A Drink in Toulon - Part 4 - (A Kip the Quick Adventure)
A thrilling romp with theft, magic, and humor.
Kip the Quick is a thief and a rogue, but he wants to go legit. Really, he does. So, when he meets with a nobleman to talk trade, all is fine and dandy until someone comes knocking. Loudly. And violently. Where’s a good spot of the Essence, when you really need some?
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Part 4
THE BELL WAS NO SERVICE BELL, not with the sharp twang, the volume, or the fact that the lord leapt to his feet, dropping his teacup, the porcelain shattering and hot tea soaking his fine leather shoes. “He’s here!”
“Who’s here?”
Stumbling, hands jerking, Lord Gagne twitched out the door abruptly and into the hall. Guards came running down the hallways calling out orders, Bellerose was grabbed by one, and the whole lot funneled out of the room.
“Um…” I said to the empty library. “So, does that mean the trade deal is off?” I set the tea down quickly and took off after, the guards rushing them down the hall.
“Fine manners, they. First, the daughter tries to embroil me in her little games, and now the silent treatment!”
We went down the stairs and were nearly back to the Refreshment Room when I caught sight of Gagne in the open foyer. He stood before one of his guards, who was buckling on steel bracers methodically, the heavy breastplate already secured, barely covering his broad chest. Fastening a last buckle, the guard waited, while Gagne fidgeted with something in his hands.
“You are my most loyal and trusted servant, your father before you was an honorable and loyal man of such resolve that I could hardly do…” He trailed off, looking abruptly around, breathing hard. Then he blurted, “Anything you wish of me, it will be yours!” He shoved a small crystal vial into the guard’s hands.
“My Lord.” Then the guard quaffed the drink in one quick pull. Drips of purple juice leaked past his lips, sliding along his cheek, the sparkling liquid disappearing strangely as it seeped into his skin. Dropping the vial to the floor, the guard froze in place, his eyes closed as his body trembled.
Gagne glanced to the fallen vial, reaching out a hand, but stopped, squinting at the guard instead. “Can you manage?”
The man opened his eyes and breathed deeply as he flexed his hands. “Yes…”
“Excellent, then—I’ll be off.” The lord turned and nearly ran into me, his eyes bulging. “Ah, yes, Kipley, I fear…” he licked his lips, then the bell rang again and he jumped, shoving me to the side. “Was a pleasure to meet you!”
Stumbling into a side table, I stared as he ducked down a hall and into a stairwell with others of his house guard; descending stone steps.
Bellerose spun, at his side, all of the sultry mischief gone, and shouted at me, “Run boy!” then followed her father down. The guards slammed the door behind, bolting it closed, leaving me all alone with the armored guard.
“Boy?” I complained. But then the guard inhaled his breath with a hiss. “Mighty tasty, there?”
The guard’s eyes were shut, a wide smile spreading across his face. Then… he curled his fingers into fists, his forearms flexing, the leather straps of his bracers creaking. I glanced down at the crystal vial left behind. What fruit had a purple juice?
“Oh!” But I already knew, if I only took a moment to think. I grabbed my mouth, everything clicking together at once, the world spinning and contracting around me: “The Essence!” But that could only mean…
The guard whispered, “Yesss.”
What was it Bellerose had said? Run? But where?
Lo and behold we were near the manse’s Refreshment Room, the thick door standing ajar. When a low boom rattled the floorboards somewhere outside, I jumped into motion, and dove into the room, slamming the door behind, locks clicking closed as I tumbled into the sofa.
I huddled, staring at the iron bands on the door. Refreshment Rooms were typically reinforced, the walls would be strong too, likely stone.
I breathed in carefully, staring around the room, straining my ears.
The house was quiet. I eased up from the couch and crept to the door, placing one hand on the peephole cover. Was that someone’s step in the distance? A normal creaking of the house? Lifting the latch, I pulled the cover open and peered into the hall. The thick door limited my angle of view, but there was the back of the guard, standing, waiting.
Something crashed outside. Was that metal? Swords? A man screaming? I tried to swallow. Then, heavy steps sounded and the main doors blasted inward, hinges snapping, the heavy planks of wood scattering to the side. I flinched as a man bellowed into the home, his voice so loud it hurt.
Rising back up, I stared out the peephole, barely able to blink as a noble in red robes scrolled with gold stepped through the shattered doorway, his beard shaped like a block. “Come face me, Gagne!” the man growled, a sound that made the walls tremble. “You will not cheat your way from justice!”
“Lord Tyren,” replied the guard in plate armor, “I am here to fight in his stead.”
Tyren turned his head slowly. In my mind, it was as if the rotation of his neck sounded like rock rumbling against rock. His jaw clenched and I could have sworn I heard granite cracking. “A cheat and a coward.”
“You will answer for my lord’s honor, Lord Tyren.”
“And so it will be!” And then the two collided, a shock wave flinging me to the floor, my ears ringing.
I grabbed my shoulders, shaking. I was in the middle of a Drinker battle!
If I didn’t escape the room in one piece, I’d be buried alive by the floors above.
The house shook. Voices boomed.
What a terrible time it was to have left my own vial of Essence tucked away in my flat.
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