WW Chapter 78: Introductions Made (Patreon)

Finally being told that Ezra would meet his new charge, he couldn’t help but feel some measure of nervousness. All that he knew about Adonis was that while Ezra himself was seventeen, Adonis was a few years younger. Had Chloe said that he was a few years younger, or that he was fourteen? Ezra couldn’t remember, and he didn’t have any time to continue to think about this. The two men he’d warned about the possibility of a demonic incursion had dutifully recorded the information that Ezra gave, though the way that the Duke set about preparing a half dozen messages to be sent seemed to tell Ezra that he was taking the warning seriously. At least, as seriously as could be expected.

And it hadn’t even required the use of the compel truth spell he’d anticipated.

“Presenting Adonis Brayton, Your Grace,” the servant that had recently left called out, shifting Ezra’s thoughts away from the infernal and other demons.

The door swung open immediately following the servant’s declaration, and Ezra stood at attention, waiting for his new charge to enter. His mind flicked through different possibilities, different things that Chloe had told him he had to do, and he ended up slightly stuck. Since he wasn’t the heir of the Duchy, Adonis had a lower standing than other members of the family. Even so, he was a direct descendant of the Lord, and...

There was no reason to keep thinking about such things right now. Ezra refused to lose himself in thinking such varied things just yet, and instead saluted with his right fist pressed to his chest. He bowed his head for just a moment as the clicking of hard-soled shoes came into the room. He raised his head and looked at his newest assignment.

Adonis was handsome, though, perhaps rather foolishly, Ezra felt that he was at least as good-looking himself. Adonis was narrow-shouldered, with a fine-featured face and full lips. It seemed he had his father’s hair, thick and dark, and he carried himself with confidence, but not like a warrior. A noble, born and bred.

“Lord Father,” Adonis greeted his father elegantly, bringing his right hand up to his chest before bowing smoothly. He stood up and looked into his father’s face, his posture stiff and formal.

“Welcome, my son,” the Duke said, not trying to keep obvious amusement from his tone and face. “May I present to you your new personal bodyguard, Ezra Soldier.”

“I look forward to proving myself trustworthy,” Ezra said, repeating his bow to Adonis.

He felt like there might be something else he was supposed to say, but nothing came to mind. Instead of potentially making a fool of himself, Ezra was content to fall into parade rest and wait for anybody to address him again. It wasn’t long before the Duke stepped forward and urged his son to come up onto the raised platform, where the Duke, Dominick, and, earlier, the Duchess stood.

“Come here,” the Duke commanded, gesturing towards his son. “I don’t see the need for you to stand so far away from me.”

“I need to leave immediately,” Adonis said, his voice smooth, controlled. “After all, I do have my evening lessons, chiefest among them the one that you have so consistently pushed me to apply myself in: dueling.”

Despite the effort he put into controlling his voice, the adolescent boy’s voice cracked on the word “dueling.” His face flushed, but he didn’t stammer or attempt to make any excuses.

“And that is great,” the Duke said, stepping forward and clasping his son’s shoulder. “I simply have little opportunity to see you, with how busy we both have been. If you wish to move along as soon as possible, I won’t stop you. However, if you are amenable to it, I’d like to have some time to speak with you. Just to be with you.”

Something went out of Adonis after that. That formality, that... nobility, Ezra supposed he’d call it, though not positively but with derision. Instead of a stuck-up, self-loving noble, a kid trying to be an adult stood in front of him, and seeing that made a shiver run down Ezra’s spine. He knew how close he was to that same mentality, and he saw the moment where Adonis stopped pretending and let himself be.

“Father, you want this to be my first introduction to a new guard?” Adonis asked, stepping up to stand beside his father. “You’ve always said that so much of power is based on perception, to present myself as more powerful, more in control than I am.”

“And that’s true,” the Duke said. “Regardless of what position you end up in, you will be a leader of men. However, Ezra isn’t some civilian who only knows you as an icon, someone who maybe sees you in person twice a year. He isn’t even one of the guards of this house, who will see you frequently but will treat you as employer, master, and more. 

