ã€ŠArranged Marriage to the Monster Countessã€‹


 The Arrival

    A green eye peeked meekly past the curtain and through the fine glass window of a carriage, looking out upon the passing landscape.

    Hard land. Hard people. Suspicious glances sprang up from all around as if they could sense the gaze of the occupant of that passing carriage. Though a rather humble thing by the standards of his hitherto former  home, it appeared quite extravagant out here in these borderlands, and in contrast to its own.

    Niklas quickly pulled back into his seat, allowing the curtain to once again obscure all view of him from the outside. He sighed as the nerves rattled uncomfortably in his belly.

    What have I gotten myself into..? He wondered.

    <hr>

    He remembered his meeting with the young King weeks prior, a gallant and broad-jawed man, clean-shaven, with medium-length brown hair. All told he was a most handsome person with an outgoing and friendly demeanor¨Cquite the contrast to his late father, who had been a fickle, mean and sallow figure, and a tyrant who would not leave a slight forgotten nor a war unwaged; indeed, the kingdom had more than doubled in size under his rule.

    Of course, only after the old skinflint had passed and his third and youngest son inherited the throne, had it become apparent that the Kingdom had expanded much faster than it could rightly manage. Like a body whose limbs were so long that the fingers and toes could not be fed with blood and were threatening to blacken and fall off, many of the provinces or colonies at its extremities lacked, in some combination, wealth, food or security. That isn''t even mentioning the usual dearth of competent and educated officiants that had plagued these lands even before they were subdued under the yoke of a greedy King.

    In fact it was the young King Boratan II¡¯s very first proclamation under his rule that: "Those youth with the highest honors of achievements will be gathered and sent all about the lands, wherever their ability is most needed!" Thereafter, in an attempt to gain favor with their new Liege, men who had just come of age and who were highest ranked among the Institutes of Learning¨Cwhether it be in Development or Diplomacy, Swordsmanship or Construction, or any field of education¨Cwere in one way or another shipped off by their families to the now long and wide borders of the Kingdom.

    Niklas had been no exception to this policy, except for perhaps in the manner that it had occurred to him. For the King had taken an interest in the lad, perhaps due to the fact that they were both third sons of their fathers, and as he was now, Niklas was not in any standing to become head of his Household without some terrible accident or intrigue befalling his brothers.

    "I have a task of the utmost import for you, young van der Leigh." He recalled the confidant smile worn by the Royal addressing him during their one and only meeting. "You have just recently come of age, have you not?"

    "That is correct, Your Majesty." Niklas replied, though he was well aware the King had already known the answer when he had asked.

    Niklas'' legs and arms shook with the effort as he knelt before the throne. His weak and spindly body threatened to betray him before the many gathered Noblemen in attendance, but he gritted his teeth and held firm.

    "Excellent!" The King smiled and clapped his hands lightly. "For I, with your father''s consent of course mind you, have just now approved the certification of marriage between yourself and the Countess Uldred of Petrice!"

    A great commotion of gasps and whispers erupted among the gathered heads of houses, and many pitying and sympathetic eyes fell upon him.

    Niklas, who was not familiar with the Countess Uldred at the time, only looked up with a shocked and bemused expression.

    "I''m getting¡­ married?" He asked, dumbfounded.

    The King did not reply except by laughing merrily at the reaction that he had received.

    <hr>

    Niklas opened his eyes once more, his thoughts back in the present.

    He was traveling through the most poor and desolate of lands. They were dry and cold all year round, the skies were always gray, cloudy and sunless at the best of times. The soil only supported a few meager crops, and barely enough to feed a small family of farmers, let alone to sell. The wood of the homes was rotten and weak, whilst the stonework of the defenses had long since begun crumbling away.

    This was Petrice. The only reason the area had not been subjugated sooner was because nobody wanted it. Nobody, that is, besides an elderly and greedy King, more concerned for whatever glory and renown that he could grasp than for the prosperity of his people. Petrice exported only one thing that was worth having, that being its swordsmen.

    As a land encircled on its South and North by steep and treacherous mountains, it was only accessible, at least easily, from the East, where it connected to the rest of the Kingdom. To its West lay an even more inhospitable wasteland than Petrice itself, for it was home to many large and grotesque monsters which roamed freely, devouring whatever they could get their large maws upon¨Cwhether that be beast or man.

    Generations of Petrician men and women took up arms and armor against these monsters, and with what appeared as superhuman ability, they could rend even the most massive of creatures in twain with their signature Flamberge swords.

    Obviously, word of skills such as these spread through traveler''s mouths all across the continent, and sometimes a warring state or territory would entice one of these mythical swordsmen away from their home and duty with offers of coin and food and finery, things you could not find in this poor land.

    Niklas had been forced to study all aspects of this land before his departure. For, though he was a weak and small thing, the King meant for him to save this poor place.

    "Go and transform the desolate County of Petrice into a land of opportunity!" had been the King''s final decree for him.

    "From what I''ve seen, that will be no easy feat," Niklas grumbled aloud. "Even for me, and I was foremost in the study of Stewardship among my peers at the Institute..."

    Suddenly a knocking sound came from the front of the carriage. The worn knuckles of the old carriage driver rapped against the wood, calling for Niklas¡¯ attention. A panel slid open then, but one so small that it only revealed the weary old man''s drooping eyes.

    "We have almost arrived." He said flatly, before slamming the small panel shut again.

    Niklas bit his lip as his nerves began to play up again like worms wriggling in his gut. Nonetheless he clenched his small hands in determination.

    No, I cannot be discouraged. I''m going to whip this County into shape, and I''m going to prove to my family that it was a mistake to give away a talent such as me so freely!

    He would, however, not maintain such motivation for long; after descending down from the carriage step with his large trunk in hand, the thing sped away just as quickly as his courage. For a moment he stared up, mouth slightly agape, at the old and haunting visage of the Castle the Countess of Petrice called her home. The stone of the building was black and ominous, and he could''ve sworn he saw a corner of one of its towers crumble and fall away as he looked upon it.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    At the sight of his new home he could only think: Oh dear¡­

    Finally, he mustered up the mustard to trek his short legs across the drawbridge, before which sat the gate; at either side stood two soldiers fully clad in blackened plate armor and with halberds in their hands.

    "He-hello?" He called out to these two men. "I am¡­ I am the Countess'' new husband! I am here to see the Countess!"

    There came no reply, and the two men did not move from where they stood.

    Niklas gulped and slowly approached one of them.

    "Hello?¡± he tried again. ¡°It is rude to ignore somebody, you know? Let alone one who hath just arrived!"

    Still, there came no reply.

    Niklas now stood directly before the guardsman, and he reached out a hand towards them. "A-are the two of you unwell?"

    But as he put his hand upon the guardsman, they simply collapsed into a heap with much clanging and clattering, the noise causing Niklas to jump backwards with a yelp. No one stood inside these suits of armor¨Cthey had only been erected to grant the illusion of a stationed guard.

    Niklas huffed out a sigh as he rubbed his forehead, thankful that no one else was present to witness this embarrassing display. Now realizing he was alone, he peered over to the closed gate.

    "How am I supposed to get inside, then?" He wondered aloud.

    No sooner had he done so, however, then did the single-frame door, which was cut out of the center of the rightmost gate, slowly swing open as if by his command!

    Niklas approached the door and peered through it towards the courtyard, but no-one could be seen therein. "H-hello?" He called, but no reply came. "Well, that is a most queer thing indeed!"

    With no other choice presented to him, the young lad trotted across the courtyard to the inside doors, his luggage dragging in tow. When he arrived, and with some hesitation, he reached up to the knockers and cracked them down upon the wooden door.

    For a time, nothing came of it. But, eventually, a light and fast-paced footstep soon met his ear, and with a creak the old door was pushed slightly open. There, staring at him through the crack, was an elderly and old face with drooping features, a large nose presiding over a thick white mustache that came down over his mouth, and equally bushy eyebrows which threatened to obscure most of his vision.

    "Who is it?" The man asked Niklas with an accusatory look.

    "It¡­ it is the new Count sir!" Niklas stammered in reply.

    This old fellow looked him over from head to toe for a long moment with clear suspicion. Then, as if recognizing his description, the man raised his brows in alarm, and then the door was pressed open further, although not without some effort.

    "Welcome, my Lord!" The old man greeted him excitedly, eagerly taking Niklas¡¯ hand and shaking it vigorously. "Welcome to Castle Petrice!" Before he then all but pulled Niklas forcefully inside.

    <hr>

    The castle was as dark and eerie a place inside as it was out, Niklas observed as he trotted sheepishly behind the old Butler; even in this midday light the interior was black as pitch, dusty and cobwebbed, and their only source of illumination was a small candle which the old man held on a brass saucer.

    Does anybody even live in this place? It looks all but abandoned! Niklas wondered as he looked about. Perhaps this ''Countess'' Petrice does not exist, and is simply a guise for embezzlement?

    As the two walked, soon enough their path widened out from the dusty old hall, and like some spelunker looking into an old cavern, Niklas stopped to marvel over the grand hall before them, which managed to look somewhat regal and splendid even in its unlit and unkempt state.

    "Keep close, sire!" The old man called to him from up ahead. "Wouldn''t want you to get lost!" He was much friendlier now than he had been at the door.

    ¡­Perhaps he is finally happy to have a master to work under? Niklas wondered, eyeing him.

    Finally, I''m not the shortest one here! Was what the old man had actually thought, for while their heights currently matched, the aged butler walked with a great hunch.

    Their footfalls began to echo as they stepped through a wide open ballroom-like space, then ascended the old grand staircase up to the second floor where more halls awaited them, but these were lined with portraits of the many Counts and Countesses of Petrice of old. They were scowling, leering things whose eyes followed your every step in a most judgmental way.

    Finally, and after what felt a much longer journey than what it was, the two stood before a set of double-doors, dark wood with gilded handles.

    "Here we have the study, where the Countess works through her many tasks." The Butler announced, gesturing to the door, which he then knocked upon. "My Lady,¡± he called, louder this time. ¡°the new Count is here to see you!"

    Silence reigned over them, one which grew more awkward with every moment that passed.

    "Hm.¡± The Butler breathed. ¡°It appears that she is not in her study." The nervous sweat upon his brow suggested that he had been hoping that this was not the case.

    "In that case..." he then unexpectedly clasped his wrinkled hand upon Niklas''. "Come with me!" With a surprising swiftness and strength, he pulled the young soon-to-be Count along behind him in a most undignified way, all but sprinting back the way that they had come!

    <hr>

    Soon enough they stood before another door, this one smaller, but otherwise much like the first. Niklas also noted its gilded handle was much tarnished, clearly worn from frequent use.

    The old man cleared his throat obviously attempting to maintain some matter of decorum despite how he had just dragged his Lord behind him like a coat in the wind¨Cand he firmly and loudly knocked upon the door.

    "My Lady, the very important guest of whom I spoke earlier has arrived!" He called.

    As they waited in silence once again, Niklas wondered to himself what kind of woman it was he would soon be wed to.

    I heard that the old Count was a man tall in stature and dark of hair, with a stern countenance. I have neither seen nor heard of the former Countess, perhaps if my¡­ wife, takes after her father she will be slightly taller and wider of frame..?

    Niklas started as there finally came a sound from within the room¨C the creaking of bedsprings.

    "Has the Countess¡­ been in bed all day?" He asked, to which the Butler only sighed with exasperation.

    Soon enough they could hear slow footsteps approaching the door from the other side. With every step closer they seemed to grow in weight, and so too did Niklas'' reservations grow along with them.

    Finally the door swung open and inward, and Niklas¡¯ eyes grew as wide as saucers.

    Standing in the doorway was a figure so tall the crown of their head nearly scraped the top of the doorframe, while the width of their mighty shoulders almost brushed its sides! They were clad in a dark and ragged cloak, with armor beneath it that was stained with old spatterings of what could be blood or mud. Upon their face they wore a hooded mask that covered them from their chin to the top of their forehead. It was a muted, dirtied silver, carved with the face of a fair lady set in a neutral expression. Behind its eye-slits shone two bright violet irises which looked down upon Niklas with a cold hostility.

    In his surprise, Niklas could only stare up, aghast, at this massive person. They then spoke, and while it was a female voice, it was low and growling like a beast, only slightly muffled behind the mask.

    "Go¡­ away!" She snarled, before she slammed the door shut with such force that the rest of the hall rattled along with it.

    Your Majesty¡­ What have you gotten me into?!

    Niklas stood frozen in his shock, recalling the King''s confident and laughing face as indignance rose through him in a hot flush.

 Anxieties and Recollections

    Niklas stood before the dark wood of the large door that had been slammed shut in his face, confounded at what had just transpired. The Countess¨Chis betrothed¨Chad at long last appeared before him, but had acted with all the decorum of some kind of lumbering, wild beast!

    The Butler, meanwhile, had let all of pretense at composure fall away. He now beat rapidly upon the door with all of the strength he could ball up into his little fists.

    ¡°Uldred!¡± he sternly yelled in reproach, ¡°You come out of that room right now and greet your guest!¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t! Go away!¡± Came the same deep voice from within, muffled by the thick wood of the door. From her tone, Niklas could almost believe that she was pouting.

    ¡°Oh! Ooh! I am right cross with you now!¡± For several minutes more the old man continued to throw himself against that door as if it were his mortal enemy, to all accounts acting as if he could topple the thing himself. He swore all the while. All too soon though the man fell into a stupor, all of the energy expended from his frail, aged body. He then turned back to look at his new young master, who still stood in befuddled silence with his mouth agape.

    ¡°...How about some tea, sir?¡±

    <hr>

    Niklas pulled the small china cup that had been set before him closer with a grateful thanks. Hot steam wafted up from it to greet his lips like an old friend, though the brew had a suspicious lack of aroma.

    This young man observed his elderly compatriot for a time as he rattled about the old kitchen, setting jars and lids and kettles back to where they had sat before, all the while coughing or sneezing as his actions kicked up thick billows of dust.

    Finally Niklas imagined his drink had cooled enough and he brought it to his mouth for a sip. And while the floral fruity flavors of tea did meet his palette, they were so thin and strained that he might have preferred to have received plain hot water instead! His eyes now narrowed in suspicion as his gaze fell upon the old man once more, who had just hung the used teabag upon what appeared to be a clothesline, among which hung several others drying as well.

    ¡°So, the Countess..?¡± Niklas said aloud, attempting to distract his tongue  from the questionable flavors it has just experienced, setting his teacup aside as he spoke.

    The old man spun on his heels to face him¨Cand so fast, in fact¨Cthat Niklas startled.

    ¡°Oh! That was simply an anomaly, my Lord! Undoubtedly brought on by the stress of a long day¡¯s labor! The Countess is normally quite outgoing, you see.¡±

    ¡°Mmhm.¡± Niklas noised flatly in reply, obviously untrusting of the butler¡¯s words. He recalled the brief moment he had laid his eyes upon the Lady of the house before her door was so rudely shut in his face, and the dark and stained armor that she wore even in her moments of rest.

    ¡°And by a long day¡¯s labor,¡± he continued, ¡°you are referring to..?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well the slaying of men, you see!¡± The Butler replied, and in much too jovial a manner for Niklas¡¯ comfort.

    Niklas, who had been braving another sip of his cooling tea-water, coughed and spat out some of the drink at that. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    While it was true that he had encountered many of the rumors about the County, and how its poor Countess would ride out to work as a sellsword in the neighboring and smaller territories as their main source of income, he had held the image of a Noblewoman giving out orders to her bannermen from atop a fair steed, far away from the heat of battle, allowing their Marshals and Commanders to direct the soldiers as was their expertise. The sight that he had witnessed just a few tens of minutes prior, however, stood in direct contrast to this image; as did the sheer amount of dried gore which covered the woman¡¯s armor!

    Is the Countess wading into the frontlines of battle herself? And on a regular basis no less..? Niklas thought to himself, aghast at the implication.

    ¡°As you might be aware, my Lord,¡± The old man continued, ignorant to Niklas¡¯ internal turmoil, ¡°-the territories which border the County¨CLengar to the northeast and Otkorn to the southeast¨Chave been in dispute for the Road of Benedict upon which you arrived, which cuts through the eastern mountains and meets the royal highways. They have been our main benefactors for many years now.¡±

    ¡°Which has?¡± Niklas asked, confused.

    ¡°Lengar and Otkorn, sir.¡± The Butler informed him. ¡°Though the territories beyond them have disputes of their own, where there is also coin to be had.¡±

    Niklas furrowed his brow in annoyance. ¡°But to which territory is the Countess usually employed¨CLengar or Otkorn?¡±

    ¡°Why, both sir!¡±

    ¡°...Both?¡± Niklas echoed again, dumbfounded.

    ¡°Correct, sir. Currently the Lady has a contract with Otkorn under whose direction she retook the Road from Lengar, with whom she had been contracted the last year in order to take the Road back from Otkorn, who in turn she had been contracted with the previous year.¡±

    Niklas¡¯ head swam from trying to wrap itself around such a wild and outlandish notion, and he shook it vigorously, as if it could somehow help him make better a sense of the situation.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me,¡± He replied painfully, his mental state so muddled he was barely able to form words, ¡°-that the Countess has been conquering the same Road, back and forth, for several years now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°But-but-but for what reason?!¡± Niklas choked out, his exasperation so great that he was almost shouting.

    The Butler raised a finger before his nose, much like a teacher educating a student. ¡°Well you see, sir, the armies of Lengar and Otkorn are nearly equal in strength, or a lack thereof would be more accurate. Frequently, during the old Count¡¯s time, they would clash over the Road of Benedict, unwilling to share it between themselves. But the battle would always end in a stalemate, and neither remaining force was large enough to enforce control over the Road, and so it would remain as neutral territory. Until finally, Otkorn pled with the Countess for aid to take it for them for the first time¡­or was it Lengar..?¡±

    Niklas rubbed his temples to soothe his ever-growing headache as the story went on.

    ¡°And pray tell,¡± he asked, ¡°how much do we receive in payment as our contracts demand..?¡±

    ¡°Why, we¡¯ve worked them up to a hundred silvers for a year sir!¡± The Butler replied proudly.

    A single piece of gold? Niklas¡¯ eyes were so wide they nearly bulged from his skull. That would be only half a year¡¯s wage for a single servant!You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    He let his hands fall from his face as if to rest upon the small table before him, but in his agitation he moved more forcefully and slammed his hands upon the wood surface, which caused the Butler to jump with a start! When he spoke again, Niklas¡¯ voice was as even and sharp as the edge of a sword.

    ¡°I¡­ would like to see the ledgers, please.¡±

    <hr>

    The door to what could well have been a long-abandoned crypt creaked open, and for the first time in what was likely many years candlelight illuminated the long rows of towering shelves, stacked thick with books and parchments, papers vellum and tomes which rested there in the dusty library.

    The ¡°Ledger¡± which the Butler had shown to Niklas had been an emaciated, unsatisfying thing which had borne only a scant few records of purchases from the past several years: grain and oats, wood for the fires and candles for lights. Nothing like what the sickly young savant had been searching for. He required comprehensive documents that would give him some idea of how the County had survived in the generations prior¨Cfor, surely, they had not always lived in a manner like this..?

    ¡°This is more like it!¡± Niklas cheered, his voice echoing slightly due to the sheer size of the library, the ceiling and the bookshelves so high that the candlelight was unable to illuminate their entirety! Niklas looked ready to roll up his sleeves at this very moment and get to work, but the voice of the Butler cut through his impassioned tunneled-vision.

    ¡°I think it would be prudent to show you to your quarters my Lord, so that we may unpack your things.¡±

    Suddenly Niklas was once again aware of the heavy luggage case that he still carried at his side, despite the objections of the old Butler, and with the way his arms ached he could only sigh and relent.

    ¡°I suppose you are right.¡±

    The Butler clapped his hands together before him. ¡°Excellent, sir! That will allow me plenty of time to whip this place into shape!¡±

    Only then as he mentioned it did Niklas take note of the thick layer of dust blanketing every aspect of the library that he could see through the dark, to the extent in fact that the few steps that he had taken inside had kicked it up behind him in a plume like a flurry of snow! And across the walls and ceiling hung heavy, low-hanging cobwebs like a macabre parody of a chandelier and tapestries. So thick and copious were they that one might¡¯ve imagined the place to be the lair of some arachnid-type beast the size of a dog!

    ¡°Yes¡­ perhaps that would be best.¡± Niklas assented, and as he returned to the doorway he took one more look about the room, still excited to dig into the old tomes and records. ¡°I shall return to this place, though.¡±

    But then, as the Butler brought the door shut behind him, in his last passing glance Niklas saw something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. For far and across the room, where the corner bent out of view, what looked to be a pale, boney hand crept around the side of a distant  bookshelf, as if some harrowing creature was about to come into view¨Cbut before it did, the door was shut and all sight of it was lost!

    <hr>

    Several hours had passed, and while toil had made them long, Niklas could finally reward himself with the pleasure of sinking into a chair by the fire in his own room. There had been a surprising amount jammed into that one fat luggage case, but with the aid of the old Butler everything was now unpacked and situated around his living space to the best that they could make of it; and indeed, it seemed as comfortable and homely as his own quaint room back at his family¡¯s estate, despite its precarious position, situated at the top of one of the Castle''s several tall spires.

    ¡°I shall draw you up a bath.¡± The Butler had proclaimed with a bow as he had left the room. That had, however, been a good deal of time ago, and Niklas had assumed (and rightly so) that the Butler was currently scrubbing down some washroom¨Cone as cold and filthy as the old library had been¨Cat a desperate and feverish pace.

    I thought I might keep myself awake for a bath, but the warmth of the fire is so welcome after such a cold and weary trip, I can barely keep my eyelids open¡­

    In his dreams, Niklas found himself walking the halls of his family estate once again. It felt as though somebody was walking beside him, though he never looked over to actually see who it was.

    I believe it is my eldest brother walking beside me. He guessed.

    At that he recalled his brother in his mind¡¯s eye¨Cat least as much as he knew of the man, for Brudwyn van der Leigh and he had rarely spoken in earnest. Their only interactions had occurred when Bruder was drunk or in a rage and sought Niklas out to strike him around a bit. At those times, there was very little the frail youngest could do to stop old Bruder, for he was a large and wide specimen, with a broad jaw, a thick neck and short-cut dirty blonde hair. His limbs shared the circumference of a young tree and his torso was like a barrel. The van der Leighs were known to produce a line of some of the finest knights, and the current heir of the house had strayed not a hair from that tradition.

    Unfortunately, with his physical condition as it was, Niklas could rarely participate in the training or sparring exercises along with the other van der Leigh sons. This, along with the gap between their years of birth, had allowed precious few times for the two brothers to meet or converse. And while Niklas had¨Cat first¨C held only good thoughts towards his eldest brother, it seemed that Master Brudwyn did not share his generosity of spirit for any time their eyes did happen to meet he made a face similar to one who had just seen a silverfish creeping up the nearest wall.

    No¡­eldest would never walk beside me like this. Niklas pondered. This must be middlest brother.

    That seemed more fitting, for now he could almost feel the prodding glances of his second brother¡¯s eyes as they walked. He looked down upon Niklas and then away again, fleetingly, studying his every move with the keen eyes of a predator.

    That is not to say that Niklas was the only one he observed in this way, for Vicentie van der Leigh was infamous for the way in which he would peer back and forth among those around him, in a manner like one suspecting trouble. And if you caught his gaze he would look away just as quickly towards someone else.

    He had always been a bit nervous and fidgety in this way. Indeed, as he grew up he stood and walked with an unconfident, slouching posture that diminished his height to match the diminutive stature of Niklas, though in truth he had stood a full head taller than him. Their father had beat such behavior out of him through the vigorous training customary for van der Leigh heirs so that Vicentie now stood and walked straight and at his full height. However, he still maintained the worried brow, somewhat sallow features, and long, unkempt brown hair that reached down to his shoulders.

    No, Second brother has never strode so confidently, so who is it then..?

    As Niklas finally looked to his side he raised his eyes and gazed upon his mighty father, who strode beside him with a determined gait which required that the smaller Niklas skitter every few steps in order to keep up with him.

    Kaiser van der Leigh resembled his second son¨Cor more accurately, Vicentie resembled his father¨C also long of hair, but his was straight and more fair, and his complexion was free of the sunken or bruised features brought on by constant worry. His face was hale and well-defined, with not a shade of stubble upon his jaw, and he always bore a stern expression. Overall, he appeared most alike to Bruder, if a hundred pounds or more lighter.

    I remember this now..! We were at the Royal Palace together.

    Niklas suddenly heard the large and opulent doors to the throne room fall shut behind them. The King had just scrawled his name on the contract of marriage between Niklas and the Countess. He dreaded this memory as vividly as he remembered it, for his Father had finally looked down to him with an expression of contentment¨Csomething Niklas had never seen from the man before¨Cas if to say, ¡°finally you are worth something to me.¡±

    Niklas awoke in a sweat to the sound of someone tapping upon his chamber door.

    ¡°That dream again..?¡± he grumbled aloud, rubbing the kinks out of the back of his neck as he felt the ugly resentful muddy feeling settle in his belly.

    ¡°Old man, is that you? Is the bath ready?¡± He called out, but no immediate reply came.

    Unthinkingly Niklas arose from his seat by the fireplace. An uncountable amount of time had passed and the room was dark now, and the fire was naught but embers. In this barely-lit setting he crept over to the door, knocking into end tables or stacks of books as he was not yet sure of the room and he could barely see.

    Finally the lock on the door opened with a click as he pushed the thing open. But, as it swung wide, he was not greeted by the familiar face of the old Butler. He was not met with any sight at all; in fact, he could perceive nothing but a black void. Confused, and wondering if he was still dreaming, he reached a hand out and it met with something like cloth and cold metal just before him.

    Only then, and too late, did he realize that dark cloth and blackened plate armor would not be easily seen in this low-lit setting! And before he could even make a sound in reaction to his visitor, a massive hand firmly grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him out into the dark of the hall!

 A Cold Cell

    ¡°You do intend on sending the dowry tonight, correct?¡±

    This was the third such time the noblewoman had asked that day, and perhaps the dozenth over the past week. In fact, her pestering would have likely been even greater had the marriage of her youngest brother not been decided so quickly and spur-of-the-moment by their nation¡¯s young King.

    Her father sighed and rubbed his sellion. He could have put the shipment off for some time more but for the insistence of his only daughter, Frith. To him, there were several more important things on his mind than little Niklas¡¯ humble marriage to a poor Countess.

    Frith van der Leigh placed a hand on her hip and looked down at her father with a stern, unamused face that would¡¯ve reminded him greatly of his late wife¡­ had he lifted his head and his gaze from his desk and his work.

    ¡°My Father is not an unintelligent man by a great stretch¡­¡± she continued pointedly, ¡°...so I am sure you have realized, in this uncommon circumstance where the groom is providing the dowry, that Niklas needs the substantial capital provided to him if he is to fix up such a poor territory.¡±

    Finally Kaiser van der Leigh lifted his own stern gaze to meet hers.

    ¡°As I am sure my daughter is aware, we have limited capital to offer. There are several more pressing matters that require my time and my limited resources¨C¡±

    At that Frith interjected, leaning over his desk and beaming down at him with the large and pleasant smile she wore as a mask over her growing irritation.

    ¡°So if you simply send the dowry now then this arduous task will no longer hang over your head and interfere with your oh-so-pressing other matters!¡± She fortified her smile into something even more gratingly cordial, even as her gaze remained as unflinching as steel.

    A vein on Kaiser¡¯s forehead visibly throbbed as his blood-pressure increased. Who but his stubborn and bull-headed daughter would dare to interrupt him in such a disrespectful fashion? In that moment it took every fiber of his willpower to keep himself from erupting in an undignified manner.

    ¡°We will discuss this later.¡± He hissed at her. ¡°Now get out of my office!¡±

    Slowly, his daughter rose from where she had leaned upon his desk, returning to her previous tall and proud posture, from which she leered down at him.

    ¡°The dowry.¡± She said one last time, giving his desk a condescending pat, before turning on her heel and leaving through the door. As it swung shut behind her, the two proud and stubborn Nobles it separated unknowingly let out the exact same exasperated sigh.

    Frith, a beautiful and mature woman for her age of twenty-four, bore the same dirty blonde hair as her elder brother, although she wore it long, streaming down past her shoulders like her second brother. Her eyes were the same bright emerald green as her youngest sibling, though her gaze was thin and scrutinously sharp. Her body was tall, broad-shouldered and corded with lean muscle, giving her the air of a seasoned stallion¨Call of the children of the van der Leigh family were to train as Knights regardless of gender and societal norm, and she was no exception to this tradition.

    But in this moment, this disciplined and proud young woman slouched in dejection.

    I thought I could convince him, but it appears it will take some doing yet to accomplish. She bemoaned to herself.

    In her mind she could not help but picture the small, emaciated boy who always appeared so frail and close to death, yet as she played with him he would smile and laugh more lively than any other child his age.

    I¡¯m sorry for being such a useless sister, Niklas. I¡¯ll do whatever I can, so I pray you are doing well now!

    <hr>

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Niklas was tossed with some force into a small room, one that was somehow especially dark and dank even compared to the other similarly decrepit rooms in this crypt of a castle.

    The walls nearest to him were composed of cold, perpendicular metal bars. Niklas realized with a start that he had been thrown into a prison cell! He looked up at the tall figure who stood in the open doorway between him and freedom, the moonlight from the small window reflected off of her familiar silver mask which bore a feminine and slightly portly face engraved upon it; her bright and violet eyes glared down upon him from behind it.

    ¡°W-what is the meaning of this-¡± Niklas began to shout, but a deep female voice cut through his, sounding muffled behind her silver mask.

    ¡°Who was it?¡± She demanded forcefully and coldly, as her large, tattered cloak flowed around her and made her appear in that darkness as some kind of ethereal reaper.

    ¡°...What?¡±

    ¡°Was it the Lords of Lengar or Otkorn? Have they finally turned their foolish desires from the Road of Benedict to the territory of Petrice proper?¡±

    Niklas looked up at her in clear and silent confusion. As she continued to speak she turned and began to pace before where he sat on the cold and dirty stone floor of the cell.

    ¡°Or was it maybe someone a bit further out? Maybe the Duke of Lionel finally means to continue his expansions westward? I¡¯ve always thought him an honorable man, but I have been disappointed before.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Only then did Niklas begin to wrap his head around what she was implying.

    ¡°Perhaps Marquis Illund no longer trusts the integrity of the Kingdom¡¯s borders to a family other than his own..?¡± She muttered to herself, almost as if she had become so enraptured in her speculation that she had forgotten Niklas¡¯ presence entirely.

