A Frigid Grasp - 5. Drawing the Line

CHAPTER 5: Drawing the Line

Arden tended to the people and even made a few daytime house calls the next three weeks. He wasn't sure how but he never crossed paths with the Knight-Commander. He suspected Roland had something to do with it but he hadn't seen much of him at the time. Arden hoped he wasn't in much trouble. He hadn't been able to visit the Mages' Hall since his first visit because he found himself tangled with the local charity and his own semi-clinic. He spotted Templars every now and then but he was mostly left unnoticed until someone might need something.

Right now he was idling his time with Damal and his flute. Arden and he were on the streets of lowtown, by the Bonfire. It was a large circle with the middle used as its namesake. It housed a native elf tribe that humans forsook when they moved into the land. Elves were treated as commonfolk, but he hadn't ever seen an elf in higher social standings. They were frequent visitors because they tended to the sick and wounded as well as played with the children. Now that Arden thought about it, he shouldn't be too surprised with his popularity. His actions had heads turning, and the words that left his mouth were odd to them. “What were you singing?” Damal asked, curious. “I need to hear the tone.”

Arden hummed the first few verses and then the common line he knew so well. “Hm hm Hmm hm-hm-hm-hm-hm It's bippity-boppity-boo. Crack a shoe, break your foot, bippity-boppity-boo!”

“Break your— Is that the real song?”

“The tune is; the lyrics, not so much. Just have fun with it, but watch your tongue.” Arden gestured to the children who sat in front of them, humans and elves alike. Again, Arden hummed the age-old, alien tune and Damal played it by ear. Arden began to sing and the children laughed at his lyrical antics. He'd forgotten how fun it was to goof off like this. Once his old song ended, Damal played an even heartier tune and danced in front of them. Arden clapped his hands and stomped his feet to offer a beat. And right away, people were taking partners and dancing with him. It was quite a sight. He never saw so many jolly faces before. The nobles at parties were either plotting or snobbing, very few smiles.

The party drew to a halt when they saw a company of Templars approaching the vicinity. In front of them stood a man with short-cropped blond hair and a stern face. He surveyed the crowd, his steely glance sending shivers up their spines. “Which of you is Arden Grey?”

Arden swallowed as he stepped forward with a raised hand. “How can I help you, Ser?”

The Templar approached him with two of his comrades flanking. “I am Knight-Captain Revir. You've been asked to come to the Keep. There are some matters there that need to be discussed with the seneschal.”

Arden looked warily to the rest of the crowd, but he maintained this calm air about him. “Just me, then?”

“We've been told no more than that.”

“Can I ask the nature of this summons?”

“I'll explain this to you as we walk. The sooner this is done, the better. Believe me.”

Arden nodded his consent, and he went quietly with the Templars. Everyone stared dumbly, stunned, as they walked up the steps from the Bonfire. Once the Templars were out of sight, Damal racked his brain trying to think of what just happened and why the Templars would want Arden. Why now, even? He had to talk to Sven. If anyone knew the ins and outs, it was him.

“So word of me has reached the Halls?” Arden asked innocently.

“News of your visit to the Mages' Hall did not reach the Knight-Commander until much later after your visit. I'm here upon a request from the Duke. The Knight-Commander tasked me to patrol the area, so he thought it'd be best if I ran a small errand while I was at it.”

“So she hasn't asked to see me?” Arden wondered.

“No, nothing that I know of, anyway. She's busy investigating a lead regarding rebel mages who fled the Hall.”

“Fled the Hall? The Mages' Hall seemed a nice-enough place.”

Knight-Captain Revir shrugged. “I don't know much about the Mages' Hall, but the reason for their escape seems, well, vague. No proper motivations have been found yet. The Home-Guard has been looking into it. It's been a few days now. We have a squad searching for them.”

“You Templars have a way of tracking mages, correct?”

“Yes. A sort of compass made from a drop of blood.”

