A Frigid Grasp - 7. Old Songs, Old Memories

Arden tested his magic on their way to the noble house, thankful to feel it coursing through him again. They didn't waste any time in making their move. Arden wore an unrecognizable outfit under his cloak and hood, his face hidden under a white half-mask that fitted neatly over his face. He was the very essence of the Mysterious Stranger. He shuddered when a nostalgic memory rushed him. That memory, he didn't need to recall. It was a traumatizing experience in its own right.

Roland led them to a manor not too far from the Flavells, Arden noticed. He knocked on the door, and a plump, rotund maid with braided brown hair answered. She beamed at the sight of Roland. “Oh, Roland, child! You've finally decided to visit! The Mistress and the young Lord have missed you!”

“I'm afraid it's on urgent business, Linee.” Roland gestured to Arden. “My friend is in need of work, and I was going to recommend him to Rustan.”

Linee frowned slightly. “One of those things the young master has no choice in the matter?”

“Not quite, but close,” Roland muttered. Linee let them in and followed Roland as he navigated the large manor. He was no stranger to the place, clearly. Did he live here before? Arden remembered him mentioning being a serf. Was this his first home since being sold off? It was rather extravagant. “She's been taking care of us for years. Lucky she's a dwarf. She might live long enough to inherit the estate if Rustan decides to move elsewhere.”

“Expanding or really moving?” asked Arden. “I hear real estate is a nice business.”

“Both, I believe. He was very vague about it.” They stopped in front of a certain pair of double doors. Roland knocked before letting himself in.

Arden looked around the office, noting the shelves-as-walls room that had ample light from outside the large window-doors that led to a balcony, giving a certain view of the city and the horizon. A man behind the desk had his hair worn in a short ponytail. High cheeks were flushed red with impatience despite the tan. He was clearly annoyed when his dark eyes looked between Roland and Arden. His voice, when he spoke, was a notch higher than Roland's deep baritone. “Roland, my friend, what brings you here unannounced? Urgent business, I hope?”

Roland nodded. “Ever heard of the Good Doctor?”

The man, Arden assumed to be undoubtedly Lord Rustan, softened as he looked to Arden. “I don't recall the Good Doctor ever being masked.”

“He's in hiding. There was a kidnapping attempt on him. They were armed and had used a talisman to silence his magic.”

Rustan's frown deepened. Arden was surprised to see concern on the man's face. “That's rather odd. What would they want with a traveling healer?”

“That's what I want to find out,” the Captain muttered. “He needs to go into hiding. Arden has background with the courts of Minoire and Bassan, and you needed an assistant, right?”

“I'll admit, I may be rusty, my lord,” Arden quickly interjected. “But I'm an able house hand, as well, and a capable fighter. I can act as a bodyguard, or an escort. I can be your family's personal physician. Whatever use you may find for me, I'll gladly offer my best.” When it came to kissing arse, Arden had a knack for it. He was relieved to see Rustan smiling.

“Rather experienced, are we?” Rustan bemused. There was a sultry tone in his look. Arden was just happy to be on his good side. “You can act as my personal assistant, Master Grey. But I'm assuming that you would want to be hiding since you were recently kidnapped. Have you thought of an alias?”

“Elliot Goulding,” Arden replied with a curtsy. “An honor to work for you, lord Rustan.”

“Such a curious name,” Rustan remarked. “How did you come up with it?”

“I was a bard at times, spinning tales for the taverns and their patrons, and the name was a frequent hero in my tales. Might as well play a part somewhere.”

“You deal with those in high and low places, then. I could very much use someone like you.”

Roland cleared his throat and called for their attention. “Now that things are settled, I should brief you on what happened.” Roland told Rustan everything about the assault and about the letter. His brother's face stayed pensive. “I'll bring the letter tomorrow to see if you recognize it, Rustan. For now, we can let Arden unpack and you can teach him about what he can do.”

“I'll see to it. Will that be all?”

“For now, yes.”

“Here, let me walk you out. Leena!” The maid came bustling down the hall and knocked before opening the doors. “Please show Ar- I mean, Elliot his room.”

“At once.” As Leena marched off, Arden followed obediently, leaving Rustan and Roland alone.

“Brother, this is becoming rather surreal,” Rustan muttered. “You send me this man to hide from attackers you'll be pursuing. I'm worried about you.”

“Don't worry. I will practice caution.”

“You had better. Mother worries sick over you and you're the heir to the Valeria Swordcraft. It is my father's most precious legacy. Even I know this.” Rustan walked around the table and up to Roland, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Our family takes pride in the sword art. Don't let it end with you.”

“Why didn't you take it up yourself?” the blond quipped.

“Because I wasn't built for it. We all knew that.”

Roland nodded and embraced his soul-brother. “I'll be fine.”

“You'd better,” Rustan hissed back. “Or I'll make that doctor bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.”

“That's a scary thought.”

