The Chatelaine - Part 2

Christian was crossed throughout the journey. He wondered why the old man would delegate such a trifling mission to him.

“Remember, Christian. This is not an individual mission. Dammit. I want you in a group,” said the guild master or better known as the old man.
Christian looked about the bare room. It consisted of nothing but a huge oak table and matching chairs of eight that surrounded it. Meetings were usually held in here, seats customarily given to the elders and higher ranked. Distracted, he had not heard single word.
“Are you listening to me, Christian?” The old man slammed his fist on the table in a fit of exasperation. “I'm not joking. This is an important assignment.”
“Important? What is? All we have to do is to retrieve some unknown girl from some god forsaken mansion, right?” Christian raised an eyebrow. “Who's the chit anyway?”
“Get the girl and then I'll tell you, you lazy ass.”
“Why do I have the oddest feeling that I'm being cheated?” Christian said and left the room.
Now who to pick?
Christian was sitting before a roaring fire in the lounge, sipping a mug of ale. The huge notice board beside the door was almost empty now; save for his newly posted recruitment and some remaining ones. Christian had joined the guild years ago, and was placed under the tutelage of the old man. They were a mercenary guild called the “Graveyard” - a highly repellant name and hired to do miscellaneous work – regardless of how dirty it was. From assassination to soldiering to a bodyguard of a blasted noble. They weren't given the appellation 'greedy mercenaries' for nothing. Anything, as long as the gold was good.
“Hey you.”
Christian looked up from the hearth to the man standing beside him. “Can I help you?”
“You looking for a comrade?”
Christian eyed the young man carefully. He looked like he was in his late teens. Brown sandy hair, defiant blue eyes and a slim frame. What surprised Christian most was the hammer he was nonchalantly carrying. As if it weighed nothing but a piece of turkey leg to him. Amazing.
“Yes, I think you'd do,” he extended a hand. “The name's Christian by the way.”
The young man took his hand graciously into a shake. “Shane.”

“You're from Illnois, huh?” said Christian, as they walked through the town. The place was teeming with merchants, vendors, dancers and raconteurs.
“Yes.”
Yes? That's all you have to say? Assuming that he does not want to talk about his past, Christian quickly flitted to another topic. “So, what made you join a guild?”
Shane stared at Christian as if he was the dumbest being on earth. What else? “Food, money, a bunk to rest. Just like the lot of you.”
“I see.”
“How about you then?” Shane looked at him inquiringly.
“I was taken in by the master years ago, being homeless and all. And here I am. A veteran mercenary with a stomach for ale and an irritating disposition that could send even the master to an early grave.”
Having recognized his favourite fruit vendor, Christian stopped and bought two apples for two copper pieces. One of it, he stuffed into his mouth and the other he tossed to Shane. For some very odd reason, Christian found Shane's expression to be unnerving – a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
“Listen, you better not be jumping to conclusions. I'm only 23 and clearly, not old enough to be your dad.”
“What? How did you know what I was thinking of?” Shane replied, as if his mind violated.
“Because everything's written blatantly on your face.”
They bought dried meats, crackers and a bag of potatoes for the journey and their canteens were re-filled with fresh water from a rivulet just right out the village's boundary. The old man wanted a party and he had gotten one but Christian was pretty sure that the old man's idea of a group comprises of more than two person. But what can he do about it? No one else had signed up for this excursion, besides Shane.
“Who's this girl we're about to break out?” Shane asked.
They were travelling northward from the village, the only path to the abandoned mansion and the much said enchanted forest. It has been foretold long ago that forests dwellers have no kindness for human beings and once a mortal enters the forest, they will never see the light of the day again.
“Heck, I too wish I knew the answer to that. That geezer refused to disclose anything about her.”
“Not even her age?”
“Nope. Not even that.”
Dusk was settling below the horizon, leaving streaks of orange across the firmament. There was nothing but tufts of grass, acacia and bushes on either side of the road. Still no sign of any sheer wood forest.
“Guess we'll camp out here for the night. I'm sure you're pooped after walking several hours without a break.” said Christian as he dumped his knapsack to the ground.
“Yeah. I guess you're right.”
“And besides, we're much safer sleeping rather than walking in this pitch blackness,” Christian picked some dried bough and set about the fire.
“Why is that?”
“I guess you didn't know? This place isn't entirely deserted and you can thank the bandits for that.”