“Did you use that to find me?” Arden inquired. Revir frowned as he looked at Arden. “I'm guessing that would be a no?”

“Actually, your case is a curious thing.” Revir pulled out a small crystal that shined a vivd red and vibrated violently. “The crystals normally don't glow like this, but when we drew closer to you, it just got ever brighter. I've never seen it before.”

Arden studied the specimen, squinting against the light. “The spell detects the nearest magic source,” Arden explained. “But that alone is vague. You could be led to a vein of magical substance, a haunted relic, or other mages aside from your quarry. It's a game of hot and cold, and not entirely reliable. I'm not even sure how you manage to find your quarry with these things.”

“We've encountered those problems before,” Revir admitted, smiling wryly as he tucked the crystal away. “The Mages are helping us develop better ones that hone in on, at the least, living mages. I had the displeasure of running right into an enchantments shop.”

“Everyone uses magic, one way or another. It can be confusing with that thing.”

“True enough.” They were now walking in the marketplace. People murmured and whispered left and right as they passed. “You're quite the character these days.”

“Only in hush whispers,” Arden muttered. “I'm not sure what kind of gossip is going around. I've been afraid to ask.”

“Many call you an amusing social worker. They also say you brought back the dead. They say you're protected by the Underworld and every other criminal out there. There are also rumors of you being a master of poisons and cures.”

Revir didn't expect the laugh that escaped Arden. “Really now? I'm much more boring, quite sadly.”

“You can't mean that. You're a traveling doctor. Surely you have tales to share.”

“That I do, but some of the people I've met can't get past the first few sentences. Short attention spans, feeble minds maybe. I can't be sure. But indeed, I tell my tale from time to time. So, what have you heard of me?”

“They said you were from Bassan?”

“I suffered two years in Bassan, raised by a Bassani noble in another country back when I was a boy. I was a slave, but they were surprised I could read. I can't quite remember how I knew to read either, but I wound up under an advisor's tutelage and became his successor. Surprisingly, that came with high prestige, what with my charge and all.”

“Who was your charge?”

“The late prince Milo, bless his soul.”

Revir was, predictably, astonished by the news. “That's something of note. Then the incident...”

“The incident was a murder attempt on the beloved Prince Milo. I delivered the punishment to the criminal.”

Revir was reluctant to ask, but he swallowed the fear and pushed for it. “And that punishment was?”

“Death,” Arden said matter-of-factly. “It was the standard procedure when threatening the Royal Family. They wanted me to be regent while a successor was chosen but I declined and left after Rafael's wake. I just couldn't stay anymore.”

“I'm sorry for your loss. He must have been a great man.”

“A good man. 'Great' was arguable.” Arden had a fond smile on him. “He wasn't very good at chess, but he had a good sense of right and wrong. He involved himself. He didn't want to be the dumb, spoiled prince. He was so much and so humble. Somewhat of a jack of all trades. He himself knew he was.”

They were at the Keep sooner than expected. Arden had dropped by a few times before, so he didn't gawk at the architecture and tapestry this time. Those times he visited were to ask for Roland, but the Captain was out on both attempts, so all he did was stir the pot of rumors. Silly as it was, Arden hoped he could see Roland.

“Ah, Master Grey?” Arden turned to the familiar voice and fought back his smile as Roland made his way down from the upper foyer. “Nice to see you again.”

“Master Gallahad, it's nice to see you, too.”

“So the rumors are true. You two have met,” Revir drawled, but he was amused, not condescending. “Anything I should know about, Guard-Captain?”

“The rumors only exaggerate,” Gallahad assured. “I take it he hasn't been too rough?”

“On the contrary, he was rather gentlemanly about calling me over,” Arden quipped, winking at Revir. Revir winked back. “He was good company.”

“Well, try not to get used to it because moods are going to go sour. Knight-Commander Istilla is on her way with the Master Enchanter.”

“I thought I was just speaking with the seneschal.”

