Umbral Rune (Rough Draft)

Umbral Rune: Chapter 7 - Masks

[Skell]

Silver armor stomped down the main isle, worn by a frowning man. He glared ahead, apparently leaving me unnoticed in the shop's corner.

In contrast, I was petrified. A member of the organization whose sole purpose was to kill my kind, and he was not only operating in Belza Hill, but standing within spitting distance. Though oddly, I wasn't the only one to feel so alarmed.

"G-greetings!" Bo'Rah's stature shrunk behind the checkout counter. "Knight Hyland, I did not expect such an early return from you!"

"Neither did I," Hyland stopped at the counter, resting a hand on the curiously-shaped scabbard at his side. He watched the man ahead with a raised chin, leading to angular, shaved jaws that perfectly framed his solid features. Meeting his jaw, long strands of black hair fell to the sides of his dark eyes, two traitors to an otherwise neat mane.

The Wildfolk gave a nervous smile between his tusks. "I can only assume that meant your assignment went swimmingly?"

Hyland gave a sour laugh, raising his light moustache. "Yeah, right. Had tasked to me the same blasted run-around as usual. 'Oh, an undead was sighted south of town, go investigate!' Turns out it was just another over-imaginative fool fearing his own shadow." He grumbled. "Waste of time."

"Uhk-uhk..." said Bo'Rah. "I'm sorry to hear that. Truly a shame your talents are going unused."

"A great shame," Hyland crossed plated arms. "Gervais can't seem to get enough of the peace and quiet, but we're heroes. And you know what heroes need? Victories. The kind songs are sung about. Not to waste away for years, patrolling nothing. Slaying nothing."

"Well, my friend, it may be-"

The Templar shook his head. "That's enough small talk. I've visited for one reason: my sabre needs sharpening. I fear lack of use is dulling the edge."

Clutching the weapon's hilt, Hyland skillfully retrieved it from his white scabbard, resting it on the wooden countertop. Instantly my attention drew to the forward curved blade - a design I never knew existed. The guard was golden, circling to the pommel in a way that protected the wielder's hand.

Around this time I was beginning to feel my legs again. Without a doubt, my first instinct was to cut-and-run. Not only was his job description my worst nightmare, but even in the way this Hyland guy carried himself, it was clear he was different. Compared to him, the members of the town militia felt like children.

But I didn't move. My eyes fell to my armor - or rather, Bo'Rah's armor. Money hadn't exchanged hands yet.

Seriously Skell? You're in danger, and your biggest concern is stealing? The shopkeep can handle the stress of a few missing rounds better than you can handle a sabre in your skull! ...Though, if he notices my slipping out, and that hot-headed Templar comes after me...

"Yes, no doubt, Knight Hyland!" Bo'Rah nodded. "That will be one gold round and thirty silvers."

Hyland raised his gaze from the sabre to the shopkeep. "...You've upped the price."

Visible chills struck the Wildfolk. "W-well, uhk, the prices have risen across the board! During your absence, I made the hard decision to-"

"Bo'Rah, you misunderstand," Hyland's voice was measured. "I couldn't care less if you multiply your rates tenfold. What I find puzzling is my lack of exemption from these sudden whims of yours."

"Exemption?" Bo'Rah raised thick brows.

The Templar nodded. "Quiet as this corner of the country tends to be, my position remains the same: to guard this city from mindless, ravenous undead. Think the militia could hold back a horde of husks? Vampires? Ghalls?" he gave a humorless laugh. "They'd wreak havoc on the people - if not for my vigil. And you want to raise the fees that aid in my service to Belza Hill?"