Chapter 2 - A Piece Of Paper

“Dur yihi mani quem wer esses fios er. Dur ghaim ha deveria meg da pozoves,” Alarick told Levon in a drawled voice.

(You don’t know who this is. You should have called me before.)

The big man shivered at the bad omen.

Alarick clicked his tongue at him and turned to the ‘whore’ and grabbing the trembling man by the elbows to forcefully turn him around.

Severn was a tall, eighteen year old boy that was all angles, bones sticking out everywhere. Curly black hair and bluish eyes. He was one of the princes of Gytha, a country south of Maud.

He looked more like the Knight than the King, more manly than other Gythaeans in his manners, but more wicked as well. They said he ran away from his family to become a whore but everybody doubts it’s the truth and that rumor didn’t last long.

Soon after, he started to work for the Temple of Cyndel owned by his brother, Prince Erriene.

“Xiath Alarick,” Severn said shakily in Maudinian with such a weird accent he almost didn’t grasp it. Scared blue eyes looked up at him.

(King Alarick)

“Severn, wo vas du nima karata haikalin bapart?” Alarick spat, angry. “Wie er dun mae dy sheni bror?”

(Severn, what are you doing so far from the temple?) 

(Where is your brother?)

Severn just shook his head, not understanding a word and searched his clothes for something. He brought out a letter and thrusted it in Alarick’s hands.

“Erriene sent me,” Severn said in his own language, and Alarick snatched up the letter.

Whatever it is that made Erriene send Severn into Maud’s fortress just to give him a letter was probably worth to read.

The letter was a simple folded paper that said ‘King Alarick Lyall Nirmolak, Son of Randal’ in the front and it was sealed with golden wax. Only Erriene called him by this long, complete title.

He opened it and was faced with a maudinian that Erriene had managed to look soft even when written.

Alarick never understood his need to do that, but he supposed that, like everything the prince did, it was designed to throw him off his guard.

The letter opened with a simple ‘Alarick,’

It was followed by,

‘Dir er a feum mi bruidhinn det am bidh zo agam ri du, a thaobh Tìr Kalise. Du leis na tha agam ri wo am ha zo run; a ràdh du gabh i sibh. Den seo gus tele ni a taua, mea. Du bidh zo e le zo iinei dis ri meg.’

(There is a very important matter that I need to discuss with you, in regards of the Kalise Land. You will certainly be pleased with what I have to offer; in case you accept this mission. It cannot be said in a letter, however. You need to be here to discuss this with me.)

The ink got thick, as if it took a lot of time for Erriene to spell the words.

‘Du lava peita Alarick, det du luwo eb ma afai uiga am luwo reve kas phelp zo. Ach mar den duine ort, iarrainn, am bidh du.’

(You must know Alarick, that you would be the last person I would ever ask help to. But as it happens now, unfortunately, I need you.)

‘Molim vas thigibh.’

(Please come.)

Then, in quick sentences, as he seemed to get back to his element.

‘PS: Am fada nur mura peanas fi du oir dhut Severn rof mhisean, don teampall du meg gessam awh shi lyon bagairt. Den fada nur mura nik fo du zo nach mhi zo ve bapart ronf Maud. Du kwon han er nie toirt, kame ress du let Levon het mesa aige.’

(PS: I would be very grateful if you didn’t punish Severn for trespassing, as giving you my message was his only mission. It would be very kind of you to escort him to the temple from Maud. You know he is no threat, make sure you tell Levon the same thing.)

‘Am liw, fo dearbh, nach du a rinn val dun teagamh, a ràdh du non te twan zo ais thu e fhein. Am ha e reyv thugam wors am deama meger, thiw e God bhith. Fo thusa, du bidhzo eb ere zo gheibh ti. Nad am aisig du, niet a feumaidh, nietr a krigga. Du agus meg Severn, du teg a bhami seo.’

(I will, of course, give you a refund for your troubles, in case you do not want to hear about the mission. I have a very priceless sword I made myself, with the God’s blessings. Of course, you need to be here to receive it. And I meant you, not a messenger, nor a soldier. You bring me Severn, you get a shiny gift.)

Alarick growled at the letter, even as his heart ached in memory of the familiar insults. He wasn't an animal nor a stupid brainless beast.

Erriene must be itching for trouble; he could almost see his little smirk growing as he wrote these words.

‘Ghne, aobhar Maudian’s cuiribh zo e mele dregen, kema ros nieter fo dun krigga, nietr du, yla shan no Severn. Ewe ha a cruet det am lamh tha zo latha, nad am ruse sethe nek, do lewe sa du, twan zo ha chall et yda. Tis lam eb e raidh zo osle e nase zo.’

(Furthermore, knowing Maudian’s inclinations to the male gender, make sure none of your soldiers, nor you, lay hands on Severn. We have a truce that I wouldn’t want to break, and I am sure these men, as well as you, want to have heirs one day. It would be a shame to lose the means to.)

As if he would touch Severn’s scrawny arse, Alarick snorted. It ended with a quick elegant scrawl.

‘S deimhinn,

Prince Erriene Ycel Kyslie.

(Sincerely)

Alarick frowned, pursed his lips, then glanced to the whores.

The letter hadn’t mentioned them. He shook his head and called the soldiers.

“Take the women to the dungeons. I’ll take Severn to the Cyndel Temple.”

Severn gasped in outrage.

“No! They will come with me to the temple!” Severn said, and the soldiers looked at him in confusion, and then to Alarick for further instructions.

Severn turned his pleas to him too. “They were lost, trying to reach the Temple of Cyndel, I swore to show them the way, please!”

Alarick furrowed his eyebrows at the Gythaean, his temper rising.

“Severn, they’re going to the dungeons and that is my word. Do not challenge it.”

Severn looked at him in defiance.

“Am ayt dweud aman Erriene!” he squeaked in faulty maudinian.

(I will tell Erriene!)

Alarick huffed like a very pissed old lion.