“To get your permit, merely.” Seneschal Gerbel Logan came down the steps and stopped next to Roland. “The Duke would like to discuss you being under the Keep's employ as the Lord Surgeon and Physician.”

Arden made a face. “You couldn't make it 'Lord Doctor' or 'Lord Medic' or something? Hell, 'Lord-anything' sounds like a sugar-coated present.”

“Like I said, he wishes to discuss these things with you. You're a prominent candidate to the art and duty. Many benefits will be offered to you and you can arrange the terms so you and the Duke will meet an agreement. So please consider on this before you turn it down otherwise. Many covet the position.”

Arden looked to Roland, who seemed downright pleading with his eyes. “I'll discuss it with the Duke, then, since I'm here. Maybe it'll finally get you lot out of my hair.”

“That's the spirit!” Seneschal Logan beamed. “From what Gallahad had told us, you were adamant on staying in lowtown.”

“I still am, but I'm sure we can figure out some sort of compromise.”

The front doors of the keep slammed open. A handful of Templars and Mages were behind the Knight-Commander and the Master Enchanter. The tension in the air was like coiled wire, the moment of devastation sure to be brutal. The two gave a quick glance at the small gathering Arden was in before they let themselves into the Duke's office. “Looks like I should go,” Roland muttered. He faced Arden and put on an eager smile. “I'll see you later, alright? Just stay put. We shouldn't take too long. You can wait in my office in the barracks. I've already told some of my men.”

Arden wasn't sure what to feel about the gesture. He was embarrassed, but touched. “I'll go wait there, then. Be careful. It looked like a blood bath might commence.”

Roland took a steady breath as he approached the doors to the Duke's office. Before he disappeared into the inner foyer, he looked back at Arden, who was entering the barracks with welcoming guardsmen. With a bit of regret, he pushed the doors opene and entered.

He prayed he could get out in one piece.

Arden was sort of glad he got to stay in the office. There were a number of books he could read, there was a nice view of the city from the angle of the window, and he didn't have to hear the potential yelling that would surely have happened by now. Arden kept himself from reading important documents and instead read over guides, manuals, and various other leisurely reads. Something caught his eye on the desk, however. It was a book he knew a bit too well. He picked it up and looked over the pages. Yes, it was definitely the book he knew so well.

Roland entered the office looking tired and properly ticked. Arden was sitting on the edge of his desk, reading... “Oh bloody shites— ARDEN, PUT THAT DOWN!”

Arden snickered as he danced away from Roland's swiping hand. “Roland, it's no trouble! Really! I'm not new to these sort of things!”

Roland growled and leaped, but Arden was a slippery bastard and managed to duck out of the way. Roland was on his feet and very much chasing Arden around. But he managed to tackle the good doctor and pin him on the ground. He kicked the book aside and glared down Arden's trembling form. The little imp was grinning, holding back his laughter. “This is hardly funny.”

“Oh? Tell me, Roland. How does this position feel to you?” Roland looked between them and blushed deep. “So who's the lucky 'man'?” he teased further. “Must be someone special to get yourself 'The Tangle of Two Men'.”

Roland glared and leaned closer, growling in his ear, “You really want to know?” Arden shivered from the hot breath. Roland fixed his eyes on Arden's. “Once you know, there is no going back.”

“I'm sure I can take it,” Arden whispered back. “So tell me who it is.”

“Ahem.”

The two looked up at the doorway. A guardswoman stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. “What is it, Guardswoman?”

“The Duke will see you and the Good Doctor now, but should I tell him to wait?” She gave them both a malicious smile. “Clearly you two could use some time alone.”

“We can wait,” they both mustered. They stood up and straightened themselves out. “Sorry about that,” Arden added, straightening Roland's collar. “I shouldn't have teased you so much.”

“I'm not too sorry. It was fun.”

