Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Eastvale - October 4, 4:38 a.m.
The beauty of having a cell phone was that it was your own personal device, everything sent to and from the phone concerned you. Drinking buddies, needy bosses, and exes begging to restart the relationship could call just to address you.
The cell phone revolved around its owner, you became the center of attention. It made you feel important. Sometimes though, the attention went undesired and the cell phone would ring at the worst of hours.
The cell phone rang. And it kept ringing and ringing.
Fuckers, damn all those drunk dialers, he thought in his sleep, who the fuck calls at...what time is it? He looked down at his watch, 4:39 a.m. He had fallen asleep only an hour ago. The caller was going to pay when he answered, and he wasn't messing around.
This better be important. Damnit, I'm going to have a hangover tomorrow. He grabbed his phone and noticed caller's name "Minette Abbington" in the glaringly bright text. His rage began to subside.
Whenever Minette called, she spoke on behalf of the Queen, and it was an emergency. That was his sole job, to take care of the messes that the royal family had discovered or had gotten themselves into - the serious ones. Or more professionally, he could be called a guardian, a warrior, or better yet - a knight. Queen Helenia had declared him a royal knight and he had trained since childhood to become one.
He smiled, he liked the title "Royal Knight of Eastvale." He liked boasting his status to the alehounds and maidens at local taverns even more.
"Good morning, Overseer," he groaned, trying to remain as positive as possible. He put emphasis on "good."
"Orin Blackwell, I know that this is a terrible hour to call you, especially as you're so young and probably had a fun, lengthy evening..." You bet, lady. Cut to the chase. "But we have urgent news and an urgent task to follow." Good, this better be pretty fucking important.
"Go on," Orin spoke calmly, he hid his grogginess the best he could and all of the anger bottled up from the mixture of lingering alcohol in his system combined with interrupted sleep.
"Please come to the Whitemoor Manor at 7 a.m. for your briefing. Unfortunately, we cannot discuss matters further over the phone." Minette sounded automated, as though the Queen was standing beside her, advising her on what to say to the knight.
7 a.m. 7 A.M. Seriously? The Queen expected him to be as robotic as Minette's voice over the phone, waking up at such a young hour! He hadn't woken up past noon in quite some time, his most recent jobs were night assignments.
"Of course, Overseer. I will be there. And give my regards to our Majesty."
"Will do. Oh - and please wear comfortable traveling clothes when you arrive here. You'll want to dress casual so you blend in with Arborview civilians. You won't have time to change afterward," she added.
"Of course," he mumbled. What the fuck? Why the hell am I going to that small town in the middle of nowhere? Nothing ever happens there. Orin was intrigued but irritated, he would think it all over in the morning.
"Have a good night, Sir Blackwell. I will see you at your briefing shortly." Minette hung up.
With haste, Orin programmed an alarm on his phone set for 6:30 a.m. and slumped into bed. Shit.
Work was work and he had to go, no matter the hour. Emergencies never waited around for you to wake up, to sober up. Plus, this sounded pretty damn important. Well, I better get started on my two hours of sleep. The worst kind of soldier is a tired soldier.
Return to Chapter Four
Continue to Chapter Six
Warning: A bit of foul language.