NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 7

Chapter Seven - Makes Me Wonder

Blank wordlessly stepped outside the room, dazed, confused and was absolutely certain that he was in over his head. “I have got to tell the agency to do background checks before accepting clients.” He winced as he stumbled down long halls and dark corridors, trying to find his way back to the dining hall. His stomach rumbled and his head felt light, he seriously felt like he could eat an entire cow if given the chance.

“Oh wonderful, I really am lost.” He sighed after finding himself staring at the same dead end with the same portrait of a man in a powdered wig. Desperately he took out the envelope housing Raoul’s instructions. “Alright you got me into Miss Sharel’s room now get me back to the dining hall. I can’t properly function if I don’t get to eat!” He ordered, lightly smacking the packet with the back of his hand.

But he received no response, “Don’t tell me you’re on a dinner break.” Blank frowned. Sighing, he went back to his futile attempts at navigating the impossibly huge manor. Down another corridor and descending yet another flight of stairs, Blank was beginning to think he was going to wander for all eternity.

Until a chipper voice greeted him from behind, “So this is where you are!”

Blank nearly leapt out of his skin and he hadn’t been able to keep a rather girly squeal from escaping his mouth, which prompted unabashed laughter from Surge. Blank would have demanded what was so funny if he hadn’t found himself chuckling at the ridiculous way the beret looked atop Surge’s head.

“You have an affinity for hats, don’t you?” Blank stated, pointing to the aforementioned article of clothing.

Surge adjusted the beret, “Yeah, I have one for each day of the year. They make great conversation starters, especially with the ladies.” He laughed but not with a slight blush. “And speaking of ladies, Vrin told me Jenta scared you away.”

“She did not!” Blank gasped, it was his turn to crimson.

“Hey, calm down, man. I was going to say you aren’t the first to run.” Surge held his hands in front of him as a shield of sorts, though Blank knew very well the lanky young man in front of him was more than capable of holding his own in battles. And despite the accounts he had just gotten from Sharel, Blank felt at ease around this particular Edelberton. No suspicion prickled his skin, no impending doom lurked over his shoulder, no intimidation burrowed into his mind.

“Sorry about my behavior earlier, I kinda acted like a jerk. I’m not always like that. Marlene just brings out the worst in me. A-anyway, you seen Sharel?” Surge asked, quickly changing the topic.

“Oh, she, um, I had seen her earlier but then she had to go elsewhere.” Blank finished lamely. He didn’t tell a single lie but it didn’t sound completely truthful either. Secrets are safe with scribes, they must be, else they lose everything. Whether Surge could tell, he did not show it.

“Great, run off again.” Surge sighed, rubbing the side of his head where a scar peeked from between strands of hair. “She always does this, every month she’ll just up and vanish just when I have something to ask her. Are all women this, well, flakey or just her?”

“I, um, I d-don’t believe I’m in any position to answer that.” Blank spoke the complete truth, he had never been fortunate in matters of the heart. “When you spend most of your time writing down other people’s stories, you tend to forget that you have one of your own.” He laughs. “A-anyway, I won’t have much of a life if I don’t get something to eat soon. Mind showing me the way back to the dining hall?”

Tipping his beret to cover his scar, Surge smiled, “Sure. I can’t have the only guy who’ll let us get our inheritance waste away into skin and bones. Besides, that look’s taken by yours truly.”

There was an odd sense of comfort that emanated from Surge. It calmed Blank, making him relaxed enough to ask “Think after I eat I could talk to you about these issues your Uncle Raoul wanted to learn of you?”

Surge stiffened slightly but then again it could have just been the hunger pangs messing with Blank’s mind. “Sure, why not? Unless Kairhn has something planned, though I don’t doubt it. Even if Sharel was the one who planned all this, Kairhn’s not the sort who likes being delegated to the background. He’ll have something to upstage her for sure.”

They finally reached the dining hall and found no one really missed Sharel or Blank’s presence. This irked Surge far more than he let Blank notice. “Freakin’ bloodsucking social parasites.” The pale-haired man muttered beneath his breath.

“Excuse me?” Blank blinked, he thought he heard Surge say something.

“Meh, it’s nothing.” Surge waved in casual dismissal. “Where were you seated?”

Blank gestured to the empty chair in front of Jenta, which Surge acknowledged with a soft “Eep. No wonder you turned tail and ran. She did the thing under the table with you, didn’t she?”

The scribe nodded, “You seem to know a lot about this woman’s activities.”

“Hey, she’s always looking for new clients. You’re not the first one to get an “under the table” sample as she calls it.” Surge explained with the matching air quotes. “And I doubt she’ll stop trying to get you on her list. So whaddya say? Wanna sit with me and my friends? Sharel won’t mind if we re-arrange the seating plan, not like she’s here to nag, yeah?”

* * * * *

Surge’s friends were perhaps the friendliest group Blank had met at the ball. They were also the most conspicuous ones, apart from Sharel’s own selected guests and their particular choice in clothing. They were rowdy, loud, the sort of bunch you’d find in seedy taverns drinking ale and singing tawdry songs about women. Muscles rippled against tight clothing, strained against the formal garments they had donned so as not to appear too out of place in such lavish settings. The way they sat, ate, even spoke showed a certain level of discipline that most men wouldn’t even be able to mimic for too long.

