Alcuin hadn't intended to progress any further than the formidable wrought iron gate at the forefront of the ancient's property, truly, but found himself ensconced within nonetheless – and by a clever bit of politesse at that. The sleepy-eyed gentleman who met him at the gate was timely and succinct – echoing the demeanor of the master of the household – but no sooner had he pressed the familiar bundle of clothing into his arms and turned to leave did the servant reach out to grasp the crook of his elbow. “The master will see you,” the gentleman said, his eyes glinting cleverly in the dim evening light. Immediately, his thoughts swirled and reassembled themselves like a flock of startled birds. “I'm sorry,” he lied. “but the full moon approaches, and my master will be sour with me if I do not return in time.”
The gentleman repeated himself with a sweeping gesture of his arm toward the grounds. It was the sort of thing his diavoletto used to do when he tired of the polish of their pedigree and wished to test his mettle, often with mulish abandon for the consequences. Only, he didn't love this gentleman. “So you say,” Alcuin replied, his tone more waspish than he would have preferred. The gentleman smiled colorlessly and shifted aside to allow him passage. Their shoes crunched audibly in the partially frozen gravel of the drive as he was led across the grounds toward the ancient's estate; yet, to his surprise, he was not ushered inside but rather redirected down another path toward what looked to be stables.
Alcuin had only just begun to mouth an inquiry as to the ancient's whereabouts when a dark shadow darted across his periphery and vanished into the darkness surrounding the grounds. “Sir?” It took him a moment to realize that he'd frozen in the middle of the path, stock still and terrified, like a deer glimpsing headlights. “It's only a little further this way, sir.”
The horses raised their heads and stared at him when he entered the stables, some lazily grinding away at their feed whilst others pressed their noses to the bars expectantly. Alcuin rubbed their soft snouts with the palms of his hands along the way. “When you're ready,” there was that colorless smile again, the one that made him want to reach out like a viper and wipe it off. The gentleman gestured in much the same way he had before and departed without another word. Alcuin was bereft of company but for the docile horses and the sounds which emanated forth from the great stone archway a little further down the path.
Alcuin knew those sounds, recognized them as surely as one might the backs of their own hands. He heard them every morning when their taciturn guardian thought the household asleep for the last few months of his former life, but there was something different about it now. Alcuin inched toward the archway, listening closely for any variation in the sound that might constitute awareness, and pressed himself against its craggy surface. Already, he could almost make out a pattern of movement in the sound alone, could almost see it in that strange place his mind wandered to sometimes. Carefully, he shifted to glimpse around the edge of the archway, and beheld one of the most exquisitely ruthless training exercises in the world.
It felt like the ancient had reached into his chest and stolen the breath right from his lungs. Alcuin quickly discovered that where his mortal eyes struggled to follow, his mind almost preternaturally reconstructed the movement as if it were, in fact, something he'd seen many, many times before. Had he? No, of course not. No, that would be impossible. Yet the growing sense of familiarity leeched the color from the world around them until that was the only thing he could see, the only thing he could hear. Then the ancient looked at him and what had felt like a moment snatched out of time or, perhaps more accurately, what had felt safe and distant instead became viscerally surreal.
Alcuin panted his startlement against the cool surface of the archway for a moment before slithering out from his hiding place, his arms still clinging to the solid stone foundation of the arch. “But where is your shield?” He asked after a beat, his eyes gleaming unnaturally in the dim light of the rising moon.