Rise of a Prodigy: Chapter six (1)

Steffanes could swear, on every relic in the Star blessed Alecrum
hall of praise, that he could not remember in five years a night as fine
as this one.

In all of his senses, he was filled with joy: his eyes with the sight
of emptied ale mugs, his men as drunk as he, and the prettiest barmaids
this side of the sun. His ears with the music of soft plucked strings,
played by one of the lads who, when coaxed with fine liquor, could be
tempted to show off his hidden talent. This, joined with the laughter of
his lads, his dear, dear lads, added to the smell of well cooked meats,
the taste of well brewed drink, and the touch of the maid on his arm.
It was joy unbridled, and he had no clue what he had done to grant him
such fortune.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Eyes slowly opening, his ceiling Blurry, Steffanes soon came back to
the present, his dreams of the night’s revels rapidly fading before the
onrush of reality. A dry mouth, rotten with the taste of tar, a head
that seemed to be pulsing fit to burst, and the feel of filthy sheets on
his hands, all served to remind him that the morning, bane of all
drinkers, had come. A low groan escaped his lips, his body rolling to
the side, as if that would stop the pounding at his door. He covered his
ears, hoping that it would drown out the sound, but to no avail.

“WHAT!” He roared finally, his niceties nowhere to be found. The
Hoilettan army had better be at the gate in thousands, for only that
could justify whoever was pounding the door. In fact, Steffanes was
hoping it was something earth-shattering, as after such a wild night
there was nothing better than an equally wild morning. He got up,
mercifully still wearing last night’s clothes, and headed to the door.
When he swung it open, the guardsman who had been pounding away nearly
fell into the room.

“C-Captain Steffanes, sir, I’m ah, here to, ah….” The man stumbled, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Spit it out soldier, today!”

Straightening himself out, the guardsman was finally able to speak.
“The Maestro has requested your immediate presence sir, it’s an urgent
matter”

Steffanes sighed, leaning back against the wall. What did the Maestro
want to see him for, and why was it so urgent? He tried to think of any
recent events that might have led to this, but he could come up with
nothing.

Then it became clear to him. “Jory!” He cursed silently to himself.
Some letter, a truly important one, had come to his desk, and Jory had
never shown it to him. This was the only explanation, and it helped
chime in with what Steffanes had been thinking for a while: His
lieutenant was up to something. Jory surely thought his captain a fool, a
trusting old drunk, but Steffanes had not come so far without having
keen eyes, and though they had been closed for a good while, they were
opening again.

“Fine” Steffanes said curtly. “I’ll be right there. Leave me!”

“Yes sir, certainly, sir, of course!” Stammered the Guardsman, and without another word left the room.

Steffanes set about making himself look presentable, or at least not
repulsive to see or be near. Stripping off last night’s clothes and
throwing them in the dirty pile in the corner, he went to his washing
sink, and made sure to splash water on as much of himself as he could.
He even used some of that scented oil that someone had sent him last
month, just one of the many presents a war hero and saviour of many
received.

He found a tunic and some breeches that where clean and fresh, as
well as a chainmail over-shirt that wasn’t too worn out. “This’ll do”,
he thought, as although the Maestro was important, he was trying to be
quick, and besides he wasn’t exactly being presented at court.

Once he was dressed, he took a swift look at himself in the full
length mirror, another present. He was presentable enough, at least fit
to leave his quarters. Steffanes could not help but sigh as he noted the
slight softness of his stomach, a result of too much beer and meat and
not enough exercise. One day soon, he would have to start getting up
early in the morning, so as to slip quietly out of the barracks and have
a proper run.

Putting his mind to the business at hand, he promptly left his room,
stepping out into the corridor. From the light he could see from the far
end of the Hallway, he could guess it was around midday. He turned in
the opposite direction to the Barracks courtyard, instead heading for
the main exit, which would take him to the Guards entrance of the tower.

Reaching the main exit, he saw two men standing to attention. He gave
them a nod, expecting that they in turn would swiftly give him the
proper salute.

Yet neither of them moved. Both kept their right hands firmly where
they were, resting on their sword hilts. It seemed to Steffanes that
they were deliberately trying to ignore him. “Maybe”, Steffanes thought,
“Maybe these two are wound up because they didn’t get to go out last
night.”

Putting a cheery smile on his face, he addressed the two men.

“Alright there my lads, no salutes for your dear Captain then?

The youngest of the pair, his helmet Ill-fitting his head, Stammered.

“Lieutenant Tyrell, err I mean, um….”

