Chapter 72: DANGEROUS SENTIMENT

“Get up.”

The toe of the boot that prodded his side was anything but gentle.

Risens scrambled to his feet, struggling to hold back the moisture welling in his eyes. His hand desperately wanted to rub at the pain swelling from the welt on his arm. He resisted, it took all he had. He knew that showing weakness in the face of his teacher would only amount to a swifter beating the next time around.

He caught the dulled blade tossed at him from the air with relative ease, falling into a defensive stance in the center of the dirt salle. He would be better prepared this time, he would see recognize the feint for what it was and block the strike that had felled him with ease.

The reverberations of Vagon’s first few blows sent waves of pain up his scrawny arms. He lashed out as he saw what he thought was an opening.

“Come on,” Vagon growled, swatting his clumsy strike away with a look of annoyance. “Do better than that.”

Risens recognized the progression of the steps that followed. The strike came in high, whistling over his head forcing him into a crouch. This time he would be prepared. Instead of rolling away, he lunged forward. He would press the attack before his tutor reversed his strike, sending him to the ground again. This time it was Vagon who would feel the sting of his blade.

A blinding cloud of dirt and dust greeted his as he charged in to earn the point he so desperately wanted. His back erupted in pain as the flat of his training partner, or torturer’s blade slapped across. Again, he found himself face first on the hard packed dirt floor of the training circle.

“This is no gentlemen’s competition,” Vagon cursed. “Get the foolish ideas of honor and dignity out of your head. There is no code that binds you to a fair fight. No judge to disqualify you for cheating. You’re an assassin, not a squire. There is no need to fight fair.”

Risens wanted to curl up, to wallow in the pain that seemed to coat every fiber of his back and arm. He choked down the sobs that threatened to consume him, knowing they too would only earn him a harsher punishment.

“Get up. Again.”

It was a curious memory that assaulted his senses as he stalked around the edge of the last salle. How many days had he stumbled around the training circle, beaten mercilessly by his trainer. The man was nearly three times his age, a master in blade and unarmed combat and deception. Cruelty it seemed was something he relished.he taught with an unapologetic style where errors were emphasized with pain. As long as he wasn’t dead, the healers could mend any fractured bones and sew together any laceration on his skin.

The thought assaulted him, one that hadn’t troubled his mind for years though recently it had been an ever-present question. Why was he chosen for this life?

Why him?

Just like his youth, he expected he’d find no answer. After pleading for years, the painful responses had beaten the curiosity into submission under a throbbing layer of acceptance. This was he station. He would accept it as it was all he knew.

Keeping his head down low, he’s stalked in the shadows of the bushes toward the rear of the academy. Crossing silently over the finely set stones of walkway, he stopped behind the base of one of the many statues that dotted the back of Excelsior This one depicted a long forgotten noble, his haughty, arrogant look, leering over the grounds behind the estate. His paunchy figure with his upturned nose and loose hanging jowls was more comical than it was inspiring.It was a twisted form of perfection that the young nobles would aspire to achieve.

Risens scanned the exterior facade of Excelsior with calculating eyes. The fluted columns, decorated with impressively lifelike vines of stone that wrapped up their heights towered three stories up. Large windows covered the spaces between pillars. He traced his path up the side of the building using the easy hand holds provided by the decorative rock. He would be able to remain in the shadows for most of the climb, though he would be visible for brief moments by those inside the building. 

The lights inside burned low on all the floor except for the upper level that remained dark. The interior of the academy, if it could truly be called that, was not a mystery to Risens or the Kingdom at large. Guards, both serving Halthome and their private masters who were posted there, were frequently cycled through locations throughout their careers. Plying information about the building was done with ease.

The first floor of the expansive building was dedicated to learning in all forms. A grand ballroom covered a large portion of the massive footprint. Here, young lords and ladies, dressed in finery lavish enough to provide food for the impoverished citizens their families lorded over for generations learned to strut and posture as they flowed across the polished mahogony floor. The large formal dining that adjoined the space allowed them ample time to refine the finer details of politicking during meals. They formulate plots to one day stab their peers in the back all while smiling through crystal goblets of fine wine and false smiles.

The remainder of the first floor was a maze of ornate hallways and various classrooms. Dedicated to everything from business, to trade, to handling the affairs of their estates and holdings. His mind wandered through the curriculum expecting that at some point teaching revolved around dealing with mistresses, bastard children and getting caught while tangled up in elicit romantic rendezvous.Priceless paintings, sculptures, artwork, tapestries, and relics of Halthome’s storied past were displayed with pride on pedestals and walls spread throughout the winding halls.

The second floor was reserved for housing the students who called Excelsior their temporary home. Separated it into wings, the young lords and the ladies lived with peers of their same gender, while sharing a grand common area and library between them. Considerable thought was likely given to the accommodations, as many of the houses were on less than friendly terms.

Viewing Excelsior from the front, each of the floors shrunk in size from the ground up. With its many terraced gardens and patios the space was used for relaxation beyond the required learning below. The rear of the building where he found himself was dominated by the large windows and pillars, almost as if an angular pyramid had been sliced in half by a massive blade.

