Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 23: When Darkness Turns to Light

"Where in the seven hells is that boy?" Cent growled through gritted teeth. "First they've got us dressed up in century old ceremonials, now Brand's missing, and to top it all off they haven't even served us our food yet. This plan is getting shittier and shittier by the second."

Cent raised his fist to smash the table, only for Libro to catch him by the wrist. "Don't make a scene then. You'll only make it worse." Although, he doubted anyone else would notice his guardsman's outrage. Despite the grand dining hall Jarl Kriggith had set them up in, the place practically buzzed with loud banter and even louder whispering.

People of all shapes and sizes sat around a spread of tables and chairs stretching from one end of the hall to the other. Men and women, old and young, courtly nobles and grim faced peasants, some with gold still glinting on their fingers, others glittering with black glass armor hidden beneath their clothes. Something was about to happen, Libro reckoned, a tipping point, a fine line about to be crossed.

And no doubt great violence would happen soon after.

"Give the boy some slack, Cent. he's still a kid. He's probably sitting with the rebel girl right now. Those two have been damn near inseparable ever since they first laid eyes on each other. Besides, the lad can handle himself, I think. Just as long as Keela keeps her mitts off of him." Libro let go of the man's wrist and tapped at the knife hidden in the sleeve of his guardsman's jacket. "Which is why we'll keep our eyes sharp. So we don't lose him."

Cent swallowed and sat back. "Aye. As you say, Captain."

Libro sighed and turned his attention towards his wife. Elba was leaning close to Moss, whispering in his ear, the man's serious eyes darting about the room, studying the doors, the curtain covered windows, searching for potential exits, potential allies, potential enemies.

Candle light flickered from a hundred different sources, filling the room with an abundance of light and an even greater abundance of heat. Sweat trickled down Libro's back, his temples, the weight of his chainmail becoming rapidly apparent beneath his heavy clothes. And yet he felt nothing but the cold chill of anticipation in his bones.

The Jarl was arguing with someone at the head of the table. Shayn by the looks of it. They were trying to keep quiet, but the difference in subterfuge between the Vangen and the rebels was becoming vastly apparent now. The two of them murmured side mouthed with each other, one with his arms folded, the other rapidly tapping his foot against the cobblestones. Shayn's brows were furrowed deep with worry, while the Jarl looked as if he was trying to keep himself together, and failing quite miserably at it.

It took all of Libro's concentration to make out what they were saying.

"Bright eyes isn't here yet," Shayn grunted. "And you thought to give the Empire's agents a farking front row seat to the action? This ship is sinking and fast, my Jarl."

"It'll be fine," The Jarl muttered. "It'll all be fine. For once in your life, trust me on this."

Libro smiled as he leaned in and tapped Elba on the shoulder. She cocked her head towards him and he quickly gave her a peck on the cheek, lips brushing close to her ear. "Be ready," he whispered. "Something's gone wrong."

He pressed his hand against the handle of the knife hidden in his boot, its solid presence somewhat of a reassurance. He was armed, he had his wife, and he had his loyal guardsmen to protect them both. He was more than ready for whatever was about to happen.

Libro stared out at the other crowded tables, and paused as someone caught his eye. A young woman sitting close with a heap of other tough looking types, their combed hair and fresh clothes doing little to hide the roughness of battle still caked on their features, weapons carefully hidden beneath the table.