“You two should go before you jump each other again,” she warned them. She was already leaving, waving a hand back at them. “I'll look forward to a more proper show sometime.”

The Duke watched quietly as Roland entered with a young man in tow. He had a boyish face about him, youthful and innocent in a sense, and his stature was around average. His eyes, however, were odd to him. The color seemed to dance in the light. Blue? Or was it green? He couldn't tell for sure. “Good day, you two,” he greeted. “You must be Arden Grey, the traveling doctor everyone speaks highly of.”

Arden bowed his head in a humble curtsy. “Rather extravagant praise,” the young man remarked. “I'm told you asked for me?”

“I was hoping to negotiate a sort of agreement with you, Arden, if you would accept my offer.” The Duke studied Arden closely. Despite a laid-back posture, he seemed to be listening intently. “I've recently heard of your dealings at court in your past, and you've been recommended by a set number of nobility. Word of your work travels fast, as well. As such, I thought it would be appropriate to appoint you as Lord Surgeon to the Keep.”

“What are the arrangements to this position?”

“You will be serving the guardsmen as their private doctor. You'll be receiving a monthly wage of ten sovereigns a month and your own quarters here in the Keep, which may be converted into a clinic. Supplies for the clinic will be charged to the Keep, as well as any other possible expense.”

Arden stared quietly at him before answering politely. “Would that mean I would have to move my operations to here?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then I'm sorry but I must decline your offer.”

The Duke blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I am flattered you think highly of me, Duke Mallard, but I'm afraid I cannot just leave my post in lowtown.”

“Of course, the changes won't be immediate, we can gather your belongings and—“

“You miss the point,” Arden interrupted. “People need me there, need my services. You don't know how many people come to my clinic in a week. People seek my medical attention because they can't afford the average doctor's fees here. To turn and leave them will harrow my heart. Now, I understand that I'm a traveling doctor, that I would leave no sooner than later, but the fact remains that I can do what I can for them while I'm here. I'm afraid you must find someone else to fill the position. In fact, I can suggest a name.”

The Duke was dumbfounded by this refusal. Hell, his offer of a position in the Keep ahd never been refused before. “This is rather unexpected.”

“I meant no offense, your Grace, but I just can't accept this position.”

The Duke sighed. “I suppose it cannot be helped. Who was it you were going to suggest?”

“Lord Tomag, if you've heard of him. He's an open-minded and capable doctor.”

“The Tomag family are indeed worthy of note. I'll send them a letter in the morrow. But let me ask you, Master Grey, would you consider to stay here in Bosefestung? It sounded like you would do so in a heartbeat, and yet you have this notion to leave after some time has passed.”

Arden nodded. “When I try to stay in cities, I'm almost always pushed to leave by the other doctors, among other people. The pressure has taught me to be subtle and not overstay my welcome.”

“Subtle? But the attention you've garnered—“

“Is a horrible accident,” Arden finished for him. “For some reason, news of me has reached The Lady Flavell's ears. After a night visit to her son, I've apparently been the topic of gossip in hightown. Ever since, I've been gaining more visits, and you would not believe some of the arrogance the highborn have in cutting in line.”

“Would they not be entitled to?”

Arden's casual disposition tensed, and he frowned, glaring daggers at the Duke, his voice colder than the bitter fangs of winter. “All are equal in the eyes of death, my lord Mallard.” The title rolled off his tongue like venom. “Social standing will not belittle one's existence. It is acknowledging this fabricated difference that has caused rebellions and has made a horrible schism in society.” Arden abruptly stood and bowed in curtsy. “I must take my leave now, your Grace.”

Arden marched out of the office, quietly dismayed, looking nowhere else but the path ahead of him. He was marching through high town with a subtle gait when an armored hand clapped on his shoulder. He turned around sharply, nearly pulling out a dagger when he saw it was Roland. “Arden wait a moment, please.”

Arden let out a tired breath and straightened up. “I was acting childish, my apologies, but my stand remains: I won't be taking the position.”

