Reilin turns to the others and translates, “He said it is.”
“Good,” says Jiron.
Jiron was just about to tell Reilin to ask about Azku when the man says in perfect northern, “I can understand you.”
“Thank goodness,” he says turning to the man. “This doesn’t look like an eatery.”
“That’s because it isn’t,” the man explains. Remaining ramrod straight in his chair, the man’s expression hasn’t softened in the least.
“Oh?” asks Stig. “What kind of place is this?”
“One where those who are not invited are not welcome,” he states. “You are intruding where you don’t belong. Please leave.”
“But we have come a very long way,” objects Jiron. “We very much need to find a man by the name of Azku. We’ve been told he comes here.”
The man’s eyes react slightly when Jiron said the name ‘Azku’, then returns to the same perturbed expression once more. “Please leave,” the man says again. “I don’t wish to tell you a third time.”
Jiron locks gazes with the man and begins contemplating the ramifications if he were to force the man to talk to them.
“Oh, hello,” a voice says from behind them, also in northern.
They turn to see another man, this one wearing a more jovial expression. “I see you’ve met Kozal,” the jovial man says with a smile. Then he glances to the man in the chair and says, “Being your usual unpleasant self?”
“They’ve got no right to be in here,” Kozal says.
“I suppose in the strictest sense that is true,” the jovial man states. “But you can be my guests and that will settle that.”
The man in the chair picks up the book and grumbles something as he returns his eyes back to its pages.
“Don’t let Kozal’s unpleasantness give you the wrong impression of us here at the Order of the Scarlet Sword,” the jovial man says. He glances again at the man at the table and whispers to them, “We better find another place where we can talk so we won’t bother him any longer.”
“How about outside in the street,” mumbles Kozal.
Shaking his head at Kozal’s rudeness, the jovial man indicates for them to follow him. “We don’t get many visitors here,” he explains.
“I never heard of the Order of the Scarlet Sword,” Jiron says.
“Not too surprising,” the man replies. “Even here in the Empire it’s not too well known. Being from the north, I would have been surprised if you had heard of it.”
“What is it?” Stig asks.
“It’s kind of like a guild,” he replies. “Those of us who belong to the Order of the Scarlet Sword are mainly comprised of soldiers, fighters, weapon smiths and a few others whose profession has to do with such things. I believe we even have a couple Empire Commanders and Commanders of Ten counted as members.” As he talks he takes them through the room and opens a door on the far side.
The hallway they find themselves in has a very fine carpet lining the floor. The walls are adorned with many fine works of art. “There’s a room down here where we can have some peace and quiet while we talk.”
“Are you a swordsman then?” asks Jiron. From the man’s manner and build, he would hardly consider him a formidable opponent if he were.
“No,” he replies. “I’ve never been one for the actual use of weapons. Rather, I teach those willing to learn.”
He stops before a door on the left side of the hallway and removes a key. Using the key to unlock the door, he opens it and leads them inside. The room they find themselves in, considering the ostentatiousness of what they’ve seen so far, is rather plain. A simple wooden table in the center of the room with chairs set around it upon a bare wooden floor.
“Now, if you will take a seat,” the man replies, “we can discuss whatever it is that brought you here.”
Jiron takes his seat but feels slightly put off by the amicable nature of their host. “Who are you?” he asks.
“Where are my manners?” he asks. “You can all me Ohan.”
“Ohan?” asks Stig. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.”
Ohan gives him a grin and says, “Not too surprising. In my life I’ve only encountered one other person who had the privilege to be called such. And that was quite a ways from here as a matter of fact.”
“Indeed,” says Jiron.
“You seem awfully…uh…” stammers Reilin.
“Nice?” he asks. When Reilin nods he shrugs and says, “To be honest I’m just bored. My job is to take care of the members here and to keep the House in order. Aside from Kozal, you are the only ones I’ve seen in days. And frankly, he isn’t much of a conversationalist.”
Jiron is beginning to warm up to the man. Giving him a grin he says, “I could see that.”
“Oh, he’s not a bad sort once you get to know him,” he replies. “Just likes to read. Never saw an ex- swordsman read like he does. Anyway, we are getting away from what it is that brought you here.”
“We are looking for a man by the name of Azku,” Jiron explains.
“Azku you say?” he asks.
“Do you know him?” asks Stig.
“I know several men by the name of Azku,” he replies. “Two happen to be members that stop by here from time to time.”
“The one we wish to contact was in Inziala about a month ago,” explains Jiron. “Said he was stopping by here when he left.”
“Hmmm,” Ohan says as he visibly turns inward to think about what Jiron just said. Finally after a full minute of contemplation, he nods and says, “Yes. I think I know the one you are looking for.”
Excited, Jiron says, “Can you tell us where he is?”
Shaking his head, Ohan says, “Sorry, that would be against the rules I’m afraid.”
“Can you at least tell us if he’s here in town?” Stig asks.
“I am not sure to tell you the truth,” he replies, “haven’t seen him in a couple days. Although many of the members don’t always drop by here on a daily basis.”
Jiron looks at the man, frustrated by his lack of help despite his friendly and accommodating nature. “Is there any way in which you can be of help?” he finally asks.
“Oh yes,” he replies. “You could leave him a message that I will be more than happy to deliver to him as soon as he puts in an appearance.”
“Which could be a long time?” asks Jiron.
“I’m afraid so,” Ohan answers.
Stig looks to Jiron and says, “It’s better than nothing.”
Jiron thinks for a moment and then says, “If that’s the best you can do, so be it. Tell this Azku that we are staying at the Soaring Eagle and that this regards a certain incident that happened back in Inziala. Tell him the woman in question is with child and we desire to settle this matter forthwith.”
Ohan’s eyes widen at that. “Is the parentage of the child in doubt?” he asks.
“As for that,” replies Jiron. “It might be best if I take it up with Azku.”
Nodding, Ohan says, “That may be the wisest course.”
“So do I,” replies Jiron. Standing up, he says, “We thank you for your time and if you should see him, also tell Azku that we are leaving on the morrow. It would be best for all parties to have this settled before that time.”
“Should I see him, I will most assuredly let him know,” he states.
“Excellent,” says Jiron. Indicating for the other two to stand, he gestures for Ohan to escort them out.
“I must say,” he begins as they leave the room, “you gentlemen certainly have laid waste to the monotony which is the life of a Caretaker. Thank you very much for coming.”
“Any time,” Stig says.
Out in the main room, Kozal is still at the table reading. His eyes flick up and remain on them until they enter the hallway with the suits of armor. Stig definitely does not like the man’s attitude.
