Chapter 3 — Pt. 1

A disgruntled Lord Marcos, furious by the seemingly lacking details of an answer, lapped around the room, murmuring to himself. Going around and around the room, Lord Marcos opened his eyes and looked directly at the now deserting Merchant.

“Wait!”, demanded Lord Marcos to the Merchant. “Lights the first match? So, just have to light the beacons?”

“Smart you are… Lord Marcos…” replied the Merchant once again, in that mocking and humiliating tone of his, “You almost remind me of your father… but you definitely lack his convictions…”

Henry, bewildered and even more confused, tried to open his mouth and ask the naive question firing all the bullets in his cereal bowl of a head. It had been years since he heard of Lord Marcos´s father. The young lord despised his father ever since he came of age. Never spoke of him, never mentioned him. It was as if Lord Marcos was brought up by himself, and any relation to his royal bloodline was a made up story everyone in the higher echelons of society just bought for free.

“You even look like him… his posture… his drive… but your eyes… your eyes are definitely your mother´s”, the merchant swivelled around his high desk, only to protrude out of his rough stance and enter ground level once again. “The way I see it… you have quite a pond to cross… Lord Marcos… “, said the Merchant as he proceeded to grin sadistically. “But what I’m truly pondering is… when are you going to tell your boy over here… that his milk is sweeter than any of Miss. Pumpklin´s treats… HAHAHA…”, continued the Merchant, as he laughed hysterically in a mischievous tone.

“ENOUGH!” yelled Lord Marcos, as he took his royal cane and unravelled the top part of his walking stick. As he removed the elegant lion placed on the lid of his cane, a luminous, vibrant white light filled the room, as if the heavens themselves were descending into the room out his walking cane.

The Merchant instantly covered his eyes, and yelled in pain, as if the bright white light was burning his creedle skin. “Stop! Please…” succumbed the Merchant, as he fell to his knees, begging for the pain to stop.

“Sir, sir…” said Henry, trying to slowly reach his royal bowlness who held his elegant walking cane high in the air as if it was a delightful staff. “Sir… sir stop!”, demanded Henry, who now was in close reach of Lord Marcos. Blinded by that same light, Henry was able to grab the walking cane and yelled to Lord Marcos again: “Sir stop! You`re hurting him!” Henry´s demands fell on deaf ears, as Lord Marcos had a contentious grin on his face, as if he was enjoying the suffering of the creeping Merchant.

“I SAID STOP!”, demanded Henry, who now grabbed the walking cane and removed it from Lord Marcos´s hand. Henry shaked the cane, who´s vibrant light now turned into a dim one with every heavy shake Henry induced upon it. After some time, the cane stopped emitting lights and Henry threw the stick to the side, as if it was spare garbage that could be tossed aside. Lord Marcos wasn’t even bothered by Henry´s actions.

The Merchant creeped his head out once again, as if he was hiding it like a scared tortoise hiding in its shell. The Merchant kneeled and bellowed his head under his shoulders, and approached Henry´s feet, as if he was about to kiss them in an act of forgiveness.

“Oh thank you commoner… Thank you so much… thanks for saving me from the light… hate the light… must escape the light… must stay where it’s safe… in the Dark…”, said the once mischievous Merchant, now a decrepit, crooked man, lying on the ground, thanking his would-be saviour.

“Stand up”, said Lord Marcos, as he grabbed the scared Merchant by the collar of his dirty, dark shirt. “Don´t think for a second I don´t know what you truly are… Merchant…” replied Lord Marcos, in his own mischievous tone.

“No please! Show mercy… Show mercy your highness…” replied the Merchant, lying on his knees, begging for forgiveness. Lord Marcos shocked him with his right foot, and placed and elegant left foot on the Merchant’s chest.

“I didn’t just come here for instructions on the Zephyr, you malignant muck”. Henry was taken aback at Lord Marcos´s sudden abrazeness and furious anger directed at the decrepit Merchant. Henry couldn´t precisely remember the last time Lord Marcos´s attitude turned this hot. Even though Lord Marcos was known as a troublemaker, in his later years, he grew more mature and less reckless. His mischievous ventures turned into real business activities, and his charismatic persona had turned into a more serious, and business-like manner. Henry assumed it was Lord Marcos’ royal background that had finally caught up to him. Seeing him like this, reminded Henry of the often times the young royal´s temper grew into an intolerable mess. Henry, being a commoner, and a humble servant of Lord Marcos´s family, was used to his rampant acts of neglected rage and anger. But this time, Henry had actually done something. Far away from the island, his only home. Distant from any family member, friend, or his loyal companion, the old shepherd dog Derby, Henry took action and deprived the royal bowl of his elegant walking cane, which surely costs more than Henry´s home and overall property.