    Desperately, the young Noble scrambled to his feet.

    ¡°I-it was the King!¡± He cried, recapturing her attention once more. ¡°The King had sent me!¡±

    Before he could blink, a large hand once again grasped the collar of his shirt and with it forcefully dragged him close, so that the mismatched newlyweds now stood eye-to-eye.

    ¡°A foolish and unbelievable fib!¡± She cried, her strong voice battering at Niklas¡¯ ears due to their close proximity. ¡°Why would the King, who has scorned Petrice as worthless for so long, suddenly have a change of heart and pay us any mind?¡±

    Niklas¡¯ eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.

    ¡°Perchance,¡± he tentatively responded, unable to break his gaze away from hers, ¡°-you had not known..?¡±

    At this the Countess narrowed her eyes, dragging him even closer, to the point where the tip of his nose was touching the cold metal of her mask. ¡°Known what..?¡± She hissed in quiet suspicion.

    ¡°The old King had passed in his sleep a year ago, and another half of one more!¡± he answered. ¡°There is a new King now!¡±

    The Countess paused and did not speak. For a moment the only sound in that small cavernous little room was of her ragged breathing through the thick mask. Then suddenly she relented her grasp upon him, and Niklas stumbled backwards from the unexpected release.

    He managed to catch himself, and after brushing the wrinkles from his shirt, he bowed before the Countess in his most regal manner¨Cthough he still never broke his nervous gaze away from her, and he was covered in a film of cold sweat.

    ¡°I am Niklas van der Leigh, third son of Baron Kaiser van der Leigh. Top of my class in economics, business, and management, and in high form in other related studies.¡±

    The Countess still did not move nor speak from where she stood before him, and Niklas felt a little awkward and so he continued.

    ¡°The new King, in the interest of the prosperity of the County of Petrice, has sent me to help to manage the finances and the capital of the territory, and to help build it up into a wealthy and¡­beautiful¡­¡± He trailed off then as he looked about at the dark musty and old building around them, and the dreary and foggy view out of the nearby barred window.

    Another awkward pause followed. Niklas coughed and scratched the back of his head to fill a little of the silence as she glared down upon him, unmoving.

    Finally, she spoke. ¡°So you are to be my¡­ Seneschal?¡± she inquired. ¡°A member of my Court? That, then, is what you purport?¡± She asked incredulously, and Niklas gulped as it dawned on him that she was not aware of his assigned role.

    ¡°W-well¡­¡± He stammered as her leering eyes threatened to bore through his skull. ¡°To be more accurate I came here to be your¡­¡± And he trailed off again.

    Her hands grasped him once more, shoving him violently backwards until she had slammed him against the cobblestone wall of the cell.

    ¡°Out with it, you yammering knave!¡± She demanded. ¡°Answer, or I¡¯ll run you through right here¨C¡±

    ¡°--Your husband!¡± he replied in a desperate, gasping whisper, having had almost all of the breath forced out of his lungs. ¡°I was wed to you at the Capital and I am here now as your lawfully wedded husband!¡±

    There was another long pause as the Countess digested the words this small, pitiful man had just spoken.

    ¡°Muh-¡± She stammered, and in an instant she had withdrawn from the cell and then slammed the doors shut to trap him inside!

    ¡°What is this!¡± Niklas shouted, futilely grasping the cell bars to shake them. ¡°Let me out!¡±

    ¡°Criminal!¡± She boomed down at him. ¡°Your punishment for lying to the Countess shall be decided in the morning!¡±

    Niklas¡¯ heart sank, was there no way for him to convince her of the truth?

    ¡°Th-the King will be offended! To lock me up in such a way¨Cas his representative, it will be seen as an insult to his royal person!¡± Niklas called after the Countess as she began to depart.

    She stopped at the door as she placed her hand upon it and looked back over her shoulder to reply. ¡°Your ridiculous tales shall not worry me! For what true Nobleman would agree to lower themselves to marriage with¡­ someone like me?¡±

    And even in his desperate situation, in that moment, Niklas thought that her voice sounded almost¡­hurt, or sad.

    But then as she pulled the door open, on the other side of it stood the butler! The older man was hunched over, perspiring and huffing after much exertion.

    ¡°Belfort?¡± She asked, with a small start.

    At first the old Butler could not speak, for his breathing was too labored, but he held aloft in his hand an unrolled scroll of parchment.

    Slowly, she reached out and took the thing from him. Her violet eyes poured over its contents for a beat, and Niklas waited in anticipation as he watched her read. She paused for a moment seemingly deep in contemplation, then she shoved the thing back into her butler¡¯s arms forcefully enough to send him stumbling backwards.

    And just like that she departed, vanishing into the dark of the hall beyond the threshold of the doorway.

    <hr>

    ¡°Ahh~¡±

    Niklas sighed with great relief as his feet broke the surface of the steaming water. Part of him had been afraid that, not unlike other things in this dreary land, a hot drawn bath he had requested would in actuality prove to be lukewarm, or temperate at best. His fears, in this case at least, proved to be unfounded.

    What was that all about, then..? He wondered.

    The Countess had acted quite beastly in his presence since he had arrived. Even if one harbored suspicions of their guest, to act in such an openly aggressive way was most uncivilized and ignoble!

    ¡­and who would want to ¡®steal¡¯ a wasteland such as this anyhow?

    In his privacy he allowed himself to pout as he thought most indignantly about his situation.

    Damn that King! And damn my Father! And damn that Countess too! I¡¯ll show them all that they should not have thought so lightly of me! I¡¯ll make this County flourish, and then I shall flaunt it in that brutish woman¡¯s nose! Hmph, we ¡®shan¡¯t ever get along, I reckon!

    As he indulged in his silent tantrum he sank his mouth and nose beneath the steaming water and exhaled many bubbles.

    Angry, angry bubbles.

 The Other Perspective

    If one were to attempt to read the situation in the room only by the moonlight and shadows which played against the wall opposite the window, they might have thought that some great and terrible creature of the night had made away with a small boy-child, for in her cloak and armor the Countess resembled Nosferatu himself, while young Niklas¡¯ visage seemed even frailer in her presence.

    None but herself could have known just how unsure this large, yet equally young and inexperienced, Countess felt in this situation. An unknown element had arrived in her abode that day, one that could belong to any number of greedy and ambitious foes looking to take what little comfort and normalcy she yet possessed.

    But then, the young man trembling beneath her cried out ¡°-I am here now as your lawfully wedded husband!¡± in a voice filled with fearful desperation.

    Behind her inscrutable silver mask Uldred¡¯s mouth fell agape as her mind went white with shock. Her entire body stiffened as a shot of adrenaline coursed through her from her crown down to her very toes!

    ¡°Muh-¡± She nearly stammered, once, managing to control herself with the iron grip of her will.

    This man is a trickster and a charlatan! He must be! Who else would claim such ridiculous nonsense?!

    And so the argument between these two continued, but louder still, and Uldred was all but prepared to leave this intruder to rot forever in that dungeon for attempting to toy with her. She was startled, then, when her old servant Belfort appeared behind the thick wooden door, panting and gasping for air as if he had just run a great distance!

    He handed her a writ, which she took silently, noting the anxious look on his wrinkled face. She finally peered at its contents and her eyes grew ever wider as she kept reading.

    This was an official document of marriage.

    Signed by Kaiser van der Leigh at the left, and by King Boratan a bit above in the center¡­ and also, somehow, signed by Uldred of Petrice on the right.

    Whenever did I sign this? Her mind raced as she poured through her memories for some clue. When did this first come before me? I cannot recall! ¡­And yet I cannot recall most of the documents which come through my study, for I barely have the time to glance over the contents before I mark my signature!

    Forcefully, and with typical ignorance of her true strength, Uldred thrust the parcel back into her servant¡¯s hands and inadvertently pushed him back into a stumble. Without another word she departed from the room and back into the darkness of the hall beyond.

    <hr>

    Great anxious tears welled up in Uldred¡¯s violet eyes and clouded what little vision she retained in those dark passages, and her normally sturdy frame shook violently! She was married? To a man? And one whom she did not know? In recent years Uldred had barely so much as spoken to a man who was not her butler, let alone to one her own age and whom she apparently shared such an¡­ intimate relationship with!

    The thought of that horrid word, ¡°relationship¡±! It was enough to flush her face beet-red behind her silver mask, and her lip quivered at the thought. She had faced down swords and axes and crossbows aplenty in her time serving as the Countess of Petrice, and yet the thought of a boy looking down on her for her lack of etiquette and grace, her defects and disfigurements, why that would hurt her deeper than any blade could possibly cut!

    I shouldn¡¯t have gone and done that! Why did I do that? Why did I try to be like Father? Father was smart, and I¡¯m so¡­stupid! A burden-beast and lame in the head besides!

    So stuck in her thoughts was she that as she traveled her shoulder collided with the sharp corner-bend with a loud clatter, and while she ached terribly for it, she continued on.

    ¡°Oh he probably hates me now!¡± She bemoaned aloud to the empty darkness. She sighed in exasperation as she clasped her hands together upon the back of her head. Her ears burned, flushed with her embarrassment.

    He probably hated me already. Who would want to be forced to leave their home, to come down from that pretty capital to this sad and monster-riddled land to be married to a big, ugly, unmannered woman like me?

    At long last she reached the threshold to her private chambers, the only place in the world where she was safe and comfortable. No sooner had the door shut behind her than did she begin furiously casting off her filthy armor and musty traveling clothes, and finally her dull silver mask and hood followed suit and clattered to the floor! She stared into the mirror then, meeting her own violet eyes; in the dim illumination of her single low-melted candle she could only see the right side of her face, while the left remained cloaked by her long bangs. Behind the shadow of her hair a sort of skeletal outline could only faintly be seen.

    Uldred grimaced in disgust at the sight of her own face. Covering it with her hands, she fell back onto her bed and its thick fur blankets, which she shortly burrowed into. She curled up like a newborn in the dark warmth there, and as she succumbed to slumber, a part of her hoped that she simply did not awake again to face the next day.

    <hr>

    Niklas arose early the next morning to the sun beaming warmly in through his window and the chirping of a bluejay just outside it. It was a welcome sight, but it was fleeting, for even as he stretched and yawned, a gray and heavy cloud rolled over the sky and Petrice was weary and colorless once again.

    Niklas engaged in the usual stretches and light exercises that made up his morning routine. They were most light indeed, for only a few repetitions of each were enough to bring about in him a huffing breath and heavy perspiration. Only a scant few moments more had him bent over his knees and gasping for air.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°Ha¡­ Haa! Y-yet again, not a single improvement!¡± A hint of frustration rang out in his voice.

    No matter, it was not like this was any different from every other day. He rubbed his hand upon his bicep, which was thin enough that he could wrap his thumb and forefinger all the way around until the tips were just brushing against each other, and he sighed in resignation.

    A knocking against the door came then, and the butler called out from the hallway beyond.

    ¡°Breakfast has been made ready for you, sir!¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Niklas called out in reply. ¡°I will be right down to join you!¡±

    A seed of nervous energy sprouted in his chest and threatened to grow greater vines of anxiety upon his heart.

    I wonder if ¡®she¡¯ will be there..?

    His fears, though, were unfounded. For the large dining hall, which somehow remained majestic while empty of any decoration besides dust and cobwebs, lay unoccupied besides a few long wooden tables that spanned the length of the hall. The end of one bore a meager serving of porridge and toasted bread, and a steaming cup of the thinnest tea that the man had ever laid eyes on. Fortunately¡ªor perhaps unfortunately, he did not quite know¡ªNiklas was much too preoccupied with his thoughts to bear any mind to the mostly bland and tasteless meal. In fact, so depleted had he been from the prior day¡¯s fracas, that he feasted quite ravenously on the stuff!

    ¡°Sir.¡± The butler announced himself in the doorway behind where Niklas sat. ¡°The archives have been cleaned to your liking!¡±

    ¡°My thanks, sir, I can get right to work on the finances after my meal!¡± Niklas declared.

    ¡°Right, sir.¡±

    A small giddiness took the young Noble then. Finally, something he was good at! All of this hard travel, fraternization, diplomacy? These were all outside Niklas¡¯ wheelhouse. Numbers and records, neat and tidy! Those are where he was most at home. In that realm he was King, and his peers would fall over themselves to praise him for his merit!

    But that seed of nervousness yet remained in his chest, for as he thought back upon his momentary glance into the library the day before, he recalled the chilling sight of a pale, bony and wraith-like hand that slowly crept from behind one of the bookshelves as they departed.

    Surely that was just another castle worker¡­ a librarian perhaps! Yes, that¡¯s it! It was only the librarian!

    Truthfully Niklas was much too excited about his work to be dissuaded from it, even by some eerie happenstance.

    ¡°Would you like me to fetch the Countess? For she might assist you with such matters of records better than I..¡± Asked the butler.

    ¡°No! No. There is no need.¡± Niklas hastily replied, raising his hands as if to physically stop the notion any further. ¡°I will be quite alright on my own. Thank you.¡±

    He would not have that large and brutish woman cast a shadow over his enjoyment with any nagging queries or threats of violence. Best he stayed away from her as much as he could.

    Brushing the crumbs from his mouth with his handkerchief, the young lad arose with a start and slapped his poor wooden spoon down upon the table emphatically.

    ¡°All right!¡± He announced enthusiastically. ¡°To the archives, my good man!¡±

    <hr>

    The tall wooden doors creaked open once again at the behest of the old butler, as they had the previous day.

    ¡°A little oil will do wonders for those hinges, I assure you.¡± Niklas commented.

    ¡°Oil? What a luxury that shall be!¡± The butler replied with a merry chuckle, which caused Niklas to grimace at the notion that a little oil could be considered ¡®luxurious¡¯ to a Noble house.

    Indeed though, the place had been cleaned of webs and of dust, at least that which could be seen in this suffocating dark, a feat that was quite miraculous for such a small and feeble man to accomplish over such a large space, and only within the hours that Niklas had slept as well!

    ¡°Wonderful work, Belfort..!¡± Niklas exclaimed, looking up and around for a moment in his awe.

    ¡°I appreciate it, my Lord!¡± The older man then handed Niklas the lit candle which he held in a saucer, as well as a small brass bell.

    ¡°I have much to do still,¡± The butler told him. ¡°So take this light and this bell. You can simply ring it if you need something of old Belfort!¡±

    And with that he made his exit and pushed the door shut behind him, leaving Niklas alone to his books and his records.

    Some time passed, hours at least, though time was ever an inscrutable thing in this part of the Castle. Niklas had long since taken in the contents of many records. Some were modern, such as the Castles¡¯ meager expenditures and its even more meager income, but others were from decades past such as old businesses or business partners of the Counts and Countesses of old. In his mind now, Niklas had a well-formed picture of the history of the territory simply from its records of finances and dealings, without even taking a peep at its official written history.

    It was an unfortunate thing, then, that the lad could only run his hand through his short-cut hair and sigh in displeasure.

    ¡°What a mess indeed!¡± He said aloud into the dark, cavernous room. He then happened to peer down at his candle, only just noticing that it was nearly burnt to its base!

    At first he thought to reach for that brass bell that old Belfort had given him, but then he hesitated and frowned.

    The poor man is likely cleaning this castle from top to bottom all on his lonesome, for there have been no other servants on record here for quite a few years!

    The young man arose and looked about with what little light he still carried. ¡°Surely in a place of learning and study such as this there would be a cupboard of candles somewhere..?¡± He wondered aloud.

    And so for the next several minutes he jostled and jiggled every little handle of every drawer he could find, but naught but cobwebs and a few bits of charcoal or scraps could he find within them. The flame of his candle flickered and strained in its final gasps, before it finally, poof, vanished and left him alone in pitch darkness!

    ¡°Damnable luck!¡± He cursed. ¡°Where is the door again?¡±

    He put out his hands before him so that he might not stumble into walls or chairs in his blindness. Suddenly, though, he froze, goosebumps rising upon his skin. For he felt something upon his neck, like a cold breath! Then a hand, a long, bony and pale thing, reached out and placed itself upon his shoulder!

 A Handsome and fresh-faced Traveler

    Another cold, gray and dreary day dawned in the County of Petrice and the scattered towns and villages within its borders. Towns such as Tuk, if it could be called such a thing¨Cit was more or less a series of shops and tradesmiths settled along the main road which continued on into the Eastern Mountains, eventually becoming the Road of Benedict. Any few travelers who entered the County would pass through this way, and so the little town sprung up around this meager traffic, not unlike a dank cavern weed that barely sustained itself upon what condensation dripped down the stone walls above it.

    The tavern which sat roughly at the center of the Tuk served as its only source of ¡®entertainment¡¯, though it was a low-lit and dejected-looking place where haggard, swarthy men drank in silence and did not laugh.

    So it was an unusual and peculiar sight when a handsome man with short brown hair and a sunny disposition entered in through the weathered tavern door, positively beaming with a grin. He wore a short, dark cloak draped over dirtied half-plate armor and leather. Despite his long travels and dangerous occupation his armor had stayed impressively intact, and it might have all looked quite regal, if not for the copious amounts of dirt and dried mud which stained most of it and dulled its sheen.

    The man strode up to the counter with a swagger which drew eyes¨Cand ire as well¨Cfrom some of the less-savory folk among the establishment. Paying them no mind, he clapped his two palms down upon the wooden surface of the bar with an enthusiasm which was not returned, going by the expression of the ¡®tender.

    ¡°A mug of beer please! What a long road it has been! I¡¯ve been looking forward to some refreshments!¡±

    The bartender looked at him with a notably lackadaisical air as he replied. ¡°Ain¡¯t no beer for you. Just for them.¡± He motioned with his head toward a corner table where three of those previously mentioned less-savory folk were seated, leering over towards the newcomer.

    This young man frowned a touch, but it did nothing to dim the merry shine in his eyes.

    ¡°A shame, then, that they¡¯ve rented out the whole tap.¡±

    But the bartender shook his head slightly. ¡°They ain¡¯t, they just buy it as they need, and they told me not to give no more to anyone else ¡®til they have gone.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± At this, the younger man glanced over his shoulder again at the seated trio, and then back to the bartender, his smile returning once again. ¡°Then a mug of beer it is, my good man!¡±

    The bartender startled at that, as did the men at the table. The sound of wood squeaking against wood rose as two of the three slowly drew from their seats.

    ¡°Th-there ain¡¯t no beer for you¡­¡± The bartender stammered a bit as these three brigands now approached.

    ¡°If they have not yet purchased it then any that have the coin can do so instead.¡± The lad stated matter-of-factly, seemingly oblivious to the approaching danger.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Called out the smallest of the three men. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? That keg is ours ¡®til we¡¯re done wif it! Bugger off!¡±

    At his call the young man turned to face them, but he did not seem nervous at all, and in fact displayed that same beaming disposition remained despite the harassment.

    The two men halted just before him, eyeing the armor he wore, which despite the grime, was considered quite costly around parts such as this. Then their eyes moved back up to his face, where he still smiled naively, his skin without a single scar or a wrinkle on it, and he appeared quite ignorant of the world to these men, and they grinned with foul intention.

    ¡°Now, now lads¡­¡± Called the tallest of the three, the only one still seated at the back. He spoke with a friendly tone, but also with a mischievous lilt. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be rude. Let the lad enjoy a drink. One tall mug ain¡¯t gonna dry the tap none.¡±

    His cohorts looked less than pleased at that, but they could sense the meaning behind his words and acquiesced, nodding curtly to the man behind the counter, who nervously fetched a mug.

    ¡°Thank you strangers, I was certain we could settle this with some civility!¡± Replied the lad with a smile.

    ¡°Oh, think nothing of it¡­¡± Said the third man, as his compatriots slowly made their way back to their table, still eyeing the newcomer with some indignation as he turned back towards the counter.

    <hr>

    Niklas attempted to maintain some level of composure as he followed behind the Librarian. He still felt a lingering, shaking weakness in his muscles and bones from that moment when, in the dark, her chilled and decrepit old hand had been placed upon his shoulders and gave him the utmost fright! But swiftly thereafter she had produced a candle from beneath her dark cloak, wordlessly beckoning for him to follow.

    Now, Niklas was not so sure that this was the best idea, but his curiosity had overcome his common sense. Now he plodded along behind her as she crept through the corridors between the ancient bookshelves, spaces which were in fact so narrow that Niklas wondered how someone of a normal stature was meant to traverse this place.  The Librarian was the only person he had met who was thinner and bonier than himself!

    Suddenly she stopped, and so abruptly that had he not maintained a cautious distance from her Niklas might have stumbled into her back! As he recovered his composure, her pale-blue and bony finger emerged from beneath the dark cloth of her hooded robe and flitted across the dusty tomes and files on the shelf before her, which appeared identical to all the rest. Her hand trailed over texts of all different sizes and subjects until it finally stopped upon one, which it withdrew. Then, just as suddenly as she had stopped, she began to move again, and Niklas was forced with a start to catch up with her and follow along, lest he lose his one source of light!

    Over the course of a half-hour or so the Librarian repeated this process several more times, until they finally, after a bit more walking, emerged from the maze of tight-set shelves into the familiar space of the desks and tables, which Niklas recognized as where he had been sitting just before. Approaching one of the tables, the old woman placed down an aged tome, a scroll, and a stack of parchments held together by a fraying string, and then she gestured for Niklas to take his seat, placing her own fresh, tall candle down beside them. Staring incredulously at this collection of documents, he lowered himself onto the chair.

    ¡°The-these are..!¡± He stammered in amazement as he began to open each and take in the wealth of information written inside in faded, but precise script. Included among them were various detailed reports, trade receipts, records of purchase, and old quaint histories¨Call dating back several generations!

    These are exactly what I needed next! He thought to himself in amazement as he flipped through the pages laid out before him. How did she find the exact papers that I had hoped for? I didn¡¯t even say a word to her!Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    He turned over his shoulder to where the Librarian had been standing, ready to express his gratitude for her assistance. ¡°Tha-¡± but he stopped abruptly. for she was no longer there.

    ¡°Huh..?¡±

    After a moment of stunned silence, a knocking came from outside the nearby doors, distracting him quite thoroughly from his mysterious and unsettling helper.

    ¡°Yes?¡± He called, and the portal creaked open again to reveal old Belfort standing there.

    ¡°My Lord, supper has been prepared for you.¡±

    ¡°My! Has it already been so long?¡± Niklas asked in amazement. Time had truly flown as he was buried nose-deep in the records, enjoying himself immensely. ¡°But I have only just now found some more interesting texts!¡±

    ¡°Shall I have them sent to your quarters?¡± Asked the butler promptly.

    ¡°Do that,¡± Niklas replied eagerly,¡± I would be most grateful. Then I shall go to sup now and return to them after.¡±

    He moved through the darkness of the library, finally emerging into the light beyond the open doorway. As he passed he said to the old man. ¡°And do thank the Librarian for me, for her assistance!¡±

    Belfort cocked an eyebrow at that, but kept his bemusement to himself, merely scratching his balding scalp instead.

    Librarian..?

    <hr>

    Emerging from the tavern doors, the brunette youth waved and called a friendly farewell back over his shoulder towards the bartender, which the man did not return, merely watching him depart with a look of troubled annoyance.

    ¡°What refreshment!¡± The lad sighed aloud to himself. ¡°A most good mug of beer after such a long walk! I thought I might stop at the inn for the night, but now I feel I could go on for a bit more of a ways! Perhaps I shall feast on seed with my mule, and camp under the night sky.¡±

    His rather loud and jovial monologue drew eyes from all directions, from locals with mostly pale and gloomy faces, similar to those he had encountered within the tavern.

    Paying them no mind at all, the young man walked along for a time until he reached the stables. Within the furthest stall he came upon his mule, still weighed with a great many packs and items tied on with ropes,  which was gratefully gorging itself upon grain in a trough.

    ¡°Come, my dear! A little more walk is in us before it gets dark!¡± He called merrily.

    But as the two of them exited the building and came back onto the main road he was forced to stop. Three men stood before him, dark-looking thugs with long mangy beards wearing tattered leathers and grim expressions.

    ¡°Hello again friends!¡± He called out to them, just as amicably as always.

    The smallest one spat onto the mud. ¡°No friends here.¡±

    That tallest one spoke again in a friendly tone, but with a mean grin. ¡°I had thought at the time it was fine if you had a bit of our beer, but now I¡¯ve changed my mind, and I thought I would like it back from you.¡±

    Confused, the young man said. ¡°I do apologize, but I have already drunk it all.¡±

    At that, the tallest man¡¯s grin grew wider and meaner. ¡°Well then, I guess we¡¯ll just have to cut it out of you!¡± And all three men at once drew their maces, axes and daggers, respectively.

    ¡°Well, that is mighty uncivilized of you.¡± Said the target of their ill-intent as he reached a hand into one of the packs upon his mule¡¯s back.

    ¡°Don¡¯t blame us, stranger.¡± Replied the middlest man. ¡°It¡¯s you foreigners who keep comin¡¯ here alone with yer fancy-expensive armor an¡¯ goods.¡±

    ¡°You stand out too much!¡± Said the smallest man. ¡°It¡¯s like yer beggin¡¯ to be robbed!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t quite say I understand¡­I was born here in Petrice myself.¡± Replied the young man, and from the packs that burdened his mule he withdrew a sword. It appeared to have been entirely forged from some sort of black iron, and it resembled a rapier, except for its blade which had a distinct and wavy design. The brigands'' eyes grew wide as they looked upon it.

    ¡°Monster Hunter..!¡± Breathed the tallest man in shock.

    There was a pause then, long and tense. Onlookers once content to ignore this foul event were now drawn now to the sight of the infamous blade which represented these elite Petrician swordsmen.

    ¡°Aye, Thomas is my name. I hunt monsters and dangerous beasts!¡±

    The shortest man looked most afraid, but he held his ground in an  almost indignant manner. The middlest one looked more unsure, but he too held his ground, mostly following after his compatriots¡¯ lead. But the tallest one at the back took a step away and placed his axe back upon his belt loop, unseen by the other two men, his eyes blown wide in terror.

    ¡°I¡¯ve yet to see a Petricien act this way in all my life,¡± the newly-revealed swordsman remarked, almost casually. ¡°You three resemble more the men from Otkorn. I hear it is a foul place with many outlaws and bandits.¡±

    ¡°How dare you..!¡± Cried the shortest man, offended.

    ¡°Ah, so you were the true foreigners all along,¡± laughed Thomas. ¡°Stow your weapons away, men, I only hunt Monsters.¡±

    ¡°You would like that, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Replied the middlest man, though a bead of nervous sweat now ran down his temple. ¡°Take off that armor and hand over that mule and you can be on your way!¡±

    For the first time that day, Thomas truly frowned, furrowing his brow. ¡°I need this armor to hunt dangerous beasts. And I shall not abandon my dear friend to the likes of you!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have a say in the matter!¡± Cried the shortest brigand, and he glanced over to his companions then. ¡°Come on! I don¡¯t care what they say about those Flamberges! He can¡¯t take all three of us at once!¡±

    Together the two more reckless ne''er-do-wells charged forward, weapons aloft, unaware of their companion¡¯s hesitation.

    The shortest man died before he even saw Thomas move. He had swiftly and suddenly lunged on the power of his back leg while kneeling in with the front one, piercing his opponent¡¯s neck before withdrawing just as quickly. The second man brought his axe down in a two-handed blow, which awkwardly glanced off of the side of the guard and the quillons of the Flamberge. Thomas then bent his elbow inwards to his waist and jammed the wavy blade into his opponent¡¯s side just above the hip, tearing through leather and chain with unnatural ease. The brigand cried out and fell to his knees beside Thomas, clutching frantically at his wound.

    Thomas stepped back from this second lunge and looked down at the man where he knelt and wept. Still watching from the sidelines, the ringleader of the group looked sickly, disturbed as he was at the swiftness with which this fellow had cut his brothers down. Thomas smiled at him most casually, and with a flourish he sank his blade halfway through the neck of the kneeling man, who then went silent and slumped over into the mud as he joined his short companion in death.

    From one of his mules¡¯ packs the young brunette produced an old filthy rag, with which he cleaned his blade, before stowing the weapon away once more.

    With a flippant nod towards the last man, he said ¡°G¡¯day, then!¡± before he promptly led his burden-beast forward and departed, leaving the town behind to sort out the mess. The tallest brigand watched the unassuming pair wander away until they disappeared into the distance, before turning back to look at the corpses of his friends, where a small crowd was beginning to gather and gawk. The man spoke to himself then, his silver tongue gone hoarse with fear.

    ¡°I...should go back to Otkorn.¡±

 Quite the Awkward Affair

    Dear Brother,

    Began the letter.

    How fare you in the County? I hear the weather is never-not drab and damp, so I pray that you receive a sunny day soon. I hope that my new sister-in-law is treating you well.

    Niklas scoffed aloud.

    ¡°Yes, most well, sister¡­¡± He said sarcastically as he shivered, recalling his torment in those dark and soggy dungeons.

    Father remains stubborn as ever. I think he means to indefinitely hold off on sending your dowry. Worry not, for I shall pester and nag him every day¨Cas he deserves¨Cuntil the wagons depart!

    To that he smiled warmly. Sister Frith had always been his guardian, in more ways than one. She would step between Niklas and his brothers when their bullying went too far, and she would also make sure that he was clothed and bathed and fed when the servants neglected to. Though she had no authority to fire those disrespectful maids, she could still lecture them harshly for their adherence to his Father¡¯s neglect. Niklas had once witnessed his Eldest brother cut down a man twice his size in single combat, and yet in his mind he still held his sister as the utmost pinnacle of confidence and strength.

    I hope that you are taking care of yourself. I noticed you had yet not fixed your habit of working late into the morning when you departed, and I would be loath to hear about you continuing that practice despite my most clear disapproval!

    Now he sucked his breath in through his teeth as he read. ¡°Here it comes..!¡± He murmured, steeling himself for a most cruel, albeit commonplace, lashing of tongues.

    Indeed! As you left for your duty and marriage, if there was one comfort I could find, it was that Petrice is infamous for its lack of luxuries. Perhaps there you might have no choice but to partake of simple fares more inclined towards your health, rather than the greasy foods that are so easy to buy elsewhere.

    Ah, now this was nostalgic. While it had only been a couple of weeks, to Niklas it now it felt it had been a lifetime since his esteemed sister had last berated him. Reading her words, he felt as if she was in that very room, looking upon him with her most infamous disapproving gaze¨Cone that imparted such pressure it could crush boulders into dust!

