The Fangclaw Inheritance: The Eye of Half Blood

VII

VII

                “Are you saying Annabella and Roktu are going about?” Serastios’ voice rose, which startled the sentinels.

                Reaching to his dual broadsword, he made way for the exit, blocked by one of their strong hands on his shoulder. The sentinel’s eyes were like a hawk’s, ready to stalk his prey and devour him if it wanted. Serastios tried to push him away, but he locked onto his wrist, a crunching sound made. It was futile―if he continued to wrestle his hand away, it would end up being broken. Finally, he stopped struggling, the sentinel releasing his hand.

                “It’s best to leave them alone, Serastios,” The sentinel growled, his muscular outlook intimidating him.

                “I can’t just leave them alone!” Serastios tried to sound brave, but it was clear he didn’t want to fight with him.

                “It’s a journey Annabella herself must discover. Roktu’s helping her realize what her destiny is, and how she’s a vital key to ceasing the war which caused suffering for a century. If you’re truly loyal to your mistress, trust on her.”

                The sentinel made Serastios thinks of his journey. All this time he accompanied her from Noldon to this island, never leaving her for a moment, except for the case in Noldon―only because she ordered him to. How could he call himself a man when he can’t even trust the girl he’s loyal to? He grunted, sat from where he stood, and waited patiently. The sentinels looked at each other, pity for the man in their eyes, as another Adlet ran towards them. He bowed before the sentinels, his brown hair soaked with sweat and his emerald eyes shimmering despite his fatigue. It was inexcusable for him to run a short distance and already feel exhaustion, knowing his muscular physique.

                “Marlox Adlet is requesting to speak to Roktu and her friends she’s brought with her.”

                 Serastios rose and walked with the exhausted young Adlet, the sentinels wishing to follow him. Making the “tch” sound, he allowed the sentinels to do as they wished. They quickly paced around the island, until they stopped before the biggest hut of them all, which looked habitable compared to the smaller huts. It was thoroughly marked with circular shapes and thick lines connected to those circles. The circles pointed to the great door to the hut, which was painted with the Adlet insignia, similar to Roktu’s arm. The Adlet envoy opened the doors, which opened Serastios’s mouth. It was like every native household he’s heard of. It was made of straw and oak wood, from the floors, to the roofs, even the stairway to the second floor was made from straws of a bamboo shoot. A strong flame crackled, showing a mask with a warrior-like design, the blood-red color and eye sockets most conspicuous. Whoever wore that must be a warrior of high merits, he thought to himself. He also saw two spears formed into an x-shape just above the mask. Underneath the mask was a tribal shield, which beheld the color Jade, intertwined with black lines leading to the Adlet insignia.

                Underneath the weaponry sat an elderly man, who had snow white hair, and a white mustouche with a ponytailed beard. He was rather fit for his age, his muscular physique covered by white leather clothing with a red strap diagonally intersecting with his green overall, which served as his pants. He wore brown sandals with elderly feet, but his brown eyes, like Roktu’s shone with a brilliant flame. He had a sheathed dagger beside him, glaring at Serastios, examining his aura.

                “Your aura bears no malediction,” The great old man smiled, his eyes closed. “Please sit opposite me so we can talk.”