It had been enough news and speculation to hold Sebastian over for the morning, he was soon to be off at his new occupation. He grabbed his knife and sheath, attaching it carefully to the left side of his belt, then slipped each arm through his brown suit vest before covering it all with the longish coat he'd cleaned the day before. And sitting on the counter of his "kitchen" was the flask he filled with water, which fit perfectly inside his left coat pocket. It was the last thing he grabbed before exiting the two front doors and locking up his property gate.
He set upon his way towards the wealthy district of Featherwinn, neighbor to the one he'd me Markanthony for tea at. And thankfully for the sake of time, he'd been allowed to walk the more direct way there. When at first he went to go meet Mister Di'Voire, Sebastian had been told to take up every path so long as it brought him through a wealthier section of London. But this time through he avoided the extra journey and went directly to his destination, remembering his promise to arrive as soon as his morning would permit.
It was just as illustrious a path as those he'd taken two days earlier, but it was less than full by comparison. Across his trek through nearly all the wealthiest districts of London Sebastian had seen countless people with limitless riches, but on this trek he saw a much smaller number of people, though all still holders of limitless riches in comparison to himself.
It hardly turned to ten in the morning when Sebastian reached his destination, which came as a visual surprise to say the least. Markanthony Di'Voire had chosen a two story home with nary more than a bedroom, a kitchen, and a staircase to connect them. It was tower-like almost, with the way it stood so much taller than wider from base to top, and there wasn't any stonework either. To Sebastian it seemed a working man's house; not a poor one mind you, but one who had to work for his meals. The outer walls were painted white, appearing only to be done so for protection from the elements, and the only other color that could be seen came from the wooden cross-beams which provided structural support.
Sebastian walked the short path, which must have measure ten feet or so, that came in from the street and led him to the door. In sacrificing any kind of yard Markanthony gained a light bit of privacy, having been allowed to build his house between two shops and form a sort of alleyway. He looked from one side to the other in repetition, taking in the reddish bricks and tinted windows. This was not the kind of place that he'd expected to be working from.
He reached the darker wooden door and tapped his knuckles a few times over, seeing that no knocker was in place. "I'll walk down to meet you in a moment, Mr. Juliarmus." It was Markanthony calling from the second story window above Sebastian's head. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath while his employer scaled the stairs in a downward descent. His lungs were filled with freshening air, and he felt a warming ray as the sun finally broke the line of buildings to the East. Today had seemed a naturally beautiful one he thought, a lovely day if ever there was one.
It was just as he decided to open his eyes that the door swung open beside him. "Come in and follow me up dear boy!" Markanthony said with a peculiar enthusiasm. "Let's get you situated why don't we! I have everything you'll need to be properly equipped I do. It's been waiting in the storage since the years of my collection days." This of course came as a surprise to Sebastian, who hadn't thought there to be enough room for more than a halfway-decent study in which to sleep.
But sure enough two doors sat on opposite sides of one-another, equally dividing up the second level. Markanthony's room was the one to the right with the letters MD carved to fit the center space. The other door sat unmarked, bearing only a handle and lock without any decoration. Sebastian looked curiously at the bedroom door, examining the finer grains of the wood whilst his boss flipped through a ring of keys. It was minorly dented and appeared almost cracked in places, the door to the oddly-sized study; though Sebastian didn't have much time at all to notice anything else. Markanthony discovered the key he wanted, a rusted iron thing of average shape and size, then proceeded to unlock the door to this mysterious storage room he spoke of.
"There we are!" he shouted, swiping his hand back and forth to combat the dust in the air. "Finest mercenary swords you'll ever find these ones. I took them off the lesser-skilled back in my prime as a tax man for the King. No doubt they couldn't have used them further, not after the beatings I'd been giving! Haha!"
