Midsentence, Jacques is interrupted by a loud banging on Isaac’s cottage door. Jacques’ guard rose up, hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘Wait. We’ll see who it is.’ Isaac hurries over to the door, and opens it slowly. Jacques looks around and sees an extremely surly looking man, stout and with a mangy beard. His eyes are a dull shade of crimson, his nose throbbing with blood vessels. He looks as though he spends way too much time with ale in his hand. The foul stench of stale alcohol fills the small cottage quickly, as the squat drunk marches inside. Jacques takes an educated guess at who this individual might be. None other than Isaac’s father, Atar.
‘Now what do you think you’re doing, Isaac? You were supposed to be working today. I had to get up myself to serve the customers! Is this any way to treat your father?’ His bulging red eyes scan the room, immediately locking onto Isaac’s guests.
‘Don’t think I didn’t know about the grand entrance this Arcanian made in my tavern. He is not to be anywhere near my son!’ He waves his fist threateningly in the direction of Jacques, he continues his rant.
‘If I see you here again, the town guards will have something to say about it! Now Isaac, be a good boy and get back to the inn. There is ale to be served!’ Thoroughly unamused, Jacques rises to his full height. He towers roughly a foot above Isaac’s father, and the very atmosphere seemed to turn completely frigid.
‘Isaac is fulfilling a royal duty, as declared by Councilman Brahm, one of the King’s eight high representatives in the kingdom of Harkon. If you interfere with this duty, you will be reprimanded.’ The bravado that Atar entered with now seemingly scampers off like a frightened mouse before a lion.
‘Erm, well…. Where’s your proof?! Why would the Councilman be interested in my son?’ Expecting such a response, Jacques turns to Isaac, looking at him expectantly.
‘You know that scroll I gave you? Now is the time to read it. And please Isaac, do read out the document clearly. I would hate for your father here to misunderstand the severity of the situation he has just talked himself into.’ Slowly, Isaac spreads the scroll out on his desk. After clearing his throat nervously, he begins reciting the scroll’s contents.
‘“As per order of Councilman Brahm, Isaac is now employed by the royal office of the Kingdom. His first official assignment is to record the life story of Jacques the Arcanian and present it before the King. It is punishable by any means Councilman Brahm sees fit should someone without the authority attempts to interfere with this task. This binding contract of employment is non-negotiable and takes place immediately.”’ Deathly silence fills the room, as both Isaac and his father begin to take in what just happened.
‘… I’m now a royal scholar…’ A quivering Isaac whispers to himself. This thought creates both great joy and fear for the now trembling Isaac.
‘… Punishable by any means seen fit…’ A fearful Atar whispers to himself. Defeated, Atar backs away to the door.
‘Everyone in this town will know about this! I will make damn sure of it. Do not think you will get away, Arcanian!’
‘And if they do become aware of this conversation said the Arcanian, we will know who told them.’ Jacques begins taking slow and deliberate steps forward, Atar to retreat even further.
‘In fact, I think you’re too much of a risk for us to take. Guard, arrest this man!’ Quickly striding to the door, the guard wrestles the wretched innkeeper to the ground. Acting on sheer terror, Isaac quickly tackles the guard from behind. Taken by surprise, Jacques lets out an angry shout.
‘What are you doing?!’ Before Isaac knows it, Jacques pulls him off the guard and his father is gone. Turning back, Jacques looks on Isaac with some sort of disgust in his eyes.
‘Why are you letting that pathetic drunk intimidate you like that? You realize that you’ve put this entire project at risk?!’ Despite Jacques’ fierce stare, Isaac remains as quiet as falling snow. Jacques and the guard simply stand there, waiting for him to say something.
‘… This is both the best and worst day of my life. I will be the first of my family to leave this village, and to think that I’m now a royal scholar… But, my father is going to hate me for this…’ Shaking his bald head, Jacques begins walking out the door.
‘Why are you so desperate for the approval from your father?’ Jacques sighs at him. Nothing more is said as Jacques disappears into the bright day, followed by Brahm’s guard.
