"House Aldomir Inn – Marchios and Above Only."
Reid rolled his eyes. "Marchios and above. Let me guess. I wait outside?"
Tarron chuckled nervously. "It's just… policy. There's a family entrance. For guests… with exceptions."
Reid looked sideways at him. "Oh, The gutter door."
"I didn't write the signs," Tarron muttered.
Still cradling sore ribs, he led Reid around the side of the tall, three-storey building. The main entrance was wide, flaunting marbled steps and a doorman in crisp blue livery who immediately turned his nose up at Reid's plain travel coat. He didn't stop them, but he didn't smile either.
"Come on," Tarron said quickly, tugging Reid's sleeve and guiding him around to the back. "Family entrance. Less judging."
They stepped into a narrow alley that ran behind the inn. A simpler wooden door marked the servant's and family access.
As soon as they entered, the atmosphere shifted from polished snobbery to the warm scent of bread and brewing tea. A plump woman in an apron scurried past, giving them a curious look, but said nothing.
They passed through a pantry, into a modest sitting area, and finally into the rear office. A lean, well-dressed man, with hairs greying at his temples looked up from his paperwork. His green eyes lit up when he saw Tarron.
"Tarron!" he exclaimed, rising. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect—"
"I brought the courier, Uncle Maurice. Father let me." Tarron said, gesturing to Reid. "This is Reid. He—escorted me to Aldor."
The man's eyes shifted from his nephew to the stranger beside him, brows raising. He looked rather shocked than elated at his nephew's sudden visit. Nevertheless, he stepped forward and clasped Reid's forearm with warm gratitude.
"My thanks, sir for volunteering to accompany him to the noble estate. I am still surprised that his father let him out of his sight. But you have my family's—"
Tarron cleared his throat, wincing. "Uncle, uh… there's a bit more to it."
Maurice paused, looking between them. "Go on."
"We were delivering the jewel to the Ravios House when… he accused me of sorcery. He did not even hear me before his men started beating me up. Reid stepped in. Handled them. All of them." With a pause, he added, "Including the Noble himself."
There was a silence. The man blinked slowly.
"Handled," he echoed. "What… kind of handling?"
Reid shrugged. "The kind that stops people from breaking ribs."
Maurice's face paled a little. "You struck a noble's house guard?"
"Threw one into a wall," Reid said blandly. "Might've suplexed another."
"You what?!"
Reid raised an eyebrow. "Technically, they struck first. I merely concluded the conversation."
"You concluded—" the man's hands flailed. "You don't threaten nobles in Aldor. Especially not a Ravios. Do you have any idea what he can do? He's a third-tier noble, and the Ravios in question is tied to the inner court. He'll burn your names through every registry, make your licenses disappear, and blacklist your family from commerce!"
Tarron rubbed the back of his head. "It… escalated fast."
Maurice spun around and began pacing. "We'll need legal counsel. Immediately. No, we'll need a House mediator. Preferably one with noble ties. Maybe cousin Lysa—no, she married down—gods, what were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking I didn't want to see your nephew with more cracked ribs," Reid said flatly.
The elk, now curled around his neck like a fashion statement gone rogue, twitching its ears. Maurice noticed it for the first time and stepped back.
"…And what is that?"
"Elk?" Reid muttered.
"Never seen one like that. Aren't they supposed to be more cat-like?"
The elk gave a smug flick of its tail.
Maurice muttered a string of half-formed curses and dropped heavily into his chair. "We need time. Time and paperwork. You two—stay here. Don't leave. The guard will be sniffing around soon. They'll ask questions. Say as little as possible. Let me do the talking when they come."
"Relax," Reid said, crossing his arms. "I'm used to talking to guards."
Tarron leaned close and whispered, "You're not helping."
Reid smirked. "I never claimed I was."
The uncle groaned and buried his head in his hands. "This was supposed to be simple. I still do not understand why your father sent you!"
Just then, a loud knock came at the back door.
Three quick raps.
The elk sat up abruptly, ears perked.
Reid turned his head slowly.
Maurice stood up, pale again, his fingers trembling as they adjusted the hem of his tunic. The knock sounded again—three deliberate raps, cold and heavy like nails on a coffin lid.
"That's the city guard's knock," he whispered, barely above a breath.
Reid cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like he was about to stretch before a brawl. "Well," he muttered, "guess we'll see how much gold a noble's tantrum is worth."
The elk on his shoulder gave a dark, guttural chitter, its ears slicking back against its skull.
Maurice held up a hand, gesturing for them to stay hidden in the back chamber. "Let me handle this," he said, voice tight with worry. "Don't give them reason to act… now."
He stepped out, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The muffled sound of a door opening followed. Low voices. The bark of authority. Then silence.
When he returned, his face was grey and gaunt. His eyes had aged ten years in ten minutes.
"They've left," he said, voice hollow. "They came with a court summons."
Tarron stood up abruptly. "A summons?! For what? They were the one who thrashed me, for no reason."
His uncle swallowed hard. "You've been formally accused of evil sorcery by the Lord himself. The hearing is on the third day from today."
Tarron's mouth opened and shut, stunned into silence.
Reid leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"It's a death sentence," Maurice said after a pause. "They don't need evidence. Not when it comes from a Ravios. They'll call it public safety, say you endangered noble blood. They won't even let you speak. The court's already decided."
He sank into a wooden chair, looking like a broken man who'd seen one too many hammer blows fall. "We don't have the coin to buy justice. Nor the rank to make our voices matter. Even if we hire someone to speak on your behalf… they'll laugh it out of the hall."
Tarron clenched his fists, breathing heavily.
That's when Reid spoke, "And me? What did he say about me?"
Tarron's troubles wouldn't matter for long. If that noble had breathed even a word about him, there wouldn't be a tomorrow to worry about. Reid didn't believe in warnings. He answered a whisper with steel—and a slap with a sword.