CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- Adver

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Callen scowled under his mask from the corner of the inn. Three days on horseback had left him in a foul mood; his legs ached, his head throbbed and there was nothing to drink in the inn but the foul brown ale brewed in the basement. As unpleasant as the ride had been it was thankfully uneventful, though it had meant avoiding larger towns when he could and spending his nights on the cold ground rather than suffer the relentless stares he had been receiving since setting foot in Adver. Thieves were a rare enough sight outside Delrais and it seemed rumours of the thief with the half mask and scarred arm had managed to spread throughout the country, no doubt thanks to the jesters that plied their trade with the caravans and merchants that passed through such places. Though he had yet to experience a retelling of his tales of exaggerated grandeur firsthand Torren reported he was always shown as a superhuman spectre of the night, though whether it was as a heroic man of the people or a demonic spirit of darkness would change on the whim of the crowd. Either way the attention it drew only worsened his mood.

To make matters worse the duke seemed almost proud to have hired the thief to do his dirty work, having him paraded through the streets with the city guard. The accommodation was the same, an extravagant lodging as close to the duke's hall as could be wished for. He was met at the door by a well-dressed weasel of a man with thin eyebrows and a thinner moustache who gave him a personal invitation to meet with the duke the following morning before leading him to a room larger than any he had dared dream of as a child, complete with mirror and four-post feather bed. He'd been out the window the first chance he had.

Though Adver had no official slums it's poor sector was as clear as if it had been walled off, though it was a far cry from the squalor and desperation he had grown up in. The inn he settled on was one of the cheapest, offering little more than secure room and a bedroll with any and all if they had an copper to spare.

Frowning, he pushed his way through the thin crowd for the stairs, watching as many of the rooms occupants followed him with their eyes. Part of him wished they would follow, to try and rob him for gold or glory. Without decent drink or distraction a fight was all that was left to make his night interesting, though it seemed none were brave or stupid enough to try their luck.

With nothing better to do he was outside the dukes keep early the next morning, expecting the same dreary displays of power favoured by nobles that saw him waiting for hours on end for no other reason than to exploit what power they had over him. To his surprise he was shown to the duke's personal quarters without delay. The duke too was far from what Callen had come to expect, muscular and lean, the man was dressed simply and without the heavy doting of gold and jewels seen on men with even the barest hint of wealth or power, save for the simple wedding band on his left hand. He seemed more a soldier than a lord.

'You must be the infamous Lohan, he said I should expect you early.'

'He?' Callen replied simply, taking his place by the desk in the centre of the room but ignoring the chair waiting for him there. The duke too remained standing.

'My advisor, though to be honest he has become more of a friend I pay for the privilege of these days. Young lad like yourself but extremely knowledgeable about this country and what's happening in it. Also happens to be quite the fan of yours. You will be meeting with him about the specifics of the job when we are finished here.' The duke let out a tired sigh.

'Our meeting is more a formality than anything else of course, part of the show like your arrival and accommodation. I'm sure for a man in your position all that couldn't have been comfortable but I hope you understand.'

'The show?' Callen asked, confusion clear in his voice.

'The festival. They did tell you about the job before they sent you all the way out here didn't they?'

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