The King's Scribe: Chapter 2

Consequences

Within sight distance of the elaborate dock, Wick donned his new shoes. He could see the boats, bobbing barely at all, as this southern side was sheltered by the natural jut out of the land. It would have made for excellent commercial and people docking, but it made for even better Noblemen dock-houses and private buildings. Of them, Lord Ilcartius bragged the largest and most opulent.

What was the time? He glanced to the nearest space between owned gangways, and found a Gnomon Stone pillar, worn but still near his height and casting a clear shadow touching past the twelfth mark. A stroke of luck at last; he was early.

Dashing forward, no doubt too fast for these clothes, he came to the wrought brass doors. They were normal doors, just, completely made of brass and if memory served him, horridly heavy. Today that would be no issue, for two stocky butlers manned them.

“Name?” Said like a punch.

“Wick.” He sighed, wondering their game.

“Last?” The other one spoke.

Ah. That game.

As much as he would have loved to give threats, they would be empty if anyone but Beris heard them. “Ilractus,” he said. It would have been a misstep even Beris could not have saved him from if he ever took the House’s name without permission, but he would get intentionally close to goad them. Small victories.

He sneered. “Does sir Ilractus have a Sigil for that name?”

Feeling uncomfortable now, he debated pushing it further. It would be within their power to bar him entry if he did not produce a Sigil. Lord Ilcartius would have no issue with him failing to show, it would take Beris going out of his way to find him after that.

“Wick!” The jovial voice of Beris rang out from behind the brass. The two men stiffened.

One door opened before the butler could attend to it; Knighthood would not escape the young man on account of strength. He relaxed as the wide smile of his best friend made an end to the shaming.

“Sir Altius,” Beris asked, turning to one of the guards, “did I heard you ask Wick’s last name? Why did you do this; you are aware he does not have one and such a thing places him in an uncomfortable position.”

It was the butler’s turn to appear uncomfortable. “Yes, your Lordson. That—that is true. I apologize.”

He nodded. “Good, thank you.”

Having been so thoroughly reminded he had no claim to a name soured his mood some, but the discomfort of the doormen was at least a bit fun.

“Thanks, Beris.”

“You are welcome. I know you dislike that. But, I have a surprise for you.” Beris’s ears nearly had to duck, the grin was so wide as he said it.

He couldn’t imagine what would have him so excited; he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets. For one this exciting, it probably occurred after he had left that morning, otherwise when his sleeping fit woke Beris up he would have learned it right then.