    He read on for a good deal more after that, as she viciously tore down everything from his clothing to his hair, his gait to his posture. By the time he reached the bottom of the parchment, his pride was in absolute tatters!

    But really, everyone here is feeling your absence, even if pride does not allow them to show it. Do take good care of yourself and I look forward to the time when I can see you again!

    Love and kisses!

    -Frith van der Leigh

    Niklas shuddered as he recalled her regular doting-which was, perhaps, worse than her chastisement¨Cwhereupon she would pull him into her unbreakable iron grasp and peck his face with kisses as though she were a bird and he had been doused in seeds.

    But what did she mean by that? Everyone here is feeling your absence¡­ He read over that phrase a few more times. Surely she was simply trying to keep his feelings in mind¨Cthere was no way his brothers or his father would feel anything but relief at finally being rid of him. That was, after all, exactly what they told Niklas every time they looked upon his lanky, diminutive form.

    ¡°I appreciate the sentiment at least¡­¡± He muttered with a smile, scratching his head. ¡°I should write her back soon or she may worry for me. And if I do that to her, I fear for my survival after the arrival of her next letter!¡±

    A small knocking came upon the door to his chambers then, just as he had finished reading this correspondence. Likely it was the old Butler bringing the tea that he had asked for!

    ¡°Coming!¡± he called as he rose to his feet from his seat by the fire.

    ¡°Honestly I know not how you can scale a place of this size in such little time-¡± He spoke distractedly. His eyes were closed for a blink as he pulled the door ajar, so it was not until he was halfway through his words that he actually saw who stood outside, and his breath caught in his lungs then in shock!

    There towering over him¨Cand in fact so tall that half of her head was concealed by the top lip of the doorframe¨Cstood his wife, the Countess Uldred. She was still clad in her dark robes, leathers and filthy armor, and her face remained obscured behind her hood and that inscrutable silver facemask. In her hands she clutched a silver tray bearing two glasses and a small steaming teapot, all of it appearing comically small in her titan-like grasp.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of practice¡­¡± She mumbled in reply.

    <hr>

    An air of seemingly impenetrable awkwardness hung in the room now, as though a transparent wall separated this newly paired husband and wife from one another. It had been more than half of an hour since Niklas had beckoned the large woman inside and to a chair, which creaked beneath her massive size, and since then he had remained unsure of what to say or do with her presence, wondering even if he could simply ignore her?

    Niklas enjoyed the warmth of his cup more than what little flavor was left to wring out of those old and overused tea-leaves. He stared down at his feet for the most part, only taking small peeks at the Countess every time he brought his cup up to his lips for another peck of his drink. She had set her cup aside entirely¨Ca formality, he¡¯d wagered, as she still wore that full silver mask upon her face¨Cand every time he looked at her she would flick her violet eyes to him in return, which would then send his gaze scurrying back to the floor just as quickly.

    At first he had thought there must be a reason for her to come in place of the butler. Why else would she be sitting here, threatening to ruin his single, rickety guest chair which could barely hold her large frame, not to mention her full set of armor? But here she was anyways, simply sitting in silence, fully covered and as inscrutable as ever.

    Niklas finally gathered his wits, set his own drink aside on the end table and spoke. ¡°S-so¡­¡± He forced out, despite his body clinging to his words like a starving man to his last crust of bread. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence¡­ wife?¡±

    At his use of ¡®wife¡¯ to address her he saw her hand twitch, which caused him to flinch instinctively.

    ¡°I¡­¡± She finally spoke, but did not say anything beyond that for a time. Niklas waited during her long period of hesitation with bated breath. ¡°...would like to apologize, to you.¡±

    At that Niklas¡¯ mouth hung open for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. ¡°Oh! To apolo- oh!¡± And he scrambled a bit to arrange himself in a proper posture. ¡°Think nothing of it, my Lady! There is no need-¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± She cried, and so forcefully that even from behind that silver mask, Niklas thought he¡¯d felt his clothes rustle as if disturbed by a strong breeze.

    ¡°I¡­suspected you. Cruelly.¡± She continued, now more subdued. ¡°And I forced you into a terrible cold cell. Uhm¡­ cruelly.¡± As she spoke her hulking form had slouched inwards upon itself, as if she was attempting to restrain herself after her sudden outburst.

    Not the deepest vocabulary. Niklas mused to himself.

    Another long pause followed¨Che guessed that she might be struggling to think of what to say. Then she abruptly shot straight up out of her chair and onto her feet, which startled Niklas once more and also threatened to nearly send the top of her head through the boards of the ceiling! Before he could begin to process what his wife was doing, she had bent down into a rigid bow before him, and one that was impressively deep for her size and width!This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°I, C-Countess of Petrice,¡± She spoke while holding this incredible position, her body taut as a bowstring. ¡°humbly apologize for my previous rudeness and my transgressions towards you!¡±

    ¡­Did she just stutter?

    Niklas knew not what to reply, and indeed was so stunned he could neither move nor speak, so unexpected was this turn of events to him. After a few moments without reaction or reply, without rising from her deep bow, his wife¡¯s violet eyes rose up to meet with his. ¡°Are you going to accept my apology?¡± She demanded then, her tone brusque with a hint of warning.

    ¡°I accept! I accept it!¡± The lad stammered hastily, putting his hands up between them as if he were going to be struck. ¡°R-really, think nothing of it¡­ my Lady.¡± This form of address did not elicit a violent twitch from her, so Niklas surmised she might be more comfortable with it.

    She narrowed her eyes, but then slowly rose back to her full height¨Cor at least back to her usual hunched posture.

    ¡°I understand how it might be confusing and suspicious for a stranger to arrive and claim to be your new husband.¡± He continued, and every word spoken slowly and deliberately as his mind raced for the right ones to convey his thoughts. ¡°I¡­ understand that you are out of the County, on business of the County, quite often. And that the news from His Majesty and the writ of our official¡­ union might not have graced your eyes yet when I had arrived.¡±

    He waited a beat for her to reply, but she simply remained where she stood, listening wordlessly.

    So he continued. ¡°How about we simply¡­ put this behind us? Whoopsies! An honest mistake. Between frie-between partners?¡± Her hand noticeably twitched again. ¡°Buh-business! Business partners!¡± He stammered out, having caught this reaction.

    ¡°Mmm.¡± She grunted, barely audible beneath the muffling barrier of her mask. He thought she might say something more then, but she did not. Desperate to avoid another long and awkward lull in the conversation, he continued to speak instead.

    ¡°S-so, when do you next depart for the Road of Benedict?¡±

    ¡°Two days time.¡± She replied immediately; this was a topic she was much more comfortable with, he suspected.

    ¡°I was looking over the ledger. There are less than two months until the contract with Otkorn is complete. What normally occurs after that?¡± He asked her, leaning forward in his chair.

    She seemed a bit hesitant to continue, at first, but quickly relented.

    ¡°After the contract with Otkorn we will likely receive a contract from Lengar. For twelve months and one hundred silvers.¡±

    Niklas bit his lip and held his tongue. Yes, we will have to do something about that first and foremost. I do not want her¡­ or, I suppose, us, to be beholden to Lengar and Otkorn for so long, and for so little reward.

    His gaze flitted up to her now, and for once she was not returning it, but staring down at the fire from where she stood.

    He sighed in exasperation and rubbed his temple as he pondered the situation further. Unfortunately I am powerless at this moment. I have neither influence nor capital to my name, nor even knowledge of the surrounding area and the people of Petrice! I cannot ask her to turn away from what little money she may bring in, no matter how disrespectful the assignment, without a concrete alternative!

    ¡°Well,¡± he spoke up tentatively. ¡°I¡¯m considering going out and about the County, to meet the people and to better understand the¡­situation of the locals. While you are away.¡±

    Her gaze raced back upon him then, and she looked him up and down in a manner that seemed to Niklas to be quite incredulous, which he could somehow detect despite her inscrutable attire.

    ¡°G-go out? You?¡± She asked with such authority it was almost a demand rather than a question. ¡°It is much too dangerous for one as small as you! You should just stay here where it is safe!¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ turn to shoot a look back over to her, cocking one eyebrow up at her in irritation.

    ¡°I will not remain cloistered away in this castle while the County is in such dire straits and there is work to be done!¡± He replied firmly, almost bordering on a shout.

    Uldred could not help but flinch back slightly at his forceful rebuttal, but then she straightened her arms at her sides and curled back her fists, in what appeared a somewhat childish looking pose. ¡°I said no! The County is f-fine! We will continue on as we have been. We don¡¯t need your help!¡±

    ¡°And I will not take ¡®no¡¯ for an answer!¡± He barked back without hesitation. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your ledger, and I¡¯ve seen the state of the Petrician towns and their buildings and people on my way here. Perhaps this is normal for you, but as one from places of greater civility, and who has been to the great Capital, I must say this place and people are quite run-down!¡±

    ¡°There are monsters out there!¡± she snapped.

    Niklas paused for this was a true point, though not one that he would let deter him. ¡°I¡­I shall have Belfort with me.¡±

    ¡°Belfort cannot protect you from monsters!¡±

    ¡°It is a risk I will have to take!¡± He shouted back at her. Why does she even care if I am in danger? He wondered, for they were, despite their recent marriage, barely more than two strangers.

    Uldred appeared somewhat at a loss for words, then. She had never been in an argument before. She had barely ever spoken to anyone in her life but her Father and Belfort, besides giving a few small greetings to soldiers or officials of the old King.

    ¡°I-I am the Countess!¡± She stammered in reply. ¡°You cannot go!¡±

    ¡°I am the Count!¡± He retorted. ¡°I can go where I like!¡±

    Uldred did not reply after that, and there was another awkward pause between them. As the adrenaline of this confrontation left him, Niklas was instead filled with a wary anxiety. He realized, once again, how large and intimidating the one he had been arguing with appeared, and he fretted over how she might react to his defiance.

    ¡°Fine!¡±

    But despite his fears, the woman who was now Niklas¡¯ wife simply marched back to the doorway in a huff, wrenching the thing open and only pausing her exit to announce back to him.

    ¡°Do what you want!¡±

    Then she slammed the door behind her, and so great was the force that it rattled the stone walls of his chamber¨Cand the pictures and placements upon them¨Cquite violently. The gust of force she had produced threatened to extinguish the fire entirely, and it sent the spindly lad and his chair both toppling backwards head-over-heels.

    That was where Niklas lay now; staring up at the tall ceiling, he was reminded of the few times in his youth when he had argued so stubbornly with his Eldest Brother and been beaten for it.

    <hr>

    Uldred stood on the other side of his door, slumped against it a bit. Her whole body shook, and her head was hot and her vision white, all in the shock from her first argument. Beneath her mask she pursed her lips¨Cor what was left of them¨Cso hard that they ached, and her vision clouded further as great tears welled up.

    He yelled at me! That mean, small, ugly thing, how dare he! She thought petulantly.

    I was only looking out for his wellbeing! He is so small that he looks as though a strong breeze might break him in two¨CBut he yelled at me!

    ¡°Hmph!¡± She grumbled haughtily, crossing her arms over her broad chest.

    Well, if he wants to go out and be eaten up in one bite he can, what do I care? I just met him the other day¡­ I don¡¯t even know him from the dirt under my boots!

    She stood there for a moment more indulging in such thoughts, sniffling childishly. But as her anger slowly abated, a small worry crept in to replace it.

    ¡°Oh~! Where is Belfort? I must send a letter right away!¡±

    And with this, she departed hastily down the hall and away from her unsettling thoughts of her husband.

    <hr>

    It had only yet been a day and a half since the carrier bird had found him, and yet this man¨Cwho had short brunette hair¨Chad already made impressive progress through the County. Placing his hand upon his forehead like a visor to shade his eyes from the nonexistent sun of the regular cloudy day, Thomas looked out from the peak of the steep hill upon which he stood; his sight resting on the large, black and ominous Castle where the Countess resided.

    ¡°There it is!¡± He announced aloud.

    He looked back with a delightful smile upon his mule, his stalwart companion, and he spoke excitedly to her as if she understood him.

    ¡°It has been so long since she has called for us, it must be important!¡±

    The mule huffed and continued to chew on the dull and somewhat dry grass below her.

    ¡°Oh, do not be that way, Missy! She would not call for us out of the blue for some simple chore!¡± He said, as if she had replied to him.

    ¡°Come now, Missy!¡± he called jovially. ¡°The Countess awaits!¡± And he led the beast forward.

 The Beginning of Two Journeys

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving a bit early, aren¡¯t you?¡± Belfort asked, his expression slightly dejected as he watched his Master check the fastenings of her armor. ¡°If you waited to depart another day,¡± he continued, ¡°you would still arrive on time.¡±

    ¡°It is better this way.¡± Uldred replied.

    Normally she would be loath to depart her home and place of comfort, let alone earlier than planned, yet a recent and unsettling addition to her household had troubled her to such a degree that the open road seemed welcome by comparison.

    Belfort had been falling all over himself to clean and polish all things in the castle until they shone, and at a seemingly impossible speed to boot. Uldred had watched the dank and dour familiarity of her home transform into something new, different, and clean. She didn¡¯t like it, and she kept herself locked away in her quarters for longer and longer periods with each passing day.

    ¡°Besides,¡± she continued, ¡°this will likely be the final tour of the contract. Better to get it over and done with now so that we can move on to the next one.¡±

    ¡°If you say so, my Lady¡­¡± Belfort hesitantly acquiesced.

    Once assured that everything had been properly belted and fastened, Uldred put out a hand towards her elderly companion. He, in turn¨C and with great effort¨Clifted a great and heavy scabbarded sword into her grasp. She, of course, wielded it with one arm and no trouble at all. It was a truly massive blade, indeed even matching the giant warrior herself in height, and appeared to be crafted of some kind of black iron and wrapped in a crude leather scabbard. She hefted this monstrous thing up with ease up and over her head so that it rested upon the back of her broad shoulders.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be off.¡±

    As these two exited into the courtyard that led to the outer gate, Uldred paused, for a familiar mule was stood there upon the meager grass, happily feasting into a bag of feed which had been strapped over its mouth. Uldred approached the oblivious creature and loomed over it, blocking out what already little sunlight broke through that cloudy sky. She put out a hand in which the beast could nuzzle its¨Ccomparatively, small¨Chead.

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Said the butler as he also caught sight of the mule. ¡°Master Thomas arrived just earlier this morning. Luckily he was already in the County when we sent out the bird!¡±

    Uldred turned over her shoulder to better look at him without having to withdraw her hand whereupon the donkey now rested its head.

    ¡°Where is he now?¡± she asked.

    <hr>

    Niklas found himself peeking over his steaming mug of watery tea to steal glances at his guest, something which seemed to have become a regular tactic for him. At the van der Leigh Estate he had never had trouble receiving guests, besides the rarity of such an occasion, yet here in Petrice everyone he met with was¡­ peculiar. When Belfort had pulled him from that pitch-black, cavernous library with word of a guest arriving for him, Niklas had not been expecting a man with such a beaming smile and enthusiastic temperament to greet him.

    ¡°Thomas, my new Lord Count!¡± This fellow declared immediately and loudly after he emerged¨Cthoroughly startling Niklas¨Ceven as he produced a hand to shake, which was taken up by the shaken noble lad after a brief hesitation.

    ¡°Nik¨CCount Niklas of Petrice. A pleasure to meet you, sir.¡± He had stammered in reply.

    ¡°Likewise! Likewise!¡± Replied Thomas, who shook his arm, and his entire frail body along with it, with his usual vigorous enthusiasm.

    The two men took their seats once again, and there followed a short pause as Niklas did not speak again immediately. Neither did Thomas, but he simply sat there beaming at Niklas with an expectant grin, and in a way that reminded the Count of some large dog waiting patiently for a stick to be thrown.

    ¡°Sooo¡­¡± Niklas said, breaking the silence after enduring several minutes of this. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival, Mr. Thomas?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes!¡± Thomas replied as one did who suddenly remembered something they had forgotten. ¡°Business of the Countess!¡±

    Niklas nodded, as if this response had been at all informative. ¡°Business of the Countess, indeed.¡±

    Another expectant pause stretched between the two of them, but this time it was the young Count who was waiting for Thomas to speak further.

    When the other man did not speak up, Niklas was forced to move the conversation along himself.

    ¡°Which would be..?¡± he prompted.

    Thomas grin never faltered as he responded with a cheerful ¡°I have no idea, my Lord!¡±

    Niklas¡¯ face crinkled up in distaste¨Cthe same expression he would make upon smelling rotten eggs¨C and his voice was skeptical and disbelieving. ¡°I was told that you had received a note from the Countess by bird. Did the note not say what your business was to be?¡±

    Thomas shook his head. ¡°No, my Lord!¡±

    ¡°May I¡­ see it for myself?¡± Niklas inquired.

    At that the affable brunette reached into a pouch hanging at his side and retrieved a small and crumpled parchment from inside, handing it across to Niklas, who greedily snatched it up and unfolded it to peer at the contents:

    Thomas,

    Return.

    -U

    ¡°... I see.¡± Niklas said, and then he promptly tossed the offending document over his shoulder, his countenance clearly unamused. ¡°Well,¡± he continued in a clipped tone. ¡°Perhaps the Countess herself will inform us of your business when she arrives.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Uldred replied immediately, for she was now standing just behind his chair.

    At that Niklas barked out a startled cry as he leapt from his chair, stumbling back across the room until he had plastered himself against the far wall. His body was shaky and beaded with cold sweat, his breaths and heartbeat were quick and loud, so strong was his shock at her unexpected appearance.

    How can a woman as large as she move as quietly as a mouse? Niklas wondered to himself. You would expect a person of her size to be announced by heavy footfalls, ones which perhaps shake the room and its contents! Is she a ghost, to appear so silently out of the air?

    Neither Thomas nor Uldred appeared to register the young Lord¡¯s overreaction, but looked upon each other casually as he struggled to recover his wits.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Eully!¡± the wandering swordsman called out in greeting, outstretching his arms for a hug that would never come.

    ¡°Thomas, I have told you to refer to me as ¡®Countess¡¯ have I not?¡±

    ¡°Bah!¡± Thomas waved his hand dismissively. ¡°You¡¯ll always be little Eully to me!¡±

    Leather squeaked as the Countess¡¯ fists squeezed her massive gloves so hard that they threatened to burst. Niklas¡¯ eyes bulged again as his frantic mind imagined that this impertinent young traveler might be torn to pieces before his eyes, even as the man himself simply grinned like usual.

    ¡°So, what did you need of me, oh esteemed Countess?¡± Thomas asked with an exaggerated flourish.

    She raised one large gloved hand then and shoved her finger directly towards where Niklas stood back in the corner.

    ¡°That one.¡± She said, not even bothering to hide her disdain for him Niklas folded his arms defensively and frowned back at her. Ignoring his reaction entirely, she continued. ¡°He wishes to go out and¡­ see the County. You will make sure he does not die.¡±

    For the first time Thomas¡¯ smile gave way to a small frown, but it was one that spoke more of confusion than anything else. ¡°Well, I am not opposed to it, but surely Belfort would be enough to¨C¡±

    ¡°--It is not safe.¡± The Countess¡¯ booming rebuttal rang out before he could even finish his words. Behind her, the old butler shrugged helplessly.

    Thomas scratched at his chin quizzically. ¡°Well, I suppose there¡¯s no harm in it. And I am interested to see what the Count seeks out among all the villages and spud farms and such...¡±

    He turned his brilliant grin back towards Niklas once more. ¡°We would be most honored to have you along, my Lord! Missy and I would, that is.¡±

    Suddenly all eyes were upon Niklas, most notable of which were Uldred¡¯s, whose violet gaze felt as heavy as the massive sword strapped upon her back. After only a few seconds of this invisible weight bearing down on his small frame, he sighed in resignation.

    ¡°Fine. If you trust him so well, then I shall depart for my tour in the morning with this Thomas fellow.¡±

    Yet again a silence fell over the room. Nobody knew what to say now that the matter of Niklas¡¯ escort had been settled.

    The spell was quickly broken by Thomas as he suddenly arose from his seat and clapped his hands together.

    ¡°So,¡± he prompted eagerly. ¡°how about lunch?¡±

    <hr>

    The tall and proud figure of Frith van der Leigh peered down from the hallway window towards the bustle at the front of the Estate. Below her, workers toiled away preparing wagons stacked with chests full of coin, crates packed with materials, or corralling herds of sheep, cows and other livestock.

    This caravan of provisions was to serve as the dowry for the marriage between the van der Leigh family and the County of Petrice, though it differed greatly from traditional noble wedding gifts. This was because Petrice was known to be a poor area incomparable to any other, whose only export was those terrible and awesome swordsmen and women who traveled to fight for their own fortune. It was a mostly barren and inhospitable place, and indeed its greatest defense against outside aggression was simply its lack of worth.

    It was no coincidence that Niklas, a top study in the art of stewardship, had been chosen to help manage a place so ill of fortune, but even he could not hope to revive Petrice with his two hands alone.

    That is why it was so maddening to see my father withhold the dowry for so long. Frith thought to herself, remaining poised despite her lingering frustration. If he had delayed it any longer the Crown might have thought his attitude was not just disparaging of his own son, but of them as well.

    Distracted as she was by her thoughts, and by watching the progress below, she did not appear to see the two figures turning the corner and approaching her from down the hall. The first man had a face which was somewhat sallow ¨Calthough he was nowhere near as gaunt as Niklas-- which was framed by long and stringy hair. He was of an average build, and he stood and walked well, his confident posture betraying his unhealthy appearance. Following just behind him and to his left was a man twice as large in girth and a head taller in height. His hair was cropped short, his neck and jaw were thick, and he wore a stern expression which very much resembled their father¡¯s.

    The two men stopped just ahead of their sister, peering out of the window and following her gaze down towards where it was fixed.

    ¡°What a waste.¡± Bemoaned Vicentie as he took in the procession of well-stocked wagons. ¡°All this capital, just for one lousy runt! This is enough that I could start up another business!¡±

    Brudwyn snorted amusedly.

    Frith sighed at his harsh words, but otherwise remained as she had been. ¡°If those were our only two choices,¡± she replied evenly. ¡°then I¡¯d wager this is the more sound investment.¡±

    That elicited a grunted ¡°Heh!¡± out of Brudwyn, while Vicentie shot her a searing glare. ¡°Always so quick to jump to little Nikki¡¯s side, aren¡¯t you, sister?¡±

    ¡°Somebody has to.¡±

    Unlike Vicentie, the eldest brother only looked amused at her censure. ¡°Even God didn¡¯t when He born him as half a man.¡± He replied. ¡°Some people will never amount to anything, no matter how much you coddle them.¡±

    Now it was Frith¡¯s turn to chuckle darkly. ¡°That was made more apparent by the rank at which you graduated from the Academy, dear brother.¡±

    It was Brudwyn¡¯s turn to scowl over at his sister while Vicentie laughed. ¡°The van der Leighs produce knights, not pencil-pushers!¡± You should know that.¡± He scoffed at her as he shoved at Vicentie¡¯s shoulder from behind, making him stumble. ¡°You, too.¡± he continued, now addressing his brother as the younger man fumed up at him. ¡°You¡¯re the scrawny one, now! Though at least you can swing a sword a bit.¡± Vicentie just sneered back at him in open hostility.

    ¡°If and when we visit the County,¡± Frith interjected, entirely ignoring their petty bickering. ¡°I would hope that the two of you leave these disrespectful attitudes behind at the van der Leigh Estate. The little boy you both enjoyed picking on so much now ranks higher than even Father himself.¡±

    Despite their squabbling just a moment before, both of the brothers exchanged amused glances at her words.

    ¡°What is he gonna do? That twerp thinks he can flaunt a Title that he bought in front of us as he pleases? When I see him I¡¯ll show him who¡¯s really in charge, Count or no Count.¡± Brudwyn boasted.

    ¡°Oh, but I don¡¯t think that the Countess would be thrilled to be slighted like that.¡± Frith said, and a wicked grin spread slowly across her face, the change from her usual unflappable demeanor unsettling both of her brothers. ¡°You know of her, yes?¡± She continued, leaning languidly against the wall even as she watched them with the air of a lioness stalking its prey. ¡°The de facto leader of the infamous Flamberges de Patrice? The Black Knight?¡±

    Vicentie nervously shrunk in on himself a bit, his confident posture vanishing at the thought. Brudwyn did not show his fear so easily, but a bead of sweat had begun to roll down the length of his furrowed brow. Then, noticing his brother¡¯s cowering, he shot him a disgusted look.

    ¡°Th-those stories are clearly exaggerated! ¡®Monsters¡¯ or what-have-you, hah!¡± he stammered out brashly, unwilling to show his upset. ¡°They¡¯re most likely just your run-of-the-mill militia who rely on scary weapons to ward off bandits and wolves from flocks of sheep! They¡¯re hardly a match for esteemed Knights like ours!¡±

    Indeed, while Frith had also doubted the claims of the Countess¡¯ terrible size and strength, along with her immeasurable ability on the battlefield¨Cfor many unbelievable stories and rumors about her were circulated among the nobility from the West¨Cit was still entertaining to watch these two bullies squirm with anxiety at the thought of her.

    ¡°Well,¡± Frith spoke lightly then, as she was not enjoying watching them squirm. "If the two of you are meaning to maintain the same relationship with our little Nikki that you shared all those years past, then I hope for your sakes that you are right.¡± With that she left the window and continued on her way past her brothers and down the hall¨Cthough she did not go around the two men, but rather through and between them, forcefully shoulder-checking Vicentie and sending him stumbling again as she went.

    ¡°Otherwise, I suspect I might have to start referring to him as the ¡®Eldest Brother¡¯.¡± She couldn¡¯t hold back one last smug jab as she made her exit.

    The two men silently watched her glide around the corner and disappear.

    Vicentie slouched and looked nervously over at his brother, who himself was visibly shaking with anger, as well as his own fear. His jaw was clenched so tight he could just barely force a single word of response out from between his teeth.

    ¡°Bitch.¡¯

 Foul men and Tempers

    Amongst the bustle and noise of the camp Abor lazily picked between his teeth with the sharp piece of a broken-off bone. He was a large and well-muscled man¨Cnot the kind of muscular that appears sculpted from stone, but the girth one obtains from many years of hard labor, both voluntary and indentured. His copper-colored skin was matted with curly black hair, which spread all across his chest and forearms, but grew most heavily upon his face. He was the only man in the camp who was naked from the waist up, for he had complained that the uniform of an Otkornian soldier was much too uncomfortable and caused him to itch terribly, and none of the few true men-at-arms had the stones to reprimand him.

    All of the other swarthy men who swarmed about wore the same gray tabard, upon which was displayed the telling image of a stone tower with a flag at its peak waving in the breeze, with two swords crossed behind it: the house symbol of Baron Otkorn. That same tabard was what Abor sat upon to shield his seat from the damp log below.

    The men¨Cthere must have been fifty there now¨C cackled and mingled in a merry atmosphere, as most of them were tipsy on grog and well-feasted upon tough and fatty cuts of gristly meat. Standing a ways away and whispering amongst themselves, the few proper men-at-arms present looked on with concern at the gaggle of ruffians that were to be their fighting forces.

    ¡°Look at ¡®em. Bastards. Like they weren¡¯t born in the same pen as the rest of us.¡± Abor grumbled to the weaselly-looking man who sat beside him.

    ¡°Y-yeah!¡± His companion stuttered out, looking nervously at Abor as he did so. He was a diminutive fellow with sharp features and prominent buckteeth.

    ¡°They act all put off by us, but thems and their Lord are the ones who conscripted us out of the jail in the first place ¡®cuz they¡¯s so desperate for fighting men! Hah!¡±

    He reached over and swiped a chunk of grilled meat from the smaller man¡¯s grasp, who looked on in disappointment but did not dare to object.

    ¡°At least they have the decency to feed us some meat an¡¯ grog. Still...bastards.¡±

    Abor tore into his gristly spoils with his teeth.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± The other man replied again.

    Chewing on a piece of fat, Abor leaned his head back to look up at the cloudy sky and huffed. ¡°An¡¯ now we gots to fight under some stuffy Noble that¡¯s comin¡¯ here? Hah!¡±

    He spat some of the gristle on the dirt.

    ¡°It¡¯s a woman too! Can you imagine that? A Noble woman on the battlefield? What rubbish!¡±

    He did not see that his small companion behind him withdrew from him at the mention of this ¡®Noble woman¡¯, his expression darkening.

    ¡°At least maybe she¡¯s a looker, eh?¡± Abor continued derisively. ¡°Maybe me an¡¯ the lads will pay her a visit one night ¡®fore she departs.¡± He cackled loudly. It was then that he finally turned, and saw the nervous sweat beading on the face of his henchman. ¡°What¡¯s got your ass? Eh?¡±

    ¡°I-I¡¯s heard stories of that Noble Lady I has¡­¡± The small man muttered. ¡°They says she¡¯s tall as a hill, half-Troll or somethin¡¯ like that, and she¡¯s a cannibal too!¡± His weedy body shook a little as he recounted this. ¡°They calls her ¡®The Reaper of the Road¡¯ cuz she comes back every few months an¡¯ clears out all the Lengar boys when they come to take back the trade road. The Baron don¡¯t even pay ¡®er! She does it for fun!¡±

    Abor brought a mean fist down upon the top of the small man¡¯s skull, who then fell to his knees and clutched at this new lump, moaning piteously. ¡°Snap out of it lad!¡± His swarthy tormentor barked out. ¡°Ain¡¯t no woman I ever saw lift a sword before! Let alone one of them prissy Noble ones.¡±

    With extra space having been freed up on the stump that served them as a seat, Abor lay down upon it lazily, resting his chin upon his palm. ¡°There¡¯s what, ten soldiers o¡¯er there in that Tent?¡± He queried, looking over at the place where the lone Otkorn Sergeant and his soldiers were huddled. He grinned menacingly.

    ¡°W-what¡¯re you thinkin¡¯ boss?¡± Asked the small man nervously from the dirt below the stump.

    Abor chuckled, but did not elaborate any further. ¡°Not now¡­but soon. I think I¡¯s got the ticket to get us out of this lot.¡± He said, and he jingled the chains which stretched between his ankles.

    <hr>

    Niklas couldn¡¯t help but shiver as he stepped out into the cold and damp landscape of Petrice, even while wrapped up in the thickest shirt and vest that he had packed. He sucked in air between his teeth and exhaled a sigh that was faintly visible as mist in the chilly air. Before him, and some twenty feet out, Thomas turned to wave him over; beside the other man stood his trusty mule, her back still furnished with several bulging packs.

