“Good day Ser Romulus,” she said politely, obliging his handshake as he turned his attention to Aito, explaining to the group the situation of a wayward child. “I can’t say that I’ve seen him, but I hope that you find him soon.” her mind whirred with possibilities, seeing the chance to gain some control over her own situation and free herself from the Justicar breathing down her neck. “Perhaps, Aito, you could help track him down? An act of good faith from House Renoux.”
"No need for the honorific, my lady, I'm just a self-made man finding his place in the realm. I do, however, appreciate the sincere offer. Ready for a treasure hunt, ser?"
"I am afraid Lady Cyressa, I cannot help this man with his mission. I must ensure your safety, I doubt Lord Ulysses would be pleased to hear that I felt you alone with a member of House Amnen to help someone chase a person from another House." Looking to Lord Tymair, it was clear that the man did not care for this Arlo Amnen, refusing to help look for the person. That or he was far, far too interested in Lady Cyressa for his own good.
Of course, duty, honor, and whatnots. What are those anyway but feudal jargons. In my experience, it's desire and power that makes people do things. They do, however, like to sugarcoat with those terms to pat themselves on the back.
"So, umm, what was that? A no? Oh don't worry, I wasn't actually looking for help. Just needed a pair of ears to blab my magnificent stories, yeah, that's that. You can ask my best buddy right here on what you're missing. Offense taken, though."
"Justicar. Do you have any experience in pest control?" Tymair said, directing his words at Aito, and trying his best to avoid eye contact with Romulus. His attempts were unsuccessful.
"Even an honorary guest can outstay its welcome," he said, more for Cyressa to hear than anyone else.
"Touché. You say that now, but I'm sure you're gonna miss this fluffy ball of party drugs someday."
To say that Tymair is an irritating guy is an understatement. It doesn't mean that I hate him, however. One, I work for his family, so I am contractually obligated to not hate him. Two, he seems very dedicated to his House, and is doing a good job at that, from what I gathered so far. I would be the same if given the chance, although better and much more fun, obviously.
"No. No, I have not seen Arlo," Tymair said, smile as false as could, "and as he is not here...I do suggest you look elsewhere...lest you miss him of course. How we shall miss your company. But I shall instead have to brave these streets with the Lady Tiberos alone." Mostly. The Justicar wasn't going anywhere, neither were his own guards.
"Alright, alright, I'm not going to bother you lot any longer. Thanks for the massive help, folks. Big ones. Nice meeting you my lady, ser. Take a good care, snakes and lizards on every corner and alleyway. My lord."
As I walk away from the interesting interactions, I shifted my full attention on finding Arlo. It's somewhat nice that Tyonna sent me to look for her son. I have a hunch that the family doesn't really like it when I interact too much with him. Could it be the gray area that is my social status? A somewhat-noble from a distant land, with questionable background and suspect character. But the kid likes me, I know that for a fact. I mean how couldn't he? Driven away from home, stranded in a completely alien surroundings, at the age of 13, I know those feelings all too well, no one else does.
Thirteen. That was a lifetime ago. I can't remember clearly the reasoning behind my first exile. In my blurry memory, all I can recall is dad screaming "pathetic", "moron", and "dogpound". Kastor, on the other hand, told me after I was back, that it had to do with Semele. I doubted the notion, naturally, Semele and I never had any major fights. That was probably just another lie Kastor fabricated to manipulate me. The only thing I know for a fact is that the first exile was the beginning of the end. That day, a twin was separated. That day, we dug into our deepest fear to hide from the pain, lingering outside the reach of the flames that dimmed under the thunderous storms that were our hearts.
Buzzing voices of kids interrupted my thoughts. Not Arlo's, but he should be around. If I know something about the kid, it's that he craves connections with peers of his age. The boys circling and rummaging a box besides what it seems to be a fruit shop look too young and too rowdy. 50 meters and there is a boy queuing at a soup station. Doesn't look like Arlo after a squint. Another 50 meters, and I saw two youngins across a saloon. A girl, facing my direction, holding a basket full of something. It appears that she is selling those goods to a boy. Is that Arlo? Yes, that's the clothes he wore when I saw him earlier. And is there no law regarding child labor on this planet? I don't think so, those helpless feudal luddites.
"Hey kiddo!"
He should recognize my voice. I don't want to just shout his name, who knows who, what, lurks among these peasants.
"I miss you buddy, where have you been? And who is this little garage sales lemonade stand? Ooooh, what's that, loony cakes? I'll have one of those pinkies, thank you very much."
A bit of an impulsive move, I have to admit. I don't even know how much it was, and there's always a chance that the cakes are poisonous. I have a pack of poison antidotes, obviously, but have you ever choke on Dozoisian Snark Venom? I have, my brother pranked me, allegedly. I have to tell you, that thing stings. Too late, though. I tossed a pocket of coins to the girl. Hopefully she is quick enough to catch it. She might be a force savant, for all I know.
Romulus Vel
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Arlo Amnen