“You have protective gear we require, I know it” told Lord Marcos to the Merchant lying on the floor, scared for his life.

“Yes, yes… Yes Lord Marcos… You’re quite correct… I have the… the gear you require for your trip”, replied the Merchant. Lord Marcos grabbed him by the collar again, raised him to his feet and instructed him to show him the gear he requested. The Merchant led the two bowls of cereal along the left wall of his old and weathered store. With no lights and immersed in a deep darkness, Lord Marcos picked a torch from the wall, lit it with a slick silver pocket lighter he kept in his pocket, and tossed the fired torch to Henry so the commoner could light the room. The Merchant walked near a set of empty shelves. Empty, unless you counted the great many spiderwebs hanging in the corners.

“There’s nothing here”, said the naive commoner. “My mistake…”, answered the Merchant shortly. The crooked and decrepit bald man, whose long and curved nose could be observed through the shadows of the wall. The Merchant raised his right hand, and with a snap of his fingers, layers of gear and equipment suddenly appeared on the once empty shelves. Henry gasped in awe and took a few steps back. Where there was once nothing, now the shelves were filled with helmets and shields, arrows and quivers, different types of bows, throwing darts and more. Henry took a few steps back, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.

“How did you… what in the…?” tried saying Henry, only to be interrupted by Lord Marcos, who wasn´t shocked or taken aback by the sudden appearance of gear in the shelves. His royal bowlness approached the shelves and glanced over at two helmets, with gold and silver linings, and a pristine red stone sitting on the very middle. Lord Marcos tapped the red stone with his index finger, and in a matter of a fragment of a second, the once elegant helmet quickly turned into just a red stone lying on the shelf.

“What the hell?”, asked a beyond confused Henry. “What was the first thing I told you, Henry? No questions”. Henry´s confused face turned into a serious grin and determined eyes. He looked at Lord Marcos and nodded.

“Corvex infused, I assume?”, asked Lord Marcos to the Merchant. “Quite right you are… My Lord…”, replied the Merchant. Lord Marcos tapped the other helmet, and after it changed into another red stone, he tossed that one to Henry, instructing him to keep it. Lord Marcos wandered around the shelves filled with equipment. Lapped next to the many quivers and distinct arrows. Examined very carefully a purple bow, only to look away in neglect. He looked around the many spare pieces of equipment, and defensive gear, only to stop and stare directly at an old and weathered silver spoon, lying in the middle of an empty bowl. Lord Marcos was about to grab it until the Merchant moved near him and grabbed his hand. “No no… My Lord… I recommend your boy pick that one up… you cannot… remember?”, said the Merchant, posing that malicious smile once again on his face.

“Henry, pick up the spoon. And keep it tight with you”, said the royal bowl of cereal. Henry approached the lone bowl, lying on the corner shelf, and picked up the silver spoon, lying neatly in the middle. Lord Marcos had a well placed glance on Henry, until he placed the spoon in his pocket.

“Let’s go Henry”, instructed Lord Marcos. “Ah, ah… Aren’t you forgetting something, your majesty? That will be six hundred Kexares…”

Lord Marcos walked around the room, staring directly at the mischievous-looking Merchant. His royal highness approached the elegant walking cane lying on the ground and picked it up. He swivelled on the fashionable silver lion lid on the walking stick and approached the decrepit Merchant again, with the royal cane by his hand.

“What did I tell you when we entered your ungodly store? We are not buying anything” said Lord Marcos, taunting the Merchant by raising his walking stick. The disgruntled Merchant smacked his lips in dismay and entered his high desk once again. “Now that’s more like your father…” replied the angry Merchant, disgusted at the fact of his non-retributed transaction. As the Merchant left the scene, and opened the screeching door, Henry swore he could see again the horrible looking wings departing from the crooked Merchant´s body, and the small horns atop his bald head. The Merchant closed the door, and a series of locks could be heard locking the entry from the inside.