Dreisterne

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12

The midday sun hung high as Nathan neared Norvinter's shop, anticipation adding a skip to his step. The old mage's 'practice pieces' intrigued him more than he cared to admit, and he was eager to see the results. Reaching the door, he rapped his knuckles against it. "Master Norvinter? It's Nathan," he cried

Silence greeted him. He frowned, waiting a moment before trying again. "Master Norvinter? I'm here for the knives."

Still nothing. Hesitating only briefly, Nathan pushed the door open. It creaked on its hinges as he stepped inside. The workshop was eerily quiet. A single lamp burned atop the workbench, casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Oddly, all the other lamps were lit, despite the ample daylight streaming in through the windows.

"Hello?" Nathan called cautiously. As he moved deeper into the shop, his unease grew. A plate of cakes sat on a side table, untouched but abandoned mid-snack. He also noticed a line of throwing dirks neatly placed on the mage's worktable and one of them lay on the floor.

Something was wrong. He stepped back toward the door, his mind racing between Norvinter's sudden absence and how his workshop had seemingly been abandoned since last night. He raced for the Freelancer's Guild hall when he found his friends at the town square, where Blaine was entertaining Keith and Harald with a tall tale, complete with exaggerated gestures and hearty laughter. The combat instructor caught sight of Nathan in turn, and the swordsman's grim expression silenced them mid-chuckle.

Harald was the first to speak. "Nathan, mein Freund, you look as though you've seen a ghost."

Nathan wasted no time recounting what he'd found at the workshop. "Norvinter's gone. The place looked off; lamps burning in the middle of the day, food left out, and a smashed decanter on the floor. He even left his work unfinished."

Blaine crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "Did you report it?"

"No, not yet," Nathan replied.

Blaine stroked his bald head thoughtfully. "Norvinter might be cantankerous, but it's not in him to turn his back on his word, especially to the few clients he still has these days. Something rots..."

Keith cracked his knuckles. "Well, we can't just sit 'round twiddling our thumbs now, can we?"

Blaine nodded, his face grim. "Agreed. Norvinter's a tough old codger, but if someone's got the nerve to bother him, they'll have to answer the Crown."

Dreisterne did a double-take on Blaine's statement. "I beg your pardon, but..." asked Nathan, his face blanching from the implications. "...did you just say 'the Crown'? As in, Norvinter's under the protection of the King himself?"

Blaine responded with an uneasy grin. "We'll take this to the City Watch, and you'll soon learn how the idiot who messed with him had just kicked a hornet's nest."

The group then marched for the City Watch headquarters, with Blaine leading the way. Nathan, Harald, and Keith exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Blaine's words settling in. Just who was Norvinter, really? And what did his connection to the Crown mean for them?

... ... ... ... ...

Norvinter's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The air was damp, the flicker of torchlight casting ominous shadows on the stone walls around him. He shifted, only to feel the rough bite of ropes binding him to a wooden chair.

"Awake at last, old man."

The familiar, self-important voice caused Norvinter to let out an audible groan, his sharp eyes finding the smirking face of the count's son standing a few feet away. Flanked by two lackeys, the young nobleman looked every bit the caricature of false bravado, his puffed chest and smug grin undercut by an undercurrent of desperation in his eyes.