Chapter 39: Lord Stormbourne
With the debt collectors and their leader dead, Godric wasted no time in their lair.
He walked past the massacre he’d caused and stepped outside into the damp air of the outskirts.
There was something oddly calming about the thick, smoky, moist air of the outskirts, especially so after being indoors, filled with a heavy scent of metal tinged with the smell of machinery oil.
Godric took a moment to enjoy that change, drawing in a sharp breath of air as he dismissed his weapon.
Despite what just happened, his mind was oddly at ease. There was no remorse, not for animals who preyed on those in need and terrorised them for profit.
No, he was far from it.
If you asked him, scum like that all deserved the same fate.
There was, however, a slight feeling of unease lingering in his heart and as luck would have it, a sudden footstep resounded from his left.
Godric turned to see a man wearing a neatly pressed black suit standing in the rain without an umbrella or care for it.
"You one of them?" Godric asked indifferently, his mind already reaching for the mental command to summon his weapon.
If the man was one of them, then he too needed to die. If not, he was a witness, and even if awakened weren’t ruled by normal laws, killing of this size would most certainly not go unpunished.
The man stood eerily silent, his gaze shifting away from Godric, toward the two dead thugs beside the entrance and finally into the corridor behind him, stretched with dead bodies.
Before the man would answer, a loud sound of sirens cut through the air, clearly rushing in their direction.
Blackpearl materialised in an instant, Godric’s grip already tight as he took a quick step forward and—
"Lord Stormbourne would like to speak with you." The man said calmly as Godric’s weapon stopped just inches short of his throat.
Godric frowned.
’Lord Stormbourne? Leader of House Stormbourne?’
As unexpected as that was, the man standing before him was just as odd.
Even with Godric’s blade coming straight at his throat and barely stopping short of it, the man didn’t flinch. And worst of all was this odd feeling that despite the blade being this close to the man’s throat, it was Godric who was at a disadvantage.
At the same time, six police vehicles charged through the fence gate of the warehouse, jumping out from their cars with guns already in hand.
"Freeze!"
"Hands up!"
Countless commands, mixed with sirens from police vehicles, filled the air, while Godric’s gaze remained locked on the man before him and his eerie stillness.
"Huh? What the—"
"Agh!"
One by one, every police officer dropped their weapons as they melted in their grasp. The sirens of the vehicles behind them were cut short too, as every piece of metal nearby slowly turned to liquid.
Suddenly, Godric felt the rain stop, not naturally, it was as though something had displaced it all at once, and a moment later, wind whipped from in front of him, and the man wearing a suit was gone.
In one blink of an eye, the police standing several meters in front of the warehouse were gone.
Not cut down, or struck down.
They were gone.
A dozen police officers were gone without a trace, and standing where they were with his eerie stillness was a man wearing a suit who turned his gaze back to Godric and spoke in a low voice: "Lord Stormbourne values punctuality."
Godric took a slow, instinctive step back, his grip on the Blackpearl tighter than ever.
He had never seen anyone from the upper tier fight or even move, but in that moment he had a dire realisation that he might’ve witnessed just that.
After a moment of silence, he finally opened his mouth to speak, his throat suddenly dry and his voice a little strained:
"Lead the way."
***
Moments later, Godric was long gone from the outskirts and the massacre that happened in the warehouse. He was sitting at the back of a black armoured vehicle, approaching the inner part of the city, if one could call it that.
Anything beyond the outskirts was considered the inner city, but the area they’d just entered allowed only those from the great houses to enter, with the occasional visit from government officials who came only to receive orders or directions.
Godric had been here before, a very long time before, back when House Blackstar was still among the great houses.
He had more or less an idea where the home of House Stormbourne was. That’s exactly why when the man wearing a suit took a sudden turn left instead of going up the hill in front, Godric raised a brow.
A mistake? Could someone serving or belonging to House Stormbourne take a wrong turn to the house they served?
The next turn was just as wrong, and it was only when the man took a third turn that Godric slowly recognised where he was.
The vehicle stopped a moment later. It stood right in front of towering gates, the sight of them a distant memory in Godric’s head. Behind those tall reinforced gates was a massive building, built with black bricks and decorated with silver ornaments.
The grass in front was cut so neatly it looked as though someone had done it with a pair of scissors rather than grass cutters.
The man exited the vehicle first, while Godric lingered behind for a moment, his gaze staring at the place in complete disbelief.
After that many years, he was back here, back in the place he was born, his family home.
The more important question than the feeling of nostalgia in his heart was why. Why was he back here? Why now?
His heart went hard against his ribs as he exited the vehicle.
Godric slowly lifted his eyes, the way you do when you’re about to look at something you already know, to the crest above the front doors.
There was a name under it.
One that was wrong in every meaning of the word.
House Stormbourne.