Chapter 433 - Mister Borton

Long night of writing for me tonight but got there in the end! Hope you like the chapter :)

Hump and Celaine wandered side by side through the cobbled streets of Elenvine, the hum of city life weaving around them, but it was not cheerful. Where previously there would have been street musicians played cheerful tunes on flutes and lyres, the aroma of honeyed nuts and fresh bread drifting on the breeze, and shopkeepers calling out their wares from colourful shaded stalls, now, the city had fallen into mournful quiet. Soldiers were everywhere, moving from door to door, handing out information or searching for any young man that could serve. People stared at them from their doorsteps, deep bags under their eyes, their faces full of worry.

At other times, Hump saw the hope in their eyes as they saw Chosen. The heralds of the gods were strategically spaced out throughout the city, inspiring the people of the city. Or at least, that was how it looked from the outside. The fact they were right next to recruitment offices told Hump otherwise.

Young men and women queued up with beaming smiles and excitement, eager to join the army and fight against the monsters to the north. No doubt they had heard many of the same stories that Bud had spoken of once. Tales of heroes and adventure. Of ordinary people rising to the call and standing up against the darkness that would fall over everyone if they did not.

Heroism. Patriotism. Faith.

They were ideals that would get a person killed. Yet what could be done? Alveron was going to war, both in the north and in the Remnant Realm. They were fighting on two fronts, and needed every able-bodied soldier they could get. Many would die, but many more would die if they did not fight.

In a way, it was like the tales. Their bravery was admirable. Hump only wished he could view them as anything but fodder.

“This is horrible,” Celaine said. “I don’t like the city much, but I prefer the noise to… this.”

“No. It’s not right, is it?” Hump said.

Celaine kept her arm looped around his, her pace leisurely but attentive. Every so often she gently redirected him, guiding him away from lampposts, storefronts, or other people when his concentration faltered under the strain of maintaining the Veil of Infinite Reflections. It was challenging, but for the most part Hump could maintain it while he was outside or during conversation. Today was the first time he was attempting both.

They passed through a busy market square—another gathering point for the new recruits. Hump’s foot nearly clipped the corner of a low table where a group of woman enjoyed delicate cups of tea in the afternoon light and watching the soldiers at work.

Celaine tugged him sideways just in time.

“Watch it,” she whispered.

Hump blinked, stumbling slightly, and gave the woman a nod of his head in apology. “Sorry!”

The woman gave a startled smile and turned back to the others at the table.

Celaine laughed under her breath and steered him forward again. Soon, they veered toward the river, in the direction of the fishery. They’d been out a few times, searching for the bakery that Hump had visited often in his time on the streets. It seemed Celaine had gotten it into her head that they had to find the place before they left.

Each day, they would take a stroll through the city and explore the old streets that Hump thought he’d once walked, going from bakery to bakery in search of something that felt familiar. Hump wasn’t even sure it still existed. The place hadn’t been in the best state in his memory. There was every chance that it had shut down, but Celaine didn’t care, and in truth, neither did he. He was just happy spending time together.

“You never finished telling me what you and Wizard Torvik found,” Celaine said as they walked.

“Right, Wizard Tovik and I—well, I’m giving myself too much credit here—Wizard Torvik found a sigil matching the one on the man that tried to kill you. I think the man had searched through must of the Archive by that point, but it’s something. An old clan of powerful magic users to the east. What they’re doing here, he doesn’t know. They must know about my book somehow.”

“So nothing we don’t know already,” Celaine said.

Hump glanced at her with a tight smile. “I suppose you could put it that way. But now we have a name!”

“What is the name?”

“It’s a little tricky to pronounce, but it translates roughly to the ‘Snakes that will eat the world’.”

“Not particularly catchy.”

“No. I’m sure it sounds better in their own language. When we find them, you can pass on your critique if you want. I’m sure the assassins will appreciate it.”

Celaine narrowed her eyes at him. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re not funny?”

Hump smiled. “Not sure you’ll ever convince me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Since when are we going to start looking for the assassins anyway? I feel like the best thing we can do is avoid them.”

