Morris's first question hung in the air, weighted with careful consideration. The tavern's atmosphere had shifted from its earlier tension to something more deliberate, like a chess match about to begin. He knows more than he's letting on. I need to tread carefully.
"You're from a very faraway kingdom, aren't you?" Morris asked, his blue eyes fixed on Seraph, searching for any flicker of deception.
"Yes, I am," Seraph replied, a faint smile playing on his lips, and in that slight curve, Morris felt a confirmation of something unspoken between them. He expected me to notice.
Morris's gaze dropped deliberately to Seraph's wrist. In the flickering lantern light, a band caught the glow – intricate and clearly meaningful. That design… I haven't seen one of those in years. "I've seen that wristband before. The Kingdom's Band of Honor." His voice carried the weight of old memories, a hint of surprise coloring his tone. "Some kingdoms, particularly in the extreme southern part of Heaven's Boundary, have this particular system of honoring their warriors."
The mention of Heaven's Boundary – their vast continent – seemed to fill the small tavern with the weight of history. A land of endless stories… and endless dangers, Morris thought, a familiar unease settling in his gut. This land had seen countless battles, witnessed untold bloodshed, received divine blessings, and held mysteries that still remained unsolved. The tavern, situated here in the northern Kingdom of Velmora, felt suddenly like a tiny, insignificant spot on an enormous tapestry of stories.
A knowing smirk played across Seraph's lips. "Interesting." He leaned forward slightly, the scratched iron of his armor catching the dim light. "You've traveled quite extensively, haven't you, Morris? You're certainly not just a simple tavern keeper." He sees more than just a barkeep, Morris thought, his hand instinctively twitching towards the cleaver.
Before Morris could formulate a response, Seraph raised his spoon. "Now, my turn for a question." He tasted the milky mushroom stew, and his red eyes lit up with genuine pleasure. "This is indeed divine, just as the locals claimed." After savoring another spoonful, his expression grew more serious, the amusement fading. "I want to know more about Adrian."
The change in Morris was instant and dramatic. His entire body tensed, his broad shoulders becoming rigid, and his blue eyes sharpened to dangerous points, the weariness of the day completely vanished. No. He has no right to ask about Adrian. "Why do you want to know about Adrian?" His voice was low, a barely controlled growl.
Seraph leaned back in his chair, placing his palm against his forehead with an air of theatrical disappointment. "And this is why this game never goes well." His voice took on a patient, almost lecturing tone. "When I ask a question, you can't ask one back, Mr. Morris. This rule applies equally to kings and commoners once you start playing."
He reached into his robe and produced a gleaming silver coin, its surface catching the lantern light. He placed it deliberately at the center of the worn wooden table. "The rules are simple. We take turns asking questions. When asked, you have two choices: answer truthfully or propose a rejection. But rejection isn't guaranteed – it must be earned by fate itself." He tapped the coin with his finger, the silver ringing softly in the quiet tavern. "If you choose to reject, we let the coin decide. If fortune favors you, the question remains unanswered. If not…" His smile widened, a flash of something predatory in his red eyes. "You must answer, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be."
He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "You can either reject the question or accept it. If you reject it…" A dangerous glint appeared in his red eyes as he slid the coin toward the center of the wooden table. "Well, that just tells me you're hiding something. Something that makes me want to know more and more about him – enough that I might have to look into it myself." He's cornering me, Morris thought, a cold dread creeping into his heart.
The lantern flames seemed to dance more intensely as Seraph's words filled the room, the air growing heavy with unspoken threats and veiled intentions. "So, what will it be? Accept or reject? We're just getting started," his smile widened slightly, "so don't ruin the flow."
The silence that followed was deafening. Morris sat frozen, caught between the primal instinct to protect his secrets and the dangerous implications of refusing to share them with this unnerving stranger. This bastard is up to something. I'll have to be alert, Morris thought, his hand subtly moving towards the worn wooden handle of a cleaver hidden beneath the counter. Out loud, he declared, his voice surprisingly steady, "I propose a rejection to the question."
Seraph sighed, a hint of amusement in his red eyes. "Alright, you cunning old man. Let's do a toss." He produced a gleaming silver coin from his robe, its surface etched with swirling patterns that seemed to shift and writhe in the lantern light. Another coin? Morris noted, his suspicion growing. "Heads or tails?"
"Heads," Morris said, his voice tight, every muscle in his body tense. He watched Seraph's hand closely, trying to discern any telltale movements that might indicate trickery.
The silver coin spun upward, catching the flickering lantern light. The swirling patterns on its surface blurred as it twirled in the air. Both men's eyes tracked its motion, Morris's brow furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. Seraph's excitement mounted, a predatory gleam in his eyes. The coin clattered onto the wooden table, spinning briefly before settling.
Tails.
