Flames of Freedom

Old Friends

"This is Bastien Clement. I met him a few years ago. His parents were my father's teammates." Alistair explained. "Bastien, this is Arlene Skye. We're travelling together." Bastien made a sound of excitement. "Travelling...!"

"May we speak in private, please?" Arlene questioned, eyeing all the people eavesdropping on them with distaste. "Of course! Right this way, madam~" Bastien spoke the final word in french. He proceeded to lead them to the spiral staircase behind the counter.

The upper floor appeared simple and elegant, just as the outside of the building and the lower floor did. There were two rooms, a bathroom on the left hand side from the stairs and a large room on the right hand side. The large room had a decent sized bed resting by the window, with sheets that appeared to be silk at first sight but were actually cotton. Not far from the bed, to its left, was a desk sitting right by a closet. There were papers stacked on the desk.

"Right, then. Shall we begin with the fitting?" Bastien gestured for Alistair to follow him. "Not for me. Arlene has no other clothes aside from what she is currently wearing." Bastien stopped, turned sharply around and gasped dramatically. "What?! We can't have that! Everyone must have at least two extras! Especially a lady as lovely as you!" He proclaimed before pointing an accusing finger at Alistair. "How could you let the dear lady travel with no extra clothing?! Shame on you, Alis!"

"We met under... unfavorable circumstances... which lead us to our decision of travelling." Alistair explained, hoping that no questions were asked. "Bastien... Please don't let anyone know about us passing through here." The blond gave him a questioning look before sighing. "I'm still fitting you. Honestly, you know that shade of brown does not suit you!" He said, pulling Arlene with him to the desk. "Alright, lovely. Cloak, please." Arlene gave him a calculating look for a few seconds before cautiously removing the cloak.

Bastien gasped and stared at the wings. They seemed to give off a soft orange glow. He was enchanted by them, simply admiring the lady in front of him, before something clicked in his mind. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alistair standing stiff, looking ready to fight for her. He understood the man completely. He, himself, felt like taking her and hiding her away, even though he didn't know her. "Would I be able to touch your wings, my lady? I need to measure their width."

Arlene nodded and allowed him to do his work. Alistair leaned against the door frame and watched Bastien take her measurements.

"Does your father know?" Bastien asked, moving from her wings to her waist, careful not to get her feathered limbs caught in the measuring tape. "He doesn't. I came upon her almost a week ago. I took her straight to my place before cleaning and dressing her wounds. We left the village last night." Bastien hummed, brows furrowed in either concentration or worry. "You'll be fugitives." He spoke in a factual manner. Alistair knew that, but he really could not bring himself to care.

"The Trade is being implemented all over the world, as you know." Arlene tensed at the mention of it. She knew that many other beings like herself were suffering, but she believed that The Trade only happened in this country. "How much chance do we have against the Hunters?" She asked, folding her wings as Bastien had finished taking her measurements. There was silence for a brief moment before Bastien spoke up. "As long as you lay low, the Hunters probably won't notice you."

"I wish to help everyone." Arlene's voice was full of determination. "A unicorn never means harm. It is unfair to slaughter them just for their blood." She looked out the window, eyes locked on the slightly cloudy sky. "Beings who fly are meant for flying. Imagine how a pixie would feel, being caged in a jar and harvested for pixie dust." Alistair and Bastien could only watch her with a touch of remorse.

"Even if I am harmed repeatedly... I will fight for the justice of my fellow magical beings. None deserve to suffer, even the demons." She said with a nod. "I agree..." Alistair spoke softly, eyes gazing at Bastien. The blond seemed to be having an internal conflict. "I can agree that certain beings do not deserve to suffer. But others?" He finished with a unsure frown on his face. "Demons and vampires pose a danger to us humans."

"And because you fear them, you hurt them." Arlene shook head and gave the blond a cold look. "We pheonixes could easily burn down cities. We are hurt because they fear we will do so anytime. We are caged and chained so they can take our feathers and our blood." She glared at the quill Bastien was using to sketch clothing for her. "That is an angel's feather, is it not?" The blond gave a slow nod to her inquiry. "Angels may not age physically past a certain point, but when wounded, they lose blood quickly and the wounds take a while to heal. The Trade makes it so that Hunters are encouraged to capture angels for blood that can either purify or heal humans. The feathers are a bonus. The younger the angel, the higher the chances of illness being healed with their blood..."

Bastien suddenly felt sick, thinking about it. Angels, like people, have families. To think that they, especially their young, were slaughtered just for that... He looked at the feather he was using. "This was given to me by a dying angel around two years ago." He explained. "He was quite aged, at least according to himself." But really, what did that mean? "He gave it to me and told me that one day, I would meet someone who would understand the plea of his people. He asked me to let the person know that angels would aid them, in any way they could..."

Alistair gave him a look, which he read as 'be careful of your words... she just got out of a camp...'

"Did you get his name?" Arlene asked, feeling dread coil up in her heart. "His name was Jerald." Bastien closed his eyes. "He was staying with me for a while, but someone told Hunters about him... The last thing he told me was that someone will come. Someone who will be able to bring justice to all magical beings..." he sighed and closed his eyes, the fingers of his free hand pinching the top of his nose.

"Jerald...?" Arlene asked in a quiet voice. "No... No..." That name was so very familiar to her. "Arlene?" Alistair walked over to stand behind her, hand resting on her shoulder. "Jerald..." she choked on a sob. Bastien had stopped sketching and had joined Alistair behind her by now. "You knew him..." his voice was strained. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep him safe until you came..." His eyes were shining with tears that he fought to keep from falling.

"No. It was not you fault." Tears were rolling down Arlene's pale cheeks. "Things happen for a reason." She said. "Jerald's bearer was a seer. He must have had a reason for finding and then staying with you... and the feather must be a sign of something." Bastien and Alistair exchanged a look before a split second decision was made. "Well, then!" Bastien exclaimed, moving to walk back downstairs. "If you'll excuse me, I have workers to instruct as well as bankers and dealers to speak with~"