Marcius sighed. He was still tired and the gloomy thoughts did little to make him any less sleepy.
Chapter 02
His ride through town was uneventful, and he was grateful to hand the reins to the stable boy as he made for the house door. "Master Marc, your father was looking for you. He just received a message from your tutor," Lars informed Marcius as he strode through the door. He groaned, for he was looking forward to sleep when he arrived.
"Lars! You wench! Don't you know how to greet someone weary from a full days travel?!" Marcius grinned to show that he was just joking. With a pat on the stiff butler's back, Marcius went upstairs to look for his father, dropping his pack at the top of the stairs.
"Master Marc, your father is entertaining a few guests. It would be rude to interrupt!" Lars warned.
"Oh, is that so? Well, more the merrier I always say!" Marcius threw Lars another wolf grin and quickly left the sputtering butler to his own devices. Poor guy. It was too easy to rattle him.
Most likely his father was in his business room if he was entertaining guests. Marcius arrived, straightening his travel worn clothing and priming himself the best he could. He gently knocked. "Marcius is that you? Do come in." A stately baritone voice addressed him from within.
Marcius opened the door and a wave of cigar smoked assailed him, a habit he'd never gotten his father to drop. "I heard you were looking for me and hurried to find you." Lian was sitting on his desk and his two guests were in padded chairs facing away from Marcius.
"Let me introduce you to my guests." Marcius's father was a big man who looked rather out of place in the extravagant garb that most people of upper class were expected to wear. With his close cut brown hair, and hands that were more suited to holding a sword or the wheel of a ship, he looked anything but the affluent merchant he was.
The clothing was the only indicator, since his father was a traditionalist in the truest sense of the word. It gave his father a rather confused and out of place look that always gave Marcius a chuckle when he stopped to consider it. His father put out the cigar he was smoking, rubbing it into an ashtray carved from the tusk of some exotic creature, before turning to the figure that was sitting to the left of him. "This is-".
"I can introduce myself, Lian," a raspy voice said. An elderly woman stood up and turned around. Her hair stood in wild strands and blue veins crisscrossed her skin far more bravely than his father's scars. She wore a simple grey dress and typical traveler's cloak. He would have said she looked like any fragile grandmother if it wasn't for her eyes. They were a milky blue, but radiated an intelligence that right away told Marcius there was more to this woman than what was on the surface. "I'm Madam Minerva, you may call me Minnie. Just don't let me hear you." She gave a wink and a mock bow, before sitting back down. Marcius decided he liked her already.
"Ah Minerva, always the impatient one?" Lian shot an apologetic look to his other guest. "Anyway, this is Lady Alicia Wendeline," he said, gesturing to a person who was sitting in the chair next him.
Marcius found himself staring, for right in front of him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now he only had the women of Rhensford to judge from, but even Clarissa's pale beauty withered under the fiery visage before him. Her hair was curly bronze and shoulder length; green-blue glittering eyes that flickered with an inner fire were located within a face that was alabaster smooth and flawless. The turquoise robe she was wearing hinted more than a little at the terrain underneath, and the side contained a slit that showed a very shapely leg encased within knee high leather traveling boots. The coy smile that seemed at ease on her face was the coup de grace. She was the type of woman your mother warned you about.
"Mage Lady Alicia Wendeline," she corrected, her smooth lips became taut at the mistake.
"I apologize, Mage Lady," his father did a half bow. The whole time, Alicia's eyes never left Marcius's, as if she was challenging him.
One eyebrow rose, "This would be your son? The one trained by the rogue wizard Antaigne?"
Marcius's breath caught in this throat, the warning bells ringing loudly in his head. How did she know about Antaigne? But his father gave no indication that anything was amiss, so he went along with it.
"Aye, Master Antaigne trains me." It was said in a rush, a single breath of nervousness. Marcius cringed inwardly.
"I would have thought the rogue wizard, for all his repute, would be a bit pickier of his apprentices?" There was just the slightest hint of a condescending tone in the statement and this shattered the seeming spell she seemed to have cast upon him. The haughty way she had spoken was the equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice cold water on him.