“Ezra is a man who will, hopefully, end up spending as much time with you as your future spouse does. If he continues to earn your trust, continues to grow more powerful, he will be a lifelong companion, if you continue to earn it. If you manage to convince him to stick around, he’s going to get to know who you are, and starting that introduction off with you posturing and acting like somebody you aren’t isn’t a good way to build any sort of lasting trust. Because every report we’ve heard says that this is a man who’s going to end up as a Knight within the next five to eight years. Before he’s 25.

“Like it or not, that is somebody whose trust you earn through constant effort and genuine care.”

As the Duke spoke, Ezra slowly forgot the kindly man who he had met over the past 24 hours. Instead, in his place stood a ruler, a man who had decades of experience standing over a city of nearly a hundred thousand and dozens of counties, cities, and towns under his less immediate control. The Duke was a man who was trusted by the king to rule over a sizable portion of the nation, one of the most important Duchies that existed. This wasn’t just a gentle older man. This was a man who defended the kingdom against the incursions of everything from the Dragon Wilds, as well as held strong on the northern border against Al’Jibahia.

On top of that, to have a man like that commend Ezra himself so highly had him standing with his shoulders square and a smile threatening to crack his face. Adonis met his father’s eyes and nodded before turning to Ezra.

“I’m sorry, Ezra,” Adonis said, stepping forward with a hand outstretched. “I was trying to make a good impression, and instead I made a bit of a fool of myself. I’m Adonis Brayton, the second son and third child of Duke Brayton. Regardless of any decision you make regarding continuing to be my bodyguard, I’d like to honestly tell you that I never intended to do anything other than fulfill my role as your charge.”

Ezra took his hand, and though he couldn’t feel much detail through his gloves, Adonis’s grip was firm, but his fingers narrow. Another testament to his total inexperience in fighting but also a reminder of his dedication.

“No offense taken,” Ezra nodded. It was, perhaps, the first time he’d ever seen a noble willing to apologize, other than Georg. Any apologies from Aaron didn’t count, since the Count of Villy had only apologized once his own interests were seemingly at risk. In this case, the Duke only needed to make a brief explanation, and Adonis had immediately expressed his apology without regret.

“Now, Father,” Adonis said, turning to the Duke, “I really do need to move along. You know how Jhas gets when I’m late.”

“I know how he was when I was late,” the Duke laughed, gesturing for his son to leave. “I imagine that he remains the same. Go. I hope to see you again sooner rather than later.”

Adonis started to walk towards the door, though he did pause and glance towards Ezra, seemingly uncertain about if he’d somehow managed to entirely alienate the Adept bodyguard. Ezra smiled and followed after him, though he turned to Dominick and confirmed, “I’m not in charge of anybody or any schedules, just making sure that he stays safe, right?”

“Basically,” the Knight smiled. “Accompany him where he goes, and when it gets late enough to retire to sleep, you’ll take your rest in the bodyguard room in the wings of his quarters.”

Ezra saluted and bowed to the Duke before turning and falling in step behind Adonis. His armor clanked as he moved and walked just behind the young man and to his right. As he sized him up, Ezra would say that Adonis was maybe half a head shorter than Ezra when he wasn’t wearing his boots. As they were made for marching and battlegrounds, Ezra’s boots had very thick soles and were made to last for a long time. Adonis, however, wore fancy, shiny black leather shoes.

Now that Ezra was aware of just how nervous Adonis had been about presenting himself, everything about how he was carrying himself seemed to scream insecurity. Since he was, by his own admission, on his way to physically train, he should not have been wearing freshly polished fancy shoes. At least, so far as Ezra knew, since what he wore absolutely was not intended for the dueling grounds. He also wore a well-fitted white buttoned shirt and dark trousers, neither of which seemed well suited for any sort of physical activity.

“So you’re going to dueling practice,” Ezra said, following along behind Adonis. He wasn’t sure if this was necessarily a “proper” thing to do, but given the earnestness of Adonis’s apology, Ezra was more than willing to break the tension. “What are you practicing with? How do you think it’s going?”

“The rapier,” Adonis answered, glancing over his shoulder to see Ezra and seeming to relax just a bit. “I can only say that I don’t enjoy it.”

“Because you prefer a different weapon?” Ezra continued, watching down the hall to see if there was anything that could potentially pose a threat to the younger, unprotected man. He couldn’t imagine there would be anything in the Duke’s property, but he supposed there was still a reason for him to have the responsibility, no matter how unlikely it was that he’d need to uphold it.