    ¡°Greetings, Count! Ready to set off?¡± He said with a cheerful grin--which was surely the brightest expression worn by anyone in the County, Niklas wagered. ¡°The day¡¯ll be long before we come to the first town.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, let us be off at once!¡± he replied, to which Thomas then responded to Niklas¡¯ declaration with a silly salute.

    So began their journey together. For a time no one among the three of them said a word, although Thomas hummed merrily as he walked. Whenever he finished a song he would peer somewhat quizzically over at Niklas. And as Niklas offered up no objections, he would begin to hum a new tune.

    He must be used to being told off by his companions for making noise. Niklas thought to himself, a little amused. But I find it to be quite the entertainment, especially in this dreary landscape.

    After an hour or so of walking Thomas had transitioned from his light humming to full-blown song, emboldened by Niklas¡¯ lack of protest. They were exotic and alien tunes to Niklas, and he thought that they must have come from the other man¡¯s extensive travels amongst unfamiliar lands and cultures. Soon enough he found himself nodding along to them, and Thomas¡¯ own singing voice was not an unpleasant thing in its own right.

    ¡°You are quite the Bard, sir Thomas.¡± Niklas commented during the break between one song and the next.

    ¡°My thanks, your Lordship!¡± Thomas replied. ¡°Though I¡¯m afraid the only instrument I know is a blade!¡±

    At that Niklas¡¯ eye darted to the weapon which sat atop one of the packs on the mule¡¯s back. It was not a blade that Niklas was familiar with, for despite his family history, he was not permitted much study of such things back at home very much due to frail constitution. From what little he could make of it while in its sheath, it was a long and narrow blade, but with a hilt only fit for one-handed use, and below the crossguard appeared some sort of cage for the hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s a peculiar one you have there, at least to my untrained eye.¡±

    Thomas chuckled. ¡°Aye, it¡¯s not what a Knight or a traveler would normally carry. It is much more a weapon of the Nobility. However, I find it fits my¡­ style, you could say, quite nicely!¡±

    Niklas scratched his chin. ¡°It does not appear as if it could handle much abuse. I cannot imagine you could stop a blow with it.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Nay, it¡¯s better to move out of the way instead.¡± Thomas replied with a shake of his head. ¡°And better yet to strike before they even have a chance to attempt a strike of their own, which is what I prefer.¡±

    Something about the blade stirred an excitement in Niklas¡¯ Knightly blood, and he came to a slow realization as he further looked it over.

    ¡°...Is much strength required to wield it?¡± He asked with a feigned lightness that belied the spark in his eyes .

    Thomas briefly looked him up and down, noting Niklas¡¯ obvious lack of conventional physical strength or size, and he grinned again. ¡°Not much at all!¡± he replied. ¡°Just the strength to hold it, my Lord, and enough to pierce through leather and cloth. Why, if you were to procure one I could very well teach you the way of it.¡±

    ¡°Could you?¡± Niklas¡¯ eyes shone with a look not unlike a peasant child being offered their first sweet.

    ¡°Aye!¡± Thomas¡¯ expression was almost as joyful as Niklas¡¯. I am quite proficient, if I do say so myself.¡± He then shot Missy a silent grin over his shoulder, to which she only let out a characteristic huff and a roll of her eyes before she resumed her search for tender patches of grass beside the road.

    And from thereon the road did not seem so long or so arduous, as the two travelers were enraptured by further conversation of the exotic swords and martial studies which Thomas had witnessed in his travels.

    <hr>

    After some further hours of walk, a rest period camping under the night sky, and a halfday thereafter of further travel, Niklas and Thomas could finally see the hazy silhouettes of small buildings in the distance. Every few hours past that time, they happened upon crude wooden barns or sheds that marked the beginnings of what civilization resided in this poor and barren County. Finally they arrived at the first small town closest to the Castle, which was called Wiffeld.

    The exterior of the town proper was surrounded by a tall wooden fence. The thing was not exactly a palisade, for the wood poles that made it up were thin and segmented with gaps, and they led to a wide, gateless portcullis of the same make. In front of this humble entrance stood a scruffy looking youth, who gave a start when he saw the two travelers approaching.

    ¡°A-are you the Lord Count?¡± He called out in a reedy voice, to which Niklas replied with a casual wave.

    Without another word the boy turned, jogged back into the town and disappeared from their sight. The two men and the mule stopped before the entrance and waited for a short time, and soon the youth returned with an elderly man at his back.

    This tall and wide older man first turned his expectant gaze towards Thomas before the lad, correcting him, pointed to Niklas. At this the old man¡¯s look became more unsure and judgmental as he took in the diminutive Nobleman before him.

    ¡°I am Crawford, village head.¡± He finally spoke with a regional accent, and in a low, scratchy voice to boot.

    ¡°Count Niklas,¡± the other man returned amiably. ¡°It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± He put out a hand to shake.

    Crawford did not take it, however, and instead simply bowed his head towards him. Niklas awkwardly withdrew the respectful gesture after a moment¡¯s pause.

    ¡­ All right. Niklas thought to himself, annoyed by the dismissive attitude he had been shown.

    ¡°Please, enter.¡± The old man gestured through the gate and into the town, and so the two newcomers did, with their newmet guides following behind them.

    Niklas looked about as they were led in. The many buildings were arranged in a circular pattern around an open center. Most of them were individual living spaces made of thatched wood and with small personal gardens attached. There were, however, a couple larger structures that he supposed must be for storage of animals or other goods. As the party made their way in they soon came to the widest such building in the area, which served as a place of community gatherings.

    The young boy ran ahead and the three adults entered behind him, leaving Missy the mule just outside.

    Being midday, not many souls were present inside the hall though what few lingered there shared the same gruff, inexpressive demeanor as Crawford himself, and they peered over at the newcomers with distrustful eyes. Finally the elder man sat down at a secluded table, gesturing for his two guests to do the same, with which they readily complied.

    Truthfully, Niklas was quite put off by this setting, as well as the scrutiny of the locals, but he did his best to wear a confident veneer. The constant presence of Thomas at his side was one that provided him much comfort as well.

    ¡°So,¡± The larger man said, his voice as unenthusiastic as his expression. ¡°what is your business here, Lord Count?

    <hr>

    What followed over the next hour was an abysmal repartee between Niklas and Crawford, wherein the visiting Count could gather little information due to the older man¡¯s stubborn and taciturn nature. Questions of trade, travel, or interactions with the other nearby villages all received short and unhelpful answers from the Head, whilst queries about farming techniques and local specialties brought out suspicious and dagger-like gazes from not only Crawford himself but every other villager in the hall.

    From their attitude, you would think I was some common swindler!

    Niklas steadily grew more impatient as the meeting wore on, and with every dodgy answer and accusatory suggestion he felt his ire rising.

    ¡°Mr. Crawford, I believe you are misunderstanding me.¡± Niklas sighed in exasperation for what felt like the hundredth time. ¡°I am simply here to gather information so I may come up with a plan to improve the general conditions in which your people live, as well as those of all of the-¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The elder man gruffly cut him off. ¡°It is you who does not understand. We have lived on and worked these fields for hundreds of seasons longer than your Kingdom has even existed. It is you outsiders who come here and try to tell us as if you know better.¡± This was, perhaps, the most Crawford had spoken since this conference had begun.

    For a moment then the old man¡¯s gaze flitted over and behind Niklas, who glanced over his shoulder to follow it. A group of farmhands who had been sitting at a table across the room had just begun to rise from their seats, their gazes cold and hostile.

    ¡°And this¡­¡¯tax¡¯ that you say?¡± Crawford continued. ¡°To take the fruits of our toil as your own, as if we owe you anything? You have insulted us, Count, and I think it is time for you to go.¡±

    The air in the room was heavy. Niklas was boiling with anger at such an unreasonable rejection, and had half a mind to tell these people off no matter what it cost him later. Thomas sat between the two men, looking back and forth between them as they traded barbed glares with one another even while his own mug still wore a pleasant and unworried grin. With a great effort of will Niklas reigned in his anger, rubbing at his throbbing temples with his hands.

    ¡°... Fine.¡± He declared then, standing up from the table and making use of what height he had to look down upon his host. ¡°I shall find my own way, then. Both to the gate and the information I desire.¡±

    He gestured for Thomas to follow. He rose from his own seat, and the two of them made to depart. But just before they exited the far doorway out of the hall, Niklas stopped and turned to call back over his shoulder.

    ¡°Know this: Change is coming.¡± He declared, with all the authority he could muster up. ¡°This territory will be reformed, and for the better. Best to steel yourselves for it now, lest you be caught unawares.¡±

    The old man did not so much as twitch at this, but the slight reddening of his countenance and the newly-swelling vein upon his forehead betrayed his reaction to the young Count¡¯s words.

    To think that I must be lectured by some¡­ child! The old man raged within the privacy of his thoughts. The female Count was bad enough, but at least she left us bloody well alone!

    He turned his angered gaze upon the handful of townsmen across the room, who stared back at him just as intently. Their expressions were much like hunting hounds who desperately wished for Crawford to let them off of their leash!

    Maybe it would be best if we cow this boy now, while we have the chance¡­

    But then, as if he had heard the old man¡¯s thoughts ringing out across the hall, Thomas gave the briefest look over his shoulder towards him, his eyes were deadly, sharp and cold as ice.

    Crawford¡¯s face went pale as the force of the swordsman¡¯s killing intent snuffed his out the fire of rage like it was a mere candle, a wave of cold ran through his bones. He visibly shivered and looked back to his lads, who looked just as pale. They shook their heads now, any motivation for action having left them as quickly as it had from their leader.

    Shaky, but still determined, Crawford reached up a hand which he lay upon the shoulder of that youth who stood to his side. He whispered to him then.

    ¡°Send word to the other villages. This new Count is not to be trusted.¡±

 Ill-intentions All Around

    Something near a week had passed since the newlywed Count and the Countess had departed Castle Petrice upon their separate journeys: Uldred setting out alone and Niklas in the company of Thomas and the trusty mule Missy. During this time the Countess had enjoyed the familiar bleak scenery, as well as the distance between her and the biggest disturbance to her normal life, Niklas. The man himself, meanwhile, was having a most unpleasant time butting heads with the Petrician townsfolk.

    The xenophobic nature of the local populace had buffeted all of Niklas¡¯ attempts at even the most basic information-gathering. The leaders and yeomen of the surrounding towns and villages had reacted in an identical fashion to old Crawford, the village head of Wiffeld, resisting the young Count¡¯s probing and allowing through only a few meager crumbs, rather than the answers he sought. Indeed, this trio of travelers found themselves all but chased out from the next several settlements along their journey, and later on a few barred them from entering entirely. Niklas suspected then that the Petrician villages they had visited heretofore might be sending messengers hither and thither to warn the others of their upcoming arrival.

    While those three continued along their unexpectedly harrowing journey, the Countess herself was just then taking her first steps past the borders of Petrice along the infamous Road of Benedict. In this narrow corridor of no-man¡¯s land that rested between two Counties and the Barony of Otkorn, her huge and intimidating figure was offered little resistance. Where the caravans of merchants or tradesmen might be set upon by brigands, the mighty Uldred appeared like unto a massive oncoming beast, and as such sent such otherwise dangerous men scattering into the bushes or trees until she had long since passed. Thus, after a long and undisturbed trek, she finally looked out to the East and saw small trails of smoke rising from the nearby forest, and she broke off from the trodden path.

    <hr>

    Abor stood amongst his ¡®boys¡¯ with his arms folded before him, but wearing a small grin. Indeed, to see him with such a posse at his back, one might have wondered who was really in charge here, as he stood beside the Sergeant and his few true soldiers. Of course, the soldiers were aware of the harsh discrepancy between their men and their loyalties, and they warily eyed their criminal cohorts. Their greatest relief lay in the chains that hung between each of those fifty men¡¯s ankles, limiting their gait to a fast walk at best.

    Soldiers and conscripts alike all stood waiting for the anticipated arrival of the Countess of Petrice. Abor imagined her a dainty Lady in some form-fitting and fashionable ¡®armor¡¯ unsuitable for true battle, one who would come with a handful of House Guards for her to command from the safety of the rear.

    Though Petrice is a poor land, so whatever men-at-arms she brings can¡¯t be any better furnished than we are! Abor postulated to himself. Even with guards and the soldiers, we¡¯ll easily outnumber them both. We can grab the little Lady, have some fun with ¡®er, and then ransom ¡®er back for an easy reward! He licked his remaining teeth in anticipation of this heinous plan.

    It was then that at last a silhouette appeared in the near distance from between the thinning trees. But the lascivious eyes of the conscripted prisoners soon grew wide instead, and they shot startled glances over to the soldiers, who returned them with their own nervous gazes. These two normally disparate groups were, at present, united by their shared anxiety and shock.

    ¡°What in all the Hells..?¡± Abor wondered aloud.

    An unexpected lone figure approached the assembled men, one who only grew larger and greater as she closed the distance between them. When she finally stood before them she towered over even the largest man there, and in her black leather, battered plates and hooded mask, she looked so eerie and terrible that some of the men wondered then if some Petrician monster had made its way across the border in place of the expected woman of rank.

    ¡°W-welcome, my Lady.¡± Stuttered the Sergeant as he stepped forward and bowed his head respectfully. Uldred did not speak in reply, but simply waved a large hand indicating for the man to rise.

    That¡­ thing is the Countess..? Abor hardly dared to blink as he stared at her in disbelief and rising anger.

    ¡°... it¡¯s the Reaper of the Road!¡± His weaselly companion muttered aloud in a hoarse whisper, fear etched across his face.

    The brutish brigand himself ground his teeth in his rage. It was not an anger born from this unexpected change to his plans, nor from the embarrassment of being made to look like a fool in front of his boys, nor even one formed from disappointment that the Countess was not some petite and beauteous thing for him to have his way with.

    No, it was more of a base and animal fire that had sparked within the man, for among this lot¨Cand even in his incarceration prior¨CAbor had been the largest and most menacing of the bunch. And when he was not, and there was one more intimidating than him, he would swiftly dispatch them with either a sharp blade to their guts or strangled with a length of rope as they slept. This woman¨Cif she could even be called as such¨Cstood at least a full head taller than him and was even wider of shoulder, and she wore the countenance of Death Himself. As he looked about he saw his boys, who were fearful and loyal to him, were cowed simply by the sight of her!

    ¡°Y-you must be exhausted, my Lady! Please, come r-right this way!¡± Oblivious to Abor¡¯s growing outrage, the nervous Sergeant stuttered as he addressed the Countess again and then led her away towards the more well-kept and better quality tents where the soldiers slept and did their business.

    As she passed by Abor, time seemed to slow for a stretch. He watched as if through molasses as she turned slightly, and a pair of violet eyes glared out from her mask and swept over the gathered conscripts. It was a menacing gaze which Abor returned defiantly.

    ¡°B-boss? What¡¯ll we do?¡± Whispered one man nervously over Abor¡¯s shoulder, and many eyes turned upon their unspoken captain.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°What?!¡± Abor scoffed as he turned his enraged gaze upon them. ¡°Nothing¡¯s changed! She might look a bit scary, but she¡¯s still only one woman, and a Noble one at that! Under all that armor she¡¯s still soft.¡±

    At that the men murmured and shared glances amongst themselves, clearly less than satisfied. Abor shook with an even greater anger then, grabbing one of his fellows by the collar and pulling him close enough that their noses touched.

    ¡°Listen here, you stupid, useless lot! I¡¯m still the baddest man here! If you all don¡¯t listen to me, I¡¯ll gut ya! Or worse.¡±

    The man in his grasp could only stare into Abor¡¯s eyes in terror as he vented his anger, and the rest of the men around him instinctively took a step back from the two. Abor pointed one meaty arm towards the tents where the soldiers had led the Countess.

    ¡°There¡¯s damn near fifty of us here, and only ten of them--even with that big freak it¡¯s only eleven!¡± he roared. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way they¡¯re stoppin¡¯ us. So get yer heads out of yer asses, and quick!¡± Spittle rained down upon the other man¡¯s bearded face. ¡°I ain¡¯t rotting away in some cell for the rest of my days. You all do as I says, and we¡¯ll live like Kings! Or as much as one can in this wretched Barony.¡±

    Finally he released his captive from his grasp¨Cand his wrath¨Cand the man stumbled backwards, fell to his seat and shook, too shocked to even wipe the saliva from his face. Abor turned once more towards the camp with a gaze consumed by the inferno of determination and rage burning in his gut

    This changes nothing!

    <hr>

    ¡°My apologies, the accommodations surely cannot be to your standards¡­¡± Mumbled the nervous Sergeant, a notion to which Uldred gave another dismissive wave.

    ¡°I am unused to finery.¡± Came the muffled reply from beneath her mask.

    ¡°R-right¡­¡± Stammered the soldier.

    Uldred was not paying the man much mind, her attention was turned instead towards the cluster of conscripts. Though she could not see them anymore, she still stared in their direction as if her eyes could penetrate the walls of the tent and the foliage beyond.

    ¡°Quite the discrepancy in numbers¡­¡± Uldred muttered to herself.

    ¡°Yes, we are experiencing a¡­ shortage in manpower recently.¡± The Sergeant replied, his awkward smile betrayed by the tremble in his voice.

    I do not doubt it. Mused the Countess internally. Not many brave men would jump at the chance to pledge their loyalty and fight for a repugnant soul such as Baron Otkorn.

    She turned her gaze back upon the Sergeant, barely having to tilt her head to meet his eyes despite the fact that she was sitting and he was standing.

    ¡°Last time you all could manage to scrape together at least double the soldiers, and the time before that the soldiers were in equal number to the conscripts¡­¡±

    The Sergeant gulped audibly. ¡°Yes well, the Baron has needed the men¡­ elsewhere.¡±

    Uldred narrowed her eyes at that. Ah, I see.

    She was not truly surprised at this turn of events. Indeed, she was more surprised that something like this had not happened sooner on one of her earlier two contracts with the Baron.

    I am here alone, with but a skeleton crew to command, among a sea of desperate thugs who are destined to be jailed or executed upon their return to the Barony?

    Contemplating her predicament, Uldred simply sighed. It was not a dejected or resigned sigh, nor one that denoted any kind of fear. It was the heavy, soul-weary sigh of a person who had arrived at their desk to find, waiting patiently upon it, double the work that they had expected. Hers was a sigh that said this is going to be a very long day.

    ¡°The shackles, who has the keys for them?¡± She asked after it had finished.

    ¡°Th-there is but one key for all, and it is held by me at all times, except whilst I sleep, and then it held by one of my men, chosen at random.¡±

    She put out a large, black-gloved hand towards the Sergeant, who startled at the gesture.

    ¡°Give it here.¡± she ordered him.

    The man hesitated for a moment, but after catching sight of the great Lady¡¯s violet gaze, he reached quickly into a pouch at his belt. From it he produced a large, rusty iron key which he then readily placed within her grasp. She slipped the key within the collar of her clothes.

    ¡°You all, the soldiers. Do you carry any coin with you?¡± She demanded, her voice as cold but calm as a frozen lake.

    The Sergeant shot her a confused glance as he replied. ¡°We do carry purses with us to purchase food and supplies..?¡±

    ¡°Have your men take them somewhere and bury them. Every last one. And do it separately as well, so the others do not know where they are.¡±

    Now the expression he turned towards her was downright befuddled, but the look she returned to him was deadly serious.

    ¡°Soldier?¡±

    ¡°A-aye!¡± he hastily acquiesced. ¡°I will have them do this!¡±

    She tilted her head slightly to him, without breaking eye contact. ¡°Complete it tonight. Posthaste.¡±

    He saluted enthusiastically. ¡°I shall do so right away!¡± He then departed without another word, leaving Uldred alone.

    ¡°Tomorrow, likely¡­¡± She mumbled to herself as she swung the large, sheathed blade that she carried upon her back over her shoulder and pulled it from its scabbard. Retrieving a whetstone from somewhere beneath her dark cloak, she rode it along the wavy flamberge blade, which produced many great sparks, along with a grinding noise that would be heard until well into the dark of night. It was preparation for the work that waited for her in the morning.

 Nothing goes as Planned

    It was early morning at the camp, the weather no less overcast than any other time of day, but with air cool and crisp enough to see one¡¯s breath hang in the air. Abor¡¯s broad frame was perched upon a large stone protruding from the gravelly soil, and he chewed on a stick for its sap, his mean gaze unusually distant. In his mind a dozen scenarios had played out in which his crew of brigands cut down their few remaining guards in order to snatch up the Noble woman for her bounty. But now, even in the familiar terrain of his own mind, some odd feeling of dread came upon him as he approached her huge and domineering figure. It was as if some animalistic instinct was warning him of the presence of a more dangerous predator than he, and urging to run away as quickly as he could!

    The man looked down then at the chain between his ankles and he grunted out a bemused ¡°Hah!¡± Not that he could do much running in a state like this.

    ¡°It might be most efficient to slit their throats as they sleep¡­ No, no, if they hid the key then we¡¯re all done for¨Cme in particular.¡± He muttered to himself.

    Again, he imagined himself approaching the towering figure of that woman with cruel intent, menacing her with his blade And once again his mind¡¯s eye showed him the same horrible result: she lifted him by his neck with one massive, black-gloved hand and strangled him until he was dead, all while his companions cowered in terror on the sidelines.

    ¡°Even in my head, they¡¯re all useless!¡± He growled, tussling the greasy mop of his hair in exasperation.

    I¡¯ve got to get over this! He thought to himself. She may be large, but she¡¯s only one woman! Even if I cannot easily picture her weak and afraid, I¡¯ve well seen that even the strongest brutes cry out in terror when they¡¯re in true danger. More importantly, if I cannot even imagine my victory then there is no way I¡¯ll survive! But even as he rationalized it, that strange anxiety continued to twist in his stomach.

    Then the sound of feet sprinting in his direction caught his attention. He turned to see a familiar, bony young lad approaching with a worried expression.

    ¡°Abor!¡± He called. ¡°That Noble Lady¨Cshe¡¯s gone!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    <hr>

    The swarthy brigand marched back into the camp like he owned it, and as they saw him coming the other criminal conscripts parted before his stormy expression like water around a stone. Finally coming upon the tents occupied by the small contingent of soldiers, the Sergeant also turned to face him. As Abor advanced on him with as wide a gait as the chains bound between his ankles would allow, the Sergeant drew a sword from his side. He swiftly held the blade aloft and pointed towards the convict, who stopped just before its tip.

    ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡± Abor angrily demanded.

    The Sergeant only narrowed his eyes at him in response. He did his best not to betray his true feelings, though he could not help but glance about at the crowd of ruffians that had gathered around his lone squad.

    ¡°I thought that Noble bitch was gonna come with us an¡¯ that we were gonna attack those Lengar bastards today! Where¡¯d she go?¡± Abor continued.

    Truthfully he did not care one whit about the mission, or about Lengar, but he needed a reason to be upset about her disappearance beyond the ransom that he hoped to pry out of her County for her safe return.

    ¡°Stand back!¡± The Sergeant finally commanded him, but Abor merely glared at him in reply and did not move. The men around them looked nervously betwixt themselves but continued slowly closing in around the pair.

    ¡°The Countess said she would go alone to the Road. She departed at dawn.¡± The Soldier replied, his tone brusque with the effort of repressing his nerves.

    ¡°... By herself?¡± Abor asked, taking another step forward then so that the tip of the man¡¯s sword was pressed against the broad, bare expanse of his hairy chest.

    ¡°I-I said stay back!¡± The Sergeant stammered, his words catching in his throat at the rage simmering in the brigand¡¯s eyes.

    Now she¡¯s gone and got herself killed or captured by those Lengar bastards?! Abor fumed internally. Was she dull in the head? She was supposed to be my payday, dammit! If even one part of this plan goes foul, these boys might mutiny. This fool soldier might have killed me!

    He let out a long exhale, his hot breath curling around his face like steam in the cold air, and as he reigned in his boiling anger his expression became sharp and stern.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough of this ruse.¡± Abor said, and all of the soldiers glanced around fearfully then, taking in the men that had now fully surrounded them. The conscripts were still chained but they were many, and their expressions were twisted with desperate ire, and they had armed themselves with crude, scavenged wooden clubs and heavy stones.

    ¡°Take ¡®em down, boys! Before they mess anything else up for us!¡± Abor roared to the assembled crowd.

    At his call, the throng of prisoners swiftly fell upon the small group of soldiers, and the sounds of combat rang loud throughout the camp.

    ¡°--And you!¡± Abor turned and snatched up his weaselly companion by his collar, drawing him close. ¡°Take some lads to the road and see if you can¡¯t get that Noble woman back before Lengar gets her, if they haven¡¯t snatched her up already!¡±

    Then he roughly shoved the frailer man from him, who stumbled, toppling onto his back in the dirt below. Abor didn¡¯t shoot him so much as a second glance as he left to join the fray, only growling his final order out over his shoulder.

    ¡°Go!¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    <hr>

    Thomas wore his usual persistent grin as he peered out over the horizon, his hand cupped over his brow to shield it from what little sunlight still trickled through the clouds. The evening had become somewhat foggy, and through the haze the gray, silhouetted forms of small buildings peeking out from behind the protection of a ring of walls could just be seen.

    ¡°I believe Thuud is close at hand now, my Lord!¡± Thomas cheerfully declared.

    Niklas did not reply to his companion aloud, but nodded in acknowledgement.

    The road to the village, having not been used often, was quite uneven and bumpy. Niklas felt the need to lead Missy, the stalwart Mule, along by her reins slowly and with more care than usual. so that she would not trip or roll an ankle, or worse, while bearing the weight of their luggage upon her back.

    As they neared the village and it came better into view Niklas was greeted by a now-familiar sight, as a young lass stood at the front of the small gate evidently awaiting their arrival. She was tall and thin, with long, wavy brunette hair, and she was young enough that she had either just come of age or would do so very soon. As she laid eyes on them she startled briefly before putting up one hand in a small and timid wave.

    ¡°W-welcome, my Lords, to Thuud! I am to be your guide.¡±

    Thomas approached first, and his broad grin and handsome features brought a small flush to her face. ¡°Just one Lord here, I¡¯m afraid!¡± He said, gesturing back towards Niklas and the Mule at his side. ¡°This is Count Niklas, and I am his¡­ hmm, companion? Bodyguard? Well, no matter! I am Thomas.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡± She stammered in reply, clearly slightly stunned, and she momentarily glanced over at Niklas in disbelief, for with his stature and size he did not look like a man older than she. ¡°Well then, please f-follow me.¡±

    With that she turned on her heel and led them inside, beckoning for them to follow. As they passed under the wooden awning of the small gate, Niklas observed the stark difference that this village held from the others he had visited, despite their obvious similarities. The houses and halls of gathering were small and shoddy, made mostly from cut wood and packed clay. It was very rare that his eyes fell upon a hut made of stacked stones, let alone fine houses like he had seen in the Capital and more wealthy territories. And while all of these villages consisted of  roughly built homes encircling a central open area, there were noticeable small differences between the distances and angling of each individual home.

    Having visited so many of these hamlets in such quick succession gave Niklas a dream-like sort of feeling, as if he thought he¡¯d recognized a path to a destination, but he knew that following it would lead him somewhere entirely unfamiliar.

    This time their young guide did not lead them to some community hall, as they had become accustomed to, but rather towards a more well-built and modern building than they had seen before¨Cin this village, or indeed in any of the previous ones. It was a tall and rectangular-shaped structure, with wood that appeared freshly cut. The girl pulled aside the long cloth that hung over the doorway, and the two men ducked inside after her, leaving Missy to chew upon the grass outside.

    At least at the prior villages to which they had been allowed entry, this was where the Head or Elder would be waiting for them, and they could then begin to discuss their business. But there was nobody else here, and they watched in bemusement as this young girl plodded past them and knelt down onto a cushion in the center of the room. She then gestured to the two to follow her example, and shortly enough all three of them were sat.

    Niklas looked about the strange room from his kneeling seat. It was dark and smelled strongly of incense and spices. Bushels of dried leaves, berries and animal bones hung from various hooks and hangers about the walls, along with numerous intricately weaved blankets and tapestries. Strewn about the room were various instruments of alchemy, large clay jars, and a cauldron of some blackened metal.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are we awaiting the Village Head now?¡± Niklas asked as he glanced about. ¡°Will they arrive soon?¡±.

    The girl took in a slow breath, as if steeling herself, before she answered. ¡°The Elder¡­yes. Well, uh, you see¡­¡± She stammered, fidgeting nervously where she knelt.  The two men could only look on quizzically. ¡°Th-the thing is¡­you see my Lord¡­¡±

    ¡°Out with it, already!¡± Niklas snapped, clearly exasperated, to which she flinched and finally broke her news.

    ¡°The village Elder right now¡­ is me.¡±

    Thomas and Niklas both shared a surprised look with each other, as the girl silently stared at the floor and trembled with anxiety.

    <hr>

    A handful of diverse, but uniformly rough, men slunk carefully through the brush of the forest towards the infamous Road of Benedict. At their head was that small and weaselly confidant of Abor, who looked about himself nervously, as if he expected some great and hungry creature to leap out from the growing darkness of the evening at any given moment.

    All was quiet in the forest besides the occasional rustle of small creatures in the nearby branches, or the loud caws of flocks of birds which erupted from the trees above whenever a man stepped loudly on a particularly dry twig or cursed while tripping over a stone.

    This motley group had been traveling for a few hours now; much longer than they would have taken normally, but those damnable chains between each of their cuffed ankles hindered their progress, jangled as they moved, and occasionally caught and tangled on tall grasses or roots. As this train of men shuffled along, the quiet was broken by the sound of conflict, which started as a distant clamor but steadily became louder as they neared the main Road.

    ¡°What do you suppose is happenin¡¯? One man whispered to another.

    ¡°Perhaps the Lengar soldiers came upon some bandits..?¡± Another replied.

    It was not normal for such disturbing sounds of battle¨Cdesperate shouts and called orders and the occasional clanging clash of metal upon metal¨Cto go on for so long. The weaselly convict wore a gleaming bead of sweat on his brow the closer they approached, an anxious dread turning his stomach sour and skin clammy. Some instinct whispered to him that it was no coincidence that this was happening not even a full day after that the huge and dreadful Noblewoman had arrived.

    Finally, the trees and bushes before them broke apart and the criminals could see up the short but steep incline which led to the road proper. And the first sight that greeted them there was the body of a man. He wore the standards of Lengar, a lion¡¯s head above two crossed axes, though it had been badly bloodied and slashed clean through. He lay upon his back, which was bent in an awkward and inhuman way, and his milky, lightless eyes were staring straight at them.

