showed.
"There are no others… this time I come alone. Where is Brinan?"
"I'm afraid my father has died, some five years ago." – Gerrard explained and hurried up in adding "But he has instructed me into receiving you and yours. I have made all the arrangements!"
"I see. He was a trustworthy man, I
trust I can expect the same of his heir." – the Nosferyte spoke simply and respectfully, but at a certain point in his sentence, it was as if he was extending a warning.
"Of course, my lord, of course!" - Gerrard was quick to reassure him
"Well, good. I am hungry, I brought no provisions –" the man intentionally spoke slowly, to allow Gerrard to interrupt the end of his sentence and the young man was, for the first time tonight, happy, as he felt well-prepared.
"Naturally, my lord – I have everything you need. Please, have a seat at my table and I will bring you food and drinks."
Soon after, Gerrard had littered the table with exotic and expensive foods and, as the Nosferyte took to devastating those, he asked "Unfortunately, in his old age my father had forgotten to instruct me as to your lordship's wine prefferences. I have bought Abror Golden, Red and White wine from Amor, all over fifteen years of age. I hope some of them will suffice…"
"
Water will suffice. I don't consume wine, but you are welcome to pour some for yourself. I need you to be bolder, in order for you to be of use to me."
Realising that wasn't a request, but an order, Gerrard poured himself a large glass and sat at the table, while the Nosferyte was finishing his meal.
"Drink. Your father and I had an agreement: nothing we would speak about would ever leave this room, but inside we would speak only the truth. So answer truthfully, what do you know of King Valdez?"
"I…" Gerrard drank half the glass in one large gulp – he was not used to drinking, especially not wine this expensive, hence that strong, so it hit him in the head almost immediately, but the effects were not as big, due to the large pressure he was under "I am merely a farmer, like my father, my lord, it is not for me to know about kings' business." He answered, a little bit confused and red-headed
"I know what you are, but that is not what I asked. I asked what you know of your king. Tell me everything: facts, lies, rumors, and whispers – everything you may have heard." Sayazar's voice had remained calm and his patience didn't fade, but in his voice he clearly showed he meant business
"I…" Gerrard took another sip, not as large as the previous "He is… rich. I mean, too rich. I know his taxes have been breeding discontent in many regions, not here, of course. The tax collectors who work for him, oh of them I know all too well – they are all very corrupt. Even if the punishment for corruption is capital, they still take bribes and hoard money. King Valdez, he… he is a greedy man, they say, but he is smart – very smart and very sly. They say he cannot be killed…" he eyed the Nosferyte for a reaction, but when none followed, the human continued "He has a huge army but, lately, the people who come this way say he has been gathering extraordinary individuals…"
"Oh really?" Sayazar pretended to be interested, as if it was the first time he was hearing this news, thus prompting the man to feel as if he had actually contributed some value to him, raising his self-esteem and confidence in the context of the situation "Please, elaborate"
"Well… not much more is known. He is going to gather a small party – presumably of skilled warriors and diplomats and send them off to… well to where you come from – to Vastoria. I really don't know much more, but some speculate he wants to procure peace with the rebels of New Kelda."
"New Kelda?" this time Sayazar was genuinely surprised "The King believes this place really exists?"
"Or so they speak…." Gerrard concluded, taking another sip, his confusion and fear slowly melting away to the warm and fuzzy feeling of tipsiness
"Interesting… very interesting, thank you… uhm…"
" – Gerrard, my lord. "
"Your help is much appreciated Gerrard." Sayazar paused, thinking a little bit "Now could you tell me what this King looks like?"
"Well… " Gerrard also seemed to pause, thinking as hard as he could "They say he's really handsome, but… I haven't really seen him. No many have, he rarely leaves his Palace or the capital. Publicly, at least…"
"You have been most helpful, Gerrard." Sayazar smiled at the tipsy human who also seemed visibly pleased with himself. "Make sure no one disturbs my slumber. Tomorrow night I will be gone and I will be taking your black horse from the stables. Don't drink too much." With those words, Sayazar stood up swiftly and, without letting Gerrard say or do anything else, retired to the room he knew would be prepared for him.
Gerrard woke up with a terrible headache, in his own puke, as the trees had begun to cast long shadows over the windows, harbingers of the approaching nightfall. The young farm owner was terrified when realised he had slept through the entire day, not tending to the needs of his guest. He jumped off quickly, only to see the old Vaskes, with his ever-present lantern handing him a rug to clean himself with.
"Lord Sayazar?" Gerrard asked
The old man merely shook his head with a smug smile "He said to give you this" – the silver-headed man spoke with his hoarse voice, handing a small, yet heavy leather bag, which sounded like it was full of golden coins.
***
It had been a few days, before Sayazar had finally reached the small town of Woodsend. The air bore the atmosphere of interrupted festivity and bitterness, which were evident from the conversations of the men and women, sitting around the streets. The inhabitants of the small town's expected royal celebration had turned into a huge disappointment and, as if to mockingly add insult to the injury, as dusk approached, the sun was hidden by stormy clouds, which seemed to appear out of nowhere. Both young and old were painfully surprised, as the blue sky had quickly blackened and drizzling rain began to seep in. Men and women ran around the streets, too slow to hide their belongings inside, cursing and splashing rainwater all around. In that chaos, nobody even noticed the hooded figure that quickly strode across the streets, sometimes even under city lights or open windows. Nobody heard a silver staff clinging as it hit the pavement and nobody saw a pair of red, glaring eyes, which swiftly scanned everything.
It wasn't long before the Nosferyte would reach the notorious Crooked Hatchet Inn, around which half the conversations on the streets revolved. The conversations inside weren't particularly loud, but they stopped completely, as he knocked on the door three times, with his staff. A young woman with brown hair and green eyes opened the door and stood a little bit sideways, allowing everyone to see him. He could judge around seven or eight people to be in there, not all humans, which was interesting. Seeing as no one spoke, Sayazar stepped inside, even if there wasn't a drop of water over his robes, as he had manipulated the wind currents above his head to misdirect the raindrops, he didn't want to stay outside more than was necessary.
"My sincerest apologies for the interruption, adventurers" nothing in the mage's voice showed any remorse, as he spoke quietly and yet in a well-defined manner, soft and polite, with a remote hint of threat in his odd voice "I am Sayazar Sagareth Sainguinar – chief advisor to lord Drachall, the leader of all Nosferytes" the latter wasn't completely a lie, just a gross overstatement "I am pleased to make all of you acquaintance." he finished by taking his invitation scroll from his bag and showing it off to everyone "Am I to assume I've missed on laying eyes upon His majesty, King Valdez the 3
rd?" he spoke the last words in complete seriousness, without any irony. Naturally, after all he'd heard he didn't expect the human king to actually show. Sayazar had spent enough time around and with lord Drachall to know a good leader always remained in the shadows, hidden from his enemies for as long as he could, but what he was interested in, was the reaction of the other members. If any of them had actually counted on anything else, then he knew which ones were the naïve.