The old man led Calhoun to the back of his stall, where an empty alleyway stood. It
looked like it hadn't been used for years; the walls were mouldy, and the air stank of rot. He
wondered what poor rodent had died there. The road was narrow and rough, barely enough for
him and his horse. They walked deeper into the alleyway, and Calhoun noticed that the path was
between two walls. One was just a regular wall used as a means of demarcation, while the other
was a huge, tall wall that he immediately assumed encased an expensive building inside.
Whoever owned it was probably a warm-hearted person as he allowed people to be selling goods
by his wall. They continued their walk for some minutes before reaching the end, stopping
before two paths. The right path led to the other end of the enormous building, while the left led
to a small forest. The old man started towards the left. Calhoun inwardly sighed. They had just
left a forest only to find themselves in another one. He hoped that at least this one would leave
better memories for him.
Fortunately, the walk through the forest wasn't that long. They arrived at a small-story
house in the woods. It was made entirely of logs, and it looked decent and normal; no signs of
wearing down, although the old fading paint by its side spoke of how old it probably was.
There was a small archway that led to the cabin's entrance. A stone path was placed
directly in front of the cabin's doorway, leading to the archway. By its side was a simple yet
beautiful garden of herbs and wildflowers. Calhoun wasn't an aesthetic person, but even he could
tell that the garden was lovely.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" The old man said, pausing by the start of the archway.
"It might not look like much to others, but it is everything to me."
Calhoun studied the house intently, looking for something that may make him change his
mind against staying in it.
"You have a lovely house, sir." He complimented.
"Well, thank you!" The man said, happy about the compliment.
"Let's go inside. You can tie your horses by that side of the house." He said, pointing to a
tree at the outer side of the house, very close to the archway.
"You can trust me. They would be safe. Hardly anyone ever comes here. To be very
honest, I am so happy that I have visitors now, even if they are paying me rent." The man said
giddily. Calhoun ignored the man and walked over to the tree, tying his horse around it. He
removed his bags and belongings from his horse, throwing them against his shoulder. When he
was done, he turned to his guards, both on the brink of fainting. They were both slouched over
each other's shoulders, looking as if they were hugging themselves if not for the regular
twitching of their bodies, proving their almost loss of consciousness. Firoza remains asleep atop
one of their horses. Calhoun sighed, dragging his hands across his face.
"Guards!" He shouted, causing all three of them-plus the old man-to jump.
"Come over here and tie your horse to the tree." He said stiffly, swallowing down the
other things he felt like saying. The guards quickly ran over to where Calhoun stood and tied
their horses. One of them helped Firoza climb down, while the other got their belongings.
"Well," the old man said, giving them a curious look. "Let me show you into the house."
They followed him past the archway and the stone path, and Firoza said something about
the garden he didn't pick. All that occupied his mind was the hope that there wasn't anything
occupying the house that would make him expose his powers. He didn't want to kill an innocent
man or possibly-people.
They all stopped at the entrance to the cabin, waiting for the man to open it up. Bringing
out a key from a hidden place behind the window sill next to the entrance door, he brought out a
key and inserted it into the keyhole. A 'click' sound was heard, accompanied by the creaking
sound of an ancient wooden door being opened. The door needed some oil in its hinges, Calhoun
thought.
The old man pushed the door wider, and from where he stood, all Calhoun could see was
darkness. The old man entered the house, and after a few minutes, light shone inside,
illuminating the surrounding. He returned to the entrance, standing by the side as he invited them
in.
"Please come in," he said, gesturing his hands in a sweeping motion. Calhoun entered the
house, bending his head a little to avoid hitting it on the door beam. He noticed how clean the
place was, which was a little ironic compared to how the old man was dressed. The sitting room
was on the right side of the room, and the old man was already trying to make a fire in the
hearth. By the left were a sink and a small table by its side. There was a stairway ahead which
Calhoun guessed led directly to the rooms.
"Please do excuse me as I try to light the fire. I won't take long." Calhoun nodded his
head, using the time to study the cabin's interior.
One of the first things that caught his interest was the paintings. The man had a
considerably normal amount of paintings-typical in that they were what you would find in the
house of an upper-class family. Ever since he got here, that was the feeling he had been getting.
The person he saw earlier was a poor old seller, but the house he owned did nothing to reflect
him. Calhoun was beginning to suspect that he wasn't the actual owner of the house, so he made
a mental reminder to confront the man about it.
He would do that the next day, not then, as his men were almost faint from fatigue.
"Phew!" The man exclaimed, standing straight as he dusted his hands, clapping away soot
and sawdust. "I'm done now. We can go check out your rooms." The man crossed the living
room, making his way towards the stairs. Calhoun and his group silently followed after him.