    As their troupe crested the incline they found many more men who were strewn about the road in the same way. Scattered amongst them were weapons, arrows and shields¨Csome of which had been cleaved through with what must have been a sharp blade wielded with unnatural strength.

    ¡°What in the Hells..?¡± Came whispers from the other chained men, who were pale with fright, clearly disturbed.

    Only the fear of retribution from Abor himself compelled the weaselly man to go past this carnage-which went on for quite a ways-and continue further down the road.

    Finally, something came into view through the evening fog that blanketed the Road: a tall, dark silhouette. As they crept forward  she finally became clear: it was the Countess Uldred of Petrice who stood at the center of the littered corpses, breathing heavily beneath that unsettling silver mask, which had been spattered with some poor man¡¯s viscera. She then slowly turned to look upon them with her violet eyes, which appeared to glow with a malice as deadly as her enormous, bloodstained sword.

 Abors Folly

    Uldred slid the wavy blade of her greatsword against the inside of her arm, smearing away most of the gore upon her sleeve before sending the thing back into its sheath, just as the criminal conscripts had finally clambered over the carcasses to meet her upon the Road. This had not been her only battle that morning, but it had been the largest and obviously the most recent. Amongst the Lengar men who lay now strewn about like so much carrion, only a few had possessed any true skill. Most of them had been sell-swords, and poor ones at that, no doubt hired from taverns and guilds across their County as was Count Lengar''s preference. The cheaper, the better. Only a handful of them remained alive now, either moaning in discomfort where they lay on the grass below or entirely unconscious. These few survivors had been the true soldiers of Lengar who were sent to lead the defense of the Road, futile as it was. Uldred had spared them, for she knew them to be men of honor and good repute from her previous contract, and so even if they were cut and bruised, they were alive.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Uldred growled towards the newly-arriving men. The brigands flinched at being addressed directly and did not immediately reply, but they panicked further as she swung to face them in full.

    ¡°Th-the Sergeant sent us!¡± Stammered the weaselly man who headed the group. ¡°He sent us to retrieve you! He was worried you might be in danger¡­¡±

    Uldred narrowed her eyes at him. That¡¯s quite the obvious lie. She scoffed internally. The Sergeant was witness to my last contract under Lengar¨Che would not come to my aid even if I was to cry out and beg him to. As she mused to herself, the handful of thugs still looked about at the surrounding carnage in dazed disbelief.

    ¡°Fine.¡± She said, ¡°I shall have one of you lead me back to the tents.¡±

    The small man gulped audibly. ¡°O-one of us..?¡±

    And as she once again unsheathed her sword, revealing that infamous black and wavy flamberge blade, and planted it in the dirt at her feet, the men¡¯s eyes grew wide with recognition and dread.

    ¡°Aye, just the one.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°...Come again?¡± Niklas asked, looking over the young girl who sat before him in bemusement.

    ¡°I-I am the current Elder of Thuud, your royalness.¡± She repeated in almost an apologetic tone.

    A brief silence fell over the room as the two men digested the information they had just received. The girl fidgeted nervously, looking down at the floor to avoid meeting their eyes. Finally, Niklas let out a long, audible exhale and scratched the back of his head.

    ¡°Well, I had supposed that to be the ¡®Elder¡¯ one must be¡­the eldest?¡± Niklas said, his tone humorous.

    ¡°I believe it is just a title, my Lord.¡± Thomas answered him.

    Niklas frowned. ¡°It was a joke, ser Thomas.¡± He replied flatly.

    ¡°Ah. Very funny, my Lord.¡± Thomas said without missing a beat, completely unperturbed. Niklas shot him a glare.

    The girl glanced back and forth between them as they bantered. When Niklas finally turned back to meet her gaze, her eyes immediately fell back to the floor. When Niklas spoke again his voice was gentler, as if he was trying to coax a skittish creature.

    ¡°Well, I believe I speak for the two of us when I say that we would both be interested to know how such a thing came to be. Elder¡­?¡±

    The girl looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue before she realized the question that he had been asking her. ¡°Oh! Finona, my Lord! My name is Finona.¡±

    ¡°Elder Finona, then. Well met!¡± As he greeted her properly he took one of her thin hands in his and shook it vigorously, much to her apparent confusion. ¡°I would love to hear your tale!¡±

    ¡°W-well, it is a simple tale, your Lordship.¡± She replied, self-consciously retrieving her hand from his grip and once again assuming her meek, curled-in posture. ¡°Several m-months ago, a Monster came upon us fr-from further West.¡±

    Niklas thought to himself for a moment. It is true that this village sits the furthest West of all, and is closest to the No-Man¡¯s land where the Monsters reside.

    ¡°S-sometimes a Monster will, by luck or cleverness, sneak past the patrols from the Old Fort and the larger Towns. She said, valiantly trying to keep her tone light, but unable to hide the way her voice trembled slightly as she described her village¡¯s misfortunes. ¡°When they do¡­ we are usually the first village that such a beast will come across.¡±

    Her expression darkened as she continued.

    ¡°The one that appeared this time broke through our walls and fences in the night and made off with a cow or a pig here or there. The Old Fort usually sends a Hunter once we call, but it was taking too long, so a posse was formed. But all of the men died trying to fight it themselves, and in the end it was not until the Hunter came that the monster was dealt with.¡±

    At the mention of the posse, Thomas¡¯ habitual smile had, for once, faded, and he closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay. Niklas supposed that this was a tale he had heard many times before. As Finona continued she folded her arms around herself and rubbed them as if she was warming herself up from the cold in a small attempt at self-comfort.

    ¡°One of the men who we lost was the previous Elder¡¯s son. And when he was gone her mind also sort of¡­ left as well. She laid in bed for hours and she would barely eat, so she eventually just wasted away. Last month was when she...¡±

    Her shaky voice and pale countenance as she recounted these events gave Niklas a terrible suspicion that she was most unfortunately and personally connected to the people in this tale.

    ¡°Partly because she neglected her duties, and partly because we lost so many working hands, the crop yield recently has been poor. And with the loss of so many draught animals, we¡¯re unsure that our village will survive the coming cold. S-so everyone else is too engrossed in their own toils to take up the responsibility of an Elder. So, because I know a little about what the Elder did¡­ it fell to me.¡±

    ¡°And you knew it because, to you, the previous Elder was¡­¡± Mumbled Niklas, almost without thinking, as he digested this information.

    The girl bit her lip, her voice going wet with barely-restrained tears. before she choked out an answer. ¡°She was to be my mother-in-law.¡±

    At that the two men let out heavy breaths at the same time, much as if they had both been socked in the gut. While the girl sat now in a heavy silence, her bowed face shadowed by her wavy hair, her visitors again traded looks between each other. But while Thomas¡¯ gaze was one full of pity and resignation, to his surprise, Niklas returned it with an expression of firm resolve. The young Count then clapped his palms down upon the low table that sat between them, causing Finona to jump in her seat and look back up at them with wide, startled eyes!

    ¡°Elder Finona!¡± Niklas spoke in an official, formal voice that made the young Elder hurriedly straighten her posture. ¡°I, Count Niklas of Petrice, have come before you today to propose and discuss several reforms with you!¡±

    ¡°Re-reforms..?¡± She stammered, sounding as if unfamiliar with the very word.

    ¡°Aye!¡± He replied. ¡°For I have been educated in the way of Stewardship at the Academy of Saint Noelle, where I was top of my class. And I would use the knowledge which I have acquired there to help you¨Cand all the people of Petrice¨Cand to ease your worries.¡±

    As guilty as it made him feel to take advantage of such tragic circumstances, Niklas knew an opportunity when he saw it. All of the other village leaders which they met had shared a wariness and suspicion towards outsiders such as himself. Most of them had not even allowed him to describe his ideas to them, let alone considered them seriously. But here, in Thuud, the leader sitting before him was not only young and na?ve, but also greatly troubled and open to whatever aid he might provide.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°And I swear,¡± He continued, holding her wide, shocked gaze with his own, which was thick with determination. ¡°-if you listen to what I have to say, and work with me to implement these reforms, you and your village will make it through this winter, and those that follow as well.¡±

    Another beat of silence followed the young Count¡¯s authoritative declaration, but this time it was a contemplative one. Finona still stared at the floor, but now her eyes flitted about, for she was obviously deep in thought. After a few tense moments, she finally raised her head and met his gaze with eyes that now burned with the same fiery determination as his.

    ¡°A-alright.¡± She replied with resolve despite her nerves.. ¡°Let¡¯s hear what it is you have to propose, my Lord.¡±

    Niklas smiled a wolfish grin, then. Yes! Finally!

    ¡°Then I shall begin posthaste.¡± He said with an even tone, even while his eager hands were already reaching down to the pack at his side, retrieving from it the many rolled and folded parchments he had so meticulously prepared.

    ¡°Now, young Elder, we shall begin with the roads¡­¡±

    <hr>

    The trek back towards the camp was one that was long, terrible and silent, save only for the rustling of bushes and the snap of dry twigs underfoot. The weaselly little man walked ahead of her, now sporting one bruised and swollen eye from when she had struck him during the recent melee. He barely dared to breathe or make a sound as they traveled, as if he held onto some small hope that if he made his presence as miniscule as possible this large Countess might lose track of him in the brush so that he could escape. Every so often he would begin to fall behind her, as the difference in their gaits was so great, but in those moments she would grab the hem of his tattered tunic and shove him forward once again. Finally, after a torturously long trek, the smell of woodsmoke began to creep into their nostrils, a sign that the camp was close at hand.

    From where he sat at the edge of the camp, Abor heard the sound of rustling brush and turned his head towards it just in time to see his small companion fall through a nearby shrub, skidding in the dirt as if he had been shoved. Noticing Abor, the other man quickly scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the brigand leader¡¯s broad and hairy back.

    Soon after the spindly criminal the larger form of the Countess emerged from the forest. She looked quite fearsome as she appeared ominously from the darkness between the trees, like some kind of mythical beast from a tale used to frighten children when they misbehaved.

    For a moment Abor looked about in confusion for that of the handful of men he had ordered to retrieve the Noble woman, but aside from the Lady and his henchman, the forest was silent and still. Then, as realization dawned on him, he cast an intense, searching gaze over the Countess, taking in the fresh blood that now stained her blackened leathers and armor¨C blood that might not have come from the warriors of Lengar alone. He shot up to his feet.

    As she approached the camp once more Uldred came upon a sight that was not so unexpected: the full force of the criminal conscripts from Otkorn stood amassed before her, wielding confiscated swords, wood-axes or shovels, although some were forced to resort to large stones or branches. In the center of that group, and beside their Leader, knelt the bloodied and bruised forms of the Sergeant and his soldiers, who had all been bound and gagged.

    ¡°Ah, the Noblewoman has returned!¡± Abor smiled maliciously. ¡°Hearing of your lonesome departure this morning, we were so worried! We feared you might have been hurt or killed by those Lengar soldiers.¡±

    He paced restlessly before her and the men assembled there, captive and conscript alike, as he continued.

    ¡°We are happy that you have returned in good health, my Lady.¡± He said with a mocking sneer. ¡°I will do my utmost to guarantee your safety until you can be¡­ returned to your home. But that protection will come with a price! And speaking of price¨C¡± He then kicked the Sergeant¡¯s ear with the bottom of his boot, creating a spatter of blood that fell upon the next hostage in line.

    ¡°-these men tell us that you took the key to our hobbles before you left, and that for some reason you also ordered they hide their purses.¡±

    His thin fa?ade of friendliness fell, and the look that replaced it was a menacing expression of simmering anger.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you knew ¡®bout what we planned, but yer still gonna give us what we want if yer thinkin¡¯ to survive.¡±

    He thrust out one meaty, scarred hand, beckoning to her. ¡°Now. The key, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Uldred stood for a long, tense moment without moving. Then she slowly reached above her breastplate and into the collar of her shirt, retrieving from within a large bronze key which lay on a string around her neck. All of the criminals¡¯ eyes widened as they laid eyes on that key, like starving men gazing upon a grand feast. But the anticipation in their expressions turned to rage as she slipped the key back beneath her armor and out of sight.

    ¡°Come and take it from me.¡± she said then, her voice ringing out across the campsite like the beat of a great drum.

    A hot flush swept across Abor¡¯s face then, for a man with such an intimidating reputation as his did not usually suffer such defiance, and his immature ego could not tolerate it. But just as he looked ready to explode with rage and charge straight at the Countess he felt a tug at his sleeve. Turning his head, his eyes fell upon the weaselly henchman, whose face was pale and twisted with abject terror.

    ¡°B-boss she¡¯s a¡­a¡­¡± He stammered weakly up at Abor.

    ¡°What?!¡± The man himself growled out.

    But he needed not wait for the answer, as the woman before them pulled from her back that great black-iron sword and tossed away its leather sheath, light from the campfires and torches flickering along the length of the wavy blade. An audible gasp ran through the conscripts then, and the lot of them instinctually took a step backwards, whispers beginning to run through the group like wind through tall grass.

    ¡°A Flamberge!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a Monster Hunter..?¡±

    Abor looked about at his men, who had one and all been cowed by the mere sight of a blade, and his own moment of shocked fear was quickly replaced with a burning indignation.

    ¡°So what if she hunts Monsters or whatever?¡± He belted out. ¡°There¡¯s still only one of her, and damn near forty of us! If we all go at once she won¡¯t stand a chance! At his call, many of the criminals regained some of their confidence and once more readied themselves for a fight.

    ¡°Y-yeah!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get her!¡±

    ¡°Follow the boss!¡±

    However, even as Abor bolstered some of their spirits, a few men at the far back of his force were slowly, subtly backing away. Abor then held aloft a fine sword, a blade he had taken from the Sergeant himself, and he pointed it towards Uldred.

    ¡°Get her!¡± he commanded.

    A great cry erupted in the camp as dozens of men charged forward at once in a disorganized and sloppily advance. Uldred took up a fighting stance herself, holding her greatsword steady at her right shoulder with a two-handed grip. Soon the first wave of opponents unknowingly entered within her reach, which was shockingly broad due to the combination of her long arms and even longer blade. Mustering all of her inhuman strength, Uldred leaned her weight forward and stomped the ground with such force that her foot sank a few inches through the frozen dirt below as she lunged, at the same time swinging her mighty Flamberge in a great arc!

    Now, for a normal swordsman, cutting halfway through an opponent is a feat of great strength. For a great swordsman, cleaving all of the way through one man into another is an act fit for a legendary tale. So imagine, if you will, the awe and dread one would feel as they bore witness to a blade which tears through wood and metal, flesh and bone alike as it swings, and is not halted until it has reached the apex of its arc!

    The second wave of men and those just out of Uldred¡¯s reach did not so much stop in their tracks as much as they were buffeted back by the great wind generated from her swing. They were also assaulted quite messily by gory shrapnel as remains of the ¡®mates¡¯ ahead of them¨Ctheir blood, bones, guts, and even even whole limbs, heads and bisected torsos¨Ccame showering upon them in an instant!

    The brave cries of determined men were in that single moment replaced with shrieks of agony and of horror. The men further back in the crowd could not quite see what had occurred at the front, for their vision had been obscured by a thick cloud of dry dirt kicked up by the force of her blade. As the dust settled and the scene unfolded, their mouths fell agape at the carnage wrought by her wrath.

    Abor was frozen where he stood, unable to even blink in his shock, even as the eyes of his remaining men fell upon him, pleading for him to give them courage again. But as he slowly looked about at them he was unable to find even a single word to say.

    Uldred calmly readied herself for another swing, her demeanor inscrutable as ever beneath her silver mask.

    ¡°R-run!¡± Came a cry from the back of the crowd.

    At that, many of the criminals hurriedly turned tail and scrambled away, fleeing into the thick of the forest as fast as their shackled legs would allow them to go.

    Finally coming to his senses once more, Abor barked out commands with an anger that was now fueled by desperation and fear. ¡°S-stop you idiots! Come back here or I¡¯ll kill you myself!¡± He cried after them, futile as it was.

    ¡°You won¡¯t have the chance.¡± Replied a muffled voice from behind him.

    Moving impossibly fast for her size, the giant woman had cleared the twenty-or-so paces between the two of them in but an instant. Abor turned just in time to yelp in fear as the razor-sharp edge of her heavy blade swung down upon him¨Cand clean through!

 A Few, and most Charitable, Outcomes

    At first Finona had only meant to listen to the young Count¡¯s proposals in order to humor him and build a good relationship, but soon she found herself genuinely taken by his words. Though her time spent assisting the previous Elder had ensured she was just barely literate, Niklas did his best to walk her through the mountainous amount of information he had to share at a manageable, yet efficient, pace. It was most refreshing for him to find in her a young soul not yet set in its ways, that she may entertain the thought of his developments despite the ways in which they might break local customs or traditions. Though she was obviously confused in many places and needed further explanation, just the fact that Niklas had not been turned away at the door and was able to present this all to her in full meant that he was happy to stop and begin again a hundred more times if she needed it.

    ¡°W-wow!¡± The young Elder said aloud as Niklas closed his briefing on soil conservation. ¡°This is¡­quite incredible. I almost find it difficult to believe that such tools and rituals are already being used elsewhere!¡±

    Niklas had on his face a small, pleased smile, and he overall looked quite proud of himself. ¡°This, my dear, is only a taste of the many renovations that I would like to bring to Petrice, for if there was one boon that the old King¡¯s wars of expansion granted to us, it was information!¡±

    The girl looked puzzled, so Niklas elaborated further.

    ¡°Now that the Kingdom spans from the arid North to the harsh Southern sands, and covers everyplace in between, we have accumulated the knowledge and practices of a great many peoples living in various conditions. As the van der Leigh Barony resides near the Capital, where all of this information has converged, I had access to most of it!¡±

    As he spoke, his countenance had become so self-satisfied that his nose could almost seem to have grown a foot in length.

    ¡°With my skills, and the great wealth of knowledge I absorbed during my studies, I mean to transform Petrice from a poor County to a great and wealthy territory which rivals even the Capital itself!¡±

    Thomas politely applauded his enthusiastic declaration with a happy grin, even as Finona sucked in a sharp breath through her nervously clenched teeth.

    ¡°As wonderful as that sounds, my Lord, it might be¡­difficult to convince the other villages of these reforms. Even here in my own home I hold little hope that I might sway my own people.¡±

    Niklas¡¯ proud smile faded from his face, which once again resumed a dour and frustrated expression. ¡°Yes, I have taken note of the local tradition of¡­ incredible stubbornness. Truly, it is Petrice¡¯s greatest export¨Cfor better and for worse!¡±

    Thomas chimed in then, his voice just as chipper as ever. ¡°We have received a great deal of pushback towards even the notion of taxation. After our first few visits, the other villages wouldn¡¯t even let us inside.¡± His words soured Niklas¡¯ face all the more¨Cthe look the young Nobleman wore was eerily similar to someone who had just drunk spoiled milk.

    Finona thought to herself for a moment before contributing. ¡°... Now that you mention it, the late Elder did receive a missive from Aida just the other day¨C¡±

    ¡°--So they were warning each other of my arrival!¡± Niklas cried, clutching his head, and then letting out a long groan of frustration.

    ¡°I think we might as well return to the Castle, if no other village will have us, my Lord.¡± Thomas suggested, still as happy as ever.

    Finona clenched her small hands into fists, her face now set with a look of determination. ¡°I-I will do my best to help you my Lord! I will tell everyone in Thuud about your proposals, and that I think that they¡¯re¡­they¡¯re good ideas. Because they are!¡±

    Niklas reached out a trembling hand and clasped it upon Finona¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Young Elder¡­¡± he said with great emotion, tears gathering in his eyes. ¡°... I have great expectations for you. You are my one and only hope!¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t cry, my Lord!¡± Finona exclaimed.

    <hr>

    One by one, Uldred used one of her arms to lift the bruised and beaten soldiers of Otkorn to their feet, while with her other she used a small knife to cut them loose from their bindings. Most of the men looked on towards the carnage she had left in her wake at the edge of the camp, their expressions betraying their deep shock and horror. Just a little ways away from where they knelt on the grass, dead men and severed limbs were strewn about, and the dirt was darkened with the dried remnants of what had been large puddles of human ichor. The head of Abor, the leader of those slaughtered souls, had notably landed perfectly upright next to his fallen body, a gruesome look of horror still etched upon its face.

    Of the initial forty-plus criminals that had been conscripted from the prisons of Otkorn, only about seven remained. A dozen had fled deeper into the forest despite the chains that hobbled them. All the rest had thrown themselves recklessly upon the razor-sharp edge of Uldred¡¯s blade, spurred to test their luck against her despite her overwhelming strength because they were due to be hanged upon their return to the province anyhow. Abor and his schemes had been their last chance at not only freedom, but a life beyond their sentences. Being cut down while fighting was, for many of them, both a faster and more dignified end than what awaited them at the gallows.

    Among the remainder who had survived that gruesome melee was that small and weaselly henchman¨Cwhose name was Hemsley¨Cand six others who much resembled him in size and demeanor. They were one and all cowardly men, most likely convicted of petty crimes, who had stood beneath their peers in the hierarchy of the prisoners.

    ¡°Th-thank you, your Grace¡­¡± The Sergeant stammered through his swollen lip when Uldred released him and helped him to his feet. ¡°Without you we would¡¯ve been-¡±

    ¡°-It was not for you.¡± Uldred replied gruffly, her voice somewhat muffled by her mask.

    ¡°O-of course, your Grace!¡± He replied, thoroughly cowed not only by her tone but also by the fresh memories of her fearsome prowess in battle.

    Uldred¡¯s voice was deep and cold, and anyone listening in would be convinced that she truly did care little for the lives of these men. How lucky she was that her silver mask hid the flush that had risen to her cheeks from receiving those small words of gratitude.

    ¡°They were planning to slit our throats soon as they got their hands on us!¡± One of the other soldiers she had freed exclaimed.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He and the other men now looked upon her with admiration. ¡°Because you ordered us to hide our purses, they were forced to keep us alive until your return!¡± Another man explained.

    There followed a chorus of continued praise and thanks from that small group of soldiers, an event which only made the hot, throbbing feeling in Uldred¡¯s ears increase.

    ¡°E-Enough!¡± She finally boomed at them, causing them to fall silent one and all as their words caught in their throats.

    She then sighed exasperatedly and left the shaken but enthusiastic group to tend to one other. She walked over to the remaining criminals who knelt in a line a short distance away, shaking with anxiety, their faces ashen and a few of them silently weeping.

    ¡°So, you..!¡± She addressed them, her violet eyes flashing dangerously as she leered down at them through her mask. Her voice caused the conscripts to startle badly, and one of the men appeared almost to faint where he sat, and was only saved by a hurried, sharp pinch to the side from one of his fellows. ¡°...What shall I do with you lot, hmm?¡±

    Not a one of them could muster a reply, so full of awe and dread of her were they.

    The Sergeant came to Uldred¡¯s side then, a fresh bandage now wrapped over his head and bruised eye, which had already swollen shut. ¡°If you have no need for them, my Lady,¡± he offered. ¡°then I will take them back to the territory to serve out the remainder of their sentences.¡±

    ¡°W-we din¡¯t wanna have nothin¡¯ to do with all this!¡± Called out a trembling, but familiar, voice from the surviving criminals. Hemsley did not look up to meet their eyes, but he still spoke with some defiance and conviction despite his trembling shoulders and fearful stammer.

    ¡°Hmph, a likely story!¡± Scoffed the Sergeant in reply.

    ¡°It¡¯s true, it is! If we hadn¡¯t done what they said they would have butchered us the same as your soldiers!¡±

    The Sergeant looked as if he was about to reply more harshly then, his face reddening with anger, but then he visibly stopped himself. He took in a deep breath, which he held for a moment, and then let out in a long sigh, bringing one hand up to rub at his bandaged face. ¡°... I suppose it is true. Even if these men had informed us of what the others had planned, with the discrepancies in our numbers we would have fared just the same¨Cthat is, if not for your aid, my Lady.¡±

    Uldred simply nodded silently.

    He sighed again, then, and shook his head. ¡°Not that the Baron will care or even listen to such a tale as theirs. They''ll likely be hung for their participation in this event just to save him a little face, regardless of the circumstances.¡±

    The captive criminals all flinched at those words, a few of them sniffling pathetically. Uldred couldn¡¯t help but see them as small, bedraggled rodents, quaking in terror at her feet and gazing up at her with teary eyes.

    For a few long minutes she stood there before them in silent contemplation. Most of her just wanted to wrap up her business here and leave for home, washing her hands of these men both figuratively and literally. Yet, some part of her heartstrings were tugged at the thought of these thin and pitiful men marching back to a foul place like Otkorn only to be locked in a cell to await certain death.

    Perhaps I feel this way because of how they resemble my Husband¡­ Came an intrusive thought, one that Uldred quickly shook out of her head, bringing confused glances from the men around her.

    Resigned, her broad shoulders slumped as she spoke again. ¡°Undo their shackles, Sergeant.¡±

    He looked up at her then, completely dumbfounded. ¡°M-my Lady..?¡±

    ¡°You and your men are still injured.¡± She elaborated in her usual monotone. ¡°It would be¡­ most unsafe to attempt to drag a group of prisoners back to the territory in such a condition, no?¡±

    The Sergeant scratched his chin in bemusement at that, pondering her words. ¡°...I suppose that may be true. But what of these, then?¡± He said, swinging his uninjured arm up to indicate the line of prisoners.

    Uldred turned back to gaze over the criminals, who all looked back up at her in surprise.

    ¡°A day or so West lays the border to Petrice, my County. I can neither promise you work, nor pay, nor food. Simply¡­ a chance, to live, there. Nothing else.¡±

    But even hearing her meager offer, these few poor men beamed up, their nerves giving way to a great excitement, for all the world as if she had just offered them a Kingship each.

    ¡°W-we will go! We will do it, my Lady!¡± Hemsley cried gratefully, his voice thick with emotion. Somehow his relief had left him looking even more unsightly than before¨Chis dirty, thin face was streaked with tear-tracks, and a trail of snot dripped down from his crooked nose.

    ¡°But I warn you¡­¡± Uldred spoke again, and this time the kneeling men felt themselves crushed beneath a great and ominous pressure, one so strong it caused even the Sergeant to instinctively step away in fear. ¡°Within my territory any outlaws, or those who turn to banditry, are met with a most grisly ending. If any of you continue to live as criminals in Petrice, you will find yourself begging to return to Otkorn and meet the hangman¡¯s noose!¡±

    The pressure that the Countess exerted upon them was so strong that none even dared to speak in reply, but rather nodded vigorously. After a few moments of looking them over, Uldred was satisfied that they understood, and the pressure faded.

    The Sergeant sighed again and scratched the back of his head. ¡°I guess that¡¯s it, then. I¡¯ll undo their chains and send them along West, at your order.¡±

    But as he began to walk back towards the camp a large and powerful hand suddenly clasped upon his shoulder, halting his movement. Uldred¡¯s grip upon the man was so strong, he worried that he may sink into the very earth itself!

    ¡°Wait!¡± She barked out, and so of course he obeyed, though with her hand physically pinning him in place he had little choice in the matter.

    ¡°M-my Lady..?¡± he inquired, slowly, after they spent a silent moment standing there, Uldred quite thoroughly lost in thought.

    This is the second such time this man has been sent to his death by Baron Otkorn. I believe I have a good measure of his character now. If he has risen the ranks through good work as a soldier, and still earned the ire of a dreadful man like Baron Otkorn¡­ He may yet be sent onto a third such expedition, one which he may not be fortunate enough to survive.

    ¡°What¡­ are you called, Sergeant?¡± Once she spoke again her voice was still even, but a little stilted, almost awkward.

    The man turned to face her in full, his bewildered gaze roaming over her for one long, searching moment, before he quickly regained his composure, straightened his posture and formally saluted her.

    ¡°I am S-Sergeant Rochester of Otkorn, my Lady!¡± He declared loudly.

    ¡°Rochester.¡± She repeated, her voice softer than he had ever heard it before. ¡°...If you ever feel the need, I invite you to visit my lands, and my Castle. I will¡­ welcome you.¡±

    He stared up at her then, and his eyes slowly lit up as he realized the meaning of her words. He grinned widely up at her and saluted her once again. ¡°It would be my honor, Countess. Thank you!¡±

    And at that he bowed to her, turned on his heel and rejoined his men.

    Uldred sighed again. What am I doing? She wondered. I¡¯ve not done anything like this before now. I¡¯ve barely spoken to the¡­ others under my command, previously, let alone worry for their safety¡­

    The thought of that frustrating, spindly scholar appeared again in a flash in her mind¡¯s eye, and she struck it out quite forcefully by way of almost putting her fist entirely through a nearby tree.

    ¡°Ouch!¡±

 Less than Preferable Company

    The eclectic trio was on their trek home to Castle Petrice. What a peculiar thing to call it, ¡®home¡¯. Niklas had now been on the road for just as much time as he had spent in that dusty old crypt. Still, a home it was to him now, not only because it was where his duty and title bid him to go, but it was also a place where he was free from the judgemental eyes of his brothers and father.

    Niklas felt a twinge of sadness then at the thought of his far-distant family. Not that he cared enough for the majority of them to feel their absence, but the thought of their harsh beatings¨Cboth physical and verbal alike¨Cwas always followed by memories of sister Frith rushing to his defense. The cool and calm, yet motherly Frith, whose sharp and icy tongue-lashings could, he was sure, bring down even one of the infamous Petrician monsters.

    I do miss my sister¡­ Came the thought to his mind.

    With his two hands he clapped either side of his face hard enough to leave a little redness, as well as a fierce stinging.

    No! He chastised himself internally. I cannot be homesick so soon! I must focus on making progress.

    He huffed, and wore a determined expression then. I¡¯ll show everyone back home what I¡¯m worth. I shall make those who believed in me proud, and those who doubted me will be loathe with envy at my success!

    Thomas peeked across Missy¡¯s back at his newest companion, who he thought was behaving more strangely than he normally did. ¡°My Lord, is everything alright?¡± He asked quizzically.

    ¡°Onward, Thomas!¡± Niklas declared with vigor, pointing decisively forward down the road. ¡°There is much work yet to be done!¡±

    ¡°Aye, my Lord!¡± Thomas replied, unsure as to why they were so suddenly motivated now, but nonetheless easily matching his Count¡¯s enthusiasm.

    Missy, of course, did not make the same effort, for she was a mule.