The older man, a veteran of the war who Steffanes recognized, swiftly cut in

“Hush Fabrole, before you say more than what’s good for you”

“What is it you want to say lad?” asked Steffanes, now no longer
wearing a cheery smile. What was Jori playing at, telling Steffanes’s
own men who they should and shouldn’t salute?

“I think sir”, Said the older man plainly, “That you had best get to
your meeting with the Maestro. We shan’t tell you anything further”.

That was that then. Steffanes knew that staying here any longer would
not be fruitful, so without further ado he headed through the main
exit, out onto the short pathway that led from the barracks to the tower
itself.

It was another warm day, the sun bright in the sky overhead. Yet
Steffanes was aware that Midsummer had passed, and that the hot weather
would soon grow more temperate, as autumn and the harvest time
approached.

Steffanes swiftly walked down the path, not wanting to delay any
further. He wanted answers, and this meeting with the Maestro would
provide them. Maybe he would get a chance to have a real discussion
about Jori, and what he was up to. Perhaps a replacement was in order.

Walking through the wide open door of the Guards entrance, he swiftly
turned onto the stairs that lead directly to the Maestro’s office. It
had been built long before Steffanes’s time, and was intended for the
Guard captain’s exclusive use, so as to ensure swifter travel for
important meetings. Of course the Maestro’s could never come to the
barracks themselves, as that would be beneath the dignity of those so
learned.

So of course, Steffanes had to climb the hundreds of steps all the
way to the top of the tower. He gritted his teeth and began to walk, two
steps at a time. Though it was tiring, in a way Steffanes was glad.
After all, he had wanted to do more exercise. At the end a long climb,
he finally reached the modest door that was his personal entrance to the
Maestro’s grand chamber.

He entered as quietly as he could, all too aware that he was very
late. Yet it was immediately clear he needn’t have gone to so much
trouble. As he well knew, the Maestro could adjust the entire room to
suit whatever mood he was in, and today it was clear he was in a mind to
be as intimidating and awe inspiring as possible.

First of all, the ceiling seemed to go on forever, painted in the
pattern of scarlet flame, and the bookcases that lined all three walls
seemed to be bent at the top, as if lowering over him. Sunlight flowed
through the open window, blinding Steffanes the instant he turned to
look at it.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he turned them towards the stone desk. As
he had expected, the Maestro of Elleden tower was sitting there, his
attention occupied by a book.

If one thing could confuse Steffanes, it was trying to decipher just
how old the Maestro was. To most people’s eyes, he would seem like a
handsome, if somewhat aloof young man. His face bore all the qualities
of noble bearing, as one would see in an illustrated storybook, and his
hair was worn long, changing colour according to his particular whim.
Today, it was jet black, which Steffanes had guessed was its natural
shade. He never wore anything over than his simple white robes, which
despite the status of his office, bore no kind of adornments to denote
his rank.

However, Steffanes had been at the tower five years now, and had
spent more than enough time in the Maestro’s presence to know that he
was in no way a young man. It was difficult for him to describe, mostly
due to the powerful sense of unease he felt whenever he was around the
Maestro, but Steffanes knew that not only was the head of Elleden tower
was far older than he appeared, but that what he saw was not the
entirety of who, or what, he was.

He had no idea of the Maestro’s real name, as the maestro had never
thought it important he should know. He knew that he Maestro had been at
Elleden tower for a considerable amount of time, long before he’d
arrived, but just how long he’d never been able to find out. He’d tried
talking to some of the Virtuoso’s on the subject; at least the few who
Aeros hadn’t made sure hated him. But the answers they gave him where
vague at best, which indicated that they were either lying to him, or
were themselves ignorant of how long the Maestro had been in his seat.
No one mentioned any predecessor of his, or anything of his background
before Elleden tower.

Added to that, there was the dark feeling in the pit of Steffanes
stomach every time he was in the Maestro’s presence, a sense that there
was something fundamentally unnatural about him. Whenever the Maestro
spoke, it seemed he was only half paying attention to whatever he was
saying, while the rest of his mind was focused on something else. He
almost never looked at who he talked too, and when he did, it seemed he
was staring straight through them, his pale blue eyes only dimly
indicating he saw you.

But this wasn’t rudeness, or snobbery. It was as if he was only
barely aware of the presence of other people in the world, and that he
had to interact with them. He never left his office, and seemingly spent
all his time in research. Aeros managed most of the day to day business
of the tower, and for years now had appeared at court on the Maestro’s
behalf. While many young people affected aloofness as a pose, the
Maestro’s was so genuine it was terrifying, and to Steffanes, unworldly.
Something else was behind those eyes, and the man he saw at the desk
could not truly be a mere mortal.