He seemed a bit overjoyed for Sebastian's taste, given the fact that he was talking about people who had tried to kill him, but at least he wasn't morbid about it all. And he was speaking true about the swords as well, which were made by hand to hold the sharpest edges and block the heaviest strikes. It made for quality steel in the work of protection, and there was far from a shortage to select from. "What do you wish for me to arm myself with?" asked Sebastian.
"Take each and every that you think you'll need young man. I won't be putting a limit on the weapons you choose to protect me with, not any time soon at least. There are some pistols and lead shot in here too as I'd recall, somewhere with the powder. I'll be downstairs when you've found all your necessities, take the time you need. I'd be expectin' you check it all before you leave the room of course, knowing how a young man loves his weaponry." With that he walked back out of the room and crept along the staircase guardrail on his way back down to the kitchen.
Sebastian couldn't help but pick up the very first sword he saw lying about. He was ready to inspect it down to the finest detail, knowing all too well the requirements for an exquisite blade. It was impressive steel too, hardened but with a perfect edge for slicing, though Sebastian had no doubt of its ability to combat weight. It wasn't clean steel per say, but that was just the finish of the metal on the outside, not a mark of poor craftsmanship. And unlike all the sabers that sat around it in the room, the first blade he picked up was of an unfamiliar assortment. It was an olden style viking sword, recreated by a modern blacksmith to match the strength of modern weapons.
The guard was slightly rounded and the pommel was rectangular in shape. The leather on the handle-wrap was tightly done and separating the brass on either side. And having just fully-examined the workings of this very unique blade, Sebastian thought to grab a nearby rag and try to clean it some. So he poured a little water from his flask over the blade of the sword itself and wiped it down as best he could, bringing out the truth of the steel he held in question. For a very rare and mostly unheard of metal was used to make this viking sword, damascus steel. A blacksmith in his shop had hammered out a stack of steel and mixed it all together to craft an interesting design, as well as to make the blade as strong as physically possible. The dust and grime which had stuck to the exterior of the blade made it appear as though the sword was simply never prettied, when in fact it was hiding the true quality within.
He grabbed the sheath that had been crafted for the viking blade and wiped it down as well. The sword fit well into the sheath and Sebastian was comfortable with the way he could draw the blade. It went in place of his original knife on his left side, sitting perfectly at height to be used within a moment's notice. His weathered longcoat was now in the way however, proving to be dangerous to his combat efficiency after further inspection. So he threw it to the side to await his returning home, grabbing instead a shorter jacket. It was just the same as his longer overjacket, brown and meant for proper insulation of a person's heat. But with it on he had a greater range of motion, making him more prepared in case he needed to defend Markanthony.
On one of the shorter tables in the storage room was a stack of flintlock pistols, all in mint condition for their age and place of keeping. Next to them were the barrels of powder and lead ball shot. The majority of the pistols in the stack were left-handed, though Sebastian couldn't figure why, given the fact that he had only noticed Markanthony using his right hand for primary tasks. But nonetheless he grabbed one to fit around the right side of his belt, thinking about the sword that would likely keep his right hand occupied.
His knife had been tossed aside with his longjacket to sit on one of the shorter tables with the excess of swords and daggers. It had seemed as though the brown suit coat and flask of water were all that he had properly assumed to be worthy of the task of protection. The flask still hit into his vest, which came as a surprise, but there was nothing more that he could do to equip himself with his own belongings.
He didn't care to take anything else, knowing all too well the limitations of bearing extra weight in combat of any sort. Back at Sethfellow there had been a few occasions where a fight had broken out and Sebastian had to self-defend. It wasn't very often that he had to , but it was often enough that a few life lessons stuck with him. Chief amongst them was that the lighter man is the faster man, and the faster man is the best equipped to end a fight. So a single sword and a gun to pair with it would have to do for his employment purposes.
YOU ARE READING
A Rise of Descent: 1760
Historical FictionAn epic story that follows the twisted past of the British Empire, which has been tainted down to its very core by a tyrant of a King. Sebastian Juliarmus was born to inherit all that his father had worked for, but the path to redeeming what was sto...
