Chapter 70: Visitors
That would have been the case, if only.
They arrived at my apartment shortly after I returned from my meeting with Drevolan. I answered the door following an authoritative knock. There were three of them, all men, all Dragonlords, two of them armed. The third said, "Your name is Dravos."
He uttered it as if he'd read it but never heard it, from which I could infer something probably beneficial.
"Close enough," I responded. Opal swiftly landed on my shoulder. I was anxious, even a bit scared. Normally, opening my door doesn't concern me, as the Vorgan respect personal privacy; however, who knows what Dragons think?
"My name is Ari. My Lord, the Count of Cernan, demands that you refrain from interfering with his affairs. Consider this your only warning. Is that clear?"
I paused to process that. So, Cernan was aware of my involvement. Alright.
And he was cautioning me to not interfere. What did he suspect I would do? Moreover, why was he going through the trouble of intimidating me?
This was both perplexing and irritating, the irritation being the stronger sentiment. Three Dragonlords - three, by the heavens, with one obviously a wizard, barging into my home to dictate terms? Even the Vorgan don't stoop to such levels. Even the Fenghuang Guard, during their ongoing squabbles with the Vorgan, didn't resort to such tactics. If a Vorgan or an emissary of the Empire wished to threaten or bully me, they would have the decency to approach me at one of my workplaces - say, the office, a restaurant, or a backstreet. This invasion of my home ruffled my feathers, but I decided to handle it tactfully. I replied, "What if I insist that the Count of Cernan do something unflattering to my behind?"
Both the Dragonlords unsheathed their swords as efficiently as the limited space of my hallway allowed and advanced simultaneously. In the next moment, they toppled backward; one startled by a Vorgan's confrontational stance, the other because I had lodged a knife in his shoulder.
Ari lifted his hand, but I was all too familiar with what it implied when a Dragonlord was weaponless. As I had thrown the knife (a boot knife, one of the only four knives left with me after discarding my weapons upon arriving home), I let Cursebane, approximately a foot and a half of gold chain, drop into my left hand. I set it in motion to ward off whatever Ari was preparing to launch at me.
Ari proved to be rather quick; a part of his spell penetrated my defenses, leaving me feeling weak, disoriented, and unable to move the right half of my body. I allowed myself to topple and started rolling away from the doorway.
The spell's effects were transient; I managed to get back on my feet, produce another knife - this one a stiletto, not meant for throwing - and get Cursebane whirling again. If Ari lobbed another spell at me, the chain completely neutralized it, and Opal was effectively keeping one Dragonlord occupied, but the other, my knife still protruding from his shoulder, had recovered his sword with his left hand and was charging at me.
This situation was rather alarming.
There was no way to fend off his sword with my stiletto, so I did the only thing I could - I lunged at him, hoping to evade his strike.
I felt my knife puncture him, and simultaneously, something struck me in the side, followed by the cold sensation of the floor against my face. I mentally ran through the scenario as I lay there: Opal could take care of one, and, with some luck, I had neutralized the other at the same moment he struck me, but the mage was still a threat. I attempted to turn over, noticing that Cursebane had slipped out of my grasp; this was when I began to panic. I tried to roll over again, and I assumed I was successful since I found myself staring at the ceiling; that was progress. However, something about the ceiling was amiss. I tried to stand up, bracing myself for the impending pain. A voice said, "Stay put, Viktor."
A feminine voice. Whose was it? It was familiar, but I couldn't put a face to it. However, I certainly wasn't going to lie still. I attempted to sit up once more.
"Stay down. You're safe," she reassured.
Safe? What on earth?
Thaleia e'Kyran's face loomed over me.
"You're at Nocturne Castle, Boss."
"Nocturne Castle? How did I end up here?"
"Drevolan brought you."
"But how did he?"
"I informed him."
"But how could you?"
"I wasn't certain I could."
"Am I ever going to be able to finish a"
"How are you feeling?" Thaleia interrupted.
"Enraged," I replied. "Furious. I desperately want to kill someone. I"
"I mean, physically. How do you feel?"
That was a harder question, so I took a moment to contemplate.
"I'm okay," I said after a while. "There's stiffness on my side. What transpired?"
"You were slashed."
"Severely?"
"Quite deep," she responded cautiously. "No internal damage. Two ribs are cracked."
"I see. Considering all that, I feel terrific. Thanks."
"Any pain?"
"A bit."
"It'll worsen."
"Understood."
"Do you want anything for the pain?"
"Pain doesn't faze me," I assured Thaleia.
She wasn't particularly moved.
I had first encountered Thaleia in a wizard's lab, trapped within a chunk of wood, which had somewhat hampered our initial introduction. Later, once she was fully functional and capable of conversation, we were too preoccupied to indulge in small talk. I had gathered that she was related to Drevolan unsurprising, considering most Dragons probably share some lineage. At that point (I discovered more later, but that's irrelevant to this tale), she seemed fairly typical of a Dragonlord, except shorter. Apparently, she had some skills as a healer.
"Who did it?" she queried.
"A Dragon," I confirmed.
She nodded. "As Drevolan reported. I meant more specifically."
"Somebody working for Cernan. There was a wizard named Ari; I didn't catch the names of the swordsmen."
"What did they want?"
"They wanted me to steer clear of their affairs."
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