    It had been a little more than a day since their small party had departed the village of Thuud. Finona had seemed ready to muster her courage and rise to the challenge of convincing the village folk of Niklas¡¯ good intentions. Indeed, she could be seen marching off with a stiff¨Cbut confident¨Cgait as soon as her three guests had departed. Niklas hoped that she was not getting herself into too much trouble.

    Since they had first left the Castle¨Cwhat felt like months ago, at this point¨Ctheir little group had traveled a curved path shaped similar to a fishhook, in order to more quickly  visit many of the nearest villages. Now that they were making their way back they could take a much more direct path, one that led them straight back to the gates of their stalwart home. After a few hours'' travel Niklas began to recognize landmarks in the land surrounding him, and realized that this was the same road he had taken by carriage all that time ago when he had first arrived in the province!

    ¡°I think I am starting to gain an understanding of the land, at least the bit immediately around the Castle..!¡± Niklas muttered mostly to himself, though the comment was loud enough for Thomas to overhear, and he did not hesitate to respond.

    ¡°That is good! It is indeed a very good thing for a Lord to know his land.¡± Thomas replied, ever-grinning. ¡°Perhaps in the future you may travel further, until you know every nook and cranny of the County by heart!¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ turn to grin back at him. ¡°That is the plan, my good man. When my reforms are finally put in motion, I would like to see them put to action, and to observe the betterment of the citizens with my own eyes!¡±

    Just then, as the two bantered good-naturedly, something caught Niklas¡¯ eye. The silhouette of a lone figure was coming down the road towards them. Something about it gave him pause. It was normal to see a passerby on the road, but this was Petrice, a place where nothing was normal. As he looked about he noticed that a misty fog had steadily crept in around them on this already typical gloomy Petrician day, the mist increasing the difficulty of making out the details of things too far away. Niklas peered over at his human companion, who still wore his characteristic sunny grin and appeared to be petting Missy the Mule, whose placid gaze rested unwaveringly upon that far silhouette.

    As they grew closer still to that slow, barely-visible figure, Niklas felt goosebumps rise on the back of his arms and neck. It was only when they were within about twenty meters of one another that he could make out the approaching form of a rugged individual. Dark, unkempt salt-and-pepper hair fell in waves all the way down to his shoulders, matching his beard of near equal length, giving the man an appearance not dissimilar to a beggar who had fallen upon hard times. His leather coat was tattered and stained, and the shirt of chainmail he wore under it was tarnished and rusty in places. Most notably though, the man wore a bastard sword upon the loop of his belt, and its wavy blade was forged of a now-familiar black iron-like material.

    Silently and warily, but without breaking their stride, the two parties grew closer and closer upon that gray, misty road. Niklas and Thomas¡¯ eyes were locked upon the lone man, while the man in question slouched, keeping his gaze trained on the ground about his feet with a vague and lifeless stare, his gait betraying a slight limp as he trudged forward.

    Finally they passed each other on that narrow road. For all of the tension which had built within Niklas up to that moment, it seemed a bit underwhelming once it had passed uneventfully. He huffed out a short breath in relief that nothing had come of his anxieties after all. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, as Thomas and the stranger had nearly brushed their shoulders in passing, the downtrodden man had quietly muttered something to him. And while Thomas¡¯ trademark grin never wavered, whatever words the stranger had imparted to him caused his eyes to harden.

    Finally breaking the tense silence, Niklas spoke up. ¡°Well I don¡¯t know about you, but that left me quite unsettled!¡± He tried his best to sound lighthearted now even as his voice still shook a little from his nerves.

    Thomas, for once, did not reply.

    <hr>

    ¡°We are here.¡± Uldred declared flatly.

    The seven convicts gazed about with looks full of awe at the distant gray and hilly countryside which they would now call their home. Uldred could not understand their amazement, for it was by no means a beautiful view¨Cit was the same kind of crisp, lightless day as was common in Petrice. It was in fact slightly worse weather than normal, as their view of the distant hills was obscured by a hazy fog that was settling across the land. However, to these unfortunate lads who had lived all their lives in the slums of Otkorn, a place where the only thing awaiting their return was a dangle from the gallows, even an empty, sparse grassland appeared to be grander than heaven.

    The men turned and bowed gratefully to the Countess¨C as best they could anyways, with the large packs strapped upon their backs. After the soldiers had departed for Otkorn, these seven men had free reign over the remainder of the camp and its supplies. For the original force of fifty men, the supplies allotted to them by such a cheap man as Baron Otkorn had been barely enough to get by. Now that there were only seven of that number left, if they ate meagerly, these lucky few might have enough rations to last for several months.

    One by one, the now-freed convicts made their ways down the road, disappearing together into the fog covering the hills, going wherever the wind would take them and leaving Uldred alone where she stood. At least she would have been alone, but for the weaselly little man Hemsley. Once the six who had departed were no longer visible, she slowly turned her head to rest upon him the full weight of her intimidating violet gaze. He gulped nervously at her scrutiny, but did not move from his spot.

    ¡°I-I thought I might¡­ go with you, y-your Ladyship.¡± He stammered in explanation, refusing to meet her eyes and instead staring intently down at the ground.

    ¡°No.¡± was her immediate reply.

    ¡°I can cook a-and clean, too! I want only to be of help to you, my Lady!¡±

    ¡°No.¡± she repeated.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    She began to walk away then¨Cnot fast enough to count as a run, she would never run away from such a pitiful man as this¨Cbut if she walked with a long gait, counting on her longer legs to quickly put a good distance between them, nobody was the wiser. But Hemsley jogged frantically along after her, for running was the only way such a small fellow could keep pace with her great stride. He panted as he followed at her heels, calling out to her between ragged, harsh breaths.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have to pay me, your grace¨Cyou wouldn¡¯t even have to feed me! I can forage for me own supper.¡±

    ¡°Go. Away.¡± She replied coldly.

    Huffing and even harder puffing now, Hemsley threw himself forward upon the ground and managed to wrap his thin arms around one of her massive boots, holding on so that with every step she took he was dragged roughly along after her. Uldred stopped then and attempted to shake him free from her foot, but the small fellow stuck to her like a persistent booger caught at the end of one¡¯s finger.

    ¡°Why?!¡± She demanded with a loud, irritated bellow.

    As he had successfully caused her to come to a halt, Hemsley quickly scrambled to his feet before her, putting his hands out as if attempting to calm a large, rabid beast.

    ¡°I-if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned over me whole life, it''s that you follow the boss who¡¯s the biggest an¡¯ the baddest one around! That¡¯s why I did what Abor said, and that¡¯s why I wanna do as you says, milady!¡± he managed to say between harsh, wheezing breaths.

    ¡°...Who?¡± Uldred asked after a beat of silence, furrowing her brow in confusion behind her mask.

    ¡°O-oh, Abor? ¡®E was the big fellow that you¡­¡± He then drew a finger swiftly across his throat while making a squishy, gargled sort of noise with his mouth.

    Uldred stalked forward, drawing close to the small man, who shriveled like a prune under her. ¡°You are already causing me trouble.¡± She said through her mask, now close enough to him that he could hear her breathing underneath it.

    ¡°H-how so..?¡± He asked carefully as a cold bead of sweat slowly ran down the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°Because I had already put that man out of my thoughts,¡± she replied, with the air of a general explaining to a particularly slow soldier how many rules he had just broken. ¡°but now you have put him back there and named him. It will be¡­ difficult for me to forget him again.¡±

    And then she strode past the stunned little man and continued on her way. But quickly enough, he recovered his wits and scrambled along behind her.

    ¡°--Abor, who?¡± the man piped up. ¡°I certainly don¡¯t know ¡®im! Swear I¡¯ve never even heard the name in me whole life!¡±

    Uldred sighed heavily as he caught up to her again, her wide shoulders slumping slightly as she realized just how persistent this little burr was in wanting to stick to her.

    Maybe I should just kill him too¡­  She thought wistfully as her new companion followed her along the road, although her hand didn¡¯t so much as twitch once towards the hilt of her sword.

    <hr>

    A mule and the two men who accompanied her had continued down the road in uncharacteristic silence for the past while. Niklas had attempted to reignite his conversation with Thomas a couple of times, but the swordsman¡¯s usually sunny demeanor had hardened and he looked about with a sharp focus, and every time Niklas tried to speak his words would peter out into silence before they could pass his lips.

    The terrain that they walked had transitioned from a slightly bumpy and uneven plains and into an area of great, steep hills that would, if followed for a ways, eventually become a range of small mountains. Along and past the sides of the mostly-flat road sat piles of large, jagged rocks and boulders obscuring their view of the surrounding area.

    This would be an awful spot for bandits or brigands to plot an ambush¡­ Niklas thought as he glanced about nervously. His only comfort was the assurance that the old butler had given him back at the castle:, that there were no outlaws within Petrice¡¯s borders. Such a claim as that sounded quite unbelievable, to be sure, but it was one which Niklas now prayed was correct.

    Thomas raised his head, looking up at the clouds for a moment, and then he took in a deep sniff of the air. Niklas followed suit out of curiosity, but he detected nothing out of the ordinary when he did so.

    Thomas let out a thoughtful, ¡°Hmm.¡± Obviously, it was a different case for him.

    ¡°My Lord¡­¡± He said, finally breaking his long silence, his voice low and serious. ¡°...you may wish to shield your gaze from the left side of the road for a time. Elsewise I fear that you may become quite upset by what you¡¯ll see.¡±

    The young Count met his gaze then, his brows furrowed in clear confusion,, but his companion did not elaborate any further.

    As they continued walking in wary silence, Niklas could gradually detect a faint, distant clamor of some sort. As they went further along the road, he was able to make out the sound of voices chattering with each other some ways off.

    If I recall correctly, if we were to travel some way to the West we would find another village¡­ But it is nowhere nearby now. He thought to himself.

    No matter how intently Niklas peered ahead, he saw nothing down the foggy road that could produce such a commotion like what he had heard. And as the tall, craggy incline to their left finally sloped down to their level and no longer blocked their view, Niklas was able to see some forms gathered a few dozen yards off the road.

    ¡°What is going on?¡± Niklas asked, peering over at the strange group in concern.

    Thomas did not offer up a reply, his eyes still hard and focused as he looked about, surveilling their surroundings.

    After a few minutes, Niklas¡¯ curiosity got the better of him and he peeled off from the road and out towards the plain, heading towards the strange gathering on his own.

    ¡°My Lord-¡± Thomas began to say, putting out his hand to stop him, but Niklas was already some ways away by the time that he noticed. Dropping his hand back to rest on the hilt of his sword, he shrugged helplessly towards Missy the mule.

    Ten, twenty, thirty feet¨C Niklas went farther further up the shallow incline of the open field, certain details around him began to become more apparent and unsettling. Strange, flesh-colored things he could not identify were strewn about. As Niklas counted them, he found there were half a dozen of them. Most of the group he had heard were huddled in a small circle nearby, and from their midst he could hear the heart-wrenching sound of a long, wailing cry.

    As he finally came within about thirty feet of them the huddled crowd broke apart and revealed what appeared to be a woman at the center¨Cshe was the source of the wailing. Her front was entirely stained with the color red, and she knelt before the body of a young child who lay motionless on the grass. As a few of these people noticed Niklas¡¯ approach, they then shouted at him and raised pitchforks or axes at him in a threatening manner. At this hostile display, Niklas quickly put up his hands and turned back towards the road.

    Well, it is none of my business I suppose. He surmised. But what were those¡­things?

    He would soon get his answer, for as he returned to the road, and his companions, he found that Thomas now appeared relaxed, and was no longer so on edge as he had been. Niklas wondered what could have changed in those few minutes that he was gone, for Thomas¡¯ worries to have been so thoroughly banished. He then took note of a form that lay upon the grass on the other side of the road¨Cone that was unfamiliar and flesh-colored.

    ¡°Thomas..?¡± He asked, peering around the man to get a better view of the thing.

    ¡°My Lord.¡± Thomas responded, grinning widely once more. ¡°The Hunter we passed before had warned me that one might¡¯ve slipped away from him, but I¡¯ve gotten it!¡±

    As he spoke he gestured down towards the fleshy thing at his side with the long, wavy blade of his sword, sending a few drips of oily-black ichor flying off its tip as he did so. That same ichor dripped from a wound at the center of that odd creature.

    As Niklas got a good view of what Thomas had slain, he felt his stomach tighten in repulsion and he nearly retched. It appeared to be a man¡¯s severed head, but a hairless one that was twice or more as large as normal, and most horribly deformed. Its eyes were bulbous and jutted from the sockets, and the pupils were so wide that one could hardly see any of its muddy-yellow sclera. Its maw sat ajar, and Niklas saw that the gums and many jagged, yellow-brown teeth jutted out much further than the lips could cover. What would be a man''s ears were instead great wide flaps stretched out like bat''s wings. Below where its neck should be, instead there had grown arm-like appendages, but ones that were unnatural. The skin of the head stopped below its chin and did not cover these new limbs, so veiny sinew and raw red muscle were all that wrapped around their bones, and it''s strange fingers ended in wickedly sharp claws. But somehow, the worst of it all was how its horrifying visage seemed to be permanently twisted into the expression of a man wailing in agony and fear!

    ¡°What in God¡¯s name is that, sir Thomas?¡± Niklas managed to ask with what little breath he could muster.

    ¡°Ah, I take it then this is your first Petrician monster?¡± Thomas replied in his usual jovial and lighthearted demeanor. He playfully jostled the putrid corpse with the tip of his blade as he continued, causing Niklas to gag in disgust. ¡°You¡¯re quite lucky, my Lord, for the majority of them are much more repulsive than these!¡±

 A most Unexpected Conglomeration

    ¡°They just picked ¡®im up an¡¯ dropped ¡®im! And they was feastin¡¯ on ¡®is innards by the time the Hunter arrived!¡±

    Niklas shuddered slightly as he recalled the words and gut-wrenching sobs let out by a mourning mother as she was helped back to her village. It was a rare public outburst of emotion, unlike anything Niklas had witnessed in his short time in Petrice, but he supposed the loss of a young babe would cause any loving mother to fall into such a state.

    To sate Niklas¡¯ curiosity, Thomas had approached the locals and shared some words with them in his stead, since the Petricians still eyed their small Count warily and viewed him as an outsider. Upon his return, Thomas reported to him that winged Monsters such as these in particular slipped past the Hunters at the Old Fort, or those who patrolled the wastelands, all too often. The ever-present, low-hanging clouds of Petrice could mask their infiltration from even the keenest of marksman¡¯s eye until they were deeper in and could descend upon prey. Most often they¡¯d carry off cattle, pigs or other drought animals, which was bad enough for those people who depended on them for food in the winter. Worse still, to hungry beasts such as these a small boy playing alone out in the fields might look just as tempting a prey as some old cow.

    After hearing their tale, Niklas and Thomas quickly took their leave from those grieving folk. Even the few small inquiries they had already made were well past their welcome. However, as these two continued along their journey, this time it was Niklas who was hushed and troubled. The image of that horrible, man-like beast remained freshly burned into his mind¡¯s eye. Besides that, the thought that such a tragedy as this was not an uncommon occurrence filled him with a sickly regret that he could neither do more to immediately help alleviate the burden borne by these already dour and downtrodden people, nor easily hasten his plans to do so in the future.

    ¡°How many Hunters dwell at the Old Fort?¡± Niklas inquired, at last breaking the silence that had hung over their long walk.

    Thomas looked up at the distant clouds in contemplation. ¡°I¡­ You know, I can¡¯t rightly name a figure, milord. I don¡¯t know that anyone¡¯s ever counted them.¡±

    Niklas sighed deeply and clapped one hand upon his forehead. ¡°Surely there is someone in charge of such a force¨Csome officer who the Hunters report to for orders?¡±

    Thomas smiled again, but this one was small and apologetic. ¡°Truthfully sir, I believe the Countess holds the title of the Grand-Hunter, but it''s more of an honorary position since she never actually visits the Old Fort.¡±

    Hearing this, an annoyed furrow appeared on the small man¡¯s forehead. Does that woman oversee anything in her County..?

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Thomas continued, oblivious of Niklas¡¯ growing frustration. ¡°The last time I was there, I witnessed an older Hunter dealing out orders to the younger and fresher men. Without an official hierarchy, I¡¯d wager age and experience would naturally create one instead.¡±

    Every new revelation only makes the matter more tedious¡­ Niklas bemoaned internally.

    Despite his misgivings, Niklas did his best to gather his resolve and increase his pace. ¡°Let us make for the Castle posthaste, then. There is much to be done!¡±

    Yet as they trudged onward, he groaned and rubbed at his throbbing temple, entirely absorbed in his mental review of the ever-growing list of tasks he would need to see to upon his return.

    <hr>

    As he crested the steep hill and stood at its peak, the weaselly-looking man named Hemsley turned back with an excited look while pointing his finger straight ahead.

    ¡°There it is, your royalness! I sees it!¡±

    Uldred trudged along behind him, still making her way up the side of the grassy incline. The moment the man had seen the spire of the tower peeking up past the top of the hill he had practically sprinted in his eagerness as he scrambled up to the top. She did not understand his excitement at the sight of her gloomy and dusty abode, but she also had not lived a life on the streets, ever exposed to the cold and the damp, as he had.

    As she joined the man in standing at the top, she looked with surprise out upon a quite rare sight. This tall hill descended into a sheer and rocky crevice for a long ways, giving it something of the appearance of a valley, as the Castle and the low countryside surrounding it could be made out for miles in every direction. The cover of the fog had also broken, briefly, as had the clouds beyond, which allowed the low, red light of the setting sun to shine in blinding brilliance upon the Castle.

    ¡°What a beautiful sight! Eh, milady?¡± Hemsley called up to her in excitement and awe.

    Uldred did not reply, but stared in wide-eyed silence at that picturesque scenery for a good long time. At her sides, she gripped her hands into fists tight enough that the leather of her gloves began to squeak under the pressure, causing Hemsley to eye her her nervously. However, it was not to last, and just as quickly as it had appeared, the sun was banished back behind the gray wall of Petrician clouds, and the fog of the day settled over their surroundings once again. Uldred audibly exhaled, as if she had been holding her breath, and her posture relaxed.

    ¡°Sh-shall we continue..?¡± The weaselly man asked with some apprehension.

    Uldred simply grunted at him in reply. Then as they were about to continue their trek, something caught her eye. She peered down the rocky wall-face some fifty or so, her eyes trained on the area just beneath their hill where the dirt road veered off from the main highway and towards the Castle. A small group of silhouetted figures were steadily making their way towards her home along that path. She could just make out the shapes of two men and some kind of beast of burden, perhaps a donkey or a mule¡­

    ¡°Well, will you look at that? Travelers, your grace! Just there!¡± Hemsley exclaimed, catching sight of that distant group himself. He was distracted enough, then, that he did not see the large, leather-gloved hand reaching out towards him!

    Without warning, Uldred scooped the small man up and tucked him under the crook of her arm, where he flailed his limbs in his sudden panic at such treatment.

    ¡°M-my Lady!? What are you doing? Put me down! My Lady?¡± He cried out, his voice increasing in pitch as she, ignoring him entirely, leaned over the side of the steep, craggy cliff, almost as if she meant to toss the man right off!

    ¡°--D-don¡¯t do it, my Lady! P-please!¡± He wailed now, tears now dripping down from his eyes to disappear into the fog far below them.

    But she neither replied to him nor even gave any sign that she had heard his desperate pleas. And though she did not drop him, what she did next was just as shocking, as she promptly stepped right off the side of the drop!

    <hr>

    After a long, dreary trek down the main highway, the trio of travelers finally came upon a familiar bend in the dirt road, one which led to the left around a small mountain and eventually ended down at the Castle. At first, Niklas hated the thought of entering that dark, musty Castle again just as much as the thought of having to continue down that dusty and foggy road, but the promise of a hot, steaming bath being drawn for him caused a small jolt of excitement in his chest, and he felt much more ready to end his tiresome journey.

    He placed a hand upon the haunch of Missy the mule, who did not pay him any mind beyond sending a quick and lazy glance in his direction. Truly, the only time she seemed to show any sort of emotion was, whenever they camped each night, Thomas would strap a back of feed over her snout for her to enjoy at her leisure. Picturing his own meal of tasteless, gray porridge and watery tea, Niklas had the most alarming intrusive thought that Missy¡¯s feed seemed, in comparison, most delectable. He shook his head fervently, attempting to rid himself of such a sinful and ridiculous thought.

    Thomas looked over enthusiastically, providing a very welcome distraction. ¡°We¡¯re almost home, milord! It¡¯s just a bit of a ways ahead, now!¡±

    ¡°Aye, I remember this path from my initial journey to the County.¡± Niklas replied. ¡°Though I rode in a carriage at the time¡­¡±

    Thomas chuckled. ¡°Anything you¡¯re looking forward to right away, upon your return?¡±

    ¡°I think a hot bath will do my aching body a world of good, for I¡¯m afraid the cold has seeped into my very bones!¡±

    At that Thomas wore a rare look of longing. ¡°Ahh, a hot bath! I haven¡¯t had the pleasure of one in many seasons!¡±

    ¡°I could have Belfort draw one up for you upon our return.¡± Niklas offered towards his companion with a teasing lilt in his voice.

    Thomas pleadingly put up his two hands before him. ¡°Oh no, I couldn¡¯t dream of¨C¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¨CBOOM!

    Before he could finish speaking a great thundering sound and an eruption of dust from the road was cast up around them all at once! Missy reared back on her hind legs and cried out in a honking, panicked cry, and the two men beside her coughed harshly and peered urgently around through watering eyes.

    ¡°What in the Blue Hells-¡± Niklas called through the hanging cloud of dust. ¡°T-Thomas? Are you alright?¡±

    Suddenly a strong hand clasped upon his shoulder. Niklas attempted to make out his companion through his stinging tears, his face contorted in a grimace from the strain. He put out one hand out before him, and with what appeared to be a great effort, he then cast his hand away in a wide arc. As if following after his movement came a great gust of wind, as harsh enough to whistle some as it passed, and the lingering dusk was carried away in a moment!

    Now the cause of the commotion was visible: a large, black-robed figure who now knelt in a small, shallow crater caused by their heavy impact with the ground. As they rose to their full height they towered over the two men, and also revealed a dull¨Cand very familiar¨Cmask of a silver face!

    Immediately the serious, alert look fell from Thomas¡¯ face, which again lit up in his usual sunny grin.

    ¡°Eully!¡± He called out jovially, waving his hand in greeting like an excited child.

    Missy still looked on-edge and honked in fear and confusion. Hearing this, Thomas turned and wrapped his arm affectionately around her neck, and with the other he stroked the stripe of a mane that adorned her head. ¡°Shush, Missy, hush now. Everything is alright!¡± He cooed, and at his comforting touch and relaxed tone she quickly calmed and settled once more.

    Niklas did not recover quite as easily as either Thomas or Missy had. He still trembled from the force of his shock, and he was still hacking and coughing from the dust that had flown into his throat. As Niklas was struggling to recover, Uldred let another small man¨Cone who she had apparently been carrying about like a sack of potatoes¨Cfall to his knees upon the dirt, where he also began to retch awfully due to his terrifying fall.

    ¡°W-what in God¡¯s name are you doing?!¡± Niklas shouted furiously towards Uldred.

    She did not reply, but only cast her violet gaze down upon where he stood in a silence which felt more awkward than intimidating, and which was only punctuated by the sound of Helmsley retching up the remains of his mid-day meal.

    Niklas then looked up towards the peak she must have fallen from, awed at the great height of it as well as at her own composure. ¡°Did you- did you jump from up there?¡± He asked incredulously.

    ¡°It was fine.¡± She replied evenly, though beneath her cloak her legs quaked slightly and a sharp, throbbing ache ran through her joints. That hurt worse than I thought it would... She thought to herself, though she refused to outwardly show any evidence of her carelessness.

    ¡°Also, who is that?¡± Niklas gestured in bewilderment at her side towards the man who had collapsed upon the ground there and had only just finished being violently sick upon the grass.

    ¡°Eh?¡± Came a confused response, but from Hemsley rather than from Uldred. He staggered hurriedly to his feet then, wobbling like a newborn deer, saliva still streaked about the corner of his mouth. Once he had a good view of Niklas, his own gaze sharpened in suspicion. ¡°Who am I? Who are you?¡± Hemsley demanded in a threatening tone. He marched over to Niklas then and looked at him eye-to-eye¨Ca rare feat for both men, considering their similarly diminutive statures.

    ¡°That is the Count of Petrice.¡± Thomas called over his shoulder in answer, and immediately the ex-convict¡¯s attempted mean-mugging transformed into a nervous admiration. ¡°My Lord!¡± He exclaimed exaggeratedly, rubbing his hands together in a gesture that indicated either supplication or greed. While he did so, Uldred deigned to offer an explanation.

    ¡°He followed me, though I said not to. I don¡¯t know what for¨C¡±

    ¡°--What she means to say,¡± Hemsley interrupted hurriedly, standing in front of her and putting his arms out as if to catch the very words she had spoken out of the air before they could reach the others. ¡°Is that this oh-so-very-Noble Woman gallantly rescued me from the clutches of some violent brigands, and from the hangman¡¯s noose to boot! And so, naturally I have sworn to serve her henceforth!¡±

    For a long moment the three others could only stare incredulously at this audacious little man, and then up at Uldred, who remained inscrutable as ever under her coverings and mask. ¡°...Sure.¡± She reluctantly huffed, turning her head away slightly to avoid all of the eyes that were currently trained upon her. At this, Hemsley beamed smugly in triumph before turning to Niklas and dropping into a clumsy, dramatic mockery of a bow.

    ¡°And there you have it, milord!¡±

    <hr>

    Together their motley group continued down the slightly winding road towards the Castle, which was once again partially obscured by heavy fog. Seeming completely oblivious to the dreary and chilly atmosphere, Hemsley spent the walk regaling his companions with the tale of the Countess¡¯ battle against the mighty bandit Abor upon the Road of Benedict.

    His account deviated wildly from the original event, and his exaggerations included tripling the number of thugs she had been forced to battle alone, a dramatic rescue of his damsel-like self from their clutches, and how all the other residents of the camp had been brutally butchered and cannibalized by their foes. The most obvious untruths he spun were his descriptions of the Countess¡¯ heroic (and slightly long-winded) speeches in which she denounced Abor¨C along with, for some reason, the poor state of the economy in the surrounding local regions. Still, true or not, his storytelling made for good entertainment during the remainder of their journey, so he was allowed to speak his fill.

    ¡°...Then she ran him though with her mighty blade, and with one hand, held him aloft! And as his life-blood drenched her she declared: ¡®This is the fate of evil before me!¡¯ Just before a bolt of lightning struck the tip of her sword, and Abor¡¯s body exploded in a fountain of gore!¡±

    Thomas and Niklas eyed Uldred, who appeared quite clean besides the usual layer of dust and grime from the road. The two shared a short, skeptical glance, but did not move to question or correct Hemsley¡¯s account.

    Hemsley looked all-too ready to carry on with his bombastic tale, but with a quick glance about he realized they now stood only a few short paces away from the castle gates. ¡°Oh!¡± He called out excitedly. ¡°We¡¯re here your grace--er, your graces!¡±

    Making their ways through the gatehouse door and into the courtyard, Thomas led Missy off towards the empty stables to unload her packs, and Hemsley ran excitedly to the great wooden doors to knock upon them. After a short wait one of them creaked slowly open to reveal the old butler, Belfort.

    ¡°My Lords you¡¯ve returned I-¡± He stopped in the middle of his welcome when he noticed the unfamiliar, scruffy little fellow standing before him. He blinked once in confusion, before asking ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡±

    But Niklas called over before the newcomer had a chance to introduce himself. ¡°Belfort, my good man! You are a sight for sore eyes. This is¡­¡± He startled, realizing he did not actually know the man¡¯s name. ¡°...well, this is a new servant, I suppose He will be in your employ from now on.¡±

    Hearing this, the old man¡¯s shoulders slouched and his arms fell to his sides, his mouth agape and his eyes as wide as saucers. ¡°A n-n-new¡­¡± He stammered out. Suddenly, he reached out and took up both of the weaselly little man¡¯s rough hands in his own, shaking them vigorously! ¡°Oh this is most welcome indeed! There has not been a new servant in this place since the Countess was a babe!¡±

    Hemsley recoiled as much as he could while caught in the old man¡¯s oddly strong grasp. ¡°Y-yes..?¡± Was all he could say in reply, so startled was he. But it hardly seemed to matter to the butler as he carried on excitedly.

    ¡°We must start your training right away! I--oh gosh, and we must get you fitted for your uniform¡­ There isn¡¯t a moment to spare! Right this way.¡± He said before turning at an alarming speed and bodily pulling Hemsley deep into the Castle along with him. Hemsley could do nothing but let out a short, alarmed yelp before the two had disappeared out of sight.

    The remaining two members of their already small party were left alone in the courtyard. The Countess and Count of Petrice, wife and husband, stood side by side. The quiet that fell over this reunited couple was an awkward one, as per usual. Niklas peeked sheepishly up at Uldred, and she returned his short glances with her own piercing violet gaze. After a long, strained beat of silence, Uldred shrugged her broad shoulders, huffed quietly, and began to make her way up the short stone steps which led into the now-open doorway leading into the Castle.

    But as she made to leave, she suddenly felt a grip upon her hand! It was not the strength of the hand that clasped hers that made her pause, for she could have broken it with but a thought if she had a mind to. It was the action itself, of another human being reaching out to grasp her hand in theirs, which had brought her to an abrupt halt. She slowly turned back to glance over her shoulder at the person who had taken such an unprecedented action¨C who of course, could be none other than Niklas.

    The shorter man looked up at her then with a slightly surprised expression, as if his own spontaneous action had startled him just as much as it had her. Quickly he drew his hand away, freeing her from his grasp, and took a small step backwards, looking away and nervously scratching the back of his head. He was well aware that the two of them had not yet shared an interaction which had ended pleasantly, which did nothing to reduce his nerves or his sheepishness around her.

    ¡°S-so¡­¡± He started, drawing out the word in an attempt to buy himself more time to figure out what to say..

    Uldred stood so still she seemed carved from stone, simply looking down upon him without showing any sign of reaction.

    He took a deep breath, then, and did his best to paste a bright smile upon his face. He was so nervous that it was a weak and obviously forced thing, but Uldred was quite used to others wearing such expressions around her, and paid that little mind.

    ¡°...W-welcome home!¡± Niklas then stuttered out, with the most welcoming and pleasant smile that he could manage. He could feel the back of his neck heat up as he realized how awkward and stilted his attempted greeting must seem.