Hump shrugged. “Next time I see Aldric, I think I’ll see what he suggests. Once the warlocks are dealt with, maybe this is something the Inquisition can help with.”

“Why would they care?” Celaine asked.

“A clan of magic users from another country are operating within the Kingdom of Alveron,” Hump said. “They’ll care.”

Celaine came to a sudden stop. “What do you think of this place?”

Hump looked up at the sign above the modest little bakery they stood in front of reading TED’S BREAD. The lettering was faded, the wood cracked with age, but the scent of fresh bread drifted through the alley air. His brow furrowed.

The street was quiet, hidden away in a narrow back lane where the sun barely reached. Crates and broken barrels lined the walls, ivy crept across the stone, and moss grew in the cracks of the path. Yet something about the place tugged at his memory.

His concentration broke, and the Veil of Infinite Reflections fell to pieces, his essence leaking back out into the world the same as always. He didn’t even notice at first, too busy staring at the scene and trying to place the feeling in his chest—a tightness, a strange warmth. Familiarity.

“This might be it,” Hump said, voice quiet.

“Really?” Celaine asked.

Hump nodded slowly, eyes scanning the alley. “I feel like I’ve been here before. Come on, this way.”

He led Celaine deeper into the alley, their footsteps echoing faintly off the narrow walls. He led her past the bakery, around the corner of the building, where the light dimmed. Tucked between a leaning fence and a stack of old crates, half-concealed by trailing vines and refuse, was a small stone staircase that led down to a cellar door.

Hump’s breath caught.

Children sat on the steps—three boys and a girl sharing a half-loaf of bread between them, talking in hushed tones. The moment they noticed Hump and Celaine, they startled. The youngest dropped her food in fright, only for one of the boys to grab it quickly before all of them scrambled to their feet. In a blink, they bolted up the alley, their small feet slapping against the cobbles.

Hump’s stomach twisted. “I really don’t want to find out this is another bakery recruiting homeless children to be warlocks.”

Celaine shook her head. “It won’t be. Remember what the ice wizard said at the fishery? The warlocks are gone. Payments stopped. This is just good people taking care of kids that need the help. Don’t overthink it.”

Hump barely heard her. He stepped toward the cellar entrance, something in him pulling forward on instinct. His feet moved before he could think. A memory surfaced—him, maybe six years old, cold, hungry, and a door that opened when he knocked.

He raised his hand now and did the same—three soft knocks on the wooden door.

A moment passed, then a voice called out from within, frail and old. “Come in.”

Hump reached for the handle. The door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit cellar. it was cooler inside, the air tinged with the scent of herbs and stale bread. The space had once been used for storage—barrels, shelves, and crates still lined the walls where there was space—but most of it had been repurposed. Beds filled the centre of the room, threadbare but clean. Children peeked at him from behind thin blankets, eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

An old man stood near a corner, a bowl of what looked like medicine in hand. He was wiry, grey-bearded, his skin weathered from years of hardship, but his back was straight and eyes sharp as they scrutinised him.

Hump froze. He recognised him—recognised the room. Even the smell. After he’d been beaten to an inch of his life, this was where he’d woken. Celaine came up behind him and took his hand. She gave a small wave to the room but the silence that followed loomed heavily.

A scuffle of footsteps echoed above. One of the kids who’d fled must have gone for help. A young woman hurried down the steps from the bakery above, breathless, her hands white-knuckled around the rail. Hump guessed she must have been about the same age as him. Her brown hair was tied into a bun with a white ribbon, and she wore a clean apron. Freckles specked her face.

“Can we help you, sir?” the woman asked nervously. “This area is private.”

“I’m… no. I think I made a mistake.”

The old man took a step closer, and Hump glanced back at him. Then, the man’s face shifted, concern leaving him. “No need to worry, Katty. This is one of ours.”

“Katty,” Hump repeated under his breath, the name sparking something. He looked at her again, properly this time—streaks of flour in her hair, an old scar at the edge of her brow. The young woman’s posture eased immediately, though her eyes remained on Hump with wary curiosity. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You are, ain’t that right, lad?” the man probed.

