CHAPTER 27 And Head Scratches?

CHAPTER 27

And Head Scratches?

Rufus

A Few Minutes Earlier

“Are you planning on visiting the capital during your stay, Commander?” a pale human with short curly hair asked me.

The man, Lord Peter Ainsworth, was very excited to meet someone from the Dark Enchanted Forest. He had been standing with me since shortly after I’d arrived.

“I will be, yes.” I was glad for the mild distraction from the otherwise well-mannered guests. Servalt had come about when the northern nobles had stood up against the elite classism of Sumbria, and as much as I’d teased Duke Wyldon the previous evening, they really were an admirable crowd.

And then there was Peter.

“I can show you around the town. A cultured beastman like yourself must have finer tastes …” Peter gave me a knowing smile that was not accurately knowing at all.

I resisted the urge to sigh, simply looking down on the man with a passive glance before sweeping the crowd. “Perhaps. I have a few kingdom-level quests to complete first.” Unless Bronwynn was set on added company, at which point I would do the one meeting with the Assassin’s Guild and then ignore the rest.

I didn’t openly stare at her, but knowing she was there made the disaster that was me standing at a birthday party with no social acquaintances to speak of bearable.

“Ah, a working man. I get it. When you’ve finished your business, then.” Peter nodded and took a glass of sparkling enchanted mistwine from a server. The beverage gave off beautiful swirls of red smoke and tasted like sweet strawberries .

I selected a dry pear cider with hints of citrus and enjoyed a slow sip.

“Presenting Duke Wyldon Holst of Servalt.” The voice carried over the crowd, and we all turned to face the duke as he entered from a private set of double doors that had been previously closed on the veranda. The half elf strode in with confidence, and he nodded a polite greeting to his guests from the top of the stairs.

The corner of my eye blinked with a new notification as unease settled in my gut and my entire body felt [Sense Threat] activate. My heart beat faster, the hair on my body bristled, and my head whipped around to Bronwynn, artfully finishing her note.

“[Imbue] [Haste].” That’s when someone, an elven young lady wearing a light pink dress, knocked Peter toward me. I caught the human and watched in horror as she threw a bottle of molten ash vane.

The bottle sailed through the air toward the duke while my Perception thirty allowed me to watch everything unfold in slow motion.

There were shouts as people activated their abilities. The vial hit the [Shield] spell, slowed, glowed, and then rebound forward. Duke Wyldon whipped up his arms and yelled, “[Force Wall]!”

The still glowing vial hit the gray shimmering [Force Wall] and slowed again—but again, it kept going. A look of shock and horror fixed on the duke’s face. A guard, who had activated her own version of [Haste], launched herself from her spot beside the griffin statue.

But she wouldn’t make it.

I shoved Peter back into the elf assassin, knocking them both to the ground, then I spent mana to pop my claws. I’d need them to handle the duke. We would have to remove any poisoned parts as quickly as possible if he was going to survive. Worst case, I could save an ear or foot and use my high-level potion to bring him back. If there was time.

Wyldon would lose his Duke title upon death, as was the norm with kingdoms outside the Dark Enchanted Forest, but he would survive . He was lucky a member of the Dark Horde was in attendance. He wouldn’t even be undead, since I got to it so quickly … assuming I got to it quickly.

And of course, I would absolutely hold it against Wyldon to further annoy him. If there was enough left of him to save, that was.

All of this flashed in my mind as a black cat leapt from a nearby chair and caught the vial with its mouth midair, landing proudly on its feet.

Excuse me, a grimalcat leapt to catch it. No one should ever mistake the two, or the grimalcat would seek vengeance for the slight. They were proud; they were majestic … And they carried a grudge forever.

The creature spat the bottle of highly dangerous potion onto the ground and lay down beside it, batting it playfully with soft paws. The poison swished around inside, a beautiful swirl of red with black flecks .

The guard landed with a brutal thud in front of the duke, rolling down two stairs before catching herself. The duke lowered his arms, staring at the grimalcat.

“Lord Peter, secure the assassin!” I yelled, tossing my one and only pair of Veralyn’s Enchanted Restraint Manacles at the human. He was partially straddling the elf, who’d pulled a knife from somewhere.

“Get off me, you knave!” she screeched. She wasn’t going down without a fight and stabbed at Peter. My instincts were correct, and the awkward young man dodged the knife while making a strangled eep sound. He whacked the elf in the wrist, yelling a panicked, “[Disarm].”

At that point, three guards had their swords pointed at her throat, five martial guests had acquired weapons and encircled the assassin, and one young Lord Peter was cuffing her with Veralyn’s Enchanted Restraint Manacles.

“Thank you, everyone.” The duke shoved his glasses back up his nose and brushed off invisible dust from one sleeve. “And thank you, Lady Tate. If you really are Lady Tate, maybe we will finally have some answers.”

According to my skill [Detect Fake], the lady wasn’t using any abilities to change her appearance or voice or otherwise disguising herself. She was either a very good look alike, or the real thing.

“I’m just the beginning.” The assassin pouted , so I was leaning toward this being the real Lady Tate. “The boss won’t let you live.”

“Take her away,” Duke Wyldon said coldly. He reached up and smoothed out his pinched brow. “I’ll see about getting information out of you to take down your boss before she has a chance to succeed. Happy birthday to me .”

She clamped her mouth shut at that and glared, saying nothing more as the guards dragged her off.

I noticed the grimalcat had returned to the head table; the molten ash vane was nowhere to be seen. He sat on a higher-than-normal chair near the middle of the table, and his vibrant green eyes blinked slowly at me when our gazes met.

He broke eye contact when Duke Wyldon swept down the stairs and up to the grimalcat, bowing low before the creature.

“Thank you, Slake; I don’t know what I would have done without you.” The duke smiled, and his face lit up with appreciation and a rare softness. “I owe you one.”

Slake raised his eyebrows and sniffed.

“It was just an assassin, my friend.” The grimalcat spoke with the accent of the Empire of Sands, with its drawn-out vowels. His delicate black wings flared a bit and settled down; a subtle wing shrug. “Who counts assassins? I have a new interesting sample; that is payment enough. Ah … and head scratches?”

“Of course, but let me address my other guests first,” the duke said with all seriousness before turning to us. Duke Wyldon coughed. “Welcome to my humble celebration, friends and family. Please, find your seats, and we can have lunch. ”

As if on cue, Bronwynn began playing again, her music light and upbeat. The summer sun shone down on her sparkling dress, and I stared at her longer than I should have. I was one of the last to take my seat, which happened to be directly beside the grimalcat at the head table.

Even the novelty of sitting beside a grimalcat couldn’t drag my attention away from the beautiful minstrel playing in her corner. I wasn’t in the mood for the lavish food being carried out. My stomach churned even as the usual lyre filling my ears would have otherwise soothed me. This was another event with the bard and an assassination attempt using molten ash vane.

The thought filled my mind so much that I didn’t notice when the grimalcat turned his attention to me.

“Commander General Rufus?”

The voice drew me out of my head. “Yes … I’m sorry, I do not know your title?”

The grimalcat’s little green horns and green eyes were the only thing of color on the inky black creature, until he smiled and showed off his sharp white teeth. “Adventurer Slake Drakeford. A pleasure to meet you.”

Wait.

How did I not know that one of the most successful and powerful people on the continent, Slake Drakeford, Dungeon-Conquering Adventurer Extraordinaire, with more loot than a kingdom … was a grimalcat?