"Well, Mage Lady Alicia," Marcius gave an over dramatic bow, making sure to stress the title to the point of being ridiculous, "I am sure one with as many tribulations as yourself is obviously in a position to judge my abilities. May perchance you could entertain us mere sea porters with the tales of glory your apprentices have achieved?" Lian silently nodded his approval from behind her.
The sea green eyes narrowed dangerously, and a hint of something flashed behind them."I have only recently been promoted to my position by the Academy. This is my first assignment as an official Mage. I am to keep tabs on the rogue wizard whom has evaded the Academy for some time, and I would keenly suggest that you cooperate with inquires."
The Academy had various ranks for its members; the first, and lowest, was the title of Mage, given to individuals who recently graduated from apprenticeship. Though, by the very nature of the station and practice, it did automatically elevate her to a position deserving respect.
Marcius found he was glad the dwarf insisted on teaching him the intricacies of their system. "Knowledge is power, an' the more powers ye have over yer enemies the better," the dwarf, always with a dark twinkle in his eye, often said.
"Ahem," Marcius's father interrupted, no doubt anxious to intervene, "Marcius please take a seat. Lady Alicia was just about to leave when you walked in." Lian said it with a smile, but in reality it was a thinly veiled order to depart.
Her face became strained as she walked to the door, "That is Mage Lady, and yes, I was leaving." She stopped in front of Marcius, face to face, and she said in a smooth husky whisper, low enough as not to be heard by the others, "Marcius, I wish to speak with you later. Alone." Her gaze lingered for a moment in silent appraisal, and then she opened the door and stepped out. Lars was waiting outside to escort the woman.
Marcius couldn't help but notice the alluring trail of her perfume as she left, and the voice she had used left him weak in the knees.
He rubbed his nose, trying to reorient himself, "Father, what was that about?"
"I apologize about that. She just sort of showed up. Would have been rude to turn her away. Somehow she had known we had connections to the dwarf. I only meant to deliver a message from Master Antaigne. He says, ‘Here's the list o' ingredients. Also, ye didn't leave yer homework fer me te check. I will be expecting ye in a few days.'" Lian smiled at his reenactment of the surly dwarf and handed Marcius a scroll bearing a simple red wax seal. Marcius mentally smacked himself, the scrolls he had stayed up most of the night to complete were still in his pack, and they had been essays he was to write about magical theory. No doubt the dwarf would punish him later for forgetting them.
Mistress Minerva cleared her throat, causing Marcius to jump in surprise. He had forgotten she was there! The old lady was wearing an amused smile, "I trust that you'll heed my words, Lian. Also don't worry about Antaigne Steelbrow. He's been a resourceful one ever since I had known him. I'll be taking my leave now, may Avalene watch over you, Lian and Marcius Realure." At that she shuffled herself over to the open door, taking care to shut it behind her before Lian could pay his respects.
"Well that was interesting, Father. Next time warn me when you have such nice people as guests." Marcius ran a thin fingered hand through his dull brown hair, still in disarray from the long trip.
Lian gave a great belly rumbling laugh, reaching behind the desk he pulled out a bottle of rum. Taking out two glasses, he poured one for himself first, and then his son. Marcius gingerly accepted the glass as the sailor merchant leaned against his desk. "Truth be told, Son, I didn't expect either of them today. Minerva is a wily old cat, but good hearted. She was an old acquaintance of both mine and Antaigne, one whom I have learned to respect and I suggest you do the same. Now that Mage," Lian spat the word out with the vehemence of a curse, "was quite the catch, eh? I saw the way you were looking. No doubt many a man panted after her before."
"Perhaps, Father, but if only her personality matched her physical charms. She's uglier than any street wench in those terms!" Marcius found the comparison strangely amusing and spent the next few seconds entertaining the notion of a cross between Minerva and the Mage.
This elicited another belly wrenching laugh from his father, who drank the remainder of his glass in a single gulp while Marcius sipped at his. It was a rather harsher version than what his palate was used to. "Aye, Son! If there is anything I pride myself in, it's a son that I've raised to think more with head and less with his loins! Now, tell me what exactly you're doing back so early from Master Antaigne's place."