The rhythmic, heavy roar of massive waves crashing against the shore pierced the silence of the night. As Kaelith walked over the damp cobblestones of the harbor, he rolled the cold coin of the "Patroller Brotherhood" between his fingers. While the coin tumbled across his knuckles, his exhausted steps carried him forward.
"The only thing I need right now is an uninterrupted sleep and some warm lamb..." he muttered. His voice was reluctant and weary, like a dry wind tearing at his throat.
As he approached the harbor entrance to the faint sounds of birds and cicadas, a hulking silhouette standing beneath the torchlight blocked his path.
"Hey! Who goes there?" the soldier bellowed, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his sword. "How can you wander around here so casually at this hour?"
Kaelith slowed his pace, arranging his features into a feigned but convincing calmness. He raised the coin between his fingers to the soldier's eye level, letting it gleam in the torchlight. "I'm one of you, brother. I just wanted to do a little patrolling and get some sea air."
The soldier's tense shoulders relaxed upon seeing the coin. "Alright. Ulg has already sent out the patrol teams anyway, don't crowd the place inside for nothing. Go eat and rest. Tomorrow is an important day, a VIP is supposedly arriving, but don't ask who, because I don't know either."
Just then, two more patrolmen emerged from the darkness. One of them, completely out of breath, started speaking. "Helik! That damn ship on the west coast... Only a few pieces of it have washed up here. If it hasn't sunk to the bottom of the ocean, that fucking ship must have run aground on the west coast."
Helik nodded. "Alright, boys. All of you get inside now, it's getting late. You've earned your rest."
As Kaelith stood in the darkness, he etched what he heard into his mind. So, someone is coming, huh? he thought to himself. I'd better stay here.
When he stepped inside, the stench of cheap ale, soot, and sweat burned the back of his throat. It was a sleazy tavern where soldiers blew off steam and barmaids bustled around serving drinks. The eyes of the pot-bellied old man behind the counter gleamed with greed every time he saw coins dropped onto the tables. Kaelith approached the bar with heavy steps.
"I don't have much on me right now, old man," he said, adjusting his voice to a low, friendly tone. "Could I pay you tomorrow? You know I'm a local too. I won't stiff you, I won't let you down."
The fake smile on the old man's face vanished instantly. Narrowing his eyes, he cut him off: "No. Either you pay, or you don't drink."
"Come on, old man, it's just one glass. What harm could it do?"
"Brat!" the man roared, slamming his rag down onto the counter. "If you don't have coin, get out, don't make me lose my temper! I'm already taking a loss giving you lot a discount. And now you shamelessly want it for free? Are you mocking me?"
Kaelith sighed, realizing these cheap tricks wouldn't work here. Just as he was turning toward the stairs to at least go up and get some sleep, a full mug of ale was set down on the wooden table in front of him with a dull thud.
"Don't get up. Keep sitting."
When Kaelith turned his head, he faced a figure who absolutely did not belong in this dingy dive. Unlike the sun-baked, swarthy complexion of the locals, before him stood a young man with blond hair tied neatly at the back, oozing nobility even from the fabric of his clothes. Just like Kaelith, it was obvious from his every demeanor that he did not belong to these lands.
Kaelith looked the man up and down before grabbing the mug. "Thank you. Finally, someone who understands. I really don't have a single copper on me."
"Money is not an issue," the stranger said with a smug smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "My name is Morwan. Let's have a little chat." He pulled out the opposite chair, sat down, and fixed his eyes on Kaelith. "I know you're not one of them."
Kaelith's hand froze around the mug. Though he tried to keep his facial muscles under control, alarm bells had started ringing in his head. I had completely cleaned the blood off me. How did he know? Unable to hide that momentary flash of dread in his eyes, he stared into Morwan's.
"This is the face I love," Morwan said, leaning back with delight. "The dropping of that mask of cunning people wear when I guess right... Before you came here, you snuck in using a coin that doesn't belong to you. I'm smart, my friend. Smart enough to notice these things, and exceptionally talented."
Morwan's arrogant demeanor reminded Kaelith of those toxic egos he had so often encountered in the palace corridors in the past. However, this face across from him was a complete stranger.
