The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 89: Lord Byron

Chapter 89: Lord Byron

The town of High Valley was laced with rivers and canals, weaving a web of waterways adorned with as many bridges as roads. The sprawling Norns River bisected the town in two even halves, its course graced with an elongated stretch of land rising out in the middle. The island was home to both the wharves and the merchants, as well as the seat of the government. An arched bridge connected the riverbanks, stretching for nearly a quarter mile to reach the island before bounding across to connect the opposite bank, its majestic arc soaring fifty feet above the bustling barges traversing the waterways below.

As we crossed over, I couldn’t help but lean over the raised stone railing and peer at the river as a long barge crossed beneath us. A surge of dizziness caught me off balance, tugging me forward as though compelled by one of the passing barges below. Soltair pivoted as my forearms grazed his, face going pale.

"H-hey!" he cried, leaping forward to grab my arm, pulling me back from the edge. "Snap out of it!"

Clinging to him, I shut my eyes tight as the barge continued its journey down the river. After a few moments, the disorientation passed and I regained my footing. I pushed him away, face flushed with embarrassment, as Trithe crossed her arms, a grin teasing her lips up.

"Scared of heights?" she asked coyly.

Ignoring her, I returned to the edge of the bridge once more, eyes tracking the departing barge. Their cargo was hidden beneath heavy tarps, yet I could feel a distinct resonance with something onboard. My vision took on a golden hue as I activated the Eyes of Fate, but I couldn’t penetrate what lay beneath.

"What is it?" Soltair asked, coming up beside me. I could tell he was tense, likely ready in case I decided to dive for the river again.

Shaking my head, I finally averted my gaze as the barge vanished around a bend. "I can’t explain it clearly, but something reached out to me."

Trithe broke out laughing, but her smile slowly faded as she realized I was serious. "On that barge? Nothing there but ores and wheat. Are you sure you got enough sleep?"

"How so?" Soltair asked, silencing her with a glare.

"It’s hard to explain, but I could just feel it."

He nodded slowly, but I could feel him losing interest. "If it happens again, just give me a heads up. I’d rather avoid having to drag you from the river."

As we continued forward, walking around wagons and merchants, I kept a close eye on the barges below, constantly engaged with the Eyes of Fate. The sheer size of the river made searching everyone an impossible task, but I remained vigilant until we successfully crossed.

The island’s atmosphere was entirely different than the rest of High Valley. Large, multistoried shops, sprawling warehouses, and luxurious restaurants and brothels dominated the spacious streets. Gleaming statues and gilded décor crawled across the building fronts, appealing to the crowds of travelers, sailors, and merchants. Wagons and strongmen traversed the worn alleys between warehouses, transporting merchandise to and from the barges docked along the wharf, which stretched the entire length of the mile-long island.

Despite the gorgeous display of affluence, I found myself feeling sick. The garish splendor shone brightly against the gray backdrop of the town on the banks, where children begged and the churches groaned under the weight of age and disrepair. I turned away in disgust as several prostitutes engaged a group of drunken sailors right in front of us, touting their fine silks and expensive make-up, which caked their faces in exorbitant amounts.

Was this yet another example of the corruption rampant in this world? How could so much wealth be concentrated in such an insignificant area? Surely, if even a fraction of it made its way to the church I’d visited, they could afford to get proper training and spells for their priests. Then again, perhaps this luxury was what drew the bandits here in the first place.

Finally, the gilded gates of the City Lord’s Mansion came into view, nestled within the heart of the island and spanning several plots of land. The iron fence rose twenty feet tall, broken with stone towers every twenty feet, encircling the resplendent gardens of the inner courtyard. I might have been impressed at the colorful array of flora and blossoms, but it felt shabby compared to the magnificence of the Divine Throne.

Six guards manned the main gates, dressed in shining armor and carrying halberds. They made the humble guards we met at the gates look like peasants, but if their perpetual sneers were anything to go by, I doubted they were half as kind.

"Halt!" their captain called, striding up toward us. He looked us up and down, eyes lingering on my hooded face for some time before abruptly narrowing.

"Stand aside, soldier," Soltair said, bathed in his usual flowing confidence. "We come at the request of Lord Byron."

"And you are?" the captain asked, tearing his gaze away and peering down at Soltair.

