Chapter Six - The Golden Thief
Lorcan leads me through the barracks, waltzing past each floor level and crimson hallways lit up with candle wall sconces. Faint noise issue from different rooms, and I can't help but glance around helplessly—much how I'd done when the gates opened to Aurum castle and bright orange flags welcomed me. Venators patrolled the white flagstone pathway while the same marigold-colored trees I'd seen in the main part of the city bordered us.
Lorcan told me of the four gardens, training grounds, and over five hundred rooms that housed servants and Venators. I'd have paid more attention if not for the sights of the tan castle, mosaic towers that reach the sky, and the bronze castle gate embellished with the same crest of fire wrapping around a dragon. I almost fell back at how far I arched my neck to see it as we disappeared into the other side of the castle grounds.
"Here is where you'll be staying." Lorcan halts just outside a rough-hewn door. "Training armor will be provided to you by servants, and if there is an issue... you come to me."
I look towards the door then him and his glowing forest eyes, stern but not cold. When he tilts his head, waiting for me to say something... anything, I clear my throat. "Thank you," I mutter, wanting to scowl at myself over how dense I must have seemed just staring at him.
The side of his lip curls by a small fraction. "I'll see you training first thing in the morning—" He pauses, lowering his voice as he says, "Miss Ambrose."
I say nothing as he turns and walks down the halls. The build and grace he has practically flows out of him like handsome royalty everywhere he goes. Frowning at that unusual thought of mine, I grip the cool metal doorknob and go inside.
Lavender fills the elongated room as my eyes journey to the six single beds. There are three on each side, no different to the oak panel headboards like ones back home and a doorless archway where I gather the washroom is. I bunch my lips to the side, seeing how no one is in here... strange I expected not to be alone.
The last bit of sun stretches across the wooden flooring as I step forward, unbuckling my sheath and dropping it onto the first bed. My crescent moon carving falls out of it, along with the vial of fairy blood. Shit! I'd forgotten to leave that behind.
I rush to it, trying to place it back inside the pocket, when soft footsteps approach from the left corner until it stills behind me.
Seeing as I was initially alone, my instincts to protect myself like how I would if we ever got creatures such as goblins raiding our cottage back home, my hand carefully glides down to the dagger inside the scabbard.
In no less than a second, I spin, pointing it out in front and glaring at whoever I'd have to defend myself from. However, my expression flattens into wide-eyed embarrassment as I find myself facing a woman no less than stunning.
"Solaris!" She clasps a dainty hand to her chest. "Why on earth are you holding a blade as if you're about to stab me?"
"Sorry," I blurt out, releasing the dagger back onto the bed. "It's just a habit. You never know when something—someone might attack." Each word that I say sounds more absurd than the last.
She laughs, dimples caving her deep bronze skin. And the curve of her upper lip, so sharp and prominent. "If it helps, I don't think there's ever been an attacker or intruder in the barracks before. If there was, us trainees have never known about—" She cuts herself off with a gasp. "Are you rooming with me? Oh, how wonderful if so! I've been entirely on my own since the winter months, and it's been ever so dreary."
I quickly glance at the other beds and trunks by the edge in puzzlement. "So there's no other occupants then?"
"Oh, there was..." She purses her lips. "But many didn't want to room with me." Her solemn gaze drifts behind me to the sheath splayed on top of the bed, and before I can ask her the reason as to what she'd just said, her hands reach for my moon. "What's this?" She examines it as my eyes go round, not expecting her to roll it between her palms like some toy. "It's gorgeous! Did you make it?"
Give it back, give it back, give it back.
"No—" I grab it just as it slips through her fingers and retrieve it against my chest protectively. An overreaction I didn't mean to do, but it's the single form of luck I've had for years. I never leave without it.
She tips her head to the side, and black obsidian coils flow down to her slim waist—thinner than my curvaceous figure—framing her delicate face and high cheekbones. "What does the R stand for?"
"I'm not sure." I sigh, running my thumb over the engraving before putting it away. "Someone's name, I presume." The person who I'd bumped into years ago.
"I'm Freya, by the way," she changes subjects, and I notice how her dark brown eyes have a ring of green around the iris. She seems my age, albeit a foot shorter than me. "Don't mind the mess. I was knitting in my spare time. Do you like it?" She gestures to the other side of the room, where one of the bed quilts shine in purple lace with a pile of wool over it that I can't quite make out what it is. How I didn't notice all of that when I entered baffles me.
