Paragon of Destruction

Chapter 117 Lord Sevaril

The man led Arran and Snowcloud through the city at a quick pace, but although he seemed both friendly and polite, Arran could not help but notice that a few paces behind them followed half a dozen guards. If they weren't exactly prisoners, it was clear that they weren't free to go, either.

But there was no point in worrying about that. For the time being, all they could do was follow behind the well-dressed man, and hope that he wasn't leading them to imprisonment — or worse. Within the city, Arran knew, any attempt to escape would likely end in disaster.

As they moved through the streets, Arran looked around and found himself impressed by what he saw. Goldhaven was clearly a wealthy city, with wide streets, large stone buildings, and numerous shops and stores.

The crowds were thick, and although most of the people Arran saw looked to be merchants and traders, he could also see many wearing the armor of mercenaries or bandits, and more than a few who were dressed like mages.

Their escort led them through the crowds with practiced ease, and Arran was surprised that despite the guards accompanying them, they didn't draw more than a handful of curious looks. It seemed that in Goldhaven, people being escorted by guards was common enough to not draw any overt attention.

The city was large, although perhaps not quite as large as Hillfort, but with their escort guiding the way it did not take long before Arran could see that they were nearing the ruler's castle.

The sight of it filled him with an even greater sense of awe than the city's walls had. The castle was enormous, with massive, weathered walls that appeared to be far older than the rest of the city. And although the walls were a good fifty feet high, above them rose a vast keep that was at least twice their height.

Yet all of that paled in comparison to the tower that rose up from the keep. Even from miles away it had been staggeringly tall, but now that Arran saw it up close, the sheer size of it seemed to border on the impossible. The tower reached so far up into the sky that it almost touched the clouds, and its base was several hundreds of paces across, wide enough that the tower looked almost large enough to hold a sizable town all by itself.

When they reached the castle gates, the guards there waved them through with a quick look at their escort, but the ones who had accompanied them through the city remained behind, outside the gates. It seemed that within the castle, there was no need for a guard detail.

They crossed the courtyard, then entered the keep. Arran marveled at its size, but he did not have much time to gawk at the sights, because their escort kept up a rapid pace as they moved through the keep's halls and hallways. It only took a few minutes before they reached the back of the keep, where the tower stood.

When they entered the tower, Arran could see that it was far older than the rest of the keep. This caused him some wonder, and he realized that the tower must have been there first, with the castle built around it only centuries later, and the city following later still.

Within the tower, they ascended a steep staircase, and Arran quickly understood that although he had Sensed nothing unusual from their escort, the man must be a mage or Body Refiner — no commoner would have been able to scale the stairs so rapidly. Of course, being mages themselves, neither Arran nor Snowcloud had any trouble keeping up with him.

They climbed the seemingly endless stairs for what seemed like nearly half an hour, passing dozens of floors, each of which held a hallway and a number of closed doors. Finally, however, at what Arran thought should be one of the uppermost floors, their escort stepped into a hallway, then hurriedly walked to the large door at the end of it.

He gave the door a single soft knock, and a moment later, it swung open. He motioned for Arran and Snowcloud to go inside, but when they did, he did not follow them inside, instead closing the door behind them.

Inside, they found a large, semicircular chamber, its high walls holding large windows that likely overlooked the city. Arran had no time to give the chamber a closer look, however, because at the center of the chamber stood a tall man, who cast an appraising look at Arran and Snowcloud when they stepped inside.

This, he knew, must be the ruler of Goldhaven — Lord Sevaril.

He had short hair and wore a gray robe, with a smoothly shaved face that showed no signs of old age. Had it not been for his paper-white hair, Arran could easily have mistaken him for someone in his thirties. Yet as Arran looked at him, he saw that there was a wizened look to the man's eyes, as if they had seen countless centuries pass.

"Young Lady Snowcloud," the man said. "You took a great risk in coming here."

"Lord Sevaril," Snowcloud said, offering a slight bow. "I always heard that of all the places in the borderlands, Goldhaven ranks among the safest."

"For others, that holds true," Lord Sevaril replied. "But for one such as yourself, who has such value to so many, things are different."

"Value?" Snowcloud asked, her expression uncomfortable. "I'm just a lowly novice. Why would I have value to others?"

"You're the granddaughter of the Sixth Valley's Patriarch," Lord Sevaril said plainly. "And Elder Fang is so concerned with your wellbeing that he has offered a reward for your safe and rapid return — a sum large enough to catch even my interest. I suspect that even as we speak, there are hundreds of people looking for you."

"He did what?!" Snowcloud asked, her expression now turning ugly. "He has no right to force me to return!"

"Perhaps not," Lord Sevaril replied. "But in the face of such rewards, rights matter little. Still, he should be the least of your concerns."

"The least of my concerns?" Snowcloud gave him a questioning look, some worry in her eyes.

"There are others who are even more interested in you than Lord Fang," Lord Sevaril said. "And unlike him, they would prefer for you not to return safely."

Snowcloud remained silent for a moment, but then, to Arran's surprise, she answered in a sharp voice, "Then let them come. I'll burn the eyes from their heads."

At this, Lord Sevaril let out a high-pitched laugh.

"Your mother's blood runs strong in you," he said once he finished laughing, his voice now holding a warmth that had been absent earlier. Yet then, his expression grew serious, and he continued, "But you must know where her path led. Are you certain you want to follow in her footsteps?"

"So you know what I'm looking for," Snowcloud said, ignoring his question. "Can you help me?"

"Wait," Arran cut in. He now understood that Snowcloud somehow knew Lord Sevaril, but other than that, none of what was said made any sense to him. "What the hell is going on here? What path are you talking about?"