Returning to their camp, Brahm is keen to hear more of what transpired. While at first he is jolly, he can sense a storm brewing in the atmosphere, quickly spoiling his mood.
‘You’re back early, seeing as though the sun is still up. Did something happen?’
‘It seems that our guess was exactly right. Isaac’s father is naught but a sad and lazy drunk, using his son purely for the sake of having an employee he doesn’t have to pay and willing to accept terrible working conditions. He was going to interrupt our session as we had predicted. I had Isaac read out the employment document. He knows he can’t interfere with that. However, it appears that he’s fully aware of our… incident at the tavern.’
Brahm’s eyes widen, realising that this could have some grave consequences. While racking his brain for solutions, Brahm inquires further.
‘What sort of a man is he? We might be able to devise a way to stop him if we know what he might do…’
‘In addition to the previously mentioned attributes, he is a coward. He knows there will be punishment should he open his mouth. So, he’s most likely to hide somewhere and spread word about me as secretly as possible.’
‘Why did you simply let him walk away when you knew that he was going to cause such trouble for us later? And how did Isaac react to his employment?’
‘Firstly, I had attempted to do just that, but Isaac actually interrupted. Secondly, I am not sure yet. He seemed to be in a state of shock when I left. I do not understand his loyalty to that pathetic man, even if he happens to be Isaac’s father.’ Understanding Jacques’ ignorance, Brahm enlightens him.
‘It relates back to Harkonian superstition, quite common in these towns along the border. It is a commonly held belief that if you treat your parents poorly, they will come back to haunt you for the rest of your life. While it may or may not be true, it’s a superstition that holds a fair bit of power. As for Isaac’s actions during this whole commotion... Well, what can we do? It would be best to take him away from this place, I think.’
‘I’ve met actual ghosts. They do not become ghosts from something so petty.’’ Raising his hand, Brahm signals him to stop speaking.
‘Enough already. I know you’ve seen some strange things, but I’m just informing you of why he’s behaving that way. You’re going to have to take it up with him and tell him why it’s absurd to think that, not me. For now, we have to discuss plans in case words get out about an Arcanian being in this town…’ Brahm is right, of course, leading Jacques’ thoughts away from ghosts and towards how they might protect themselves from the potential danger looming over the horizon.
‘It would look poor to the other nobles if you had to fight your way out of here… Come to think of it, is there any reason why we should stay here?’
‘Well, Isaac is drafted now. We could take him with us to continue recording your story while on the road. I think that would be our best solution for now. We need a day or two to pack up before setting out.’
The very next day, Jacques returns with the same guard in tow. Knocking heavily on the door, Jacques waits impatiently. There is no response.
‘Isaac, are you there?’ This time, Jacques opens the door, making the aged hinges groan. They are greeted by the sight of a miserable looking Isaac, slumping in one of his tiny wooden chairs.
‘Isaac. Are you ready to continue?’ Seemingly with little interest, Isaac picks up his head groggily.
‘I have to do it, don’t I? It’s a command from a Councilman himself… So, I guess we shall continue this… misadventure. However, I wish to tal
k to the Councilman about this arrangement when I get an opportunity…’ Though he is obviously reluctant, still Isaac rises from his chair, dumping himself in front of his writing desk wearily.
‘Continue.’ He commands curtly. Remembering what Brahm had told him, Jacques attempts to speak with Isaac.
‘I know why you’re so afraid of displeasing your father. I can’t really understand it, but I’m afraid that you’ll just have to take a leap of faith here. Believe me, ghosts don’t choose specific targets to haunt. I’ve met them before.’
Shooting up from his slumped position, Isaac begins listening intently.
‘Really? You have met actual ghosts, Jacques? Where, and when?’ Smiling to himself, Jacques quickly seizes this fresh opportunity to invoke Isaac’s curiosity.
‘Ah, I see this subject has stirred some interest in you. But before I tell you about that, we have to get there in my story first. So, are you ready, Isaac the newly commissioned Royal Scholar?’ With renewed energy, Isaac quickly dips his quill in a fresh vial of ink.
‘When you are ready, so am I. Talk, Jacques.’