City Streets and Old Men
The bustle of the city was unfamiliar to Wyll. He had been in villages, towns, and even castles, but a city like Kaber, well known due to its connections to the churches. Kaber wasn't precisely a holy town but was rich with the influence of the church as knights, missionaries, monks, and those who had ties would find sanctuary. A sudden twinge of sharp pain caused Wyll to double over as the group came to a stop. Wyll fell from his horse with a loud groan as his body tensed, his right hand spasming as nerves seemingly misfired randomly and caused spasms.
Everyone was a little concerned after last night's events, unsure if the health potion had not fully fixed the damage. Quickly the steel blue-haired boy pulls himself off the ground, brushing off as he flashes his companions a smile. Sighs of relief left everyone as Wyll got up; the Dragoons set up camp outside the city walls. Gaemo quickly intercepted the guards and showed them a permit given to them by a scout missionary.
"Well, I'll be! Who was lucky enough to have the Sword Saint Inquisitor pick them out!"
The guard shouted some, eyes turning to the guard and Gaemo, who couldn't help but laugh, shook his head as everyone looked at one another. Even Wyll knew that the church's inquisitors were the weapons of the church, a rarely used last option when dealing with religious matters. The Sword Saint Inquisitor was said to be a hulking monster of a warrior, capable of cleaving a mountain in two, but the man they had all helped and lent camp to was just two missionaries. The small man who did all the talking took a particular interest in Wyll, going on about seeing Wyll as a malleable chunk of precious metal that had the potential to make great things happen.
Shortly after, he invited Wyll and the Purple Dragoons to attend an extraordinary Rite of Armament. Of course, Wyll was honored to do so, but everyone was skeptical that such a little man could be rumored to be a monstrous beast capable of such tremendous feats. After camp was made outside the gates, the next order of business was getting Ali the Cheetah Beastkin back to his parents. The cub had been attached to Wyll since the other night, and the small boy was thankful to Wyll for saving him from the bandits as Ali treated Wyll as some sort of hero.
Ali, being a Beastkin, was more on the human side of the spectrum; his hair, ears, claws, and tail were the only things signifying his ancestry. His jade green eyes stared up at Wyll as if he was some hero from legend before Wyll quickly scooped the kitten up, being careful of his injuries before setting Ali on his shoulders so he had a better view. Ali acted as navigator, and Wyll was the muscle as the Beastkin pointed out directions; Wyll danced about the crowd of people as he saw many races.
Wyll saw church-recognized races such as Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Half-Elves, and the Beastkin but other races mixed into the masses that he was unfamiliar with. The only other race Wyll recognized was the Gnomes, a shorter race known for their keen minds and pacifism. Gnomes were known for being shrewd business owners, accomplished doctors, and extraordinary alchemists but always avoided conflict unless it was in a competition. The other races were exciting, but as far as Wyll knew, these races were rather young compared to Humans. The youngest race was only a couple thousand years old. He wasn't too sure; history was not his best subject when learning as he really only took interest in the stories of great exploits.
As the boys walked, Wyll couldn't help but notice they were making their way into the wealthy district where most nobles resided, a part of town Wyll wasn't unfamiliar with but still felt out of place. The excited Ali was enjoying himself up high as they made their way down the street Wyll began walking up a hill, a little confused as he didn't fully understand where they were headed, then again thats to be expected when in a new town. Wyll stepped in front of a large gate, the metal glinting in the sun as Wyll looked up with shock at the sound of boots stampeding around him as guards of varying weapons surrounding him, blade pointed at him as Wyll's hand shot up to show no harm as the other kept Ali stable.
"You! The young man who holds the little lord on his shoulders! Who are you?! How dare you steal the lord and injure him! Your crime will be death, but not before interrogation! I warn that fighting back is ill advised! "
The man's voice was stern and full of rage as Wyll noted the bulging veins on his hed. The man didnt give Wyll a moment to respond as ever so gently Wyll took Ali off his shoulders. His demeanor changes as he meets the eyes of the shouting man, a power surging in Wyll as most of the guards flinch, his arm put out to protect Ali. Wyll hisses as his left arm seizes up some, but the unrelenting pressure doesn't seem to let up before a voice interjects.
"Hans! Stand down; this is my friend and savior! He saved me from poachers and slavers, he was going to sacrifice himself to save me and got me out of danger!"
With a rather demanding voice leaving Ali as he makes himself heard, his little eyes staring up at Hans as all the guards pull away, weapons being sheathed and stowed away as Hans gently scoops Ali up. The butler had tears in his eyes as he lifted the boy up, holding back sobs as he sniffled.
"I-I apologize, young lord! You've been gone for a week, and we had feared the worst! Your parents will be pleased to see you, and they will want to thank your friend later. Unfortunately, I must ask you to take your leave, we are thankful for your returning and saving the lord, but there is much to discuss. I will send someone to fetch you later when the timing is better. We of the Guépard household thank you for your service to the young lord."
The anger had subsided as he gratefully bowed to Wyll before heading inside the gates, leaving Wyll alone with very little direction. Gong. Gong. Gong. The bells rang out, and Wyll's eyes widened as he felt his chest tighten. He looked toward the source and saw a citadel on the other side of the city; his heart raced as he didn't know how he would make it to the citadel in time to make it the rite. He actually wasn't even sure if the bell was for the rite but the last thing he wanted to do was miss such an important and life altering even.
Without thinking, his feet began to carry him as fast as they could, speeding off down the street as he made a mad dash to the church. His breath quickened, the fear of missing out on the biggest opportunity of his life. Pushing past people, pushing through the crowds, and trying his hardest to make it in time. As he dodged, bobbed, and weaved through the mess of people, something felt off as he made it to a clearing, a stretch of nothing but speed when a silver-haired man appeared out of nowhere and directly in his way.
Wyll crashed into the man as the two went tumbling, rolling down the road in a mess, before coming to a stop, the two groaning in unison as the dust slowly began to settle. Askalon was dazed, feeling like a carriage had just run over him. As he looked up, confused, he saw a hand outstretched as the culprit offered him help, a blue haired, silvered eye boy. Askalon scoffed before grabbing hold of the hand; the moment the two touched, the sound of a line going taunt rang out in his ears as Wyll's hand began to spasm, fingers involuntarily moving about as well as his grip forcibly tightening. The boy grunted out in pain; Askalon could feel something different about the boy as he felt Wyll's hand spasming against his own. Askalon narrowed his eyes, pulling himself up before dragging Wyll down an alleyway. Wyll grunted as his arm was suddenly yanked as he was pulled into the alley and sat on a crate, Wyll in front of him as his eyes narrowed as he glared a bit at his new acquaintance.
"Take your shirt off."
Askalon said bluntly with a stoic expression, shocking Wyll as he crossed his arms and covered himself. A shocked blush began to paint his face as red as a crisp apple as he gulped and shook his head in shock and disbelief.
"What the hell, you pervert! I'm sorry, but not that damn sorry!"