They found themselves in a small passageway after reaching the top of the stairway. The
passage was dimly lit by a lantern hanging from the ceiling, casting a pale orange glow against
the surroundings. The man led them down the passageway, and Calhoun had to bend over when
he passed the place the lantern was hung.
"I have five rooms. They are a bit small, but I think they would be okay enough for you."
The man said, stopping in front of the first door they had seen in the passage.
He opened the door and turned towards Firoza. "This would be for the lady." He said,
nudging Firoza to enter in. From where he stood, Calhoun could see that the room was small and
clean. Firoza entered inside, bowing shyly before the old man, not before casting a shy glance at
Calhoun.
After making sure that she was satisfied with the room, the man continued to lead them
down the passageway. Two rooms directly facing the other were not too far from Firoza's room.
"You men can have one of these." He said, pointing at both the rooms. The guards gave a
sluggish bow and entered any room, not caring as long as they finally had a place to rest their
heads.
"And you," he said, facing Calhoun. "Come with me." He led Calhoun a bit further down
the passage and stopped at the door right in the middle of the route.
"This would be your room." He said, facing Calhoun as he opened the door. Calhoun
entered inside and noticed that his room was much larger than the other rooms given to his
guards. He looked at the old man questioningly, and the man looked at Calhoun and answered
him, knowing the question he was silently asking.
"Don't worry about me." He said, waving his hands. "There is a room downstairs. It is
also much bigger than this. I would stay there instead." He said, a smug smile on his face.
Calhoun entered the room, dropping his belongings by the bedside. He took a look
around, studying his new environment. The room was painted beige, and there was a huge
window directly facing the door. The bed sat by the left side of the room from the door, and a
small bathroom was by the right.
"For a scroll seller, you have a very nice house." Calhoun complemented interrogatively.
"I was expecting you to ask that question ever since you saw the house." The old man
replied. "This house has been with my family for generations. Even if I don't have other basic
needs, at least I have a huge roof over my head."
"It was also clean and neatly arranged, almost like you were expecting visitors."
"What are you insinuating?"
Calhoun looked at the old man, giving him his most blatant stare.
"Wait, you're not thinking that I know who you are, or that I have planned something
against you?" The old man said. Calhoun continued staring at him, urging him to deny it.
Suddenly, the old man burst into laughter. He bent down, holding his left arm around his
abdomen while his right hand repeatedly slapped his knees.
"Oh my goodness! That has to be the funniest thing I have heard. Me? An old man, a
dangerous person? Like, have you looked at yourself in the mirror? It is I who should be fearing
for my life! You are huge and monstrous-looking enough to kill me in a breath without using
much effort. Yet, I still allowed you into my home and you think I want to cause you harm?" The
old man said, falling into another bout of laughter.
Calhoun was beginning to get tired of the man's incessant laughter, although he couldn't
blame the man for it. Finally, the man stopped and heaved a loud sigh, wiping the tears from his
face.
"About your identity, I do not know who you are other than that you are a rich man. If
you didn't notice, it's not everyone who goes around riding a horse." Calhoun thought back to
when he had arrived in the town and realized that, at most, there were only two people he saw
riding horses when he entered the city. He must have not paid extra attention to that fact as he
was too busy thinking of where they would spend the night.
"So, I hope you enjoy your stay here." The man said, starting to make his way out.
"Thank you," Calhoun called out. "When do we pay you your rent?"
The man paused at the door, turning to face Calhoun.
"I'll collect it tomorrow. For now, you guys can have your rest. See you in the morning."
He said, leaving the room and quietly shutting the door behind him.
Calhoun looked around his room one final time before slumping on his bed. He had a lot
to do, between searching for a wife and looking for the unknown destroyer of the Outlaw city.
But for now, he would take his rest.
He would start all that the next day.
*****
The Kingdom of Pres.
The King's Palace...
There was pandemonium everywhere in the castle. Guards could be seen running around
the area, guarding and defending the inner palace.
"What is going on!?" The king shouted from his throne seat.
"My Lord, we are under attack." A guard replied, following his colleagues to stand
behind the king.
"Let us escort you out!" They pleaded.
"No. No way! I want to know who dared to attack my heavily guarded palace!" He said,
emphasizing his last word. Not long after he had said that, the palace guards protecting the castle
entrance were seen flying across the hall, landing in a painful heap close to the throne. The ones
close to the king brought out their swords, standing in an attack pose.
"My queen," the king said, facing his wife. "Follow them. Let them lead you to safety."
"No my king!" She replied, holding tightly unto her husband's hands. "We face this
together." The king looked at her fondly, removing a stray piece of hair that had fallen from her
head onto her face.
Someone gave an audible gasp, causing the king to jerk his head back towards the
entrance.
A group of men dressed in white hooded garb walked in, danger and evil emanating from
them.