A Frigid Grasp - 2. Bluntly

CHAPTER 2: Bluntly

Arden never knew how much he missed a soft, luxurious bed and now he felt a bit sad to leave. But if he got too used to luxuries, well, he'd be suffering for it. A backpacker couldn't afford to spoil himself, especially when he had a duty to tend to the wounded and ill. He left the estate at the break of dawn and watched the sunrise from a stairs that led to the marketplace. It had a certain angle that brought out the light from the archway that led to the stairs down to lowtown. The merchants were preparing their stalls for business, and Arden watched happily. He'd only been in Bosefestung for two weeks and he was already getting popular if rumors of his services had already reached the nobles.

He couldn't help but think back to the man who rescued him last night. Tall, and they were lit only by the moonlight but he could tell he was a blond with a bit of a tan. Well-built, if studying his cotton and mail was anything to go by. And with a handsome face to go with it. Arden was a sap for chiseled jaws and stubble. There was a bit of blond stubble on Roland when he watched him from inside the Flavell manor. He had a charming, deep voice, too. Arden shook himself out of those thoughts. There wasn't any point.

“Good Doctor, is that you?” someone called Arden knew the voice and eyed the dwarf on the stall just beside him. “It is you! What a surprise! You came from one of the noble homes?”

Arden nodded. “A scare last night forced Mistress Flavell to let me stay the night after tending to her son's sores.”

“The Flavells! My, how fortunate. She's a good woman, one of the few high-borns here who make a lick of sensibility. And she doesn't pine over jewelry and fashion like all the other crazy bats here. You'd do well by her. She's sure to recommend you to someone.”

“I hope not,” he scoffed. “As nice the coin is, tolerating someone impossible will drive me mad if it happens too frequently. You should know how the nobles at court worked.” Arden cleared his throat and spoke in an unnervingly shrill, female voice so accurate and different, you'd truly think it was a woman if you shut your eyes. “Dear Maker, my feet ache so! Surely they used to fit. I mean, how do you tell someone gently they've gained weight without offense?”

“Suggest a different shoe size.”

“I did and she took it into context. Everyone appreciated I gave her the insult, though.” The two exchanged toothy grins and cackled laughs. “Need some help, Bort?”

“I have some boys helping me. And I'm not sparing any coin for you yet.”

“Please?” he pleaded. “I'm bored. And I'm still enjoying myself out here.”

The dwarf scoffed and gestured him to come. “You're an odd one. You look for work because you're bored?”

“Wouldn't you? Doing nothing is maddening.”

“True, but I figured you a man to enjoy the fields and flowers. You look the type.”

“You think I'm a hippie?”

“A what?”

Arden waved his hand dismissively and hopped off the ledge to join him. “Forget it. So, what needs to be done?”

“Just unpack the swords from the crates. And present them neatly against the stall.”

When Roland was out on the field after finishing the day's papers, he was called to the office of the Duke. His seneschal, Logan, greeted him warmly. He was a man with a careful disposition and was the epitome of tactfulness. “Guard-Captain Roland, the duke will see you now. Please, knock before you enter.”

Roland moved into the foyer and knocked on the duke's doors. “Come in.” He entered and studied the duke going over the papers on his desk, his eyes furrowed into a deep frown. “Have a seat, Roland. There's a matter we must discuss. And shut the door. I don't want word getting out just yet.”

Roland sat down quietly. Duke Augustus Mallard was old but strong, his face showing years of wisdom and stress. He looked up at him, tired old eyes regarding him carefully. “I understand that the Knight-Commander has been giving you a hard time.”

Roland controlled his expression and nodded. “We aren't on the best terms, but we work well enough.”

“Yes, well, she's having more friction with the Magi. What's more is we will be expecting members from the Mages' Hall of Marzipan visiting here next week. I just received word from one of their messengers.”

Roland frowned. That was very unusual. “What would you have me do, your Grace?”

“Make sure things remain stable around here, and to make sure the Templars and our Mages play nice. I know you aren't fond of the Knight-Commander. I've already sent a request to have her positioned in another city. I appealed my case to Knight-Marshal Jacques.”

Roland couldn't believe his ears. The surprise was obvious on his face now. “You can actually do that?”

“I've received reports about the Knight-Commander. She's concerning. She seems to have a certain bias about mages. She must understand that the Templars are charged to bring mages in and take them down only when necessary. The Mages are the ones tasked to educate them about their powers. More often than not, they fight back out of fear, the young ones, anyway. She sees it differently.”