Hump turned back to the old man and nodded. “I think so, yeah. Sorry to panic everyone. It would have been over ten years since I visited, but I think I probably owe my life to you after a particularly bad beating.”

The man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin, then his eyes widened. “Little Humphrey.” Suddenly, the man was laughing, so warm and joyful that Hump’s breath caught in his throat.

Hump felt ridiculous as he forced himself to swallow a lump. He was an adult, why was he getting so affected coming back here? But the fact the old man had recognised him… This was the place.

“That’s me,” Hump said, voice cracking. He remembered the sign over the bakery outside. “You’re, Mister Borton.”

“The one and only! Look at you, lad! All grown up, and a lady on your arm.” The old man chuckled. “You got out.”

“I did.”

“Come!” he beamed like a proud father. “You must tell me all about it.”

And Hump did. He told him of his attempt to pickpocket his would-be master. His life as an apprentice wizard, all the way up to the passing of his master a couple of years ago. By the time he had finished, his throat was dry from talking, yet Mister Borton listened happily to every word.

“One of my lads, a wizard!” The man shook his head. “It’s hard to imagine. You all heard that, didn’t you?” he said the the kids listening from their beds.

“How’d you know he’s not making it up?” one asked.

“Yeah. He don’t look like a wizard.”

“Where’s his hat?”

Celaine laughed. “They have a point. You really should consider a hat.”

“Show us some magic then,” Katty said, still listening from the stairs.

“Yeah!” the kids said together.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Mister Borton said.

“It’s okay,” Hump said. He held out a hand, calling on his essence. And there, in the palm of his hand, a flame ignited. Red at first, but under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, it turned a brilliant white, until the entire cellar was bright as daylight. Hump closed his fist and squashed the flame. “How’s that for proof?”

He smiled at the awed gasps that surrounded him.

“I did have a question, Mister Borton,” Hump said. “I remember a girl from my time on the streets, even younger than me. One day, she disappeared but I don’t know what happened. Do you remember anyone with me?”

The old man stroked his chin, thinking hard before shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. It was a long time ago. I remember finding you, and having you here, but I can’t think of any girl. I’m sorry.”

“It was a long shot anyway,” Hump said. “I’ve kept you long enough already.” Hump rose from his chair, Celaine at his side. “It was good to meet you again, Mister Borton.”

“And you, lad.”

The man showed him to the door, waving as Hump climbed the steps. Then Hump stopped and reached into his Bag of Holding and removed a coin pouch from inside. He tossed it to the man behind him, who caught it, frowning as he tested the weight.

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Hump said.

The frown only deepened as he loosened the draw string and saw the gold. “I can’t take this, lad. There’s no need. Truly.”

“It’s yours,” Hump said. “Please just keep helping people like you are. I must go away for a while, but I’ll be back, and there will be more.”

“You’re to go to war?” the man asked.

Hump nodded. “Yes.”

“You take care of yourself, lad.”

Hump and Celaine walked arm in arm for a few minutes in silence. Hump’s mind lingered on the conversation, and she seemed happy to let him think.

“What did you think?” Hump asked after a while. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

Celaine leaned in and kissed him. “I think I’m glad you found some kindness in this city. He seemed like a good man.”

“Should I have given him more money?” Hump asked. “I didn’t want to risk him becoming a target, and I can always give him more later. I should probably leave some in case something happens while—”

“—Hump,” Celaine interrupted. “You did everything right. Don’t worry. From where I sat, Mister Borton just seemed happy to see you. He was beaming like a proud father throughout your entire tale.”

Hump felt heat rising to his cheeks.

A muffled voice echoed from Hump’s bag, laced with a familiar note of glee.

“Ah—sorry to interrupt your whole being alive business,” the voice said. “But I think you’re going to want to see this.”

Hump blinked. “Walt?”

He quickly opened his bag and pulled out the obsidian phylactery, its swirling essence flickering brighter than usual. The translucent figure of Walt floated just behind the glassy surface, his spectral face beaming with enthusiasm.

“What happened?” Hump asked.

“The next room,” Walt said, eyes gleaming. “The door is open!”