"I know you're tired," Morwan said, standing up. "I know a better place. Come with me."
When they left the tavern together and blended into the dark of the night, Morwan began talking about how wealthy his family was, how he had come here purely for pleasure, and how he would be leaving soon. As a much more ostentatious inn appeared ahead, Morwan reached into his pocket and handed Kaelith a strangely engraved piece of metal. "Keep this. When you do business with my family, this piece will give you a great advantage," he said, parting ways to retreat to his own room.
Kaelith looked at the piece in his hand and smirked. So everything is on Morwan today...
He ordered a bottle of wine from the innkeeper and locked himself in his room. As the silence of the room settled over him, he began taking large gulps of the ruby-red wine from his glass. However, instead of numbing his mind, the alcohol unleashed the dark memories whose doors he had been trying to keep locked.
His eyes glazed over. That night played out in his mind once again. His mother's deafening screams mingled with the crackling of the flames. "Run, my son! Save yourself!"
He felt as if a crushing weight had settled on his chest. He couldn't breathe. As the walls of the room seemed to close in on him, his father's ice-cold, merciless voice echoed in his mind:
"You've become a monster vile enough to kill your own mother. You are no longer my son! You are the disgrace of this dynasty... I wish you had never been born!"
Kaelith's eyes shot wide open, as if they would pop out of their sockets. With his heart pounding as if to shatter his ribcage, he tried to grab onto the table to catch his breath. But his hand slipped, and he collapsed to the floor with a loud crash. The wine bottle tipped over, spilling the blood-red liquid across the carpet and his clothes.
The momentary physical shock of hitting the ground shattered the terrifying illusion gripping his mind. Supporting himself on the floor with trembling hands, he slowly got to his feet. He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, that fragile, terrified boy was gone. In his place was the cold, emotionless, and calculating mask he had been taught to wear. His expression was indistinguishable from stone.
Without even realizing when he had fallen asleep in that exhaustion, he jolted awake at the crack of dawn to a violent knocking at his door. Looking through the peephole, he saw the cleaner waiting with a bucket in hand. It was time for the daily morning cleaning.
He needed to leave anyway. He quickly gathered his things, left the room, and hurried his steps toward the Patroller Brotherhood's base. As he jogged through the streets, he saw children who had burst outside with the first light of morning, running around joyfully. His steps slowed for a fraction of a second. Deep within his mind, realizing he had no memories of that innocent concept called childhood cast a strange emptiness into his core. But he didn't stop. He kept moving forward.
By the time he reached the Patroller base, the place hadn't quite come to life yet. There was still a little time before the soldiers' shifts began, and the cleaning of the premises was just getting started. His eyes locked onto Helik, who was already sipping an ale at a corner table. The man's discipline and sense of duty had involuntarily awakened a sense of respect for him within Kaelith.
He walked over and sat beside him. Trying to keep his voice nonchalant, he asked, "Any new developments since yesterday? About that ship... Have they managed to find anything useful at least?"
Helik slammed his mug on the table and let out a booming laugh. "Of course there are, brother! HAHAHAAH! That foolish captain's spellbook has been found. It's going to be delivered personally to Lord Vorren shortly as proof of the captain's death."
Kaelith hadn't yet acquired the actual information he wanted to hear. Without changing the subject, he asked: "What about the person who's arriving? Last night you said someone important was coming this morning."
Helik nodded. "Right you are... By the way, what was your name?"
"Kaelith."
Helik's eyes went wide as saucers, followed by a new fit of laughter that echoed through the room. "AHAHAHAHA! Your father must have quite the interest in the royalty, huh? You bear the name of that cursed prince who slaughtered his own mother and rotted away in exile, boy!"
Believing in the hilarity of his own joke, Helik brought a heavy, friendly slap down onto Kaelith's shoulder.
The rage within Kaelith began to boil like a volcano. He felt his blood rushing through his veins, his fingertips tingling. But he didn't break that dull, calm expression on his face by a single millimeter.
Right at that moment, from the other end of the courtyard, a sharp, authoritative voice bellowed toward Helik:
"Bring Ulg to me! Immediately! And it would be best for you not to keep him waiting!"