    Another hushed pause stretched between the two of them. He remained where he was, resolutely smiling at her despite his nerves, though he lifted his eyebrow quizzically at her as the minutes stretched on and she failed to respond.

    Finally she reached out, and gave Niklas a light shove. For her such an action was the gentlest tap she could exert, but for his smaller, lighter frame it was enough force to send him back reeling a few steps. ¡°Hey!¡± He cried out, more in affronted surprise than anything else.

    By the time he had recovered himself and looked back towards where she had stood looming over him, she was already gone, having speedily crested the steps and disappeared into the dark halls beyond the doors.

    ¡°What was that all about..?¡± He wondered aloud, once again rubbing at the back of his head. Because of her hood and mask which covered the whole of her head, there was no way for him to have noticed the beet-red flush that now entirely engulfed Uldred¡¯s hidden face.

 The Waiting Game

    Nobody in their small household could have expected what a welcome addition Hemsley would prove himself to be over the fortnight following his arrival. Every morning Niklas would marvel at the clear transformation of one or another of the various rooms about the Castle, for the already unbelievable speed at which Belfort could bring each surface to a shine seemed to have doubled with the help of an extra set of hands, as impossible as that was for Niklas to comprehend.

    After only the first day that unkempt, weaselly little fellow had been spruced up and now sported quite a dapper appearance. Somehow the old butler had near-immediately produced a servant¡¯s uniform perfectly sized to Hemsley¡¯s specifications, and the former prisoner¡¯s mangy, tangled, and greasy mop of hair had been cut clean down to its base with the dexterous application of a razor. With the finishing touch of a hot bath¨Cfeaturing several changes of water¨Cto clean away what seemed like years worth of accumulated dirt and grime, one would never have guessed that such a neat and trim lad had been a brigand destined for the hangman¡¯s noose.

    While the two servants rushed about hither and yon with mops, great sloshing buckets of water and armfuls of old rags, Niklas spent his days in that familiar pitch-black library pouring over old tomes and dusty parchments. He burnt through the lives of a great many candles over the course of his daily sessions there, spending hours at a time reading and scratching away upon a stack of notes with his quill. These were contracts and proposals intended for the Lords of each and every town and city in Petrice, and so even after he initially completed them, he then needed to replicate each document a number of times before they could be sent out across the County.

    ¡°I find it unbelievable how little here has changed over the past few generations!¡± Niklas once lamented to the butler over another poor and bland supper served in his chambers.

    Belfort had replied to his complaint with a small, apologetic chuckle. ¡°As you have said before, my Lord, stubbornness is our lot for better and for worse! The men and women of Petrice will dig in their heels and resist a change to their ways as steadfastly as they will fight off an attack by some terrible beast.¡±

    Niklas sighed and distractedly chewed on the end of his wooden spoon before he responded. ¡°...It is not as though I cannot understand their mindset, living harvest-to-harvest and with so little left over to save for the future. In these circumstances, a change in procedure is a gamble that risks the lives of every person in your community.¡±

    That very night Niklas had newly redoubled his efforts, his earlier musings having lit a fresh fire of motivation under him, though the darkness and the late hour had eventually taken ahold of him and left him slumped over his worktable in a deep slumber. Most peculiarly, however, when he awoke the following morning he found himself in his own bed.

    It is a wonder that I was carried up all of those floors and did not wake. I thought Belfort and Hemsley were hardly the strongest of fellows, but one of them must be more capable than I thought..? He had mused to himself afterward, though he paid the incident little further mind.

    Finally his work reached a state of completion and he had prepared enough copies of a missive to distribute them to the Lords and Mayors of every town and city in the hold. Though his perfectionism was hardly satisfied by the current results of his labor, he knew he had run out of time to do anything more, for Thomas was to be his messenger, and the wandering swordsman had been taken by a ever-strengthening case of wanderlust during his extended stay in the Castle. Niklas had felt a bit guilty in entreating his new friend to travel so far and to so many disparate locations. But Thomas had accepted his request with enthusiasm, as he cheerfully explained that he usually trekked about without a destination in mind anyhow. And indeed, no sooner had Niklas presented him with his completed packages, then Thomas was already making his departure onto the open road with only a single wave goodbye over his shoulder, Missy faithfully plodding along at his side.

    It was only after that moment that Niklas was stricken with a new and terrible thought: What do I do now? The seemingly endless work of creating the documents had consumed his waking hours for the past several weeks, but now he was forced to halt his efforts until each of his reports had been delivered to their intended recipients. So the young Lord found himself spending many long hours draped over the armchair before the fire in his study reading a book or simply lazily swanning about and staring up at the ceiling.

    ¡°I¡¯m so bored~!¡± He would lament aloud, for what felt like hundreds of times each day.

    So lacking in entertainment was he that, upon hearing the sudden nay of a horse one evening, he immediately shot up out of his seat. Looking down from the balcony of his study, which dwelled in one of the great towers of the castle, he was able to see, though it was small and distant below him, a group of individuals bearing unfamiliar colors and the standards, who were just then approaching the open gate and the courtyard beyond!

    But a moment after this discovery Niklas found himself racing down the spiral staircase with reckless abandon. If he had tripped and fallen in his hurry that might have been the end for him, since this stair lacked a ledge or railings. But due to no small amount of good fortune, coupled with his own natural dexterity, he made his way to the ground floor with the only consequences being a stitch in his side and some shortness of breath. When a knock finally sounded upon the doors leading to the courtyard, Niklas was just rushing by Belfort and Hemsley, who were struggling to transport a quite heavy-looking cabinet through the halls.

    ¡°Do not worry, I shall receive them myself!¡± Niklas announced before the Belfort could even begin to react to the arrival of unexpected guests.

    Having reached his destination, Niklas pulled open the heavy inner door with some effort, and was then greeted by a large and slightly rotund man, who was clean-shaven, with brown hair cut into the shape of an overturned bowl. He wore a shirt of dull chain beneath a tunic, blue with copper accents, bearing the symbol of a lion¡¯s head above two crossed axes. The man nodded his head to Niklas in the short but respectful bow that one would give to low-rank servants, as he was likely unaware of Niklas¡¯ true title. After all, what kind of Count greets visitors alone at his own door?

    ¡°Greetings, sir.¡± Said the messenger. ¡°I am here to see Countess Uldred on behalf of the Count of Lengar.¡±

    A meeting¡­ with her? Does she even do things like that? Niklas wondered.

    ¡°D-do you have an appointment with the Countess?¡± He asked, doing his best to maintain his composure while also recovering his breath after his frantic dash. He did not attempt to reveal his status, fearing the awkwardness and slight embarrassment that might follow.

    The messenger looked startled at being posed such a question. It was obvious to Niklas that they had not even bothered to make such basic preparations for any of their prior engagements. ¡°N-no sir I have not¡­ Before, we never¨C¡±

    Not even bothering to make an appointment? With a Countess, of all people?! At this point Niklas was feeling a spark of his irritation grow inside him. What frivolous disrespect these Lengar folk treated his wife with!

    ¡°I am sorry, but the Countess is very busy at the moment. If you do not have an appointment, I must ask that you return later!¡±

    At that moment this already startled messenger happened to peer over Niklas¡¯ shoulder and became even more surprised as he noticed the state of the hall behind him, which was freshly cleaned and had been polished to the point where it sparkled even in the scant amount of Petrician sunlight.

    ¡°M-my utmost apologies, sir! I shall be sure to make an appointment before I return again!¡± Stammered the man, who bowed to Niklas again, and this time much deeper as well. ¡°If you could, at the very least, deliver her this missive, I would be in your debt!¡± He said, before hurriedly opening one of the pouches upon his belt and pulling from it a scroll fastened shut with a wax seal.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Niklas had to suppress a mischievous grin as he took the proffered document and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his vest. ¡°Of course! I will do so with haste, my good man!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir. I shall take my leave then.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Niklas replied, and for just a moment he let that mischievous grin spread upon his face. ¡°-and I would hope that the next time we meet, you will also refer to me by my proper title as the Lord Count.¡±

    For only the briefest moment he saw the visitor¡¯s eyes widen in shock, but before he could observe any further reaction Niklas had already shut the door quite firmly. Without even a moment¡¯s delay he pulled the scroll back out from his pocket and greedily tore through its seal right there and then!

    How fortunate! He thought to himself, a heady giddiness bubbling up in his chest. I was so worried that this had already arrived and then departed again while I was still absorbed in my work, and I would not be able to get my hands upon it. But fortune must be rewarding me for my efforts, for here it is!

    Indeed, the document he now held in his grasp was a contract, one that was shockingly short in length or content, and which had been signed by the Count of Lengar and stamped with his seal. It read as follows:

    Contract for Military Aid

    Parties:

    This contract is entered into between the County of Lengar, which is represented by Steward Haas den Bille and will hereinafter to be referred to as "Lengar," and Countess Uldred von Petrice, who will hereinafter referred to as the "Countess."

    Purpose:

    Lengar hereby engages the services of the Countess in providing military aid with the goal of securing the road known as Benedict, which is the rightful property of Lengar and is currently and temporarily situated within the territory of the Barony of Otkorn.

    In consideration of the services rendered, Lengar agrees to pay the Countess one hundred pieces of Silver per annum for the duration of this contract.

    -

    This contract constitutes the entire agreement between the parties pertaining to the subject matter herein, and supersedes or otherwise renders null and void all prior and contemporaneous agreements, representations, and understandings of the parties involved.

    The young Count had to restrain himself from crumpling the accursed thing in his increasingly shaky grasp as he read it. This one contract represented the hole in his armor, his achilles heel. His many weeks of mind-numbing work could be entirely undone by the briefest scrawl of a quill upon that dotted line. Niklas could so easily destroy it now and be rid of the damned thing and the threat it posed to his plans¡­ However, some part of his conscience bade him to keep a firm hold on his wrath. Even as Uldred¡¯s husband and therefore a man who now held a title equal to hers, to come into his wife¡¯s house and, after only a little more than a month, take her business entirely into his own hands left a bad taste in his mouth, and he feared incurring her anger over such an action as well.

    ¡°I must directly convince her to tear this thing apart with her own hand!¡± He declared aloud. ¡°It is only what is right!¡±

    Immediately after this decision, however, he realized that it meant he must now go and to speak to her, and he could not help but shiver at the thought.

    <hr>

    Ahem!

    Niklas coughed into his hand to clear his throat, while at the same time brushing lint from the hem of his jacket, readying himself for the storm that surely awaited him beyond the dull brass doorknob that stood before him. Finally pushing through the nerves, Niklas then reached out a hand and knocked upon the old wood surface of the door with the back of one finger-knuckle.

    ¡°My Countess..!¡± He announced with as strong and steady a voice as he could muster. ¡°I have come to speak with you¡­ for I have urgent business that we must discuss!¡±

    He paused then, listening carefully for any sounds of movement from beyond that great door, but when none came he called out again in much the same way, but a little louder each time. Finally, after several such entreaties, he detected the telltale creak of a large form rising from an old bed. In renewed anticipation Niklas took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled slowly, doing his best to settle his stomach. He felt very much now like a brave knight from one of those children¡¯s stories, heroically standing before the lair of a mighty Dragon.

    Niklas blinked his once, and within that brief moment when his eyes were closed the door to that room had been thrown open with a bang, and the large form of the Countess was leering down at him in the doorway. She had swung the door open so quickly and forcefully that the action sent a gust of wind billowing down the hall in its wake.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The small man stood in stunned silence for a moment, but quickly recovered his wits, shaking his head like a cat drying its wet fur. Pursing his lips, Niklas put out a hand in a gesture indicating he wished him to pass and enter into her chambers. However, as he made to move a great arm slammed across the door frame before him to bar his way. He started and stumbled back a step, and when he looked back up to meet her gaze she answered him with a slow, intimidating shake of her head that made him gulp nervously.

    ¡°W-well!¡± He stammered indignantly, ¡°I suppose we can just discuss it here¡­in the hallway.¡±

    Reaching into his jacket pocket he produced that vile contract, and her eyes immediately locked upon it! Not unlike a pet animal snapping at a treat held before it, she lunged for it with both hands¨Cbut if there was one area in which Niklas could beat this great warrior, it was his nimbleness and his dexterity. As she had raised both of her tree-trunk arms he had ducked his head and darted forward, successfully slipping past her and into her quarters! Now it was her turn to start as she whirled about to face him.

    ¡°No!¡± She cried out as he breached the entrance to her private sanctum.

    Having made it inside, it took a moment for Niklas¡¯ eyes to adjust, for it was as dark in there as the inside of a tomb. Once his vision returned, what he saw in that room shocked and disturbed him most terribly! For strewn all about that room, which was no bigger than his own, were many piles of miscellaneous clothes, blankets, books and baubles. The sickly-sweet smell of mildew and sour funk of old sweat hung in the air from clothes that may have sat unwashed for years, while the dusty, yellowing books were mostly left splayed open and face-down upon their pages. Altogether, the floor of that place appeared not unlike the rolling dunes of some great desert, with only a tight path traveling between them that allowed passage to an enormous bed which looked as though it had been made once, years ago, and then never again.

    Niklas turned with deliberate slowness back to face his betrothed, his face a stoic and neutral mask, as the fearsome swordswoman herself sank a little into a low, hunched posture and curled in upon herself.

    ¡°A-Anyways¡­¡± Niklas said with a forced casualness, desperate to act as if he had seen nothing despite the disastrous mess that surrounded him. ¡°The¡­the contract.¡± He then weakly held the paper up again, his breath coming in shallow pants as if what he had just seen had knocked all the wind right out of him.

    ¡°Give that here!¡± She demanded with an outstretched hand, recovering her composure somewhat now that she was reminded of the main reason he had visited. ¡°I need it!¡±

    But Niklas set his jaw and took up a wider, defensive stance as if he was readying himself against being charged at a moment¡¯s notice. ¡°No!¡± He declared.

    Through the eye-holes of her silver mask Uldred narrowed her violet eyes, taking a threatening step forward at the same time. ¡°What did you say..?¡±

    ¡°I-I said no!¡± Niklas stammered, taking a step back as she approached but still managing to keep his chin high. ¡°I demand¡­ that you reject this contract!¡±

    At those words Uldred marched towards him, and as her stride was long and there was little space there for him to retreat, within moments she loomed over him like a great predator about to tear into its cornered prey.

    ¡°The contract¡­¡± She said again, with a terrible growl that seemed to resonate through Niklas¡¯ very bones. ¡°...Give it. Or I shall have to take it from you!¡±

 The Rumble in the Hallway

    It nearly brought a tear to old Belfort¡¯s eye as he marveled at how well this young man Niklas had hired had taken to his work. Truly, this lad Hemsley reminded him of his own self in his youth! Not only because of his similar stature and size, but in his enthusiasm for serving the Masters, and even his various former troubles with the law as well¡­

    ¡°Finally I may pass away without regrets, knowing there is such a talent as you to take my place when I go!¡± The old man declared aloud.

    Hemsley grinned at that. ¡°Don¡¯t go dying on me now, sir! There¡¯s still plenty ¡®o work to be done yet!¡±

    The two servants laughed merrily together as they made their way down the hall and onto their next project. It was then however that a terrible crash met their ears and caused both men to freeze where they stood! While Hemsley looked about frantically for the source of the commotion, Belfort quickly locked in upon the only possible culprit, for he could see that the door to the Countess¡¯ room had been left uncharacteristically ajar. Suddenly, the great and lumbering form of the Countess herself shot rushed out into the hallway, not unlike a troll springing upon some weary travelers from the bowels of its cave. There, caught in her grasp, was Niklas, who was writhing and fighting against her hold like a feral feline!

    Never before had old Belfort laid eyes on a scene of such barbarism in these hallowed halls. He was, in fact, so shocked at the sight of it that the old man nearly collapsed to his knees on the floor! Meanwhile, Hemsley was less surprised, as he had witnessed many such scenes within the cold walls of Otkorn¡¯s prison. However, he was rather disappointed, for he had thought that Nobles were above such things.

    ¡°Give¡­it¡­here..!¡± Uldred growled and huffed with some effort, the small and seemingly-feeble man¡¯s stubborn flailings leaving her equal parts infuriated and begrudgingly impressed.

    It was all that Niklas could do to hold that parchment out as far as one of his arms could stretch, whilst he used the other to rake his nails flutily against the hard and calloused skin of Uldred¡¯s hands, which was the same place where he had just sank his teeth as well!

    When Belfort took in the sight of that scroll and the broken Lengarian seal upon it, he sharply sucked in his breath. ¡°My Lord! What are you doing with that?¡± He demanded, immediately rushing towards the scene then to aid the Countess in recovering the contract. Noticing the arrival of reinforcements, the young Count quickly gave up on his failed mauling attempt and raised his head.

    ¡°Hemsley!¡± Niklas called out in breathless desperation. ¡°Stop the Butler¨CI command you!¡±

    No sooner had the words left his lips than did the young servant throw himself bodily into Belfort¡¯s bent and aged back, tackling him to the floor without hesitation or remorse! For even if he did not rightly know what was even going on at the moment, it was by the order of his Lord,.

    Somewhere far away, Baron van der Leigh felt a mysterious headache begin to pulse behind his brow. He felt greatly irritated, but he could not discern the cause. At the same time, elsewhere, the rotted carcass of the former Count of Petrice might have begun to toss and turn in the midst of his eternal rest at such dishonorable and disorderly conduct. It was undoubtedly an unfortunate moment within the history of the County, and one which none of the participants would ever speak of again.

    ¡­Well, perhaps besides Hemsley, after he had a few pints in him.

    After a long and unseemly scrap, Niklas finally managed to slither out of the iron grip of the Countess with the parchment clutched safely to his chest. He pressed himself back against a cold stone wall as all three of the others now surrounded him to bar his escape!

    ¡°Now now, my good Lord, let¡¯s not do anything rash¡­¡± Said the Butler in a calm, placating tone despite his huffing breaths and dripping sweat. ¡°Just hand over the contract.¡±

    ¡°This!¡± Niklas accused, tightening his grip on the horrid thing. ¡°This is a disgrace! A hundred silvers for the aid of a Countess?! Don¡¯t make me laugh. If you finalize this contract, all of my plans and effort these past months will be for naught!¡±

    ¡°Damned be your plans!¡± Growled the Countess, while at her side Belfort yammered desperately. ¡°You have to understand, sir, that this is our livelihood!¡±

    Niklas gritted his teeth in anger. ¡°You¡¯re just like the villagers! Don¡¯t you Petricians see that your stubbornness is the reason you live in such a way in the first place? Your fear has held you rooted in place for far too long! Fear of change, and of the unknown! I can help you reach a better life, but only if you trust me and let me do so!¡±

    After Niklas¡¯ impassioned speech, Uldred and Belfort hesitated and looked to each other in a clear display of uncertainty. The young count then took a deep breath to settle himself, drew himself up to his full height, such as he had, and held out the parchment before him.

    ¡°I shall take the first step. ¡° He said. ¡°I will give you this and trust you not to sign it. For I know that in order to gain your trust I must first give you my own.¡±

    In a blink Uldred had snatched the document from his outstretched hand, but she made no immediate move to sign it. For a few long moments she simply held the scroll and glanced between it and Niklas a few times, with an air of deep contemplation.

    ¡°Please.¡± Niklas pleaded softly.

    Looking down at him again, Uldred then extended her free hand toward the Butler, who hurriedly produced a quill pen and ink from his inside pocket. The old man shot him an apologetic glance as he did so.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, m¡¯Lord. We just cannot take that chance.¡±

    Niklas could only look on in horror as Uldred promptly unfurled the scroll and scrawled upon the line at the bottom of the page.

    Acting without thought, his body moving only out of sheer, panicked instinct, Niklas threw himself forward directly at the Countess. Despite her years of training and bloody experience, she was just a step too slow in reacting as the small man slammed into her. Her body did not budge at his pitiful assault, like a pebble that had been thrown against a heavy bolder, and it took only the smallest flick of her hands to send him flying away across the floor of the hall!

    ¡°How tiresome.¡± Uldred sighed at his futile effort as she watched him pant in exertion where he lay sprawled pitifully upon the stones.

    But when she glanced back at Belfort, she was surprised to see his face was agape in a look of horror! As she held up the parchment before her, she was shocked to see that it had been torn asunder and ruined. For as Niklas had thrown himself upon her, he had reached out with his hands and clasped them over both of Uldred¡¯s to ensure that they were firmly grasped upon the parchment, so that as she moved one arm to push him away, she unthinkingly ripped the tough vellum apart with her immense strength!

    ¡°You!¡± Uldred roared, lunging forward to grab Niklas from the floor and lift him into the air by his throat! ¡°You¡¯ve killed us!¡±

    Hemsley and Belfort rushed to either side of her to pull her off her husband, but even their strength combined could not hold a candle to hers, and it was to no avail. She pressed the small man quite forcefully against the cold stone wall, and it took every ounce of restraint she had not to snap him like a twig right there and then! Meanwhile Niklas, whose face was already a deep red that now bordered on purple, clasped his thin hands desperately upon the woman¡¯s wrist and helplessly kicked at her with his legs!

    ¡°My Lady, please!¡± Belfort wailed as he tugged ineffectually against her massive arm. But despite his efforts at swaying her, she seemed not to notice him at all as she vented her fury at Niklas.

    ¡°Change things? Please! We have nothing. We can¡¯t change anything, and now we cannot even feed ourselves because of you!¡±

    Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen to his brain, but as Uldred shouted Niklas thought that her voice held a twinge of¡­ sadness? Indeed, as his gaze met hers through that silver mask, he could almost swear that her violet eyes had begun to well up with tears! But these observations only ran through his mind for the brief moment before his head became fuzzy, his vision went white, and his limbs fell limp at his sides.

    Uldred gasped aloud then and hastily pulled herself back, almost as if she had just been burned, causing the body of the young Nobleman to collapse in a heap to the floor. The two servants quickly ran to his side and began to fuss over him as the Countess quietly stared down in shock at her own shaking hands. And when Niklas regained consciousness and sat up, dizzy and confused, she startled as if afraid to see how he would act after what had just transpired. She promptly turned around and fled back into her room, the thick stone walls rattling in a familiar sound as her heavy wooden door slammed against its frame.

    Meanwhile, Niklas¡¯ eyes lolled aimlessly and he moaned unintelligibly for a few moments. He could not presently recall what had happened before he threw himself upon the Countess. He looked down at the ground and gaped in surprise at the sight of the torn halves of the contract where they lay abandoned on the floor nearby..

    ¡°You¡¯ve really done it now, my Lord.¡± Belfort chided him, though his voice was gentle and clearly relieved at his Count¡¯s survival. ¡°I hope you can take responsibility for your actions, now, for all of our sakes.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The lad did not reply aloud, but simply nodded his head weakly as he rubbed at the tender skin of his bruised neck, his body still shaky in his shock and disorientation. Despite his quaking legs, the two servants soon helped him up to his feet, and they each slung one of his arms over their shoulders as they guided him away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get you to a hot bath, m¡¯Lord. There¡¯s nothing better for setting yourself right..¡±

    <hr>

    Ahhh~

    The three male inhabitants of Castle Petrice were all reclined naked against the brim of a massive tub filled with steaming water. Rather than bringing his usual modest washtub to his room, the two men had dragged their poor, stumbling Count to an unfamiliar chamber which contained what he surmised to be a basin custom-made for the Petrician Nobility, who were so great in stature that Niklas¡¯ usual accommodations could only serve them as a foot-bath. But as all three of the current bathers were so small of stature, they all fit very comfortably within the walls of that massive bath.

    All together the men sank themselves almost fully beneath the steamy surface, with only the flushed tips of their noses peeking out into the air. As they soaked therein these three were so comfortable and relaxed that all the sweat, aches and pains they had acquired that day seemed to evaporate off of them to be carried away by the steam.

    After a long, warm silence, Niklas hesitantly pulled himself to a proper sitting position and spoke . ¡°Belfort I am¡­ sorry to have done such a selfish, and potentially damaging, thing. I hope you know that I do not wish any ill upon Petrice or any of its people.¡±

    Belfort sighed with an air of resignation before he replied. ¡°It is alright, my Lord, at least speaking for myself. There is no use regretting what cannot be undone.¡±

    Niklas then set his jaw and wore a serious expression. ¡°I promise you now, and on my honor, that I will bring this place back to its former glory, and even well beyond it.¡±

    Belfort¡¯s true expression was inscrutable beneath the wet curtain of his thick beard and eyebrows, and he simply hummed a soft, skeptical ¡°Hmm.¡± For a moment, the three men continued to soak in contemplative silence.

    ¡°Well, I believe you, your Lordship!¡± Hemsley declared, looking very motivated now. ¡°Seen your work, I has, and I din¡¯t understand a lick of it! An¡¯ that usually means you¡¯re doin¡¯ somethin¡¯ all smart-like. That¡¯s what I think!¡±

    ¡°Th-thank you, Hemsley.¡± Niklas forced out awkwardly, not sounding particularly reassured.

    ¡°But sir,¡± Belfort asked then. ¡°How do you plan to begin making these¡­ ¡¯changes¡¯ to the County? We have no wealth in reserve to draw upon, nor any income without the Countess¡¯ usual contract. And as I have been made to understand, you cannot expect to receive cooperation from the villages and townsfolk.¡±

    Niklas then shot a wolfish smile back at the Butler. ¡°Not to worry, my good man. We shall be able to begin preparations quite soon indeed! As soon as the dowry arrives from my Family I shall have the funds that I require.¡±

    Belfort¡¯s brows raised in pleasant surprise, and he now looked over at Hemsley with a growing excitement. ¡°...The dowry! That¡¯s right, I confess I had quite forgotten about the matter. Oh, we are truly saved!¡±

    As each man felt the anticipation growing inside of them, another silence fell over them, but not one clouded with a sickly awkwardness, rather the kind that naturally unfurls when each individual is deep in thought.

    ¡°But sir¡­ wasn¡¯t the dowry set to arrive not a few nights following yourself?¡± Belfort suddenly asked, causing that quietly hopeful moment the trio shared to pop like a soap bubble, vanishing without a trace between one second and the next.

    Niklas¡¯ face fell and he shivered then, despite the warmth that still permeated the water of the bath, as an icy trickle of anxious worry crept its way down his spine.

    <hr>

    Anyone observing the van der Leigh estate at this time was met with the sight of a shocking scene playing out before their eyes. The many chests that were previously packed and ready for transport were now being emptied of their silver coins and gold bullions and unloaded from their carriages, while the draft animals that had been primed to pull them were freed from their tack and led back to their usual homes. Numerous hands were hard at work deconstructing the caravan, even while their owners occasionally peered towards the estate proper with nervous side-glances. The reason for their apprehension was clear, as even from a good distance a terrible commotion could be heard spilling out from within its walls.

    ¡°What are you saying?!¡± Demanded the voice of a young woman, harsh and ringing with the force of her anger. ¡°Do you even comprehend what this means?¡±

    Lady Frith hurled these barbed words at the back of her Noble father¨Cfor he did not dare to face her¨Cas her brothers looked on from the back of the room, both carefully wearing stoic, neutral expressions on their faces.

    ¡°Do not raise your voice in such an undignified manner.¡± The patriarch commanded back over his shoulder, still resolutely refusing to meet his daughter¡¯s eyes. ¡°I am your father, and you are meant to be an honorable Lady of the van der Leigh House!¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose, then, that when it comes to fulfilling the duties we are bound to by our noble lineage, neither of us are properly acting our parts!¡± She spat back at him with such ire that his brow throbbed with his growing irritation, and also caused him to flinch, ever so slightly, with guilt.

    ¡°And you always wonder why she has yet to be wed¡­¡± Brudwyn mumbled to his brother with a small chuckle he attempted to disguise with a cough. The other man maintained his stoicism so as not to attract his sister¡¯s ire, but Brudwyn was not so lucky as the Lady shot him such a harsh glare then that even his mighty self gulped audibly in apprehension.

    But all too quickly the full heat of her burning gaze was turned back upon their father. ¡°You mean to postpone Niklas¡¯ dowry shipment? Indefinitely!?¡± She asked, clearly as appalled by the news as she was enraged.

    ¡°That is none of your concern. Any of you.¡± Kaiser van der Leigh defiantly declared to the three of his children who stood gathered there.

    Brudwyn clicked his tongue in disapproval. ¡°Normally I would agree with you, father, for I would rather not sacrifice a single copper to that welp¡­ but the King himself ordered this. It will reflect poorly on all of us if he hears you reneged on a Royal command, not to mention that you¡¯re doing it to cover your own ass.¡±

    At that the Baron shot a fierce and deeply annoyed look at his heir, but did not otherwise reply.

    Vicentie then scratched his chin and wondered aloud, mostly to himself. but loudly enough for the others to hear his contemplations. ¡°Who among us could have foreseen that your investment would fail so soon? This has never happened before¡­¡±

    Frith scoffed at that, and her next words were infused with scathing sarcasm. ¡°It is almost as if the person with the best head for management amongst us recently left... Perhaps it is time for us to admit that our youngest did more for the family than we care to admit?¡±

    Brudwyn and Vicentie looked both disbelieving and somewhat amused by that idea, while Kaiser¡¯s face only darkened as his anger appeared to grow until he could not contain it any further.

    ¡°It matters not what any of you have to say, not even that na?ve young King.¡± He snapped out. ¡°This is my will, and my decision is final! Now, all of you¡­ Get. Out.¡±

    <hr>

    The two brothers sighed in resignation as they watched their sister pace back and forth in front of those large office doors which their father had just slammed shut in their faces.

    ¡°...Do you truly suppose the King will be upset with us?¡± Vicentie asked, his attempt to keep his voice light betrayed by the way it cracked in his anxiety.

    Brudwyn shrugged his shoulders with a lackadaisical air. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter to me. All¡¯s I have to do is let him know that I told father off, but he didn¡¯t listen to me. Now he can bear the consequences of incurring the King¡¯s resentment all on his lonesome.¡±

    The brawny man then peered back over at his sister, who was biting at one of her now not-so-perfectly-manicured nails as an outlet for her rage and anxiety now that she no longer had a direct target in front of her. Despite having had a generous amount of family disagreements prior, seeing Frith lose her usual steely composure to this extent was a rare sight.

    ¡°I suppose the biggest question is, now¡­ what are you going to do?¡± He asked her, wearing a crooked, sardonic grin. ¡°After all, it¡¯s your beloved baby brother who¡¯s been hung out to dry. I¡¯m certainly not sticking my neck out any further for that runt.¡±

    At that, Frith stopped in her tracks and stood for a moment in a pensive silence.