Roland couldn't help but smile. “That's a rather thoughtful way of looking at it, Ser.”

“A leader must be stern but compassionate. Istilla lacks the latter, clearly. I've included that to my report, as well.” He sighed as he slumped into his chair. “This is bound to cause rumors to stir, but I'd like to bring another matter to light. There's a doctor here, I hear. Rumors have been spreading about him. He's a traveling doctor, yes?”

Roland shrugged. “I'm not aware of the rumors. I normally wouldn't normally condone an unlicensed presence, but maybe you can go and verify, Guard-Captain, if the person is a potential threat to the civilians. He's staying at the Strangled Siren, so I've heard. They say he charges less than a silver for those in lowtown and he's been deemed some kind of blessing.”

Roland couldn't help but think of the man he rescued last night. “I'm not so aware of these rumors. Where did you hear them?”

“A few merchants, after appealing a case to me, made passing mention of the doctor. Told me it was all over lowtown. Usually all the gossip comes from hightown, so it came as a bit of a shock. He'd heal a criminal on the spot if he had to.”

“If you want the man captured—“

“No, I don't want him imprisoned,” the duke quickly interrupted. “I have respect for him. He puts duty above all else, though I'd appreciate it if he would assist authorities. Few men have that quality these days.” He regarded Roland with a smile. “I was just wondering whether or not I could convince him to stay and take office. For a long time, your men have had to consult outside the barracks or to each other for medical care, yes?”

“That's hardly an issue these days, your Grace. And if we ever need help, we can approach this person instead.”

There was a moment's pause between them, the duke processing his opinion. “Well, I want you to check on this person anyway. And I want you to talk to the Mages' Hall about the Knight-Commander. I understand mages have been involved in crimes as of late, but the fact that our hall already deals with the mages with the interest of the population in mind should appeal to her good nature.”

“Forgive me if I speak bluntly but I fear that woman has no good nature.”

“I'd normally admonish you for that but when I spoke to her last week, I'd say I agree.”

“So which should I deal with first, your Grace? The Hall or the doctor?”

“Whichever is more convenient to you. The doctor is rumored to stay in the Strangled Siren, don't forget. You're dismissed.”

Arden was cleaning his tools with some distilled alcohol when he heard feet land on his windowsill. After a few days, he recognized the sound. “Hey Arden, you here?”

“Clearly.” He rolled his eyes and turned to face the lithe, olive-skinned thief he met on his first day. Rumors spread because of him. He was a handsome young man with nape-long black hair and bright green eyes, whose disarming smile belied his tricks. His loose clothes helped him move fluidly and hide many tricks. “What can I do for you today, Damal?”

“I just heard a rumor this morning,” Damal hummed as he let himself in and plopped down on the thin bed. “You had a run-in with bandits last night and was heroically rescued by the Captain.”

Arden frowned. “Where'd you hear that?”

“It's the talk of hightown. When they mentioned the hostage was a doctor, it had to be you. No doctor here bothered to walk the streets at night, not without good reason.”

“You don't think other doctors would have good reason?” he challenged. “And how on earth would a rumor like that get around?”

“Either servant girls or bragging guardsmen spin the tale, and it spreads from there like a plague. I was just at earshot of a few guardsmen on patrol. And then I made the guess it had to be you.”

“Why me?” the good doctor quipped, crossing his legs. “Certainly other people fit the description.”

“Like I said, no doctor here bothered to walk the streets at night.”

Arden couldn't help but smile. “Good intuition, but that wouldn't normally be enough to defend your case.”

“But I was right, and that is that. And I heard from someone else you were helping merchants set up shop?”

“Nothing slips past you,” Arden laughed. “Bort was setting up when I left the Flavell estate this morning. I was feeling up to helping.”

“At this rate, everyone will be familiar with you when the month ends.”

“I hope not! I wouldn't want to be a hindrance to the other doctors here. Back when I first started, the local doctors gave me hell. Few were open to trade and share ideas with me.” Arden waved a hand dismissively in the air. “It's one of the reasons I travel in the first place. If I stick around too long, people come to me as the only choice when there are others they could afford to see.”

Damal frowned thoughtfully. Arden met his curious gaze. “You don't like being popular?”

“Popularity's a bit overrated, if you ask me. I don't want people aware of me all the time. Only... people who matter.” Arden's soft smile nearly fooled Damal, but the thief's instincts told him otherwise. “So how's the guild? Anything interesting going on?”

