Isekai'd Into The Wrong World-Chapter 112: Ch - The City

Ryan leaped out of bed.

He crossed to the door and pushed it shut. A bit harder than he had meant to, the latch catching with a sharp click. He stood with his hand still on the handle, breathing.

The corridor beyond was silent.

He let go slowly.

I closed it last night. He was sure of it.

He stood in the middle of his room for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, the early dark still heavy outside the window. His thoughts were moving too fast for this hour.

He wanted to slow them down.

He crossed to the window and looked out at the inner ward below. It was as empty as before, the torches were still burning, the garden still a dark mass travelling the center of the ward. He couldn’t see movement anywhere.

He turned from the window.

He lowered himself to the floor beside the bed. The boards were cool even through his clothes. He rested his back against the front of the bed, legs folded upon each other, hands loose on his thighs.

Breath in.

Out.

The room settled around him. He felt his senses become clearer, he heard a faint creak from the frame above, the soft whisper of fabric as he stilled. His shoulders dropped a little. Then a bit more.

A warmth came into his mouth, and then settled low in his chest.

His fingers twitched once, then went still.

The warmth moved in, as steady as his breathing, tracing the same quiet paths it always did.

He continued for a while but tried to stay cognisant of the time, he didn’t want to miss breakfast. The mana moved in slowly but steadily.

By the time he had opened his eyes the room had changed. The deep dark of four in the morning had thinned to something greyish, and at the far edge of the sky beyond the window, just above the treeline, a thin line of red was beginning to separate the black from itself.

Nearly six, he guessed. Close enough.

His eyes then went to the door, making sure it was still closed. It was.

He sat for a moment longer, then stood, stretched his back out, and crossed to the basin. The water was cold, properly cold. If he wasn’t completely awake before, he was now. He splashed it on his face, washed his hands and dried them on the cloth beside the basin, he then pulled on his boots.

He was hungry.

He opened his door and stepped out into the corridor.

The third floor looked entirely different from last night. The narrow window at the far end caught the red/orange light of sunrise and lit up the corridor.

There was no creeping this time, it was morning time, if he woke someone up, it’s fine. He walked at a normal pace, his footsteps loud on the creaky floorboards.

He passed by the black door without looking at it.

Down the stairs to the second floor, and as he passed the library he glanced through the gap in the door.

Eleanor was in there, sitting at one of the reading tables with a book open in front of her, dressed ready for the day.

"Hey," Ryan said.

She looked up. "Good morning."

Ryan pushed the library door open and dropped into the chair across from her. The book in front of her showed a diagram of a mage mid-cast, energy radiating outward in sharp jagged lines.

"What are you reading?"

"It’s about mages, lightning mages." She turned a page without looking up. "I’ve been curious about the affinity."

"A lightning mage? Have you ever met one?"

"No."

"Really?" Ryan leaned forward slightly. "Are they rare?"

"Nearly as rare as light mages." She glanced at him. "The affinity is very unpredictable. It can skip generations, shows up without warning. And from what I can tell, the element itself is extraordinarily difficult to control. Most lightning mages spend years just trying not to hurt themselves before they can do anything useful with it, it’s the only affinity dangerous to the user as well as others."

"Sounds bad," Ryan said.

Eleanor closed the book. "It’s not great, but can be powerful." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

They sat for a moment in the quiet library, the morning light coming in through the tall windows, the chandelier above them was burning down to its last hour of necessity.

Ryan’s stomach made a decision on his behalf.

"Food?" he said.

Eleanor was already standing.

They marched downstairs and found Adrian in the entrance hall, he was moving through it quickly. He saw them coming and inclined his head.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well."

"Well enough," Ryan said, thinking back to the open door. "We were looking for breakfast."

"Ah." Adrian folded his hands in front of him. "Breakfast is not a formal arrangement here, I’m afraid—the family tends to take the morning meal privately, in their rooms, if at all." A brief pause. "That said, if you would like something prepared, I would be very happy to have the kitchen put something together for you. It would be no trouble whatsoever."

"Anything would be great," Ryan said.

"Wonderful. If you’d like to take a seat in the dining room, I’ll have something sent through shortly."

The dining room was quiet at this hour, the long table cleared of yesterday’s settings. The curtains had been opened, allowing the morning light in.

Ryan and Eleanor sat at one end of it and waited, and Adrian was as good as his word —a servant appeared within ten minutes carrying a wide wooden board loaded with an assortment that made Ryan sit up straight. Cured meats sliced thin, three kinds of cheese, bread, still warm from the oven, something in a pot, that turned out to be butter.

Ryan ate without talking for a while, which felt like the right approach.

James arrived next, drawn presumably by the smell of food, dropping into a chair and reaching for the bread before he’d properly sat down. He looked at the board with a joyful expresson.

Jared came in shortly after, still buttoning his cuff, and pulled up a chair beside his brother. The four of them worked through the platter with the easy quiet of people who had shared enough meals together not to need to perform at breakfast.

The door opened again.

William came in looking slightly less energetic than his usual self, his hair not entirely sorted, his shirt quite raggedy. He stopped when he saw the platter, brightened somewhat and then took the chair beside Ryan.

"Someone was stamping around on the third floor thirty minutes ago," he said, reaching for the cheese. "Woke me up."

"Sorry," Ryan said.

William looked at him. "Was that you?"

Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, should’ve been a bit quieter."

William considered this, and decided the apology was acceptable. He then took a large piece of bread.

James looked at him across the table. "You said something at lunch about showing us the city."

William’s expression shifted immediately into awake mode. "Yes. I was going to, if you would like." He looked around the table. "Do you want to go today?"

"After this, if you can," Jared said, gesturing at the platter.

"After this," William agreed.

They finished the board between them and pushed back their chairs.

William quickly went upstairs, presumably to his room. When he came back down he had sharpened up, now wearing a buttoned up coat.

The garrison sat in the inner ward, a long, medium-height building against the south wall of the inner ward, the Blackwood banner above its door. William led them into it without hesitation. He knocked twice and then pushed it open without waiting for an answer, which suggested this was normal behaviour on his part. Inside, was about thirty soldiers, all in various states of morning readiness—some in full armour, some still pulling it on, some taking it off, but all of them straightened when William walked in.

After asking who would be able to bring them to the city, and receiving a room of hands raised, he picked four guards to go with them.

They crossed back through the inner gatehouse and into the outer ward, the morning light up bright now, the castle coming alive around them—servants started to leave their homes in the outer ward and move into the inner, the blacksmith’s hammer was already going at it from somewhere inside the inner ward. The stables ran along the outer wall, long and low, the smell of horses and hay reaching them well before the doors.

William spoke to the stable hand at length about which carriage, a conversation that involved more negotiation than Ryan had expected. Eventually a decorated and covered carriage was brought around, dark-lacquered just like the ones they had came here in, the Blackwood tree on the door.

The four soldiers mounted up alongside it.

William climbed in first, already talking about the cathedral, and the rest followed in.

The carriage rolled out through the outer gate and down the hill toward the city, the morning sun coming in through the window on Ryan’s side, warming his face.