Seraph's smile widened, a touch too sharp to be friendly. Morris released a heavy sigh, the tension draining from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of resignation. Damn it. He knew he couldn't push this any further without arousing even more suspicion.
"Seems like I won the toss, so…" Seraph trailed off expectantly, his gaze fixed intently on Morris.
"Alright," Morris conceded, his voice rough, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "I'll tell you. But some details, some secrets, must be kept." He glanced instinctively at the top of the stairs, a flicker of worry in his eyes for Adrian's sake.
Morris's eyes grew distant, his gaze lost in the mists of the past, the flickering lantern light reflecting in their troubled depths. "Yes, I am his uncle, related by blood. He's my sister's son." He paused, choosing his words carefully, each one weighed with the burden of unspoken history. "We chose different paths, she and I. She embraced the Arcane Arts, while I… I sought a simpler life." He hesitated, a shadow crossing his face, a hint of old pain. "I haven't seen her for twenty-five years, except for one cold winter morning when she appeared at my door."
(Author's Note: Arcane Arts are a highly complex and revered form of art in Heaven's Boundary, involving the intricate drawing of magical patterns and arrays. Mastery requires immense talent and years of dedicated study. It holds a deep and significant history within the continent.)
His voice softened, a tremor of emotion creeping in, the gruff tavern keeper momentarily replaced by a grieving brother. "She carried a child with dark black hair, unlike her dark brown – the same as mine. But the child had silver eyes, just like hers… eyes that seemed to hold the light of a dying star." Morris's calloused fingers traced invisible patterns on the worn table, lost in the vivid memory. "She gave him to me, asked me to protect him. Before I could speak, before I could tell her how happy I was to see her – to remember I had a sister I'd almost forgotten – she was gone. Vanished like mist in the morning sun." Just like that. Gone again.
The lantern flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls as Morris continued, his voice barely a whisper, the weight of years pressing down on him. "I know nothing of her husband or her situation. Only that she was pursued by… by forces she couldn't outrun. The baby she left me, I named him Adrian. That's all I know." He avoided Adrian's unseen gaze upstairs, a familiar sense of guilt gnawing at him. I should have asked more. I should have tried harder.
Seraph stretched and yawned, a seemingly casual gesture, but his red eyes remained sharp, missing nothing in Morris's demeanor. "I understand. I won't ask her name – as I said, I was merely curious." He leaned forward slightly, the scratched iron of his armor catching the light, revealing intricate carvings of celestial symbols that seemed to writhe in the dimness. "But you haven't taught Adrian about this world, have you? How beautiful, vast, and dangerous it is? A world where magic bleeds into reality, where ancient powers stir, and where destinies are forged in fire and shadow? You see, Morris, children with unique traits, like Adrian's silver eyes, often begin to manifest other… abilities as they approach a certain age."
"That age…" Morris's voice grew heavy, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a physical burden. I knew this day would come. His eyes… they've always been different. "I know. But I don't want him involved in this world's chaos. I don't wish him to face danger or get hurt. I want him to have a normal life." A life I never had.
Seraph's red eyes seemed to glow in the lantern light, radiating an intensity that made Morris deeply uncomfortable, as if the stranger could see straight through his carefully constructed walls. "The chaos will follow you anywhere, Morris, even if you try to stay hidden in this quiet corner of Velmora. It's this world's curse – one that we, our ancestors, and everyone in this world created. And it's a curse that has a way of finding those with extraordinary potential. Children like Adrian will soon be affected. Staying hidden won't do him any good, Morris. Let him learn what it means to be a living being outside this sheltered existence. Maybe his generation can build a better future, a future free from the mistakes of the past."
The swordsman's voice grew more intense, a note of genuine concern, or perhaps something else, creeping in. "Extraordinary talents are increasing day by day. The very fabric of reality is shifting. Even if you don't wish Adrian to get involved in this type of… competition, he may come to love it. He may even resent you for keeping him in the dark. He will blame you and forge hatred towards you—"
"Stop," Morris cut in sharply, his voice laced with a raw pain that surprised even himself. "You have said enough." Don't you dare put those thoughts in my head.
"No, I haven't, not entirely. You've protected and looked after him all these years, staying true to your sister's words. But keeping him hidden is no longer the right choice, Morris. I say this because the world's about to change, and you must prepare him for it." He paused, his expression softening slightly, a hint of something akin to genuine concern flickering in his crimson eyes. "I'll stop the game, for now. But before I do – do you have any final question for me, Mr. Morris?"
Morris's demeanor shifted, the fear and uncertainty that had gripped him moments before replaced by a steely resolve, a protective fire igniting in his blue eyes. He crossed his calloused hands and brought them before his face, his gaze boring into Seraph with newfound intensity. "Why are you in this Kingdom?" What is your real purpose here?
To be continued....