New Vellarton #1- Cross the Kingdom

Chapter 7- Departure

 Three days went by much quicker than Crispin had anticipated. It had barely taken Ambrose any time at all to figure out where he had gone. When he came to Roger's house in search of Crispin, only to find him sleeping peacefully upstairs Ambrose had decided to let him stay put. Ambrose still came in to check on him during the few days that Crispin had spent at Roger's house, making sure that all of his injuries were healing properly.

Aside from his visits from Ambrose, Crispin hadn't gotten up to much in those three days. He mostly spent his time up in his room getting lots of rest, which was a stark contrast to living on his father's ship where he was always ready to spring into action at any given moment. He welcomed the change of pace, and savoured every moment he had to himself. Most of that had more to do with the fact that he was trying his best to avoid Rebecca. Every time he left his bedroom, she hounded him with questions that he didn't really want to answer. Sometimes she would come in and check in on him while Roger was at work, but he'd always pretend that he was asleep so that she wouldn't bother him. It left him feeling a little bit guilty, but he was really in no mood to be putting up with her and her never ending arsenal of questions.

Part of him seriously considered telling her the full truth about what had happened between him and his father, but he knew better. It wouldn't really solve anything. It would only leave her with even more questions. She'd be angry for not telling her sooner, and Crispin had no patience to deal with that. It was probably better that she didn't know. He didn't fully trust her with that information anyways.

Finally, the third day had came. The thought of leaving left him feeling equal parts nervous and excited. He had lived in Coral Bay for the first thirteen years of his life, and then spent another three living on his father's ship. He had never been away from the coast, and was rarely that far from Coral Bay. He was going to miss Roger too. Even when he was out at sea, he knew that his next visit with the man who had raised him was never far away. Once he left, Crispin couldn't be sure when he would see him again. On the other hand, maybe spending some time further inland might not be such a bad thing. No one would know who his father was, and for once his reputation wouldn't follow him.

He had started packing the few belongings that he had with him the night before.

Most of his belongings had been left on the Mad Maiden, but he had a couple sets of clothes that he always kept at Roger's place. Aside from that, all he had were his throwing knives-- including the one that his father had tried to kill him with. He kept them all in their sheaths, which hung from his belt. He kept the one from his father tucked away in his bag for safe keeping.

Ambrose had told him that he should aim to be back at his ward around noon hour. It was half past eleven when Crispin had finished washing his hair, at Roger's insistence. As far as Roger knew, Crispin was meeting his employer for the first time today. "You should at least try to make a good impression," he had told him the night before, "I know you're not going to be able to get that knife wound wet, but at the very least you should try to wash your face and your hair." Crispin didn't fight him on the matter. He simply agreed and promised Roger that he'd get to it in the morning.

He'd be cutting it close, he realised as he wiped his copper coloured hair dry. He grabbed his shirt and coat, draping the towel over his shoulders before he headed back to his room. He was just reaching out for the doorknob, when he heard Rebecca calling out to him from the other end of the hall. Crispin couldn't help but to roll his eyes. Why did she have to wait to for the worst possible moment? "What?" He snapped as he pressed his back up against the wall, trying to keep his injured wing hidden. He had been able to retract his right one, but his left one was still wound up in the makeshift sling that Ambrose had fashioned for him. Crispin began to feel around for the doorknob, trying to get out of the conversation as quickly as he could.