Damal let the change of topic slip. “There's talk around the guild about a convoy coming to the city, but that's all I know,” he spoke matter-of-factly. Every now and then, the city catered to certain high-profile visits. All they knew was that the convoy was from a rich nation. “The Master didn't relay what else, so I can't tell you who they are.”

Arden inclined his head. “Understandable. So what's your agenda today?”

Damal grinned and pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket. “Leisure.”

Arden shook his head as he moved to arrange the table. “You're out the window the moment a patient walks in through the door, you hear?”

“Sure. And if I win a round, you'll buy me dinner.”

“And if you lose?”

“I'll introduce you to some nice people at the Red Lantern District.”

Arden furrowed his eyebrows, not too fond of the suggestion. “I would prefer something else, actually. Tell you what? We'll discuss my victory terms after I've won.”

Damal grinned like a devil cat. “You're on, then!”

It was dark when Damal ended their game. Arden had won two rounds and lost the triple-or-nothing to Damal. That meant three dinners. But as a good sport, Damal convinced Arden, through some sort of miracle, to visit the Red Lantern district with him. The red lights made the place seem festive. Music echoed out of every corner. The sights and sounds were all meant to lure, and Arden had to keep himself civil and aware to avoid giving in. The temptations offered to him ground and gyrated their hips, flaunted smiles and sent winks and kisses. The district was...overwhelming.

Arden stopped in front of a snack vendor, which an old woman owned. Most of the street vendors were children, but none of them offered food. “How much for a candy? I could use one right now.”

“Two coppers a piece.”

Arden reached into his pockets and found a silver. “Damn.” He glanced at the old woman and her wares. He sighed and offered the silver. “Fifty candies, please.”

The old woman eyed him warily. “You're not joking, boy?”

“Unless you have change for half a silver, no.”

The old bat chuckled and gathered the candies in a small paper bag. “Thanks to you, I just made good business. You're not from around here, are you?”

“Not really, no. Don't frequent this part of the city, either.”

“Well, it's good you bought from me. I'll make sure you won't get cheated out of your coin purse tonight.”

“By pickpockets or courtesans?” he asked pointedly. He was rewarded with a half-toothless grin. “You seem to hold some position here.”

“Some might say that.”

Arden looked around him, noticing the stares he was getting from various folk. “Is it a closely-knitted network or purely professional? I've seen mercenaries act like a pack of long-lost brothers before. It's heart-warming.”

“We are what works best,” she answered simply. “Anything else?”

“Do you know anyone who sells herbs? Or works potions? I want to discuss resources and maybe opinions on a few recipes.”

“First time I heard someone ask me that. Around here, anyway.” She leaned over her stall and pointed down the road. “Find the Sultry Whispers. It's a brothel, but they have an apothecary there who caters to anyone doing business with the place. As far as the owner is concerned, his business is their business.”

Arden smiled wryly and nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for your patronage,” she snickered. “Few people bother with the little things. Just don't feel too pressured when children start begging you for candy. They're a bit like urchins these days.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Arden joined his friend Damal just in time to see him shot down by a courtesan in an impressive lavender dress that fit her supple form. “You can try the Sultry Whispers, if you'd like to join me. I want to speak with their apothecary.”

Damal's face beamed at the name. “The Sultry Whispers?” Then he eyed the doctor warily as something dawned on him. “Do you even have the coin for such a place?”

“Only if you bed someone I can afford,” he laughed. “I just want to speak with the apothecary there. Whether you stay the night is up to you.”

Damal snickered. “Just the apothecary? You sure?”

“I'm certain.”

The two walked down to the Sultry Whispers, just in time to see a riot going on. People crowded the streets as they watched and kept their distance from a fight. Arden wasn't usually a meddler but,... Who was he kidding? He'd gotten himself into trouble more than a handful of times without even thinking it. This mess? He needed to see for himself first.

Right off the bat, he saw a guardsman having fisticuffs with a male courtesan. A really big courtesan. Big, like a butch beefcake Arden saw before. An apt description he could think for this world was a towering mass of masculine muscle. And the fight looked like it wouldn't stop until someone was a bloody pulp. He wanted to stop the fight, but what would that entail? He really didn't have time to think as that small sense of justice inside him thrust him into the fray to stand between the men. “Enough!” he demanded with raised hands. “What on earth is—“

He didn't get to finish when a fist crashed against his skull. He was out before he even hit the ground.