Of King and Outcast

Chapter 1

It has been nearly a month since he first came here!"

The sound of breaking glass against the door caused the two sentries outside of the Kings chambers to glance at each other worriedly. Ever since the King had taken the killer known as Kia as his prisoner, he had grown more agitated and flustered. The servants had noticed this most of all, but many of the guards and royalty of the castle had also begun to see the change.

King Alric had always been a little troubled even as a young man, but that was to be expected as his parents had both died before his sixteenth summer. When his younger brother went missing and was presumed dead shortly after, Alric had never quite been the same. As a boy he had always behaved well, going to bed when his parents asked him to, taking care of his brother when his parents were away. The kindest of souls to be sure. But that all changed. Some of the servants said that he never slept. He would just stand by the window overlooking the city, muttering to himself.

His behavior never seemed to bother anyone else, so people just learned to ignore it and think nothing of it. However, now the King was always in a terrible mood. After almost being killed by the assassin known as Kia, the King had almost gone crazy from paranoia. He had hired the Crows' of the Gur Isle to hunt down the man and capture him. After a year and a half they returned with the man as their prisoner, half dead. For the last few weeks the King had been having him thoroughly questioned.

From what the two sentries could hear, the questioning was not going well.

"My lord his condition is making it difficult to get anything out of him," came the voice of the Kings steward. "If you would only let some of the city healers in to take a look at him..."

"No! He tried to murder me! I want to know why, and until then he will get nothing from me."

"Sir, he is on the brink of death..."

"You will be far past that if you don't start getting results! " screamed the King. "You are dismissed!"

"Of course, my Lord."

The guards stood to attention as the doors opened and the steward strode from the room. They glanced at each other again and one of them raised his eyebrows, eyes wide and full of worry. We are allowed to resign, aren't we? He seemed to be asking.

Down in the courtyard a man stopped and looked up at the tall stone spires of the castle, taking in the old and uneven walls, the small ledges outside of windows, and the balconies that overlooked the courtyard. He took in everything in no more than ten seconds, his bright blue eyes moving quickly. He was a huge man, wearing a travel-stained coat that could easily fit around five people. He smiled to himself and ran a hand through his long bushy beard.

"This should be easy enough," he muttered, almost to himself. Something in the bag he carried over one shoulder rustled, and a quiet voice hissed:

"Don't get too into this, Metran. We still have no idea where they are keeping him."

"We will, Gili," Metran softly answered. "That's where I come in."

Taking one last look at the castle, Metran turned and walked out of the courtyard and into the market area of the city.

It was a bustle of activity. The city of Forangir was the center of all trade; it brought in merchants, entertainers, and buyers from all across the land, all of whom were shouting new and supposed fair prices for their wares or for their friends and colleagues to come and see some acrobat's performance or merchant's stand. The smells varied from expensive spices to the sweet smell of flowers, both native and foreign.

Trying to avoid the hundreds of people, Metran took the back roads and alleyways, searching for the building he wanted, listening for a sound that would lead him to his destination.