"I—" I'm interrupted before I can attempt a compliment.
"It's not my best work—wait, how rude of me." She lightly taps her forehead. "I didn't ask of your name or where you're from, although assuming by the horrible choice of clothing, you must be from the outskirts!"
I frown, glancing at my black tunic—a tear at the corner and strawberry pie residue in the middle. I see what she meant now. In contrast to her purple off-shoulder dress and bodice decorated in lilac flowers, my clothes were the least bit appealing to the eye. Trying to hide the dirt on my clothes with my maroon cloak, I say, "Naralía though Nara is preferred. I come from down south."
She nods slowly. "Have you seen much of the city?"
"No, I just got here." I stifle a yawn; I hadn't slept a wink last night.
"Well, that just won't do." She places a finger on her pointed chin, humming. "I'm taking you out for a tour around the city."
"Are you allowed?"
"For Solaris's sake, we're not prisoners, Nara!" She grins, and I screw my face, fascinated by her bubbly outlook. "Although this might get me in trouble with..." Her words come out as a murmur, not finishing the rest as she waves her hand dismissively. "Come on. We'll return before curfew." Tugging at my glove and not questioning it one bit, she yanks me out of the barracks before I can get settled in.
Time had passed once I'd made it back out into the lively city. Freya would spin and skip around with her arms extended at the sides when street music drummed loudly. I stared back whenever she'd tell me to join her. I'd never had friends before, nor did I consider Freya to be one already. Still, her cheerful mood was rather... contagious. Not at all someone, I'd ever think to be training for a role as a Venator.
On the contrary to my lack of chatter, she enjoyed guiding me through the city and how it's built along four different districts. The first towards the western side; Lava Grove, where stone townhouses crammed together and outer towns led to the docks that divided our land from the ocean of serenity and borders of Aeris. Then to the eastern side, streets split into three. One named the district of Chrysos known for its clothes suppliers, fine Jewelers with gold that shone through stain glass windows luring those of greed and what Freya considered to house snobby rich people.
She wasn't wrong from how many stopped to stare at what I wore. I made no effort to argue back since I'd quickly realized I was not in my village anymore, and neither did I want to make enemies on my first night out in the city.
Well, perhaps on another day, yes.
We ended up walking until night fell, and oil lampposts littered the streets. At the same time, Freya spoke of everything at high speed, which I never knew humanely possible. I tried to grasp everything she said as we'd entered the second district; Salus, full of russet brick libraries, institutes, apothecaries, galleries. Opposite it, separated by a tinted orange river, were blacksmiths and food vendors singing out their prices on spices and encouraging civilians to buy a populated brew called flame spewer. An unhealthy amount of cinnamon gets poured into the ale before being set aflame. The supposed added ingredient of goblin blood is what makes one belch up fire, and from that, I knew I had to try it.
This is why we're now standing in front of a stall getting served. Freya was not a fan of it due to her worries about how dangerous it seems to be.
I eye the glowing chartreuse color and flames dancing above the drink as I screw my eyes shut and inhale it down my throat. The heat coats my insides, warming me deeply. When I open my eyes, Freya only looks at me, waiting for the fire, yet nothing comes.
"I think it's quite delicious," I say to her, licking my lips as I turn and extend my wooden mug out to the vendor. "More, please."
The man stares at me, arching a thin brow, and laughs a horrid boisterous sound. "I'm almost certain you can't even afford another." His eyes take in my clothes. "Let alone hack two of those."
I guess I will be making enemies tonight. "Well, I guarantee anyone who can't hack them are rather revolted by having to look at your face, you pri—"
"Thank you for the beverage, sir!" Freya smiles, wrapping her arm around mine and pulling me away from the man's livid gaze. The mug clatters onto the ground as I look at him, raising my chin with indignation.
My glare on the man dissolves as Freya takes me out onto the main center where the oak tree rests, and eateries and taverns encircle us. The city had fewer people at this time, and I'm thankful nightfall wasn't as humid as earlier since the breeze cooled me significantly.
I stroll further near the oak tree but pause as I reach the last district I hadn't entered yet. The roads, silent and dark in comparison to other sections like they'd swallowed up any form of life. Ripped drapes hang off dank stone walls varying in different sizes, and buildings spiral down in a slope to the center. Filth stains the ground, making me question whether I'm hallucinating as I step towards it before Freya drags me back and starts walking in the opposite direction. "Let's not go through there."
"Why?"
"The Draggards district is sort of... rough. People slaving creatures, selling them, brothels and—" She shudders. "Witches."