“No, because I hate dueling,” Adonis grumbled. “I don’t like fighting, and even though Jhas is a good instructor, I don’t like any part of learning to use a weapon.”

“What do you prefer to do then?” Ezra asked.

“Mathematics, study history, and continued study of ancient and foreign languages.” The answer came to Adonis’s lips immediately, without hesitation. “However, as I have shown very little talent in the way of sorcery or divine magic, it has been decided that, for my own good, I must practice with a weapon for at least an hour every day.”

“You choose to read books?” Ezra asked, raising his eyebrows. “Takes a special sort to like that.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Adonis shrugged with a wry chuckle, “anybody choosing to get their eyes blackened on a regular basis just for fun is an even more... special sort.”

Ezra laughed as he idly touched at the bruising that he knew remained under his eyes.

“I can’t say that you’re wrong about that, Master Adonis.”

“Don’t pull that ‘Master’ foolishness with me,” Adonis shook his head. “My father was right about needing to treat you as an equal, and beyond that, I’d much rather treat you like a person like we have been until now instead of suddenly becoming formal. I get enough formality from everybody else in my life.”

“If that’s what you prefer, so be it,” Ezra answered. “How was it with Mikhail before? He seems pretty stuffy to me, but he’s also my superior and we’ve been somewhat at odds with each other for the past... since I got here.”

“He’s generally a prick, and I hate him,” Adonis scoffed. “I made no secret of it and of my role in ousting him as my bodyguard. I don’t trust a man who’ll advocate for the weakening of the power that protects nearly a million citizens in this duchy alone.”

Ezra didn’t keep himself from laughing as they continued down the hallway. A pair of maids started to exit a room ahead of them, heard Adonis’s voice, and, after turning and verifying his identity, saw where they were and fell into a bow. Adonis waved off their greeting as the two men continued to walk past. Despite being relatively sure that they were harmless, the new charge as a bodyguard got into Ezra’s head, and he wondered if they could be assassins.

“It’s another mark in your favor that you don’t seem to hold a high opinion of him,” Adonis said, drawing closer to a door that obviously was where they were moving towards and just as obviously didn’t want to walk through.

“Is this our destination?” Ezra asked, gesturing towards the door and stepping forward, pulling himself out of his paranoia.

“Yes,” Adonis sighed.

Ezra nodded and reached forward, opening the door without any further ado. As he pulled it open, a distinct pressure greeted him, though it wasn’t strictly aural pressure. Feeling the strangeness, Ezra frowned, putting an arm out in front of Adonis. Then, pulling his axe out and taking it in his right hand, he peered into the room. Nobody appeared to be present, as far as he could tell, which made it even more suspicious.

The room they arrived at was, evidently, the practice room where Adonis would be practicing with the blade. Instead of a sand pit, though, it was a carpeted floor with deep scuffs decorating the scarlet upholstery. A series of training dummies and practice weapons lined one wall, windows lined another, and several doors were scattered through the room.

“Hello?” Ezra called out as he stepped forward. He pushed his aura throughout his body to be as fast as he could, which was when a door to his left opened. From it came the origin of the pressure, he knew, even before he could see who it was.

Through the door walked... something. Something strange.

Instead of regular skin, the individual’s face was craggy, almost like a pine tree with its bark flaking off. Between the cracks came a faint glow, and it wore a tight-fitted doublet over a shirt with a loose neck and sleeves. That same faint glow came out from beneath the sleeves, and it carried a sheathed blade in its hand. The face was generally masculine, with hair the same pale brown of a dried sandy creekbedstanding in unruly tufts.

Its glowing skin and strange aura was enough to convince Ezra of what he was seeing.

“Fuck! Infernal!” Ezra called out, bursting forward and swinging his axe in an overhead swing. He knew he would be no match for one of the creatures that could easily stand against a Pseudo-Knight, so he could only make the first attack. His yooperlite axe head flared with his aura, but the Infernal reacted faster than he expected. The sheathed rapier blade in its hand flashed from the scabbard and was wreathed in aura, which struck heavily against Ezra’s axe’s head.

“Welcome, new guard,” the infernal said with a strangely sonorous, smooth voice. “Calm yourself.”

Ezra raised his blade, only stopping as Adonis behind him called out, “Ezra! Stop! That’s Jhas. Haven’t you met an illiar before?”