Bladesmasters, Soulcleavers, Bonebreakers, they were all just titles, just fancy labels the many cultures of Silar came up with to distinguish one style from another. But the scribe had written down exploits and stories involving men like these, a great deal enough of them to know that most of these people were far more comfortable being simply called Warriors.

Surge introduced him, explained his situation both with Jenta and the will. No one seemed to mind his presence or questioned why the chapeau'd Edelberton invited him. In that case, Blank took it upon himself to do the wondering.

“So, how’d you all meet?” Blank asked the one of the four men, doing his best to strike up a conversation that involved neither a beating nor a bedding.

“Is this one o’ them issues Surge’s uncle be wantin’ t’ know?” Lenny, the tall, heavily tanned man with a drawl quirked a faded-sapphire brow.

“Oh, no, no, this is just my own curiosity. I’m not always out to write down stories.” Blank replied.

“Why? Our stories not quality material for you?” Narche, an azure-haired man beside Surge demanded as he narrowed amber eyes at the scribe.

“It’s never the scribe’s position to judge whether or not a tale is worthy of being immortalized on parchment. That’s up for the readers and the person telling the tale.” Blank shrugged, he had heard this question far too many times in the past to let them rile him. Never mind that they could easily pummel him senseless.

“Well?” Surge eyed his companions.

“He’s got guts, I’ll give him that.” The heavily scarred one who went by the name Aggre grinned. Lenny voiced his agreement with an ever so eloquent “Ayup!”

“I guess we could let you know how I ended up with these losers.” Surge laughed.

“Losers? Last I recalled you were the one who ended face-down when we met.” Narche playfully punched Surge in the arm. Had he hit some poor sap with no combat experience whatsoever, someone like Blank, Narche could have very well broken a bone or two or five.

“To be honest, the five of us met at a tourney.” Surge said cheerfully with a youthful boyish smile that almost made Blank forget Sharel’s words.

He had become a beast. It was difficult for Blank to come to terms with what Sharel described and what he was seeing before him. Surge’s enthusiasm, the genuine embarrassment at admitting his lack of experience with women, his loyalty to his family even though he admitted there were times he wish someone would have done something to knock some sense into Marlene.

“Speakin’ o’ them wenches, you ever manage t’ work up the nerve an’ talk t’ tha’ one?” Lenny jeered as he gestured to a woman Blank recognized as Rid.

Surge crimsoned completely.

“I’m going to take a wild stab at that being a definitive NO!” Aggre laughed as the others, including Blank, joined in.

How can be have become a beast? Was what Blank found himself wondering. Little did he know that Kairhn was about to give him the opportunity for Blank to find out. The soon-to-be head of the Edelberton name and fortune began to tap his knife against his wine-filled glass, the tinny sound somehow managing to ring throughout the dining hall and eventually silence everyone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Kairhn began once he had the guests’ attention, “On behalf of my cousin Sharel, I wish to extend our deepest apologies. She seems to have been called away and is unable to grace us with her presence. To make things up for everyone, I have arranged for the arena to be availble to any interested warrior. Fret not for the squeamish ones that Marlene had invited. This is a friendly game, no fatalities allowed unless they wish to be sent to trial for murder. Or executed on the spot. Whichever is more fun.”

Squeals and gasps rippled throughout the hall, some of feigned indignation, some of genuine delight, while others like Surge and his friends were too busy grinning from ear to ear to make a sound. Eagerly, the five men and some others got up from their seats to approach Kairhn under the excuse of “discussing important matters.” Though it was clear as day that they wanted to be part of the evening’s events.

Blank felt the envelope thump in his chest again and carefully slipped away to see whatever it was Raoul wanted of him this time.

I know it’s not really part of your contract since you were hired to record tales and whatnot. But please, please, please, please, PLEASE immortalize the upcoming scrimmages that are about to take place!

“Why? Couldn’t you watch it from where you are?” Blank asked, curious at the desperation he read from the words.

Yes, I suppose I can. But as I told Sharel, I have memory problems and I’m certain some of these fights are going to be spectacular and well, I’d like to have something in order to remember them.

“I don’t know.” Blank was genuinely hesitant, he was neither bard nor poet. Yes, he could jot down poems, lyrics, songs, tales and epics, but he could never quite find the proper words if they were to ever come from him. It was an easy feat for him to take down everything if someone else did the talking. But he knew he lacked the muse to inspire him and the confidence to come up with eloquent words from his own mind.

You aren’t squeamish are you? Hearing is different from seeing? Is it because you have no imagination? The parchment scoffed, Condmen it all to hell, was it a mistake hiring you?

“Begging your pardons, sir. But I am a scribe, not some mandolin-toting minstrel! There is a difference between accurately writing down stories that may or may not be accurate, and spinning a completely original story altogether. Though one may argue that originality has long died once man learned to communicate with one another.” Blank snapped, narrowing his eyes at the now-blank parchment.

Alright, fine, fine, I apologize. But isn’t there anyway for you to somehow get a gist of things? Maybe if Kairhn had thought to hire an announcer? Someone who is accustomed to giving a detailed report on what is going on in battles?

That notion hadn’t struck Blank before, but of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that? Surge and his friends were skilled warriors, they could easily tell him what goes on in the battles. He only hoped they’d be fine with helping him.