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  Chapter 10

  With all the trouble he had seen in the last two days, Rommus decided to bring a sword with him this time. This one was his favorite, wide and well-balanced; better than any he ever saw in the army. People were allowed to carry swords in Medora, but it was looked down upon in the cities, and a soldier in a bad mood might take out his frustrations on someone who so openly disobeyed the law?albeit unofficial and unwritten. He knew that no soldier would bother him though, since he was son of the General. In addition to a sword, he carried the axe he had made for the Nobleman, which he intended to deliver before he saw Mirra.

  He turned a corner and started his decent down the street leading to Mirra's, hoping she was home. She had probably slept the better part of the day away, so there was no telling if she was still there or not. It could be very boring to not leave the house all day and all night, and he thought she might have gone to visit a friend or maybe her mother. That thought made him think about what he was going to do to entertain Alana while she stayed at his house. He didn't want her to suffer any boredom either.

  He passed the Emperor's Hall and waved to the guards standing in the shadows of the great columns. They looked at him and then to each other, but they did not respond. Rommus had forgotten that Gerik had been standing guard there since before sunrise, and was probably sound asleep in his bed by now. These guards had no idea who was waving to them. He felt silly and decided to try not to wave at anyone anymore if he could avoid it.

  After passing the massive Hall, he entered Pike's Row, where most of the Nobles lived. Unlike most houses in Brinn, most of which were connected to each other on straight streets, these houses were larger and separated, on one of the curved roads surrounding the Emperor's Hall. The men who lived there were wealthy enough to light their homes at night like the temples, and did it often to flaunt their affluence. Rommus walked up to the second house and knocked gently on the door. After a long silence the door opened. A fat man stood inside glaring out at him.

  "I'm sorry to come so late, sir, but I have finished the axe you requested."

  "This was supposed to be finished yesterday. And how dare you knock on this door after dark, Tirinius?"

  "You're mistaken sir. Today is the right day, and I informed you that I would be coming after dark more than a week ago." The expression on the man's face made Rommus think that maybe he made a habit of drinking sour milk before bed.

  "Don't you dare take that tone with me, boy. I can call my guards if you are in the mood to run your mouth," the man said as he violently wagged a finger in front of Rommus's face.

  "I don't think that's necessary, sir. I'll be on my way if you would just give me my two gold pieces."

  The man rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Wait here," he said before slamming the door in Rommus's face. Rommus waited patiently, taking the opportunity to check the shadows for any possible attackers. The door opened again, and the fat man held out his meaty palm for his axe.

  Rommus handed the axe to the man. "Here you are sir, I'm sure it's everything you expected."

  After inspecting it briefly, the man threw the two gold coins out into the street. "There you are Tirinius. Go find your coins. Crawl in the streets like some worthless beggar." He laughed a deep and rumbling laugh before slamming the door a final time. His booming laugh could be heard through the thick door for quite a while.

  Rommus desperately wished he could have punched the man and taught him a lesson, but such a man was too powerful for things like that. Even though Rommus was the son of the General, and close to all those in the Emperor's Hall, he could not commit such a crime and go unpunished. Surely an example would have to be made of him, so he avoided offending people; especially people of stature. He shook his head, took a deep breath and went to pick up the coins. Luckily the fat man's plot had failed and they were easy to spot, and he was able to pick them up before some thief could emerge from the shadows and claim them. He couldn't believe how rude the man was to him. There was just no reason for it, especially since he was considerate to everyone he encountered. Most people either ignored him or made quiet comments behind his back, but to be so blatantly rude was totally inconceivable to him. To Rommus, it seemed like so much more work to be so discourteous, and he simply could not fathom the need for it.

  Normally his rage would be boiling and he would have to fight to restrain it, but tonight he felt in good spirits. He wasn't going to let this rude Nobleman shatter his mood when he almost never felt this way. Try as he may, he couldn't think of the reason for his uncommon cheer. He eventually came to the conclusion that it was probably for helping Alana earlier in the day. He wondered about her and hoped that she was feeling all right and that she wasn't bored. He was also concerned that she might be having a hard time dealing with killing those men earlier in the day. For some people, it haunted them for the rest of their lives.

  He was surprised to feel a cool raindrop touch his skin. He remembered that only moments before there were just a few clouds stretching across the sky, allowing the bright stars to send their rays to the ground. He looked up, expecting to see them, but instead saw dark clouds racing in from the east, swiftly covering them with an inky curtain of mist. The raging clouds above him boiled violently, and he was reminded of a feeling he had not long before. He couldn't remember exactly what it was, so he assumed it was a forgotten dream. Judging from the dread it conjured, he thought it was more likely a forgotten nightmare.

  A few fat drops of rain fell to the cobblestone as the city grew darker. A major storm was coming, and he all of a sudden felt very uncomfortable about it. He turned the corner to the road leading to Mirra's and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

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