"Be sure to check every bit of that crawlspace! You know how the city guard are here. Won't be bothered to investigate a damned thing. It'll cause a panic and the like!"
Somewhere beneath the floorboards of one of the oldest homes in Egjora, Sebastian rolled his eyes and coughed on the dust. "I don't see a bloody thing down here, Kaylinn! I'll do my best though," came his muffled reply. Both of them held a hidden smile for the other. Old Gran, as many of the local children called her, was a lonely elderly woman that lived on the outskirts of the city. Her family had quite the colored past, ranging from illicit trading, to prostitution rings. The house was originally designed for such activities, with secret nooks and crannies across every square meter of the building.
"Gran" was one of Sebastian's favorite clients. She was never involved with any of the activities native to her lineage, living in grand Adeluna instead, in her youth. She had only inherited the house when the Kophesen had taken control, and eliminated her father and his dealings. The surviving friends of the family had scattered, and eventually settled in Vilpamolan. Her husband, Amos, had come with her, but he had died many years ago now. Sebastian received letters from her often. That was how he had first come to work for her, if one could even call it that. Kaylinn had heard of his services via word of mouth, and set about contacting him with a laundry list of concerns she had around her home. Everything from missing items, to disturbing noises she heard in the night. She had swore up and down that her home was riddled with spirits.
It turned out to be nothing but superstitious paranoia and forgetfulness of an old widow, in the end. Every visit was the same venture. Each investigation usually transmuted into a quest to conquer the mundane domestic chores that she had difficulty managing. Sebastian couldn't complain though. Kaylinn paid him well for his time…Fed him…Hell, even let him have the bath, which he often was wanting of after her many and varied tasks. The woman's fears, though often genuine, stemmed from a lonely existence, and an addled brain. He took great pity on her because of this, and made it a point to drop by whenever he was passing through, even when she had not written him any letters recently. In unspoken truth, he had felt from the beginning that she always merely wanted the company. Just desirous of a young lad to go trouncing about her home, living in the excitement of the moment, in the mystery that surrounded himself and his work. He was always happy to oblige.
Pushing himself up and out of the narrow trap door in the guest bedroom's pine wardrobe, Sebastian strode carefully across the house and out the front door to shake off. He was careful not to sneeze or cough until he reached the porch.
Two guardsmen were wandering out in the direction of the house. He knew full well they had not seen him enter the city, nor head this way. He always kept his dealings quiet in Egjora. The Kophesen did not like him. Not one bit. Part of that was his doing. He didn't like them either…and he was never one to hold back. As a general rule of consensus from the get-go, however, they did not trust him because of the nature of his abilities and his work. Never anyone mind, though, that they had tried to barter for his time on more than one occasion. Bastards.
The guards had not seen him now, either. Just a change in patrol. Still, he could not shake the gnawing feeling that there were eyes on him at this moment…
Dismissing the prickles up his spine for now, Sebastian rolled up his sleeves as he sauntered back inside, and sat down at the broad oak dining room table. "No rats, no demons, no ghosts," he cheerfully reported to Kaylinn. She turned from the pot she stirred to face him, her kindly blue eyes sparkled in the firelight near which she stood. He continued, "Guest bedroom is rearranged…see you found your spoon, at last."
"There is still the wailing that I hear at night from the second story of the new house down the road," Gran chimed in. "Gods, it's awful. Sounds like a dying wildebeest. You should investigate before the guards do. Some poor sod's probably contracted the beast blood. They could turn any day now, and kill us all. I'll be first to go, you know. Out here, defenseless…"
Sebastian quirked his eyebrows and leaned his elbow on the table, pointing a finger at her. "Now, don't start that business again!"
She shrugged innocently and turned back to the stew she was making, adding a few more pinches of salt. They both grinned after a pause. "Makes the Welkin ring, does it?" Sebastian quipped. Kaylinn sighed, pushing her grey hair back and tying it as she started giggling incessantly. "Zounds, Bash. Can't you do something?"
The very sound that was spoken of pierced the night. It was enough to make one cringe so hard that their face would stick that way. The two of them laughed at full volume until their lungs could take no more.
"It's none of my business how anyone roasts the broomstick," Sebastian jested whilst wiping a tear from his eye. "You're right though, that's one of the worst things I've ever heard."
~~~
An hour or so passed. Sebastian had enjoyed Kaylinn's wonderful vegetable stew, had a bath, and tidied his clothing before he bid her farewell. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and rummaged through the pockets of his jacket for his pipe and herbs. Packing just enough for his walk to the tavern, he snapped his fingers and let them hover over the pipe. Only the slightest bit of fine concentration was required for a pyrokinetic spark. He inhaled deeply, and blew the fragant smoke skyward, head titling back.
The moons hung low on the canvas of the starless night. His autumn gaze beheld them both in turn, taking them in as he wandered along the quiet street towards the tavern. He whipped around suddenly, carefully scrutinizing the blackened street behind him. That uneasy feeling had returned. It was not just eyes he felt this time, but an intent that was focused upon him. His mind groped out to the darkness in vain for answers. Perhaps a bit of Kaylinn's paranoia was beginning to wear off on him? He had not heard anything. Nevertheless, his eyes darted about as a force of habit, taking inventory of anything and everything that he could use if a confrontation were to occur. The weight of his gauntlets still hung in his inner coat pockets, of course; but he preferred the element of surprise, instead of arming himself right away.
Bash only hoped he was right about being jumpy. If anyone was following him, it was more than likely a guard, or an associate of the Kophesan. He would sooner prefer violence over having to play nice with one of their ilk.
