Turning Year

Chapter 9: The Chief

The boys started walking, taking their time. Every once in a while, Derek would ask a question about Stiles' little village, which he would answer with lots of enthusiasm. Derek thought that the place was amazing, mostly because it just seemed so bright and alive. Instead of big bulky guys and the constant smell of body odor and smoke in the air, there were children running around playing and having fun, as well as the fresh smell of grass, which was not necessarily a new smell for Derek, just a pleasant one.

They continued walking until they got to a huge brick house that was a little secluded from the rest of the village. The house was massive, with perfectly trimmed landscaping and a large fountain in front of the house that connected to a small pond, full of little fish.

"This is your house?" Derek said with raised eyebrows.

Stiles smiled. "No, this is where our chief lives, my chief, I think I need to check in with him first." He knew that as soon as his father realized he was missing, the village would be looking for him. The chiefs would be notified and depending on how long he was gone, would depend on what would happen next. He figured it was best to stop a search party from being sent out, if one hadn't already. 

"Oh ok. So which one is your chief?"

"Michael, Muhammad's descendant. He was actually my dad's great great great. . . great. . . anyway he was my dad's great something grandfathers brother. . . yeah I think that's right."

Derek chuckled. "So, are you going to go inside?"

Stiles scuffed his shoe on the ground and look at the grass. "Yeah I suppose."

"Come on." Derek spoke, shoving Stiles forward.

They walked up to the mansion and stood on the porch.

"Well what are you waiting for? I'm not going to knock." Derek said impatiently.

"Right sorry, I've never actually met the chief. . . " He grabbed the door knocker that was in the shape of a lion's head, and rapped on the door three times. The loud sound of the metal hitting the wood rung in Derek and Stiles's ears, it seemed to silence the entire village.

The door creaked open eerily, but there was no one to answer the door. Derek and Stiles looked at each other with looks of curiosity.

"Come in." A low quiet voice said. The boys both looked at each other again, as if they were saying, 'who is going in first?' But Derek quickly solved that problem by shoving Stiles through the door. Stiles stumbled in, only tripping twice, which was impressive for him. He could hardly walk two feet without tripping over his own.

"What was that for?" Stiles harshly whispered. Derek, however, was not listening or watching Stiles, he was looking at the man behind him.

"Uh, Stiles?" Derek pointed behind him and cleared his throat.

Stiles slowly turned around. "Oh! Chief Michael, I'm so sorry!" He ended his apology with a slight bow.

Michael raised up his hand, palm forward. "There is no need to apologize. Is any one else with you?" A man who looked one about in his thirties said.

"No sir, it's just us." Stiles said. At this, Michael's mood changed.

"Great! I can take of this stupid robe."

The robe that he was wearing was long and dark red, hanging down to his toes. Along with the robe, he was carrying his cane in his left hand.

"I thought the robe was supposed to symbolize great power. . . I never see you guys without it." Stiles said.

"It does, but it is also the itchiest piece of clothing in the world. Not to mention that it's a huge pain in the ass to walk in. I only wear it when I have to, I was afraid that you guys might be another chief, so I threw it on real quick. Anyways, come to my office, we can discuss whatever it is you need, Stiles."