Apostasian Revelations

Chapter Thirty

Svard had been living a life many would consider privileged, till that fateful day he was atleast.

Inside the cheap café he served tables to people of all statures and sizes, no discrimination between anyone of them, either due to having a higher morality than their business rivals, or due to needing to pay their rent checks and what not.

He sighed, it had been so many moons ago that his boss had abruptly left, leaving but a scattered note behind assuring them all.

He preened himself one last time from behind the tiny counters, inside the chef's quarters he almost felt bad for his partner, Miranda, who could barely even navigate around with her arms outstretched to her sides.

His fingers felt the cold and hard mask he had to put on due to his injuries due to that day, he mourned the loss of his decent features but nonetheless Miranda still stuck by him, not a word of complaint from her side, though he chuckled, as it was not as though one could tell she felt irked or not at any given moment.

He let his lungs relax, pushing through he picked up the plate and gave the orders to the table sat there, sat there was one many wouldn't consider letting into their shop, but these were desperate times, calling for desperate measures.

No one knew their identity in this part of the city, apparently their secret benefactor that their lord had struck a deal with was kind enough to protect them from any Templar influence, God knows what Sebastian or his peers would do if they found him and Miranda.

"Svard Conway, current marital status is unknown, you were born in the southernmost province of the empire, Reggasia, sold into slavery at the age of seventeen, they say you have quite the talent hidden in you." The man said in a normal tone.

He blinked around for a bit, his mind still playing catch up with what the man was saying, but he went pale when he realised his ears weren't playing tricks on him.

He gave a slight cough, the porcelain mask that seemed far too expensive to be put on his face slightly sliping away, though he fought bravely against gravity to keep it all together and still.

He tried to play dumb, "Dear customer, I honestly have no clue as to what you mean, now then, that should suffice, any tips you would like to give?" He asked, sweat trickled down his forehead, his expression was not calm, though the happy face on the mask that was etched on with pure black ink seemed to hold up a Facade quite nicely.

Unfortunately, the man never relented.

"And your so called partner, Miranda Mikir, was born in the same city as you, sold into slavery to keep her parents out of debt, eventually you met, and successfully broke through the slave training facility program, though you had outside help, didn't you?"

He was getting tired of all of this and signaled to Miranda with his eyes, hands, and whatever he could discreetly tell with, they had been caught.

"Let's take this somewhere a little more private, shall we?" The man in the lengthy lapels asked, crossing his hands together on his knee, not even once looking at his order.

He gulped, this was exactly what he feared, "Pardon me but sir, I'm not moving from here."

"Relax, I won't touch you, nor her, more like I can't touch you, someone's pulling some strings in your favour, aren't they?" He asked, his gray eyes glowing slightly.

  "I have no comment, sir please leave." He tried, but to no avail as the man simply did not budge at all.

When all of a sudden the man stood up, whispering something into Svard's ears.