Heir to a Bloody Throne

Chapter Four

Valor sat at the small table in Steven's home, eating some of the dried fruit and nuts that he had been provided before his host had left. The gruff man had muttered something about damage control, then ordered him not to leave the building before leaving himself. Valor hadn't protested - he needed a minute to think.

His father's pickaxe rested against the side of the chair, blade stained faintly with the blood of the men whose lives he took the previous night. Another wave of guilt washed through him, and he made a note to clean it. His father's weapon didn't deserve to be dirtied by his transgressions.

He had, Val realized, a much better chance now of succeeding in his mission. He had attacked the nobleman due to a misconception on his part, one that was entirely due to him jumping to conclusions. Perhaps, with Steven there to guide him, he would be more likely to get accurate information on the true villain.

Who, thus far, had little to no knowledge about. The rumors he had heard hinted at a mastermind who used his henchmen to do his dirty work - extorting and killing innocent townsfolk - without getting his own hands dirty. Considering the additional information that Steven had given him, the culprit could be anyone at all. Even Steven, but despite their relatively recent acquaintance Valor found that he trusted him a great deal. His host seemed to know slightly more, and, due to his local residency, would be able to ask around town for more information.

Valor jumped when the lock clicked, looking up as the door was pushed open. Steven stepped through, and murmured an incoherent greeting before stepping up to the table and setting down a wrapped package. Val looked at it, then up at him.

"What's that?"

"Clothes." Steven responded bluntly. "You stick out like a sore thumb, and no amount of soot on your face is going to hide that." Valor flushed a bit, one hand lifting towards his dirty face. "You can get changed after breakfast. How's the leg?"

"Fine, I barely feel it." He answered honestly. Steven grunted, stepping away.

"I'm not too surprised." Whipping out a thin pipe, Steven tucked some tobacco into the chamber and lit it, causing Valor to stare in curiosity and confusion as he took a long breath. Steven shot him a look. "You want t' try?" Val shook his head. "Then quit staring." Valor frowned, but averted his gaze.

"I'm done eating."

"Good. You can get changed over there." Steven nodded to a changing screen against the far wall, and Valor took the bundle of clothes and ducked behind it to change.

His new clothes were not brand new, that much was clear, but they fit him well and would help him blend in. That was the most important part.

"What should I do with my old clothes?" Val asked as he stepped out from behind the screen. Steven grunted.

"Toss 'em." Valor's eyes widened, and he managed,

"I can't do that." Steven gave him a harsh look.

"Do y' want to blend in or not?"

"I can't throw them away. They were my father's." The man's glare softened reluctantly at that.

"Fine. Wrap them up and we'll leave 'em here."

"Alright." Val responded with significant relief, already moving to obey. "Where are we going?"

"Out." Steven grabbed a knapsack. "You're going to accompany me to my workplace, where I'm going to introduce you as my nephew. So th' townsfolk can get used to you." He gestures to his own face. "You'll need somethin' over your eyes, I suppose."

"Oh- no, here." Valor passed a hand over his eyes, and they changed to brown. Steven raised a brow.

"That's handy."