Arden was going over the books in the manor's library when Rustan walked in, finding him propped up on a chair, reading leisurely one of the more aged books they had available, mask still propped upon his face. “Enjoying yourself?”

Arden looked up from his reading and smiled sheepishly. “Forgive me, my lord. But when the maid mentioned a library, I had to come and see. This piece you have here is quite the find.”

“Yes, Alora Novas had some very interesting ideas regarding the nature of society.” Rustan couldn't help but be amused. Few people took notice of the book, himself included. Perhaps there was something special to this Arden person, even if you took away his identity as a doctor. “Now, I need to understand how much you know and can handle. I'll be bringing you to court as personal company and introduce you as an assistant. I want to make sure you wouldn't jeopardize my reputation and that you stay safe and hidden from public knowledge.”

Arden straightened up in his seat as Rustan took his own. “What would you like to know?”

“How much do you know?”

When Arden spoke, it was of the utmost formality. He kept a level tone as he described his assets. “I know a fair amount of accounting and finances. I've done mathematics before, so numbers are no real problem. I'm versed in the conduct of Minoire and Bassan, at least those of customs six years ago. But I assume most etiquette remain the same so we shouldn't have much trouble there. I behave in front of nobles; my work forces me to do so. I might recognize those few people who've held their positions so far or still managed to remain in court, if we're talking of seeing the courts of Minoire and Bassan, at any rate. Also, I was trained as an ambassador, so I have some experience placating concerns others might impose. I would need a full background of the situation in question, however. I can't just calm someone down without knowing what troubles them.”

Rustan sat quietly and eyed Arden meticulously. Arden was firm, poised, and unflinching. From what he knew, anyway. He was impressively stern, a complete contrast to his relaxed form a few moments ago. “I feel like I would look forward to seeing you at work, Master Grey.”

“It's Goulding,” Arden reminded playfully, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Let's not forget my alias, Master Valeria. I know it may be hard to think two names are the same person, but we must endeavor.”

“Indeed, we must,” Rustan agreed. “But tell me, truly, where did the name come from?”

“I was with a company of mercenaries back in Almer. They had to hide me since I was a witness to the murder of their duke's son.”

Rustan's lips snapped shut when he heard the city's name. He knew the mess that happened there. This Arden was becoming more of an interest the more bits he spoke. It started to be less of a wonder why he was so much of an interest. “A witness?”

“The cause for the rebellion was because the son was a sympathizer for the duke's opposition. Hard not to be. The man lately had shown disregard for the populace, and people were mad. The death of his son was by his own hands, when the father had a little spat with the boy, claiming him a traitor. I was serving as a doctor for the servants. Imagine my horror at seeing the duke strike down his own son. When he saw me, I had to hide. The mercenary band made the name for me, based on old tales. Of course, it never really got far, so no one outside the city ever knew the alias, or my real name for that matter.”

“How long was it when the duke's son was murdered?”

“Five months ago. Then a month of underground scheming to overthrow him and put him on trial, then we were forced into a rebellion when the duke began to send guards to slaughter people in their homes. It was madness. Fire was everywhere, so was blood and chaos. It was hard to get used to the screaming. I don't know how they did it.”

Rustan felt sympathy for Arden, who looked to be struggling to keep calm. He spotted the shift in his position, the tension on his lip. “I'm sorry. It must have been hard on you.”

Arden gave a solemn nod. “We lost a lot of good people that day. I lost a few good friends and staying there just felt wrong then. So I left and set sail here.”

“What was your role in all of that, then? I heard you were an experienced doctor, and Roland told me you're quite an adept combatant, from what he'd seen.”

Arden smiled ruefully. “I was a doctor, first and foremost. Then a witness to a horrible crime. I'd gained the people's favor over my stay and they marched out with an outcry over the charge for my life and the loss of the duke's son. Those were the last straws that sparked the rebellion. I helped in the field as a fighter and a medic, tending to our wounded as we advanced into the castle from the back.

We had a small militia at the front gates causing a riot. While we made our way to the duke's throne room, well, we saw from the windows that they were rolling barrels of oil over them. Then a flaming arrow set them all aflame, their guards and our men. The sights and sounds that day...” Arden fell quiet as he fought to clear his head of the memory. “We entered the throne room and the king had his advisers at hand, who were mages using forbidden arts. There was no Mage Hall or Templar Hall at Almer, which still eludes me but you can imagine the liberties they had. They used a forsaken art that I barely fought back. And then Raynes had to deal with the duke and a number of men. We were outnumbered but they were outclassed, in a sense.”

“Raynes must be the captain of the mercenaries people spoke fondly of. The story goes that the mercenaries restored order. Is that true?”

Arden nodded tersely. “A representative of the king arrived after the ruckus, and I was involved in the hearing to set matters straight. None of the nobles opposed to having one of the mercenaries serve as duke. I left it to them to teach them the ways of court and other proceedings. I think they like having freer hands now. They were awarded for stopping the duke's treachery to the people.” Rustan noticed Arden smiling more fondly. “Raynes would have been proud. He died that day, at the showdown in the throne room. I couldn't save him fast enough, but he just held my hand to his dying breath.”

