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“I am,” he replied, seeing no reason to deny it.
“Do ye not know how dangerous Drake Street is at night?”
Baldwin smirked. “I am well aware, but I have business I must attend to.”
“Would ye like me to escort ye out of here?” the man asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Baldwin replied, “but I thank you for your offer. Besides, I intend to meet up with some of my associates soon.”
The man bowed slightly. “Thank ye, milord. It will be a pleasure to work for ye.”
Baldwin tipped his head as he resumed walking down the street. It wasn’t long before he approached a dilapidated brick building and heard the sound of a bird call coming from further down the street. He stopped and repeated the sound.
A long moment later, a husky man with a pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers stepped out from the shadows.
“Are you lost, Mister?” the man asked as he placed his hand on the butt of his pistol.
Baldwin shook his head. “I am not, but the king requested to see me.”
“The king?” the man asked, his eyes narrowing. “What makes you think the king wants to see you?”
“Because I have something he needs to hear.” Baldwin hoped that the code had not changed since he had been gone.
“What did you say your name was?” the man asked, removing his pistol from his trousers.
“I am known as Falcon.”
“Falcon?” the man repeated, surprise in his voice.
“Yes.”
“I heard you were dead.”
Baldwin raised his hands wide. “As you can see, I am very much alive.”
“Come with me,” the man ordered, pointing the pistol at him. “I have someone who will be very interested in meeting you.”
“Finally, we are getting somewhere,” Baldwin remarked in an amused tone.
The man gestured with his pistol towards a plain brown door that was in desperate need of painting. “You go first.”
Baldwin approached the door and opened it, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.
“Walk,” the man commanded.
As Baldwin walked down the dark passageway, he saw a lone candle burning on a table. A stern-faced man was seated next to it, a pistol in his hand. “What do we have here?” he asked.
The man spoke up from behind him. “This man claims he is Falcon.”
“I heard Falcon died.”
“Me, too.”
Baldwin began to open his mouth to respond but stopped when a door behind the man opened, the light illuminating the passageway.
A familiar voice came from within. “Falcon!” The dark-haired man stepped into the passageway, his eyes perusing the length of him. “It is about time you finally showed up. I expected you days ago.”
“Hello, Corbyn,” Baldwin greeted. “What happened to the other guards?”
