Forging of a Knight

Chapter 4 of 14

Chapter 4

As Qualtan neared Littlebig, his heart began to pound with excitement. How proud his uncle would be, and how quickly now would he find himself on the road to knighthood. All thoughts of his new half-orc friend vanished when his horse clacked up the roadway leading to his home. Leaping off his mount as attendants happily greeted his return, he dashed inside. He found his uncle Aurelus sitting peacefully in their outside courtyard, a circle of small birds on his lap and shoulders, smoking from the very same herbs Arkonis had presented to Qualtan days before.

Without looking at him, Aurelus spoke. “My thanks to master Buckholm for his generous gifts, and to your innkeeper from the Golden Tankard, Holmes, was his name?” Aurelus said thoughtfully.

“Huel,” said Qualtan in surprise. “But how did you…?”

“Your packages arrived just a day prior to your own arrival. Huel made quite the effort to ensure they were returned to their rightful owner, meaning you. The carriage that brought this flew to Littlebig in a fury; apparently, Huel was in fearful haste and did not want you … or those you worked for … upset at the missing parcels. Good flavor, by the way. As delightful as sugared glaze from a child’s sweetmeat,” Aurelus said, inhaling deeply.

Qualtan stared at him for a moment and then broke out in wild laughter. Aurelus finally looked up with a wide, beaming smile, and as his small companions flew from his side, he rose to happily embrace his beloved nephew.

A merry reception at the town’s inn at the Sign of the Drunken Dragon soon followed. The dwarven proprietor Magni, along with his wife, Agni, had been well prepared by Aurelus for the event and food and drink abounded. Qualtan’s friends were there, as well as Mayor Rumbert, and a host of human and dwarven acquaintances from both the Big and Little sides of the village. Aurelus had been extremely worried, and demanded every detail no matter how vague concerning Qualtan’s adventure. He examined Qualtan’s wounds, now barely noticeable, with apparent glee at his former spell work. He praised Qualtan’s dealings with Buckholm and applauded his efforts against Romulax. Apparently, he had prior knowledge of some of Qualtan’s movements and asked many a question to confirm this snippet of information or that. Amazed at his hindsight, Qualtan demanded to know his source. Aurelus giggled like one ages younger and merely pointed to an open window in the inn where a yellow and black-faced bird flew through to land on his head, hopping down to his shoulder.

“I tried to maintain a line of sight to your whereabouts, far away as you were from me. That line ended when you entered Darklight Forest, for birds fear that place,” he said, gently taking the bird in his hand and patting it softly before releasing it.

Aurelus was especially curious about the chain of events that led to Qualtan’s quick haste from the Golden Tankard. Qualtan initially told of rescuing the half-orc, to which Aurelus’ brow furrowed, and then told of his subsequent attempt to steal Qualtan’s sword.

“You proved worthy of your father’s name to rescue such a creature when others would not.”

Unsure of how his uncle would react, Qualtan mentioned some of their conversation. Aurelus merely shook his head, grimacing at the words. “Half-orcs are notorious for their falsehoods and trickery. Whatever lies he said to curry your favor were probably played at getting at your pockets or sticking a knife in your back.”

“He seemed credible, uncle. The story of his past rang true. He could have just shot me in the back as you say, when he first entered my room, but did not,” Qualtan insisted.

“The only good orc is a dead orc!” yelled one dwarf, raising his beer-foamed tankard.

Townsfolk both human and dwarven listening in to the story bellowed their agreement. Aurelus spoke to Qualtan gently, noticing his sudden discomfort.