Bloodflowers Bloom (The Astral Wanderer Book 2) by D'Artagnan Rey (i am reading a book txt) 📗

boy remarked with a smug grin and glanced at their leader. “Are we off now?”

“Aye, to the Red Wolves Den,” Wulfsun stated. “It’s a tavern in the city where we are meeting our contact.”

“The lord?” Devol asked.

The Templar shook his head. “One of his bodyguards or something is gonna meet us and give us a briefing before we head to the boss. It’s a safety procedure.”

“Do they think the Templar would have reason to threaten his life?” Asla asked as the group began to walk down the large flight of stairs to the bottom of the station and onto the road to the interior of the city.

“Nah. Many may not be thrilled with us but I don’t think most believe us to be malicious, merely fools at worst,” Wulfsun stated. “Not this fellow, though. Still, people in his position can be paranoid. It could be there are some who have targeted him and he merely wants to cover his bases.”

“How will we recognize the contact?” Devol asked.

The Templar felt in one of his satchels and retrieved a golden coin with the Templar insignia. “She’s holding a table for us in a private room. When we arrive, we show her this coin to prove we are the Templars her lord sent for.”

The boy nodded and shifted his gaze to take in the sight of Levirei. It was not the size of Monleans but it was still a large, beautiful city. The central spires of the council building gleamed under the sunlight and the sun inched closer to the mountains in the distance. It would be dark soon and by that time, they might be in battle. He placed a hand on the hilt of his majestic. Even if he had an idea of what they were going against, they still had no real clue where it came from and what it was. That would not change his mind now, but as they drew closer to facing it, anxious anticipation began to gnaw at him.

Wulfsun opened the door to the Red Wolves Den, where they were greeted by the sight of large tables around which tradesmen, adventurers, and guards drank and dined, talking amongst each other. Lit dark metal chandeliers swung above. The group was dressed and armed better than most of the patrons there and so turned a few heads, but the one who drew most of the attention was the giant armored Templar who strode through, looking around for assistance.

“Welcome to Red Wolves,” a barkeep shouted they turned to approach him. “What can I get you, sir? No alcohol for the young ones.”

“Well, there goes my evening,” Jazai quipped quietly and drew a chuckle from Devol.

Wulfsun leaned over the bar and his large arms almost slid off. “I’m looking for…Farah Malik. She should have a private room waiting for us.”

The man nodded and beckoned to a hovering waitress. “Indeed. She got here a while ago. Follow Abby. She’ll take you to the room.”

“This way, sir,” the short, blonde woman called to them over the loud conversations. Wulfsun nodded and gestured for the others to follow. They ascended the stairs of the tavern and walked into a short hall, where two guards stood watch and turned their heads to look at them.

“Good evening. This group is here for Ms. Malik.” Abby said and motioned to the team.

“Identification?” one of the guards asked coldly as he turned fully toward them to block their path. Wulfsun produced the coin and handed it to him. He checked it carefully, then nodded at his comrade and Wulfsun. “She’s waiting inside. Thank you for arriving on such short notice.”

“When weird things happen…well, it is our job to deal with them.” The Templar chuckled, took the coin, and placed it securely in his satchel. The other guard opened the door while the first one resumed his original position. They let them pass and enter the room.

The interior was rather sparse but cozy with a nicer round table than those below and a couple of paintings of Levirei hanging on the wall. On the table were plates of meat, cheeses, and fruits, a large container of ale, and two pitchers of different juices.

At the far side of the table sat a woman in a silver chest plate with a red silk shirt beneath. She had white hair bound in a small ponytail, her skin was tanned, and she had piercing hazel eyes with curved oil markings on the side. Her chin rested on her hands as she studied the group when they all walked in and took seats on the opposite side of the table.

“Farah Malik?” Wulfsun asked and placed a hand on his chest plate. “Baio Wulfsun. I’m one of the captains of the Templar Order.” He raised a hand to gesture toward Devol and his friends. “These are my soldiers, Devol, Asla, and Jazai.”

“They seem quite young to be Templars,” Farah noted, her voice calm but frank. “Or to be handling a mission such as this.”

“I have a feeling this will be a long discussion,” Asla muttered quietly, almost to herself, but Devol caught it and nodded. He had the same feeling himself.

“They are young but they have proven themselves skilled enough to be here,” Wulfsun replied, his tone firm. “Besides, what your lord is paying for is me.”

The woman nodded. “I’ll take you at your word, Captain. I can see they all have majestics so they have to be skilled enough to wield those, at least.”

“Do you have one?” Devol asked and looked curiously at her garb to see if anything stood out.

She shook her head, reached under the table, and produced a sword in a scabbard. “I do not but my exotic can stand up to any majestic.”

“I’m sure it can,” Jazai commented, reading his tome. He felt a glare from Asla and turned to look at her. “What? I’m serious. According to her memories, she has fought against majestics and won a couple of times too.”

“Are you reading my mind?” Farah