He had a lot of questions and thoughts racing through his mind.

But he was brought back to reality when he felt his slightly warm damp skin, turn cold.

The Ghost had perceived the woman as a threat and was possibly preparing to evoke Magik. Sentient or not, his thought process was more similar to a beast rather than a human’s.

“Don’t”, Beowulf projected his thoughts towards the leopard.

[Beowulf. Do not turn your head or gaze towards my direction.]

It was entirely possible she didn’t know that the Ghost and Beowulf were related to each other.

“Don’t evoke Magik here, you’ll only end up escalating the situation”, he looked at the woman again, who was now in the middle of a conversation with the clerk. “She hasn’t tried anything so far, we should leave as well”.

The Ghost stayed silent for a moment.

[....Understood.]

Azlan could feel the cold dissipate slowly.

Relived to a degree, he made an exit from the bathhouse.

---------------------------------

[What are your thoughts? Do you really think she could see me?]

He asked as Beowulf was disposing his old clothes in a large communal garbage can situated near the chief’s manor.

“If she was just another woman, I could think that she just looked at you by mere chance. But there’s something about her that makes me conclude otherwise”, Beowulf conveyed his thoughts.

He noticed there was something slightly different about Beowulf’s behavior ever since he had encountered the woman, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

[...Leaving me aside, I think you should stay away from her as much as possible.]

“Why only I?” he asked, done with the disposal.

[I cannot deduce the reason as it stands. There is something...]

“No use worrying about things you don’t understand or observations you’re not sure of”, he turned his head towards chief rufous’ residence. “For now, I will worry about what I am sure of”.

[And what is that?...]

“That tonight will turn out to be a tiring, noisy night”, he explained as they moved towards the gates of the huge manor.

The guard standing on his post outside the gates seemed rather weary, as evident by the fact he was trying to whistle. ‘Trying’ being the keyword, as he was currently failing quite miserably at his endeavor, managing to only blow out air, along with a touch of spit.

After seeing Beowulf approach, judged him with a brief glance and slightly clicked his tongue.

“What do you want? You should be aware that travelers aren’t allowed in Gretchen manor without an invite, especially during the festival”, he seemed to be the sort of person who judged by looking at appearances. Perhaps that explained the reason why he was still a guard despite being middle-aged.

The night hadn’t even begun yet, and somehow it had already turned vexing.

“Chief rufous should be expecting me”, the guards on the gates should have informed him. “My name is Azlan.”

“Never. Fuckin’. Heard of you”, it was understandable he wasn’t having the time of his night, standing all alone here, doing his job while others were having fun and enjoying the festivities. But that didn’t mean he could take out his frustrations at those he considered below him.

“Azlan Beowulf”, he said.

He had concluded there was no alternative way to get this over with quickly.

The guard’s expression changed.

“As in the ‘Beowulf’?” he demanded. “The Murderer?”

“Yes”, he just wanted to go inside at this point.

“Oh fuck! I can’t believe it”, he exclaimed cheerfully with a tinge of surprise. “Azlan fucking Beowulf, right in the flesh. We were informed that you were in town, sire. But I didn’t know I would be the one to greet you. I’m sorry for my behavior earlier, forgive me sire... you know how frustrating it can get”.

He sure was trying to honey his words.

“It’s alright...” he didn’t care enough to berate the guy.

“Ah- I’ve held you on here for long enough, please head inside”, he gestured with his arm. “Master Rufous is waiting for you”.

Azlan headed inside with the Ghost following him closely, after the gate there was quite a spacious courtyard. The Gretchen manor mainly comprised of two buildings, the main residential household in front and the gathering hall to the left, used for official purposes. There was also some sort of miniature garden to the right.

The Gretchens were quite a wealthy and influential family in Entradel, as such it was only natural they would be given the title of spokesman, or as the locals called it, ‘The Chief’.

[I asked that once before, although my query went unanswered. But why are you respected in this stronghold, it is quite the contrast from Morvest.]

They were headed towards the gathering hall, from where the noise and ruckus was coming, when he brought up the point.

“The current Chief and his predecessor. I owe them a few favors”, Beowulf answered. “So, my name is known in this town, although, only my name.”

[I see.]

The being responded, apparently satisfied to some degree.

They were about to reach the gathering hall when they heard yelling coming from the main house.

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