Chapter 6. Escape from Ash Valley. Part 1.
Graig shifted nervously on the worn wooden bench, his eyes darting around the dimly lit tavern. The smoky air hung heavy with the scent of stale ale and body odor, doing little to mask the underlying stench of desperation, that permeated every corner of this seedy establishment.
The former nobleman took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, as he awaited his mysterious benefactor’s arrival. His once fine clothes now hung loosely on his gaunt frame – a stark reminder of how far he’d fallen, since those halcyon days serving at the king’s court.
Just then, a figure stepped out from the shadows in a far corner – tall and cloaked, face obscured by deep cowl. Graig’s breath caught in his throat as recognition dawned – this was no ordinary patron seeking respite from the outside world.
The man slid into the seat across from him without a word, motioning for Graig to speak first. Hero Ronan, who was sitting beside Graig, looked at a man, who was hiding his face under a hood and grimaced with disdain.
Graig straightened up in his seat, trying to project an air of haughty superiority, despite the grubby surroundings. He cleared his throat imperiously:
– Ahem! As I was saying, my lord – it is with great pleasure that I present to you none other than the esteemed hero Ronan!
The cloaked figure inclined their head slightly in acknowledgment, as Ronan nodded. The hero cut an imposing figure in his gleaming armor, a sword at his hip and an aura of false righteousness emanating from every pore.
– Ronan, – the stranger rumbled, voice low and resonant: – I have heard much about your exploits. Your defeat of the bandit king made quite the splash.
Ronan preened under the praise, puffing out his chest:
– Why, thank you kind sir! It’s always my pleasure to rid the land of such scum. The people rely on heroes like myself for protection against those, who would prey upon them.
The cloaked figure chuckled darkly, eyes glinting in the candlelight.
– Indeed they do. And that brings me to why I called you here today, young Ronan. I have a task that requires someone with your unique skillset – one which could prove most lucrative for us all, if handled properly.
Ronan leaned forward eagerly, while Graig watched on nervously from the sidelines.
– Do go on.
Cloaked figure leaned forward, fixing Ronan with an intense stare that seemed to bore into hero’s very soul.
– I heard how queen and that archangel Michael treated you. I understand your frustration, my boy. Queen and court alike take you for granted – a mere errand runner, despite all you’ve achieved.
Ronan bristled at the words, anger flashing across his face, before being replaced by bitter resignation.
– It’s true. They send me off on these ‘missions’ that are little more than busywork, while those prancing lords and ladies get all the glory.
The stranger nodded sagely, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper:
– But what if I told you there was a way for us both to rise above such petty politics? To claim our rightful place at the head of this kingdom…and beyond?
Graig’s eyes widened as he began to suspect where this conversation might be headed. He opened his mouth to protest, but the cloaked figure silenced him with a sharp glance.
– Prince Adrian may seem like a mere child now, – the man continued, turning back to Ronan: – But with proper guidance and perhaps an accident befalling dear mother queen…
Ronan’s gaze grew distant, as he contemplated these words.
– You want me to help you overthrow Her Majesty? Betray my oath?
The stranger chuckled darkly:
– Think of it not as betrayal, but seizing destiny by the reins! The people will thank us once they see what true leadership looks like. And you – Ronan, Champion of the Realm – would be hailed a hero once more, and this time with the power to match!
Graig watched in dismay as Ronan’s expression shifted from shock to avaricious calculation.
– And just how do I know we can trust each other? What’s to stop me from going straight to the queen with this treasonous nonsense?
The cloaked figure reached into his cloak and withdrew a small leather pouch, which he slid across the table.
– Consider that a token of my good faith – enough coin for you to start your own life should you choose. As for trust… Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, whether you’ve got what it takes after all.
Ronan took a pouch and looked inside. It was filled with orichalcum coins. Enough coins to buy a village of his own, definitely more than queen ever gave him.
– And what exactly do you want me to do? – he asked after hiding a pouch.
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