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Alaric

Before either of them could say anything else, someone in a white coat hurried up. Another person he couldn’t place. Nobody here looked like they did in Reantare.

“I heard you shouting, but I didn’t catch a name.”

Alaric winced. I was shouting alright. At your friend.

“Alaric. Prince of Reantare but Jade tells me that doesn’t matter here.” Jade rolled her eyes. He wished he hadn’t said that, but his name sounded so unfamiliar when he used it without the title.

Ophelia’s eyes widened. Jade’s narrowed. Rosemary looked at the hand he had let slip to his side again. “What’s that?” she almost barked.

“Nothing, just some glass on the floor.”

She grabbed his wrists and turned them so his palms faced her, then pulled out a strange-looking tool and began picking the bits of glass off. Alaric tried not to wince. when she was finished he looked at his hands, wishing he didn’t have to wipe the blood off on his trousers, then he gave an internal shrug and did it anyway.

He watched idly as Rosemary turned to Ophelia and started picking the glass out of her hands and wondered what had happened to his book on the economics of Reantare in the second age, with a focus on the reign of King Osric I.

Suddenly an unfamiliar voice boomed across the room. “Everyone get back! Out! Get out of the room!” Alaric looked around for a reason first, and then place to go.  The reason was the largest swarm of insects he had ever seen, obviously hostile, and the place was…

all the walls were draped in shadow, but halfway up one of them he saw a doorway. The climb to it was almost vertical, but there were footholds. Ophelia had taken a step back, but looked uncertain.

“Up there.” Alaric pointed to the doorway. “Come one.”