Chapter 652: A Bitter Pill (Part Two)
"Stop that," Erkembalt said, reaching over to thump the Dark Feathered sorcerer on the back of his feathered head. He knew that his friend had invoked the founder’s art to peer into the future for a glimpse of the young Frost Walker’s fate when they debated about whether he should be freed from his curse or not, but the artificer had long ago turned away from the mysteries of the heavens and the words of fallen oracles.
More importantly, he was afraid of the price his old friend would have to pay if he gained a reputation as a man who could divine destiny or peer into the events of untold tomorrows. Each use of such forbidden sorcery carried with it a cost that must be borne by the sorcerer and one look at his friend’s dark, murderous aura even in the midst of the celebrations taking place should be enough for anyone with eyes to see it to understand that Aspakos had already paid far too great a price for the secrets he’d divined.
"Save the mysterious predictions for the festival booth where you read palms and cards for any fool with a few silver coins to rub together," Erkembalt said with a dismissive snort. "Even I can tell that the lad’s future is bright," the artificer said, trying to lighten the mood that had grown heavy after his friend spoke. "Don’t go sounding like you have some special gift to foretell the future when you’re predicting things that anyone with fingers and toes could calculate to know."
"Haha, then don’t mind me," Aspakos said, swallowing the last of the dark red wine in his goblet before turning back to Lady Nyrielle as she called for quiet once again. "After all, what do I know? It’s just as you say, the young lad is talented and determined and men with such qualities are often destined for great things."
Around the table, several people blinked in surprise, wondering if it was really as simple as Erkembalt and Aspakos made it sound. After all, Hauke possessed a rare iridescent horn, so it shouldn’t be a stretch to say he would have a grand destiny, and joining Ashlynn’s coven would only propel him to greater heights. Maybe it really was that simple.
Before anyone at the table could ask any questions, however, Ritchel stood up and bowed deeply toward Lady Nyrielle, lowering his horn until its tip pointed at the ground before he straightened up to speak.
"Your Eternity," he began formally. "Your Dominion. I may no longer be the Lord of the High Pass, but from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your pledge of protection for my people. Already, your words have saved many lives," he said, echoing Ipiktok’s earlier statement. Perhaps it was the wine in his own cup, or the joyous mood of an evening filled with impossible seeming unions, but tonight, he could even put aside years of bitterness and hatred to borrow the Tuscan’s words when the man spoke the truth.
"So I thank you both, and I thank my son as well," Ritchel added, turning to face Hauke and lowering his horn once again. "Thank you, Hauke, for doing what I couldn’t and carving out a path for our people to thrive once more."