The third floor served as a home for the professors, tutors and headmaster who were responsible for turning out the cultured, well-mannered nobility that would one day strut through the aptly named nobles gate. It was a seemingly impossible task as the preconceived notions and spoiled upbringing were going to offer nothing to convert the sinner to a saint. How many would he one day hunt as traitors? He could have likely killed dozens before finding one who didn’t fit the bill.

Beyond the two who had been caught in their forbidden romantic interlude, tonight it seemed was their lucky night. He wasn’t calling to seek retribution or justice. They would be spared from his blades unless they interfered with his plans.

The darkened upper floor was the smallest of them all and was the destination he now sought. His climb from the balcony below would be trickier where the pillars ended. Where the columns ended a wide strip of sculpted stone wrapped about the rear of the building. Depicting a martial scene of some type, he saw soldiers on horseback with long lances mid-charge, knights weighed down by armor and shield. He stifled the grin that tugged up on his lips. Just above the peak of the column closest to him, the distinct shape of a raven was carved into the stone.

Convenient.

All the antiquities of Halthome on full display in the lower floors were commonplace compared to the treasures rumored to be kept above. Risens pondered not for the first time, the reason for his current quest. Why had Mother Raven sent him to collect the item? Why would an item of such importance be held here, hidden in the halls of excess? What was so important that she would require his assistance.

He knew that it was a jeweled egg, fragile and delicate, though nothing else. The cryptic information left nothing but more questions. The significance behind the piece was lost in mystery. Mother Raven had hinted at the assistance of the conspiracy of ravens at his call yet he failed to see how they would help complete this quest.

Illuminated by the light that filtered through the great windows that lined Excelsior’s back, he watched the lazy patrol of the guards on the individual floors. Under control of the commanding officer and his subordinates, the offending pair was separated before being deposited at the entrances to their individual wings. The hilarity that registered across the faces once they were free of the truants was visible from where he lurked in the shadows of the statue.

Waiting until the guards roaming the halls both started from his unexpected ladder, moved into the courtyard that separated the grounds from the building. The evenly spaced beds provided ample cover for his discrete movements allowing him to move with relative ease. Confirming that the no guard within could see his movements he swarmed up the pillar.

The guards of Excelsior were likely all skilled at their tasks and relatively proficient in the abilities with a sword. Their attention was sorely lacking. They focused entirely on the ciry beyond their lush confines while leaving the interior woefully prepared. Since the unexpected encounter that forced him into the water, all of his preparation and stealth seemed for naught. Perhaps he should have just calmly strolled across the grass instead of skulking in the shadows. The lovers had been unlucky. If not for the ill timed kick of a foot in the throws of passion, their tryst would have likely gone unnoticed. Afterall, they had snuck from the building without raising alarm and he doubted that their educations focused on much in the way of stealth.

The pillar itself only furthered the impression about the interior of the grounds. Though the quality of the craftsmanship was supreme, it had been constructed as if it were made for climbing. How many adventurous nobles had tempted fate scaling the stones over the years. On second thought, he doubted any that attended the academy would have noticed the details beyond the decoration for their benefit. They could just as easily order someone to climb it if they desired something at the tops. That’s what their servants were for.

His rapid progress was stopped as he neared the base of the third level. Unlike the floors below, where a wide hallway stretched along the windows, to the left of the pillar he climbed, there was a wide, comfortable sitting area for the teachers and administration to relax after what was likely a toilsome day. The windows here swung outward on thier frames allowing the cool night air access to the building.

The lights were low, giving off few hints of whatever inhabitants may be inside. Risens peeked his head over the ledge, his vision darting across the luxurious comforts of the room. If not for the quiet conversation floating through the window and the low glow of embers burning at the end of long pipes, he would have not noticed anyone resided within.

Shifting to the outer edge of the pillar, he continued his ascent, those inside oblivious yo his presence until their words brought him to a stop again.

“Howar, I promise you the ledge is clean. I’ve combed through it three times as has NAME. All references to the Lady and Duke’s…contributions over the years have been expunged.” The speaker noted before taking another drag on his pipe. Risens caught the distinct aroma of jahgi as the thin tendril of smoke escaped from the window. Mildly hallucinogenic and highly illegal, it was widely used though not regularly enforced at this level of privilege.

“You know as well as I that we can ill afford the ire of the King,” Howar responded, taking a large drag himself, the glowing embers flaring, lighting his face in a low orange glow. “We just need to weather the storm that is coming. I have no doubt that there will be others. Let is not be us, old friend.”

The conversation he overheard included a dangerous sentiment. One that was likely spreading far faster than could be culled. The more lives lost and the more public their executions would only escalate the infection. It was a sentiment that a week ago would have ended both of their treasonous lives. With a frown, he climbed silently higher.

He had helped Lathrenon foment the rebellion that brewed under his very seat.

Risens only wished he had seen the truth sooner.