Chapter 78 He Will Never Speak Wrong
The carriage rolled smoothly along the winding road and finally stopped at the entrance to Silvermere Springs, a renowned retreat known for its healing waters and peaceful grounds. This visit had been arranged entirely by Fernando.
Alberto stepped down first, stretching his legs. Samael followed, breathing in the fresh mountain air. Torin jumped from the driver's seat and stood nearby, scanning the area out of habit.
A group of guards in light blue uniforms waited at the main gate. As soon as the travelers appeared, the guards bowed their heads deeply, showing the respect due to guests of Fernando's recommendation.
One guard stepped forward. He was heavy-set, with a red face and small eyes that carried a permanent sneer. He spoke loudly, as if addressing the entire courtyard.
“Welcome to Silvermere Springs. We were told important guests would arrive today. Alpha Fernando himself sent word. I will take your bags and show you to the best suites at once.”
He moved toward the luggage, then his gaze settled on Alberto. The guard stopped. His mouth twisted, and recognition lit his eyes. A slow, ugly laugh started in his belly and burst out, loud and mocking.
The laugh grew louder. Torin’s body tensed, hand moving toward his sword. Samael stood perfectly still, watching with cold eyes.
The guard turned to his fellow guards, waving a hand. “Lift your heads, all of you. Go on, look. This is supposed to be the big important guest? Take a good look at him. This is Alberto. Yeah, that Alberto. The dumb, worthless wolf that got dragged through every auction yard from the north to the south and back again. The one every trader poked and prodded and then walked away laughing because nobody, not a single soul, would pay even a copper for him. The broken mutt that even the fighting pits turned down because he was too stupid to snarl on command. The leftover trash that got passed from cage to cage until people got tired of feeding him. That Alberto. And now he shows up here like he is somebody important. Fernando must be joking with us.”
The other guards raised their heads slowly. Some shifted uncomfortably. A few smirked, enjoying their leader’s cruelty.
Alberto listened without moving. His face stayed calm, but a small smile touched his lips.
When the guard finished, still chuckling to himself, Alberto took one step forward, then another, until he stood close.
“You talk a lot,” Alberto said quietly. “I hope your jaw is stronger than your manners.”
The guard’s laughter cut off. “What did you—”
Alberto’s hand moved fast. The slap landed hard across the guard’s face, a sharp crack that echoed off the stone walls. The man’s head jerked sideways, and a bright red mark bloomed on his cheek.
Shock and fury filled the guard’s eyes. “You filthy animal, I’ll—”
He pulled back his arm to swing.
Torin stepped in smoothly. He caught the guard’s wrist and twisted once. Bone snapped loudly. The guard screamed and fell to his knees, cradling the broken wrist.
Samael smiled, voice soft and dangerous. “Torin, you should have let the punch land on Alberto. Then we could have taken the whole hand off right here. It would have been a fair price for all those words.”
The courtyard went completely still. The other guards stood frozen, hands far from their weapons.
A senior attendant in finer clothes hurried forward, face pale. He bowed low to Alberto, Samael, and Torin.
“Please accept my deepest apologies,” he said quickly. “This man has no place speaking to guests that way. Fernando’s own letter named you personally. He will be removed immediately. Allow me to escort you inside. The private springs and the best rooms are ready for you.”
Alberto looked down at the kneeling guard, who was still gasping in pain.
“Tell him,” Alberto said to the attendant, “that if I hear my name in his mouth again, Torin will break the other wrist. And then we will talk about hands.”
The attendant nodded rapidly. “It will be done. Right now.”
Two guards dragged the whimpering man away. Others rushed to pick up the luggage with careful, silent hands.
The attendant led them through beautiful gardens toward the main building. “The healing pools are heated naturally,” he said, trying to smooth over the moment. “Fernando booked the entire east wing for you. No other guests will disturb you.”
Samael spoke pleasantly. “We are here only for rest and treatment. Nothing more.”
“Of course,” the attendant said. “Baths, massages, the finest food and wine. Everything is prepared.”
They reached the east wing. The rooms were large and airy, with wide windows looking over the steaming springs below. Servants waited to unpack and draw baths.
Once alone in the common sitting room, Samael poured wine for all three.
“That one knew every old story,” Samael said.
Alberto drank slowly. “He knew them because he was there. I remember his face now. He worked the cages at Red Hollow market.”
Torin took his cup. “He will not work anything with that wrist for a long time.”
Alberto set his cup down. “Good.”
Samael raised his glass. “To Fernando, for sending us to such an entertaining place.”
Torin grunted. “And to quiet days ahead.”
Alberto smiled. “Let us see how quiet they stay.”
The first afternoon was spent in the private hot springs. The water eased old aches from battles and long roads. Servants brought chilled fruit and cool drinks.
Later, a healer came to examine them. She worked on Torin’s shoulder first, an old injury that still bothered him.
“You carry much tension,” she told Torin.
Torin only nodded.
She moved to Alberto next. “And you have many scars.”
“Many stories,” Alberto answered.
She smiled gently. “Here, we only ask for rest.”
That evening they dined on the terrace overlooking the water. The food was light and fresh, the wine excellent.
Samael leaned back in his chair. “Fernando chose well. This place is perfect.”
Alberto looked out at the steam rising in the moonlight. “It is peaceful.”
Torin ate steadily. “The guards at the gate are new ones now. They bow lower.”
“Good,” Samael said.
The next days followed a calm rhythm. Mornings in the hot pools. Walks in the gardens. Long massages that worked out knots years old. Quiet meals. No talk of quests or relics or bindings.
One afternoon, the attendant approached carefully.
“The man from the gate wishes to speak,” he said. “He begs forgiveness.”
Alberto looked up from his book. “Bring him.”
The guard was brought out, arm in a sling, face pale and sweating.
He bowed as low as he could. “I spoke wrongly. I was drunk on old memories and my own stupidity. I beg pardon. It will never happen again.”
Alberto studied him for a long moment.
“Old memories belong in the past,” Alberto said. “Keep them there. If I hear different, Torin will visit you.”
The guard nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He was led away.
Samael watched him go. “He will not forget.”
“No,” Alberto said. “And neither will the others.”
Torin spoke quietly. “Word spreads fast here. No one else will test you.”
The rest of the stay passed without trouble. Guards bowed deeply whenever the three walked by. Servants hurried to serve. The healer returned daily. Muscles relaxed. Old pains faded.
On the last evening, they sat together on the terrace again.
Samael raised his glass. “To Fernando.”
“To Fernando,” Alberto echoed.
Torin lifted his cup. “And to coming back someday.”
Alberto smiled. “Maybe. When we need rest again.”
The moon rose over the springs. Steam drifted like soft clouds. For the first time in many months, they slept deeply and without watches.
When the carriage was brought round the next morning, the entire staff lined up to see them off. The attendant bowed lowest of all.
“Safe travels,” he said. “And please tell Fernando his friends were perfectly cared for.”
Samael smiled. “We will tell him exactly that.”
They climbed into the carriage. As it pulled away, Alberto looked back once at the beautiful retreat.
Torin spoke from his seat outside. “Good place.”
“Yes,” Alberto said. “Very good.”
Samael settled back. “And no one laughed on the way out.”
Alberto closed his eyes, feeling lighter than he had in years. “No. They did not.”
The carriage rolled on toward the next road, carrying three rested travelers ready for whatever came next.