For a moment or two, Steffanes simply stood there, as once again, the
Maestro had not noticed his entry into the room. He suddenly became
very aware of how much he was sweating, and the clamminess of his hands.
Every visit to the office, it was a different physical sensation, and
he couldn’t decide whether it was deliberate torture, or symptomatic of
his own anxiety.

Eventually, he could bear no more silence, and spoke up.

“You wanted to see me, Maestro?”

Again, there was silence, the Maestro turning the pages of his book,
still seemingly oblivious to Steffanes’s presence. Through the large
open window behind the desk, a cool summer breeze blew through the room,
a Falcon’s caw being heard in the distance.

After clearing his throat loudly, Steffanes spoke up once again.

“Maestro, you sent for me?”

The Maestro turned his page again, but a curl on his lips indicated
he had heard Steffanes that time. His eyes were narrowing now, evidently
focusing on something in the book. Whether or not this was a deliberate
ploy to unnerve him, Steffanes couldn’t be sure.

He took two steps towards the desk now, slowly and deliberately, and
was about to clear his throat again, when finally the Maestro spoke,
while still focusing intently on his book.

“Steffanes, I see you are three hours late. Or perhaps my messengers
did not make it clear that my request for your presence was urgent.”

There was the worst of it; the Maestro’s voice. It never betrayed how
he may be feeling, always delivered in a measured, crisp monotone,
never rising or falling. No emotion could ever be discerned from it, no
matter how long one listened.

This was the most inhuman aspect of the Maestro, as far as Steffanes
was concerned. This voice was the voice of someone, or something, that
didn’t hold any regard for its fellow creatures. There was no emotion in
the voice because the speaker truly did feel no emotion, no matter what
he was doing.

This was a soul who could order the murder of children, the torture
of relatives, sway the mind of the kingdom, and feel no guilt.

Steffanes straightened himself, fighting back the revulsion he felt
within himself. He couldn’t let on any of what he was really feeling
right now, knowing that above all else, he must be formal in the
Maestro’s presence. There was so much he could lose if he acted
otherwise.

“I apologise, Maestro. I was…. indisposed. I made my way here as quickly as I could once I was aware of your summons.”

The Maestro turned another page, slowly.

“My informants in the Hollow Cave have already relayed their accounts
of your visit there, taking twenty three guards with you. So trying to
deceive me about your whereabouts last night, or not suffering from a
hangover this morning, will be entirely pointless.”

Steffanes dug his Nails into his palm. How could he have been so
foolish, to think that the Maestro would never find out about last
night? So much for being kind to his troops, if this was where it would
lead him.

“I apologise Maestro, for my breach of duty. I assure you, it will not happen again.”

Another curl of the lips, and again there was a pause before the Maestro spoke again.

“The visit to the inn is not the reason you are here, Steffanes. That
in itself was in no way a breach of duty, as you and every guard with
you was off duty at the time. What you do in your off hours is no
concern of mine.

It is the events that occurred in your absence that made summoning
you here necessary, so that I may inform you that as of now, you are no
longer Guard captain of Elleden Tower. “

With that, the Maestro turned another page of his book, seemingly content to say nothing further.

For a moment or two, Steffanes stood completely still, mind entirely
blank. Then, the Maestro’s words finally registered with him, and he
felt like screaming.

With all the composure he could muster, doing everything to fight the urge to hurl up last night’s pie, he faced the Maestro.

“I beg your pardon, Maestro, but have I heard you correctly? I am no longer Guard Captain?”

“That is correct Steffanes; I did not think I would need to clarify that.”

This affected formality was starting to kill Steffanes, and he wanted
to reach over and grab the Maestro by the scruff of his neck, so that
he’d give him a proper answer. But he’d lost his temper in this man’s
presence before, and the memory of what the Maestro had done to him was
enough to keep him polite.

“Can you explain Maestro, how it is I’ve lost rank? What occurred in my absence?”

At this, the Maestro put down his book, and turned his gaze towards Steffanes.

“I see, you have not yet been informed by Captain Tyrell-“

“Captain Tyrell!”

The Maestro closed his eyes, evidently disturbed by Steffanes’s outburst.

“Of last night’s events.” He continued. “After you had left, the
lower level cells where all opened, with your personal keys. The cells
where occupied by the newly arrived prodigies, awaiting their ritual.

While this should have been the end of it, one Prodigy was not
sufficiently weakened to prevent her from leaving her cell. She was
discovered on the higher levels of the tower, attempting to interfere
with our Prodigies work. I don’t believe I need to remind you of the
implications of this.”

The Maestro certainly did not. Steffanes lowered his head, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep his thoughts level.

“Maestro, it goes without saying that I beg forgiveness. What does this mean for our…. arrangement?”

To be continued............