Between the Veil and Crown

Arvek 40

The tavern had cleared up a meeting room on the ground floor, shoving six of their best mattresses in there. It led for cluttered sleeping arrangements, but there was still room in the middle, and space around a round table pushed under a window.

Arvek sat at this table, sipping tea and eating scones that were compliments of the owner. The claim was that the tea was brewed with a blend of leaves found in the forest. Given the events of the previous night, and the knowing that he was going to have to speak with Jarven when the soldier arrived, the tea was perfect for calming his nerves and relaxing him after such a stressful time. The scene outside was rather peaceful as well: It depicted a part of the village life, where the villagers were just wandering around, taking care of their business while branches swayed slightly in the breeze.

All the peace was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Steeling himself, Arvek called out, "Come in!" while keeping his gaze out the window.

The guard at the door opened it to let Jarven in. With the air of a boy in trouble, Jarven shuffled in, nervously saluting Arvek.

"You may leave us," Arvek told the guard. He nodded and stepped back, shutting the door behind him.

For a while, nothing was said. Despite mentally rehearsing earlier, Arvek found that he had to rein himself in so he didn't start off with just screaming at Jarven. He wanted a rational discussion. He wanted answers. He wanted information.

He knew that his and his brothers' portraits were not exactly circulated around the kingdom, much less to the Veil, but there was a part of him that believed if there was any kind of attention given from the soldiers, they would have noticed that something wasn't right.

"A while back, my brother Cor should have arrived here with a message from the king," Arvek said, keeping his gaze out the window. "Did you receive that message?"

Jarven shifted his feet. "Yes, sir, we did."

"So you were aware that my brother Selim was kidnapped and brought here?" Arvek pressed.

"Yes sir, we were."

"And what did you do?"

"Well, sir, you see- we know no one of the name Lia. Let alone an older woman."

Arvek pursed his lips. Don't yell, he reminded himself. "How many of the villagers do you know?"

There was a silence.

Arvek finally turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. "Do you not know any?" he questioned.

"I . . . I know Gerald," Jarven said defensively.

There was an awkward pause, Arvek narrowing his eyes.

"Gerald is the barkeep," he said in a low voice.

Jarven looked down at his feet.

Arvek took a deep breath, picking up his cup of tea and taking a long sip. When he set it back down, he said, "So when you reasoned you didn't know anyone by the name of Lia, you were set to party about in the local tavern?"

Jarven didn't answer, but continued to look at his feet. When Arvek took another sip, he said, a little defensively, "The letter said to not carry out an investigation."

"A formal investigation," Arvek answered irritably. "A formal investigation. Perhaps you can tell me why that was?"

Jarven felt it better not answer.