"The Sun Hero. Now, I believe this was rather urgent, so if you’d be so kind as to show us in..."

His self-assured proclamation swept through the street like a tempest. Merchants halted their negotiations, dockworkers eased their carts’ progress, and even the whores temporarily suspended their seductions. Soon after, a frenzied wave of whispers and rumors surged, dwarfing the prior commotion.

"The hero? Times are trying, so forgive me for not taking your word for it. I’m sure you understand, with the recent surge in crime and all."

Soltair frowned, obviously unimpressed with the snarky attitude the captain displayed. "You dare accuse of being bandits?"

Golden light swept up around his feet as a fraction of his power leaked, stirring the hair and clothes of everyone nearby. My tail twitched as I held my breath, afraid he might have taken the vengeful words of the Pope seriously. Were we really to destroy any who stood in our way?

The guards lifted their weapons, their arrogance dissipating like mist. The observing crowd recoiled as they advanced, and Soltair’s fists clenched tightly, brimming with power. As I summoned my mana, the runes of Aegis running through my mind, a loud voice cut through the rising tension.

"That’s enough! Back down, captain."

The clank of steel ran through the street as the gate opened and a powerfully built man strode through. Several dozen guards followed in his wake, eyeing the crowds suspiciously. He wore a deep blue coat and had a crest of silken ruffles at his neck. His clothes resembled a formal uniform, complete with high boots and an ornamental sword. Most notable about the man’s appearance was his face, with cruel blue eyes and a hawklike nose. White hair hung about his shoulders, and a slight scruff marred his otherwise striking face.

The captain and his guards immediately lowered their weapons, bowing respectfully. "My apologies, my Lord," he said. Although his voice sunk with remorse, his eyes burned with hatred, locked on me, for some reason.

"Sun Hero, forgive the presumptuousness of my men. I assure you, we are more than willing to welcome you to our glorious city and insist you join me inside."

The man, who I could only assume to be Lord Byron, bowed, sweeping his cloak out graciously.

"Very well, since we’ve come all this way," Soltair muttered. He restrained his aura and gave a reassuring nod to Trithe and me. "Let’s go."

I looked around curiously as we followed Lord Byron into the inner courtyard. The mansion looked eerily familiar, with thick stone walls and square in shape. Although colorful pendants and flowing ivy garnished the walls, which rose four stories tall, I found myself drawn to the windows. Bright, expansive windows revealed glimpses into the upper floors of the mansion, the scenes filled with bright dashes of drapes and décor. The lower stories, however, were almost entirely solid, broken by the occasional narrow slit. As we passed through the wide, double doors, a chilling shiver crept down my spine and my tail, and I moved nearer to Soltair.

The main entrance was another lavish display of wealth, with gold-leafed furniture and a blazing chandelier. The room was enormous, taking up the majority of the ground space. Red carpets sunk beneath my boots as I twirled around, taking the view in. Servants stood around the room, spaced out to cover their Lord’s needs wherever he might be.

On one side, the carpet disappeared to allow for a splendid ballroom floor. Another space seemed designated for dining, while another had a small stage. Each section was something I’d expect in a rich Lord’s mansion, but to have it all in one room? Despite the spaciousness provided by the lack of walls, I felt incredibly cramped and uncomfortable, claustrophobic, even.

"Quite the curious design," Soltair said, taking his time to appreciate the rich features.

Lord Byron chuckled, taking a seat in a space that looked like a reception room. "I designed this place myself, actually. It was inspired by some of my favorite pieces of architecture, but I’ll admit it doesn’t translate so well to a mansion."

He gestured, and a few servants appeared, bringing refreshments. They were all young female Beastkin, wearing revealing maid’s outfits that exposed their slave crests. They didn’t dare look me in the eye, but they couldn’t hide the dispirited sag in their shoulders, or the blotchy bruises hidden just behind their uniforms. As they moved a few extra chairs before the Lord, I followed Soltair’s lead in sitting. I took the offered cup of tea, but couldn’t drink. My stomach twisted as the I looked around, the wealth disappearing for a moment. All I could see were the cold stone walls and cages. Rows of cages.

"Now then," Lord Byron said, leaning toward me. Something about the feverish glint in his eye sent another shudder through me. "You must be this Slave Hero I’ve heard so much about."

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