“Sounds like you two were close.”

“Obvious, huh?” Arden muttered. “Yes, we were very intimate. We met when I first arrived at Almer. He was my first customer there, actually. Fresh from a mission where the client turned on them. He'd listen to me sing songs at the tavern. That was three more months before the incident.”

Rustan couldn't help but sympathize. The man may be young, but he'd seen, heard, and done more than anyone he ever personally met. Ambassador, doctor, student, lover... He couldn't fathom how turbulent this man's life was. “We'll make sure you're safe here with us, Arden.”

“May I be honest with you, Rustan?”

“What is it?”

“I don't think I want to be safe.”

Rustan woke up soundly when dawn broke. He finished last night's chat with Arden with a game of chess. He daresay, Arden was a horrible player. He picked up on rules and patterns of the game quite well, and he thought Arden clever. But the game of chess seemed to contradict him. He wanted to know how or why, but that would be saved for his leisure.

He was, however, surprised that Arden was helping make breakfast, and the recipes he had convinced the maids to deviate towards was something exotic, at least to him. He had wandered into the kitchen after hearing from a maid Arden was there, making breakfast with the other cooks. Slices of bread were duly buttered and fried lightly on the pan, then set aside on a plate. Helpings of meat slices and patte, and bits and pieces of fruits were on the side. “What is all this?” Rustan asked, curious.

“Simple sides to a hearty morning breakfast, my lord,” Arden spoke from his work, moving to serve a venerable pasta onto a platter. He handed it to a servant to usher into the dining room. “I woke up early and thought to make myself useful. It's a good thing your servants told me your usual hours. Had mysef time to prepare.”

Rustan experimentally took one of the breads and spread the patte on. The flavor popped in his mouth. “I never knew bread and butter could be this good!”

“Butter brings out the good in a lot of things,” Arden chimed in, handing Rustan a glass of water. “Though I had to throw in some salt to bring out the flavor. Not too strong, I hope?”

“No, it's perfect,” he muttered in a daze. He stared at Arden in bewilderment. “A cook, a scholar, and a doctor. What else must I know?”

“I can play my voice right, but I'm a horrible lutist.”

Rustan snickered and sat down on a stool as he watched the men at work. He almost never did this before. It made him think of times he watched his mother work. “Ah, I almost forgot. You should meet my mother. You were out of sight all of last night, and when I was heading to my quarters, I mentioned you in passing. She would like to meet you.”

“Shall we bring her breakfast in bed?” he suggested. Rustan thought it over and nodded. Arden skilfully prepared a tray to bring the food up. “Then I hope she's a fan of buttered toast.”

Rustan led Arden to his mother's room on the upper floors. It was still the largest bedroom in the manor, but he didn't mind that it was his mother's chambers. He couldn't think of it any other way. He knocked gently while Arden stood quietly, tray in hand, standing dutifully as any trained servant would. This made Rustan even more curious about Arden's background. “Mother? It's Rustan.”

“Come in, dear!” she spoke from the door. Rustan opened the intricate, ornate doors gently and saw his mother perched on a tall cushioned chair, reading one of her smaller books. She was hardly a frail old thing, but she was slender. Her finery was a fine shade of violet and pink, and her hair was nearly silver-white from age, rather than the more common grays. He and Arden entered, and the Lady Valeria took notice of the masked Arden. “My, is this the Arden Grey Roland and you spoke of?”

“A pleasure to meet you, malady,” Arden spoke politely. He stepped up to her and knelt, offering the tray of food. “We brought up something light for you to eat, if you would like to.”

“Ah!” she gasped, smiling. She took to the fruits sitting on jams on the buttered toast. “My, I remember this display, though the fruits are more local. Are you from Bassan?”

“With all due respect, madam, I'm quite sure anyone would like jams and fruits on bread. No one just thought of frying bread with butter.” Arden's frank explanation earned him a laugh from her. “I understand people find it odd and rare.”

“If you only knew, child.” She bit delicately into the crisp serving and smiled. “Such a nice flavor. I'm surprised we had this sort of jam.”

“I had a spare jar with me when I was moved. I must admit, I indulge in a few pleasantries.” He smiled sheepishly at Rustan, who fondly shook his head. “Is there anything else you need of me?”

“Sit over there, child,” she answered, gesturing to the bed parallel to her. “I want to speak with you, know about you. If you truly are the doctor everyone spoke so highly of, we have much to discuss.”

Arden looked to Rustan for permission. Rustan nodded sagely. “I'll go on ahead, Mother. But please, come down afterwards. There's quite a banquet downstairs.”

“Of course, my dear.” Rustan left quietly and shut the door. The Lady Valeria shifted her gaze to the quiet, obedient Arden. “Now tell me, dear, all about your fun yesterday in lowtown.”

It looked like Arden was going to be dissected for answers. He should have been used to it by now, but it never got easier.