His protest sounded weak and child-like to his own ears, and the official in front of him seemed unfazed as well.
“You call possession of illegal alchemical substances nothing?”
He pulled out a familiar-looking vial with dark stains at the bottom.
“Don’t deny it. I even found the empty vessel right up there, in a corner of the clockwork room where you had used it. Which, by the way, you were not allowed to enter anyway, but let’s not be petty. If you ask me, Mrs. Quenning wasmore thangenerous to just throw you out of the guild. I had suggested a more serious punishment. But alas…”
This was getting scary. Roderic not only knew the contents of the note, he also appeared to possess extensive knowledge of Kraghtol’s doings.
“Oh, fey’s breath! Why?! Can you at least tell me what you have against me? Why are you soeagerto destroy my life? Or is it just because you’re an asshole?”
He really shouldn’t have said the last thing, but it took every last ounce of self-control not to put the supposed blood-concealingproperties of the orderkeepers’ coats to the test. At least, the grin on the other man’s face faded.
“This is your first and final warning, Mr. Wulfspar. Any further insult against a Fist of the Guilds and you will wish you had never left your precious Mistpine. To answer your question, however, I don’thave anythingagainst you, not in particular. I protect the law and the legitimate interests of the guilds and society. Protect them from people like you.”
“Like me? Are you implying I’m some kind of criminal? A danger to ‘society’?” Kraghtol spat.
Roderic didn’t even blink.
“Yes, of course,” he said in a dry and dangerous voice. “I don’t need to imply. You are a criminal, and apparently you can’t help but break the law again and again. I know your type. Troublemaker. It’s only a matter of time until you make the next mistake. And then, I’ll be there torip you outlike a rotten tooth. You should leave Winterstone and go back to your fringe village. Perhaps you can behave better there, although I doubt even that. If you ask me, you would have been better off seeking a servitude contract to pay for your fines. Perhaps your owner would have been able to keep you under control.”
He was provoking him. Kraghtol knew that, rationally. Still, every word made his blood boil more and his fists clench harder. He watched Roderic’s lips twitch at the corner of his mouth. The orderkeeper was just waiting for him to lose his temper, to explode, and much of the half-orc wanted nothing more than to do exactly that. Still, the rational part still held on. He wouldn’t give him this satisfaction, not now.
“Thank you for your… opinion, orderkeeper,” Kraghtol said way more coldly than he felt inside. “If that would be all?”
A moment of charged silence passed before the human in the red coat nodded, with an almost disappointed look on his face.
“I will be watching you.”
Only when the orderkeeper was gone did Kraghtol exhale, as if doing so before had posed the risk of igniting the fire within him. He looked around his room, desperate for anything to destroy, to let out the bottled-up rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, but he couldn’t. It was not Mrs. Brott’s fault, and he couldn’t demolish her furniture for something she had no part in. Throwing over his cloak, he fled his room, passing the confused tailor, and ran as soon as he had reached the muddy gray of the street. It was just starting to rain and, judging by the low-hanging clouds, he would get drenched, but Kraghtol could hardly care less. His feet carried him to the Park District, just next to the Silver Spires. Before he had the chance to stop himself, his uninjured right fist flew against a massive oak. It hurt a lot when his hand connected with the bark, but he didn’t even slow down. Again and again, he struck the tree, as if he were trying to punch a hole through it. The rain was pouring now, soaking through the cloak and his clothes, but Kraghtol didn’t care.
Finally, when his fingers were aching, and the rain running down his green fist was reddened with blood, he stopped, slumping down into the mud against the tree. He wanted to think, wanted to find a way out of this situation, but his mind was empty. Kraghtol didn’t know how long he sat there and listened to the raindrops hitting his head before he finally got up and returned to his room. The clocktower told him it was afternoon when he arrived at the street, and when he approached the tailor shop, he wanted to turn around right on the spot and return to his oak.
In front of the building stood a finely clothed figure, holding an expensive-looking umbrella made of blackened goatskin. He had forgotten about Valir. The noble raised an eyebrow as Kraghtol marched past him and into the building without saying a word, but followed him inside, nonetheless. Seeing that he had no chance to avoid the encounter, Kraghtol nodded at the stairs going up and went ahead.
“I see you’re treating my cloak with the utmost care,” Valir remarked dryly. “No, keep it for the moment.”
Kraghtol understood too late that Valir had meant to make a joke and had already half-removed the borrowed cloth stained with mud and blood to give it back. The water dripping onto the floor formed a small puddle under him.
“I apologize, Mr. el Greylune,” Kraghtol said flatly, remembering yesterday’s lesson in politeness. That only earned him another eyebrow.
“That formality doesn’t really suit you, Kragh. And I believe there is no reason to start now, after offending me for half a year. Truth be told, I always found it rather refreshing.”
“Fine. Valir then. I suppose you’re here to talk about the loan?”
“Not at all.”
Valir had taken the opportunity to look around Kraghtol’s room, which proved to be a quick endeavor.
“I was hoping to continue the conversation we had back at my house. And, given that I have not seen you for weeks, I wanted to see how you are doing, but that question apparently is moot.”
Kraghtol just nodded, dripping more rainwater onto the ground in the process. Valir sighed.
“I see that talking to you seems to be difficult like this. Alright. I’ll listen instead. What trouble did you get yourself into this time? Mundane money problems again?”
The noble sat down on the only chair in the room and looked at Kraghtol expectantly. The easiest way to get him to leave seemed the truth, so Kraghtol summarized the events of the last days with a hollow voice.
“Curious,” Valir commented after he was finished.
