Something was wrong. It was in the tense air, in the quiet whisperings of wary customers, in the nervous glances toward the door; it affected everything and anything within, coating them in a suffocating blanket of caution and heedfulness that put all beings inside on edge.
Crevan immediately sensed this thick atmosphere the moment he entered the Cattic Tavern. It grated against his honed perceptions and sent him urgent messages that warned something was amiss. He quickly glanced around, subconsciously pulling his cloak tighter around himself.
Very few people currently occupied the building, most of them hesitant customers by the looks of their simple peasant clothing and wide eyes. Only two mercenaries sat near the back, indicated by the sheathed swords strapped to their waists. They exchanged hushed words and sipped ale, and would have appeared to be unaffected by the anxious atmosphere if it weren't for the unnecessarily tight grips on their glasses of liquor and the watchful glances they sent toward Crevan when he had entered. Every person had taken a seat on the outskirts, forsaking the exposed center tables for a shadier and hopefully safer location.
A faint clink of wooden objects being tapped against each other resounded surprisingly loud over the incomprehensible murmurings of the people, even startling one or two customers. Crevan turned to look at where the noise had originated, having already guessed the source.
A young man stood behind the counter, the barely noticeable movement of his jaw setting revealing a slight irritation—or maybe exasperation, his expression gave nothing away to tell—at having accidentally knocked two mugs together, inadvertently drawing attention to himself. The emotion only lasted a moment before disappearing into his normal unreadable guise. He absentmindedly readjusted the off white keffiyeh that covered his head and framed his face, picked up one of the mugs, and began to thoroughly wipe it down with a nearby rag.
Crevan walked up to the counter and sat down on one of the wooden stools directly in front of the man, who continued his task without even looking up once at the other.
"Gupta, why is this place so empty?" Crevan asked, keeping his voice low. Just because there were not many people there didn't mean that he was safe from being overheard, a fact he knew only too well.
"Many of the mercenaries have stopped coming around in the past few days." Gupta answered. He didn't need to take the effort to keep himself quiet; his voice was naturally soft and almost monotone, nearly blending in with the unnatural quiet around them.
"Why is that?"
"Probably because they have no wish to die."
"What do you mean?" he continued to question, surprise flickering through him. Mercenaries were willing to go through almost anything to get jobs and money, even if it meant facing the jaws of death. What could possibly be stopping them?
Gupta finally moved the mug aside, set down the rag, and looked straight at Crevan. His intense golden brown eyes locked onto Crevan's hazy gray pupils for one silent moment, as if he could read every hidden thought just through sight. Crevan was both entranced and repelled, vulnerable yet mesmerized by the orbs in front of him. He felt like he was staring into the depths of an ancient mystery, one so complex that not even a god could unravel.
The spell was broken with Gupta's next words.
"King Conrad has ordered the execution of all mercenaries upon sight."
Crevan blinked, suddenly disoriented as the reality of the words swiftly snipped off the threads of Gupta's strange influence. He shook his head, trying to clear away the last fibers as the implications of what the other had said took hold.
"That can't be right…he can't just order the deaths of hundreds of people." he stated, attempting to convince himself as much as Gupta. "Besides, how can they tell who is a mercenary and who isn't?"
Gupta retrieved the temporarily forgotten mugs and rag, once again focusing his gaze on the glasses as he swiped the cloth over them. "There are a few certain distinctions of a mercenary. Swords, armor with no emblems, scars."
"But a mercenary could easily just hide his weapon, or a normal citizen holding a sword could be accused." Crevan argued.
"That doesn't matter. Only if there is great doubt that the alleged person is a mercenary will they question them. But, as I am sure you have guessed, that is highly unlikely. Even you—"
"Gupta?" A middle aged woman interrupted Gupta's sentence as she walked out of the back room and up to the counter. Golden wristlets and necklaces jangled softly in time to each of her steps; whether they were actual gold, Crevan could not tell, but it still earned her an impressive demeanor.
"I do hope that you're not frightening him." Her words were kind, and yet her face barely moved, as if the muscles were unable to mirror the emotions.
"Mother." Gupta's tone was not reprimanding or joyful, merely a recognition of the person in front of him.
She glanced between the two young men for a moment, and Crevan noticed that she had the same enigmatic eyes as her son. Her deep irises appeared naturally more feminine, harboring an almost romantic allure of mystery. "This situation is only temporary, I'm sure. A rash order such as this cannot stand for long in the eyes of counsel." she reassured.
"I hope that is the case." Crevan responded. "Even so, it would probably be best if I lea—"
"Knights!"
The tavern suddenly burst into a realm of fear and chaos. Everyone jumped up from their seats, scrambling to find a way out of here, but the only apparent exit was the front door. The man, one of the mercenaries and also the one to sound the call of alarm, immediately slammed the door and moved away. The force used to shut the door sent the wood bouncing against the wall twice before finally settling, half-open.
Crevan stood, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his eyes darted around the vicinity, only to find himself in a similar position to the others.