“Please, come back. The Duke expresses his humblest apologies.”

Arden cleared his mind for a moment, surveying his surroundings. “I overreacted. Sorry to put you in an awkward position, Roland.”

“It's no trouble. Shall we walk back, or would you retire for the day? I understand if you're too upset about what happened.”

Arden thought it over. “I still feel riled up, like I could stab someone in the face if they ticked me ever further.”

“Does that happen easily?”

“No, but it wouldn't be the first,” he muttered in response. Roland stepped back for a second. “Tell me, how would you feel if your life was condemned for being commonborn? For not having the coin? How would you feel?”

Roland was quiet. Hearing Arden's words, it made sense why he was mad. He understood. “I'm sorry. About what the Duke said. It's clear coin will not dissuade you from this service you offer them. You're a noble person.”

Arden snorted. “Hardly. I threaten Damal from time to time.”

“Still, that does not make your deeds any less worthy. Shall I escort you back to the Siren?”

“Won't the Duke be expecting you?”

“I'm sure he can wait. I can tell him how you waltzed through hightown in fast strides. Do you have any idea how fast you traveled?”

“It's a gift,” Arden hummed. He turned his back and started walking. Roland went into step beside him. Arden glanced at the orange sky and snickered. “No wonder you asked. It's sunset.”

“That's not why I offered.”

“Then why is it you offered?”

“Maybe later.”

Once in front of the tavern, they stopped by the door. Arden faced Roland with a smile. “Looks like this is where we—“

Roland was quick. He held Arden's chin up and leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. Arden's eyes shot wide open, and Roland stepped back, anxious, before darting back to hightown.

Arden was smiling as he ran fingers over his lips, still feeling Roland's over his.

Damal was waiting in his room-and-office, frantic. He ran to Arden and gripped his arms firmly. “What happened, Arden? They just took you and you were gone nearly the whole day and I got worried and—“

“Damal, stop shaking me!” the Good Doctor laughed. “And there was no harm done. Maker's Grace, let go!”

Damal did so and sat them down on the bed. Arden then gave him a run-down of what happened, sans Roland's kiss. Damal sighed with relief but still looked troubled. “I never knew you thought that way.”

“I know politics never fades, but this sort of schism and self-entitlement is what made me sick to the core in the first place.”

“You'd choose us over coin?”

Arden nodded. “Coin is an illusion made by the need to trade, when you think about it. Back then, we had bartering and such. Now, well, we use coin to get what we want and need easier. There was a time without coin, you know. An ancient time where we lived off the land.”

“You sound like one of those nomad elves.”

“Why not? They were the first of this land. When I stayed in one of their camps, the elven elders were surprised with my views and shared me what they knew. I was a welcomed guest.”

Damal was processing that information. “They didn't... eat you or anything?”

Arden looked at him with an incredulous face, one that spoke 'You're kidding, right?'. “Clearly, I'm still here, whole and sane.”

“Sorry, it's just... well, I hardly know anything about the outside.”

Arden nodded solemnly. “Can you leave? I want to sleep right now.”

“Sure.”

“But before you go, did anyone ask for me?”

“Yeah, but I told them to try again tomorrow. Nothing too urgent. Just some hacking cough.”

“It always starts with a hacking cough. If someone marches at my door calling murder because I failed to see them, I'll leave the next nightfall.” Arden moved to lie down on his bed. Damal sat quietly, watching him. “What?”

“I don't think they can blame you for that, Arden.”

“You'd be surprised,” he muttered. “Just let me sleep, Damal. Please.”

Damal rose to his feet, unsure if he was feeling ashamed for himself or pity for the doctor. The life of a person rode on his shoulders. He could only imagine what kind of pressure Arden felt day by day. Maybe he shouldn't have volunteered the information. Arden didn't need to know someone might die the next day just because the Duke called for an audience with him.

Maybe talking to Sven would cheer him up.