So, that's where Ivarron sold the creatures I captured for him. I wonder how Freya would react if I told her, I'm a trapper. "Witches?"
She nods as I stumble against her hold on my arm, trying to keep up with her small quick steps. "They don't do anything, but if you ever wander through The Draggards, you might see bizarre displays of eyeballs and dead snakes."
I lift my brows in interest. The years spent visiting Ivarron's home; I was no stranger to that view. While Illias paled at Ivarron's jar exhibits, I was one to find them normal or intriguing, to say the least.
"You'll also see a lot of people placing their bets already for arena fights between different creatures. So don't look too alarmed when there's a random brawl on the street."
I glance at Freya's relatively calm state as she lets go of me. Lorcan had spoken of arena fights the day he asked me to join the Venators, but I didn't know much of it.
"Let Solaris and Crello bless you, child." A mother and her child pass us, both with peaceful smiles.
"Solaris." Freya bows her head at them.
Involuntarily, I mimic her before going back to the matter at hand. "Where and when do these fights occur?"
"Outside of castle grounds." She looks towards the marble gates. "Twice every fortnight, they hold these fights at Aurum Arena, and hundreds come to watch and make wages on which creature might win. It's also where we'll face the trial to become a true Venator."
A deep inhale at the mention of us facing the trial causes my insides to turn. Everyone had already begun their training months ago. Although Freya didn't question why I'd joined now, I do wonder if I'd be capable of facing the trial alongside others. No matter how hard I believed in myself, I had to have some realism.
We continue walking as Freya forgets the trial topic and explains her love for trying out new hobbies. But I'm quick to come to a stop when something posted on the side of a rustic tavern draws my attention. Squinting my eyes, I waltz up to it.
It's a washed-out wanted poster and nothing, but a sketch of a man shaded to darkness, making it hard to see what he might indeed look like. A mask covers the top half of his face, and the name Golden Thief is written in cursive at the bottom, accompanied by a warning of it being a dragon shifter.
My sudden awareness of the word dragon shifter brings me to the possibility of who exactly it is...
The thief Ivarron told me to capture for him.
"Oh, you'll see these posters everywhere in the city." Freya joins beside me. "It gets rather tedious hearing everyone talk of how he—"
"Why do they call him the Golden Thief?" I ask, not peeling my eyes away from the poster.
"He's known to go around stealing anything of value before leaving a gold coin—a trademark of his."
My tone comes out nothing more than unimpressed, "Doesn't sound like much of a threat." Other than him being a dragon shifter. Still, I had to have some confidence in myself for the sake of my brothers.
"Many say he does it to irk sellers so that they can use that gold coin to replenish stock and then for him just to steal it all again." Freya frowns to herself as I look at her. "I can't tell if that makes him a genius or not."
A witless dragon more like. "How have Venators not caught him yet?"
"Well... because there are rumors," she says, biting her bottom lip nervously. "Of someone creating creatures which are killing mortals and by that someone I mean the Golden Thief."
My forehead crumples, thinking back to Miss Kiligra's rumors. "I've been told the leaders of Aeris could be the ones doing that?"
"That's what everyone thinks because Aeris leaders and Aerians, in general, are known to be reckless but take it from someone who's been eavesdropping when higher class Venators hold meetings." Her face turns grave, preparing herself to elaborate. "The Golden Thief is a powerful shifter... and shifters happen to hate mortals. It's likely a rebellion on his part, and from what I've gathered, he doesn't have any weaknesses that can make it easier in catching him."
My confidence dwindles. "But everyone has a weakness."
She shrugs. "That's what many assume, except Shifters are a lot harder to catch than a full-fledged dragon. Steel powder doesn't seem to work on the Golden Thief, and neither do ordinary traps..." Her words trail off into thoughtful silence.
I glance back at the poster—at the word 'wanted' embezzled on top, and wonder if I'm way in over my head to think of doing Ivarron's preposition. Perhaps part of me craved the idea of trapping since it's all I've ever known to do from a young age.
"We should head back." Freya exhales. "I'd hate to get you in trouble for arriving late on your first day of training tomorrow."
Looking at her and the innocent smile, I nod though unsure if I'd even nodded in the first place since tomorrow... Tomorrow would be the start of what I'd wanted for years.
A/N
Hey everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story, just a quick reminder that more chapters are up on Wattpad under my username karinav31, and if you want to see sneak peeks or any news on it follow my instagram which is rina.vasq!