Crevan knew that his dark cloak would make him an immediate target, not to mention that if he were caught and forced to take off his hood…he had to avoid that at all costs.
"Everyone, this way!" Gupta's mother announced. She raised one delicate hand and gestured toward behind the counter, to the door that led to the backroom and was normally off limits to customers. She opened the door and the people inside rushed over without question, frantically pushing each other through the doorway. Crevan stepped forward as well, prepared to leave, but then paused when he noticed that Gupta had not joined his mother and was instead peeking just around the front door to catch a glimpse of how close the knights were.
After a moment, Gupta cast a look to his mother, which she turned to catch. A silent conversation seemed to occur, one that Crevan could not follow. It ended once she reluctantly turned back to the backroom's door, watching the last couple of stragglers make their way through.
Gupta stepped outside.
"We have orders from the King to shut down this establishment immediately under the suspicion of mercenary activity!" The boom of an authoritative voice nearly made Crevan jump. The knight that had spoken had to be only a few feet away from the entrance, stepping up Crevan's apprehension tenfold. Despite this, he moved even closer, pressing himself to the wall just next to the door to gain a view where he could see the scene without being seen himself.
He briefly questioned why he hadn't left with the others; Gupta was nothing more than a formal acquaintance, one that he went to only when he wanted information. Gupta had never shown any sort of companionship toward Crevan either—then again, any sort of sentiment or emotion seemed practically impossible for him to show. Gupta's mother had always been kind to everyone, if a little distant. Crevan couldn't just leave them like this.
"Are you the owner of this place?" another knight demanded, the haughtiness lacing his voice so sickening that it stirred up disgust in Crevan's mind.
"Yes." Gupta answered simply. He calmly stood in front of the group of five knights, never once breaking face even as the armored men reached for the swords attached to their waists.
"Then we must arrest you immediately."
Before Crevan could react, he felt a sudden cool wind buffet his cloak as Gupta's mother rushed out of the tavern to stand in front of her son. Gupta stiffened as she bravely faced the soldiers.
"This tavern originally belonged to my husband and was given to me upon his death." she spoke urgently, each word hinted with a soft yet acute determination. "I am the owner."
The knights glanced at each other, and then the middle one stepped forward. "Then we'll just take both of you."
"There is no need." she insisted. "He has nothing to do with this. I run the establishment, so I—"
A sharp gasp cut off her sentence as the knight roughly and unexpectedly shoved her to the ground. She landed harshly on her side, grass and dirt digging into her skin and staining her previously pure white dress.
"Annoying wench." the soldier muttered, and a few dark chuckles from the others showed their agreement.
In the blink of an eye Gupta had moved from standing behind with an expression of shock overriding his impassive mask to down on his knees in front of his parent, a gleaming dagger clenched in his hand and pointing straight at the knights. His golden eyes burned and sparked dangerously with a fierce, unforgiving fire that threated to incinerate everything in its way until not even an ash remained.
"Any closer and you all die." his low growl came from deep within his chest, an almost primal ferocity granting it merciless strength.
Unadulterated terror snared Crevan's body for a brief moment that seemed to last an eternity. He wasn't even on the receiving end of the threat, but he still felt the full fury and wrath just waiting to spring and devour the first person that dared to challenge it.
Then, Gupta's mother laid a gentle hand on his wielding arm. He blinked, the ruthless instinct that had transformed his soul into a vessel of vengeance suddenly releasing its hold and dissipating into the recesses of his mind at her pacifying touch. He glanced down at her in concern, his anger forgotten.
"Gupta." She spoke his name soothingly and evenly, her hand squeezing his arm just the slightest. "We'll be alright."
He seemed to hesitate, and then the tensed muscles strangling the hilt of his dagger loosened. He allowed the weapon to slip from his fingers and fall to the ground. Just as the blade pierced the earth, Gupta's face returned back to its neutral if wary appearance.
The knights, who had been practically petrified at Gupta's temporary conversion, finally snapped out of their daze when Gupta dropped the weapon. They immediately surrounded mother and son, although more than one eyed them with an air of caution.
"Tie these two up." the apparent leader of the soldiers ordered.
Crevan turned away. There was nothing he could do now, and probably couldn't have done to begin with. A prick of guilt settled uneasily on his mind, but he shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. The only thing to do now was to make sure he didn't allow himself to be captured.
He traversed the tavern quietly, his footsteps light but quick. He dashed to the back room doorway, through the small room, and to the open door leading to the woods behind the tavern. He heard one last sentence from the leading knight before he deserted the place completely, one that quickened his racing strides into a full out sprint.
"Search the tavern and kill anyone inside except for Zwingli. If you see him, detain him immediately."
Originally this chapter was going to be quite different, but I do think it came out better than what my other idea would have been. I decided to give Gupta/Egypt and his mother/Ancient Egypt a little appearance. I did take some liberty with their personalities since not much is known about them, so I hope I didn't butcher their personalities too badly. Also, I am aware that Egypt's eye color is now green, but I prefer the golden brown color that it originally was. It's so much more intense. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please review!