    Vicentie, in his usual anxious manner, glanced sidelong at his brother as the other man taunted her, shaking his head at his words. He was not fearful out of care for his sister, but rather because he was desperate to avoid becoming a target of her wrath by association.

    Unexpected to the both of them though, she simply took a deep breath and exhaled to settle her pounding heart. Then she turned, and with a determined look and gait she made her way past her brothers and down the hall and out of view.

    The two men watched her leave, exchanging a confused glance after she was out of sight. ¡°...Where do you think she¡¯s off to?¡± Vicentie asked as he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.

    Meanwhile, in Frith¡¯s mind, she was preparing herself for a conversation that, while it was vitally necessary for her new plans, she dearly did not want to have. The unpleasant sight of the young King sneering down at her from his throne was not one she had wanted to ever see again¡­ But if it was for the sake of her little Niklas, she would begrudgingly tolerate the man and his lascivious, unwelcome advances. Deep in thought as she was, it seemed that in no time at all she had already reached the front door, where the head servant of the van der Leigh house bowed before her.

    ¡°Have a carriage prepared for me at once.¡± She commanded him.

    He bowed again in acknowledgement of her orders. ¡°Yes, My Lady. And where shall I say is the destination?¡±

    She bit back a sigh as she forced herself to answer:. ¡°The Royal Palace.¡±

    The servant looked up at her then in clear surprise. ¡°Without any notice, my Lady?¡±

    She grimaced back at him in a poor attempt of a reassuring smile. ¡°Well, His Highness did tell me to ¡®feel free to stop by whenever I wanted to.¡± As she recited those hateful words a spot just behind her forehead began to throb rhythmically with the beginnings of a painful headache.

    This is going to be a long and tiring day¡­

 Lamentations and Regrets

    Ever since their scuffle over the contract a few days prior now, Niklas had taken to standing before the door to the Countess¡¯ chamber for a time each day. Every so often he would knock upon it several times, to no avail, and then he would call out to her loudly enough to be heard even through those thick, impenetrable walls, but this effort was also met with no reply.

    ¡°Milady, can we please speak? You know that I mean to apologize to you for what happened! I believe this can all be settled amicably if we only just speak a few moments¡­¡±

    This routine would be played out over the course of about an hour each day, before eventually the small man would let out a deep sigh and let his shoulders slump in defeat. Inevitably, some other business would require his presence and he would be forced to depart for the evening. Yet, each time left, he would turn over his shoulder a final time and call out, ¡°I shall come again tomorrow!¡±

    It was not as if Niklas lacked in self-awareness¨Che knew just how pushy and arrogant he must seem to these dour folk. The pompous son of a far-distant Barony arriving without invitation and proceeding to order them about and tell them all their business¡­ Tradition was a difficult enough thing to change for those who were willing to do so, let alone those who were resistant. Regardless, that did not change the fact that this County was ailing, and he was certain he could not just set it to rights, but make it even better than it had been before! So with this honorable goal in his heart, he would resign himself to being as pushy, bothersome and arrogant as was required for him to see it through.

    Unawares to him though, as he departed back down the hall from whence he came, the County of Petrice was not the only thing ailing. Beyond that great door and deep inside the dark abode it protected lay a massive bed, upon which Uldred spent most of her days curled tight in a great cocoon of blankets in a great mound upon a bed. Scattered all around were many pieces of dark, stained armor pieces alongside a cloak, while upon the headboard of the bed hung a dulled silver mask.

    At the sound of Niklas¡¯ departure the form of a head perked up some from under the many blankets. All that could be seen from beneath was a violet eye, which was now also quite red and puffy from tears, along with some strings of greasy, unkempt black hair.

    <hr>

    ¡°Spendin¡¯ another day in the library, m¡¯lord?¡± Asked Hemsley as he whipped up a ¡®fresh¡¯ mug of tea.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Sighed the Count. ¡°There are many things yet for me to learn about the state of the territory. I am afraid I am still quite the novice.¡±

    In his mind¡¯s eye flashed the sight of a grieving mother wailing over the corpse of a young boy, and that horrible and twisted human-like face of the monster he had seen. A shudder ran through him first, followed by a small yet determined anger.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine spendin¡¯ all my hours locked away in that dark room, ever void of light. Gives me the willies I tells ya!¡± Said the servant, presenting him with a cup of what appeared to be hot water, which at this point the lad knew would be preferable.

    Niklas looked down at his drink and grimaced. As always, the only enjoyable thing about it was its warmth. ¡°Yes well, I¡¯m only a little put off by it until I dig into my work. Fortunately, that happens rather quickly.¡±

    He cupped his hands around the piping hot mug to enjoy the feeling of it radiating up through his fingers, and then he set it aside before he rose to make his exit, with Hemsley following on his heels. It was a particularly dreary day even for Petrice, and an icy torrent of rain rattled against the Castle¡¯s stone walls, its rhythmic sound threatening to lull one into an unplanned nap if they were not careful. Those unfortunate enough to be taken by that hypnotic tone would find themselves just drifting slowly into slumber, only to be violently awakened by the tremendous boom of the thunder that was amplified as it echoed and bounced between the great mountains that stood to the North and South of the County.

    Finally the two men came upon their destination. Placed on the floor beside the library doors sat a wooden box filled with many wax candles, that despite their age and a coat of dust were fresh and whole. These were ones that the silent old Librarian had led him to after his initial visit. When Niklas retrieved them Belfort had nearly wept tears of joyful wonderment, as if the young Count had happened upon some buried chest filled with gold and gemstones rather than a forgotten old crate of candles.

    ¡°It is most fortunate you found these, my Lord!¡± Hemsley exclaimed in a tone of reverence, taking the steaming mug from Niklas so that he could reach down and retrieve one of the box¡¯s waxen treasures.

    First the young Count reached up, as best he could for his stature, and retrieved the singular barely-lit candle that presently sat beside the library doors. The pitiful thing flickered with its last light as the final nub of its wick burnt away, leaving nothing but the pools of liquid wax which dripped down its sides to harden into strange, abstract layers of stalactites. He lit its replacement, which he then put up in its rightful place, before reaching back into the box to retrieve a second for his own personal use.

    ¡°We shan¡¯t let this one go out. Belfort worked hard on that¡­ mechanism to produce this flame, and we cannot make another attempt until this storm lets up!¡± Niklas declared, remembering how Belfort had spun a twig strung with twine alike to a small bow against a dry branch, desperately attempting to create a fire with its friction for upwards of several hours. By the end of it he was red-faced and sweating profusely under his servant¡¯s uniform, but triumphant all the same.

    Hemsley looked down at the poor, spent candle and gulped, his heart suddenly welling up with a newfound respect for that small, but hardworking object that had given its all in serving them until the very end of its life. ¡°I shall check on it hourly, my Lord!¡± He replied, his voice cracking slightly with a sympathetic feeling.

    ¡°See that you do.¡± Niklas replied, pulling open one of the doors to the library to reveal the engulfing darkness within. He smiled crookedly back at Hemsley. ¡°I imagine the Librarian would be quite put out if she learned that, after taking all of her precious candles, we were unable to light them!¡± He joked, before turning away and letting the massive door swing shut behind him.

    Now alone in the hall, Hemsley blinked in confusion at the spot where Niklas had just been. We have a librarian? Belfort¡¯s never mentioned such a person before¡­

    He looked down at the mug of tea he held in his hands, still steaming and nearly full. Shrugging, he raised it to his lips and took a sip¨C-which he immediately regretted.

    ¡°Yuck!¡±

    <hr>

    Old Belfort meekly pushed open the door leading into the Countess¡¯ room, moving with the utmost care so as to not make any more noise or disturbance than necessary. He squinted his weak eyes as his sight slowly adjusted to the deep, all-encompassing darkness inside. He sighed wearily when he could finally make out the room and the dire state it was in. Stepping into that room was like going back in time to when the castle was in its former state, for it was a vast, cluttered mess draped in a thick sheet of dust beneath a ceiling of heavy, drooping cobwebs.

    As always, the bed at the center of the chaos was home to a gargantuan, threadbare mound of assorted cushions, blankets and comforters. Belfort knew all too well that somewhere beneath that impossible pile lay the young Countess, thoroughly cocooned and hiding from the world, as per usual. However, this time was a bit different, for it was not simply her anxious and lethargic nature which compelled her to stay therein. Now a great change was sweeping throughout her old home, and it was unlike anything she had experienced in her life before. So it was only natural that this inexperienced young woman found herself weighed down by a substantial amount of stress, not unlike a nervous cat¡¯s first reaction to its family moving house.

    At least the Countess will not vomit or urinate to show her disapproval. Belfort thought to himself with a small chuckle, but then he cocked an eyebrow in consideration. ¡­At least, I do hope she would not.

    He then pulled himself away from that strange line of thought and gingerly reached one pale, wrinkled hand out towards a particular lump on the bed which he suspected concealed his mistress beneath its fabric. He winced as he successfully made contact with her, for every other time he had previously tried to comfort her in this way he had shortly found himself rocketing back out of the door and to sprawl against the far wall in the hallway, and he was unsure if his old bones could take another round of that. But at least on this day luck was with him, and when he touched her the only response that came was a brief, violent flinch of her own.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Came the Countess¡¯ rumbling voice, muffled as it was by the many blankets that now obscured her¨Crather than her signature mask, which currently lay on her bedside table.

    Belfort sighed then, but he spoke gently, and under his thick beard he wore a small smile. ¡°I¡¯m only checking on you, my Lady. You haven¡¯t eaten anything since yesterday, and today you¡¯ve already let your porridge grow cold.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry. Leave me alone.¡± She groused back, shifting so as to wrap herself even tighter in the numerous blankets of her cocoon.

    Despite Uldred¡¯s words, Belfort knew her better than anyone, and did not believe she actually wanted him to leave. When the Countess truly did not want company she usually rejected him in a forceful and literal manner. This time, although she protested his presence, she lay relatively still and allowed him to remain in the room.

    For a time there was quiet as Belfort stood there beside the bed, gently rubbing his hand in what he hoped was comforting circles upon what he suspected was her back. She did not move to pull away, but only rustled a bit beneath the comforters and sniffled quietly.

    ¡°I¡¯m a failure of a Lady.¡± She muttered despondently, finally breaking the silence.

    ¡°No, no, my Lady! Nothing could be further from the truth.¡± was his prompt reply.

    ¡°I let the County fall into ruin!¡± She spat out derisively, although fire in her voice was clearly directed at none other than herself.

    Belfort used his free hand to rub at his temple, and his expression was distant and worn, but when he replied to her his voice was patient and even. ¡°The fault for that lies only with me and your late father. You have been doing the best that you can, my Lady, to keep us from living in true destitution despite your lack of social connections or any manner of formal education-¡±

    Belfort found himself interrupted then by a low, resonant, moan that emerged from within the mound, which sounded not unlike the alien call of some great sea creature.

    ¡°But I let that¡­ that man come in here and trick me into destroying the only source of funds we have left!¡±

    ¡°That¡­may not yet be true, my Lady.¡± Belfort replied, though his tone was hesitant and his expression a skeptical grimace. ¡°If you would only come out from here and see for yourself all of the hard work the Count has been doing¡­ He has been toiling long into the night, working on diagrams and calculations-¡± Here he was interrupted again by another loud and prolonged wail, which caused him to furrow his brow even deeper than before.

    Inside her pile Uldred curled up in a fetal position, stared shakily at the shadowed forms of her large hands. ¡°A-and then¡­ I¡­ I almost did it again!¡± Her voice cracked and shook weakly as she spoke.

    Now Belfort sighed again, but this time in weary sadness, and he seemed to shrink in on himself a little as well. He rubbed soothingly over whatever part of her was still beneath his hand and his voice softened once more.

    ¡°But you didn¡¯t do it, my Lady. You restrained yourself. I witnessed that myself, and I was quite proud of you!¡±

    Uldred did not speak again, but only continued to sniffle and breathe shakily through her emotions as Belfort continued.

    ¡°Before was¡­ an unfortunate accident, my Lady. You were very young, and you cannot keep blaming yourself for it.¡±

    After another long bout of silence, Belfort shrugged his shoulders, rose from the bed and turned to leave the room. When he reached the door he made to close it behind him but hesitated briefly, before he turned to look back over his shoulder and speak again.

    ¡°I shall return shortly with some more porridge, fresh and hot. Please try to eat some of it before it grows cold.¡±

    And then he shut the door behind him, but without closing it all the way, so that it could be easily reopened just a touch, allowing a small crack of light to shine through and illuminate that dark and lonesome room.

    Now that she was alone once more, Uldred slowly turned where she lay and rose into a sitting position As blankets sloughed off her upright form she held up a hand to shield her left eye from the glaring beam of light which it was now quite unaccustomed to. It was difficult for her to squint the lid of that eye by itself, what with how the skin of its lid and the temple beside it was stretched taught and strangely angled. The ruined half of her mouth curled down into a grimace amongst the raw, charred crags and valleys of flesh that lay beneath the sharp curve of her cheekbone and the melted skin that covered it.

    ¡°...He did that on purpose.¡± She huffed to herself, before she arose fully and picked her way across that chaotic room to pull the door completely shut.

    <hr>

    In that dark void the inhabitants of Castle Petrice called a library, the concept of time became quite difficult to maintain one¡¯s hold on. Case in point: Niklas had peered up from his diligent work to glance towards the candle which he had brought in when he arrived, only to find that its flame had almost reached its base, with melted wax having overflowed its humble saucer to spill down over the corner of the table, where it had finally cooled and turned solid before it dripped all of the way down to the floor below.

    ¡°Oh dear!¡± He exclaimed in alarm at his realization, grumbling quietly as he made to assemble his papers and rise from his seat.

    But then, without warning, out of the darkness behind Niklas emerged a familiar pale, and wizened hand bearing another saucer with a fresh candle, which it reached down over his shoulder to place upon the table before him.

    ¡°Ah, thank you, miss!¡± He said in startled gratitude, even as her other hand appeared at his other side and retrieved the old spent candle, drawing back away into the dark without a sound. Niklas then thought he heard a quietly exhaled ¡°Hmm¡­¡± ghost coldly down over his neck in response, which caused a trail of goosebumps to rise upon his back.

    He waited until the feeling of the librarian¡¯s presence had completely vanished before he quietly mumbled, ¡°Not much one for conversation, is she?¡±

    As he nestled himself back into a more comfortable position upon the chair in order to continue his work, a loud knock upon the library doors caught his attention. Taking up his fresh candle, Niklas made his way as carefully as he could over to the doorway which led out into the hall. As he pulled it open he saw Hemsley stood there, but with a most peculiar guest. For crouched upon the man¡¯s wrist, which he held as far outstretched as he could manage, sat some kind of raven, though it seemed nearly twice as large as it should be and darker in hue, and its beak and talons curled in a thorny way so that it appeared much more menacing.

    Even the tamest of creatures look unfriendly and mean here! Bemoaned Niklas to himself as he observed the foul fowl.

    ¡°A m-message for you, m¡¯Lord!¡± He stammered, the majority of his attention currently focused upon the bird, which would sporadically stretch out its wide wings and flap them about to maintain its balance, wapping Hemsley across the face if he was not careful to dodge them. As he tried to placate the winged beast, Niklas knelt down to carefully retrieve the paper note that was tied to one of its legs.

    ¡°Stop, stop!¡± Hemsley complained as the bird smacked him about more, squawking loudly in indignation.

    Niklas hurriedly unrolled the note, for there were not many people he knew of in the area who were wealthy enough to use a carrier bird, so they must be rather important!

    Dear Count Niklas, The note began.

    I extend my warmest greetings to you, along with my most humble gratitude to you for your recent correspondence. It is with utmost deference that I receive your wise counsel, and I find your unwavering dedication to the welfare of our realm truly touching.

    I would be most honored to accept your invitation to visit the Castle in order that we may speak more about these reforms, so that I may ensure that they are followed to the very letter of your instructions.

    With utmost respect and reverence,

    -

    Lord Edmunton Borney,

    Mayor of Coronton

    Normally, Niklas would have almost retched to read such overwhelmingly rich pandering as was contained within that letter, but he was far too excited to have received his first return correspondence, and to hear that his proposals may be met with acceptance and cooperation, that he did not pay such details any mind. Truth be told, he had not even expected Thomas to have already reached the distant border city of Coronton in little more than a week¡¯s travel!

    Maintaining a stern and neutral expression, Niklas looked back towards Hemsley who was still engrossed in his tussle with the large messenger bird. But after a loud and pointed cough, both the servant and the feather guest he escorted froze as they took in the young Count¡¯s demeanor.

    ¡°Hemsley, go get Belfort.¡± Niklas spoke, his tone conveying the seriousness of the situation. ¡°We must prepare¡­for a guest.¡±

    Hearing this news, Hemsley gasped quite dramatically, until the bird shat a little upon the slightly-torn sleeve of his uniform and killed his enthusiasm.

 We Have a Guest

    The young Count fidgeted nervously with the hem of his finest suit. Beside him was his Countess, tall but standing slightly hunched over, wearing what was undoubtedly her regular attire, but freshly laundered and minus the layers of worn, stained plate and chain armor. Niklas could no more discern her mood today than any other day because of her eerie, newly polished silver mask. Yet, strangely, he discovered that stealing a glance or two up at where she stood, solid and impassive as ever, eased his nerves a bit. Perhaps it was the reassuring effect of someone so large and intimidating standing at his side, like a mother bear guarding a cub.

    He looked back down at the road again and grimaced at the sight of the approaching carriage, which had grown larger as it continued its approach while his attention was turned away. Even at such a distance, it appeared quite opulent, and in fact reminded Niklas of the carriage that he himself had arrived in not a full month prior. This observation came as rather a surprise to him, for its occupant was a mere Mayor of an impoverished County, and not the son of a well-to-do Baron. Regardless, all of the inhabitants of the Castle had gathered before its gates to greet their guest¨Cthat is to say, Niklas and Uldred were both there with the two servants at their backs.

    Mayor Borney of Coronton stepped confidently down from the rung of the carriage despite how the fashionably delicate vehicle tilted precariously under his shifting weight. He was a rotund man with a similarly round face upon which rested a sizable brown mustache, it''s fine tips pointing to eight o''clock and four o¡¯clock, respectively. His short curled hair shone with wax and did not waver much in the wind, and his blue eyes were big and bright. His expression was perfectly neutral, at least until he turned and took in the small group gathered there, at which his face lit up with a wide smile.

    "My good Lord and Lady!" He declared jovially, stepping forward enthusiastically and raising his arms as if to hug one of them. "It is so wonderful to finally make your acquaintance, Count! And Countess, why, I haven''t seen you since you were but a girl up to here!" With that, he held one hand up flat to his nose and gave a little wink.

    For some reason his remark caused Uldred to shoot a glare down at Niklas, who nervously avoided her gaze, although he knew not why.

    I suppose she did not want me to know that she was a giant child as well..? Was all he could surmise as an explanation.

    The Mayor then took Niklas'' hand up in a firm grip and shook it vigorously. As he did so, Niklas internally remarked upon how soft and well-groomed the man¡¯s skin was. "Lord Edmunton Borney, Mayor of Coronton!"

    "Ch-charmed." Niklas stammered, stumbling back a step as soon as he was released from the handshake.

    Lord Borney put out the same hand towards Uldred, but she only leered down at the gesture as if it were a used cleaning rag or something equally unpleasant.

    He retracted his hand as quickly as it had appeared and coughed awkwardly into it instead. "Y-yes, well. It appears you haven''t changed a bit!"

    With a wayward glance his attention caught upon Hemsley, who was positioned behind the Count, doing his best to stand at attention and appear presentable.

    "Another servant already!" The Mayor remarked with a surprised tone. He suddenly clapped a hand against Niklas'' shoulder, startling him. "I had heard tell of your wizardry in the realm of stewardship, but you have already doubled your staff so quickly after your arrival!"

    Niklas chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. He could not tell from the man¡¯s tone then if he was making fun of him, and while a single-person staffing increase was a laughable thing to compliment one on, it was still a factually correct statement.

    "Well, I shall do my best to continue not to disappoint." Niklas replied. "Now, shall we take this conversation inside and out of the cold?"

    "Why yes, of course. Lead the way my Lord and Lady! I shall just have my footman and my Knight here carry in the gifts that I have prepared as we make our way inside."

    Niklas and Uldred¡¯s eyes finally met then as they exchanged quizzical and concerned glances between one another.

    ¡­Gifts?

    <hr>

    Soon everyone was inside the Castle and sitting at the long dining table, with Uldred in the head seat, Niklas beside her on her right, and the Mayor sat at the other end. The Count and Countess were quite busy staring, dumbfounded, at the sparkling hoard of fine gold and silver dinnerware that had been prepared by Lord Borney¡¯s equally-mustachioed servant. The sound of vigorous chopping and a loud sizzling could be heard from the nearby kitchen as well. The Castle servants had nearly burst into tears when the Lord Mayor¡¯s knight had, just a few minutes prior, cracked open one of a few heavy wooden boxes from their carriage to reveal a wealth of fresh vegetables, fruits and cured meats packed inside. The bright and plentiful colors inside that box, within the thoroughly cleaned but still dreary walls of Castle Petrice, looked as out of place as a watercolor painting in the midst of a gallery of monochrome artwork.

    Niklas did his best to keep his wits about him and maintain a serious fa?ade, though the notion of eating real cooked food, that was not the same bland porridge as always, filled him with a surge of mouthwatering anticipation that was difficult to suppress. Uldred looked much the same: she was stiff and inscrutable as ever behind her mask, but every so often, when Niklas peered over at her, he would see her violet eyes were also drawn towards the kitchen doors.

    Meanwhile, upon entering the Castle Lord Borney and his two men had looked around in quite a bit of awe in their own right. Though Borney had not visited the place since the old Count¡¯s time, he still found it quite surprising to see its gloomy halls twinkling and spotlessly clean. His Knight and the Servant whispered between one another as they had looked about; obviously they had heard horrific rumors about the current state of the place and were shocked, though not unpleasantly so, to see them so thoroughly disproved. The Servant in particular had looked at his elderly counterpart with eyes afire with competition, so awed was he to see two lone men complete such a daunting feat.

    ¡°W-well,¡± Borney said then, coughing into his hand to call everyone¡¯s attention to himself. ¡°I must admit that you have impressed me again, Lord Count. It would seem that you have quickly turned the fortune of this entire Castle on its head.¡±

    ¡°You flatter me, Mayor, I could not have achieved such a thing alone.¡± Niklas replied, attempting to place his hand upon his betrothed in a show of solidarity, an action which she immediately and violently flinched away from.

    ¡°Well, I hope our humble gift of foodstuffs will satisfy you. While it is difficult to import such things into the heart of Petrice, I know it surely cannot measure up to the standards of a Count¡¯s feast.¡± Borney chortled.

    Niklas laughed nervously in reply and scratched his head. While the man had delivered his words with a jolly and friendly demeanor, Niklas could not figure any way to receive such a comment other than as mockery, for their guest had obviously known of the sorry state the Castle had been in until just recently.

    Uldred evidently was also not fooled by the man¡¯s flippant demeanor, apparent by how one of her eyes twitched sharply in annoyance. A sharp bolt of panic then shot through the small Count, and he quickly attempted to change the subject before her temper had a chance to flare any further.

    ¡°A-anyhow, my Lord Mayor, shall we speak of business? I am most excited to go over my proposals with you!¡±

    Lord Borney put up a hand to forestall Niklas¡¯ efforts. ¡°All in good time, my Lord Count, all in good time! First we should fill our bellies so as not to be distracted from such important work later! And it would be a shame if we let the food go cold, after it has traveled such a long way.¡±

    No sooner had he spoken than did Belfort and Hemsley appear from out of the kitchen, carrying trays of fried and roasted meats and grilled vegetables, numerous fruits that had been cut and peeled, and small, glistening sweetmeats which they then arranged upon the long dining table. Yet while Lord Borney clapped in delight at the arrival of their meal, and while Uldred looked awed and slightly overwhelmed by the spread before them, Niklas found himself swallowing his own excitement before any of the food.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    This is¡­quite the feast. Niklas thought, briefly eyeing the jolly Mayor. He did not voice his suspicions then, but left them to stew within his breast as he moved to tuck into the meal before him.

    Lord Borney must have been quite famished after his journey, for he had piled his plate with food in a way that went against any etiquette Niklas had learned about eating in polite company. Niklas peered over towards the Countess again as she lifted more than half of the roast turkey onto her own plate. Quizzically he wondered then if she would eat with that full-faced mask on. As though to answer him, she slowly reached up and clasped her hands upon her mask at the brow and jaw, and began to lift.

    Niklas¡¯ eyes widened with sudden interest as he realized he would be seeing his first glimpse of his new wife¡¯s true face. But as she finally pulled her mask, and her hood with it, up over her long black hair, he was met not with some grotesque deformity, as he had been expecting, but soft pale skin, a sharp chin, and long pinkish lips that were somewhat thin. As if feeling the pressure of his eyes upon her, she shot a violet glare down at him through her thick bangs, which mostly obscured the upper-half of her face, casting his attention down to his food, and causing him to turn a little red in the ears. In doing so he did not see Hemsley, who stood at the other end of the table, stiffen and pale at the sight of her other side.

    They ate mostly in silence. Despite his long-awaited re-acquaintance with flavorful food, Niklas was not in a state to properly savor it, and tore through his succulent meal as if it were the usual bland and gray porridge. His mind was more occupied with the little bit of the Countess he had seen, and a desperate desire now to see more. Any time he attempted to peek up again after that he was returned a glare more murderous than any he had seen from her before, and so he would relent quickly and go back to staring down at his plate.

    There doesn¡¯t seem to be anything wrong with her. I wonder why she wears that thing then? He wondered as he poked his fork at some grill sprout. She had a¡­beautiful mouth, if such a thought is proper to have. At that thought, he blushed a bit again. He attempted one more glance, but was once again rebuffed.

    Meanwhile, the Countess sighed as she ravenously tore into her third leg of roast turkey. The little man was acting strangely today. More strangely than usual she would say, ever since she removed her mask to eat.

    I suppose this is the first time he has seen my¡­seen me since we were wed. She realized, A small anger came over her then at that realization. Even if I am so unpleasant to look at, does he have to stare so much? And she glared down at him again for that perceived slight, making the small man sink into his chair all the more, weighed down by an invisible pressure.

    Across the table, Lord Borney made delighted little noises as he dug into his own meal, mostly composed of appetizers and easy finger-foods. But beneath his jolly and unthreatening demeanor, a sharp and calculating gaze rested upon the Count and Countess across from him, who could not even meet each other¡¯s eyes.

    Even though he has improved the place so much, their relationship is still quite strained and poor, ey?

    For a moment, a small Cheshire grin curled beneath his mustache.

    This may be easier than I thought¡­

    But then he popped a small fried morsel into his mouth, and his look returned once again to one of enthusiastic enjoyment.

    <hr>

    Now seated comfortably in the lounge, a proper location to discuss further business, Niklas, Lord Borney, and a newly re-masked Uldred were each served cups of steaming tea by Hemsley. This was not their usual water with vague hints of color and flavor that they were used to, no. Several sizable tins of loose-leaf blends containing a range of spices, smells, and hues had been gifted to them along with the food. As he made to depart, Hemsley leaned down to whisper to the Count.

    ¡°If you need anything, just call me. Belfort is a little overwhelmed at the moment.¡±

    In his mind¡¯s eye, Niklas could already see the elderly servant weeping at the sight of new tea leaves after so long, and so hard that he could not hold the pot steady to pour. He had to shield his mouth to stifle a giggle then, so that he did not come off as strange or rude to his guest.

    ¡°Ahem!¡± He coughed into his fist to reset himself. ¡°O-onto business then!¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡± Replied the jolly Mayor, sitting forward in his chair. ¡°An exciting series of propositions to be sure! There is much to discuss.¡±

    Niklas felt the looming gaze of the Countess upon his skull again without ever looking over to her. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down his brow, this would be her first time hearing about his plans for renovations about the County.

    Lord Borney took note of her demeanor, and once again a mischievous grin parted his lips.

    ¡°Yes there were many a useful and interesting ideas for improvements which I, and I am sure the other Lords and Mayors, would be loathe not to take under consideration for implementation!¡± He continued.

    ¡°I agree that for many of these systems implementation would be simple with only the requirement of corv¨¦e labor-¡±

    A squeaking could be heard as Uldred¡¯s gloved hands gripped the arms of her chair a little tighter. Niklas gritted his teeth at the sound, and purposefully made certain not to look in her direction.

    ¡°-and for the rest, the more expensive items I mean, I agree with your suggestion of the reinstatement of a tax.¡±

    Now the wood cracked loudly beneath the Countess¡¯ fingers, and her gaze burned even more heatedly against the back of Niklas¡¯ skull. He did not appreciate how the man had worded that, although it was technically an accurate description.

    Lord Borney snapped his fingers, and his diligent servant entered with a bundle of parchments in his hands. ¡°Your note had not provided specific numbers, so I took it upon myself to come up with some basic figures ahead of time!¡±

    Niklas held his hands outstretched, but to his shock and dismay, the servant leaned past him to hand the stacked papers to the Countess! He shot a quick glare over towards the Mayor, who still for a moment wore that wolfish grin, at least until he noticed the Count¡¯s eyes, at which he quickly slipped back into a jolly and unthreatening demeanor.

    Suddenly Uldred shot up to a stand from her chair! She slapped the papers down across the table in disgust, and without a word she marched out of the room.

    After a stunned pause, Niklas rose to his feet as well. ¡°M-my apologies, she must be feeling ill from the meal. Allow me a brief reprieve to go and check on her condition.¡±

    And he quickly scurried out of the room after her, while behind him the Mayor waved his arm in a dismissive gesture.

    ¡°By all means, go on right ahead my good Count! I shall remain here in comfort.¡±

    As the door clicked shut behind the small man, Lord Borney¡¯s cheerful guise dropped completely and suddenly. He sighed through gritted teeth and lazed back in his chair most improperly.

    ¡°Well that should keep them busy for a time.¡± He mumbled to his servant, who nodded his head in response. ¡°I had heard the new Count was having trouble wrangling the local populace into compliance. Stubborn and disrespectful wretches as they are!¡±

    Reaching forward, the manipulative mayor snatched a handful of his gifted confections from the center table, and began tossing them absently into his mouth one-by-one as he continued to speak.

    ¡°I knew the Countess was uneducated and soft-hearted, for all that she is a warrior. Can you believe her one and only decree as Countess was to abolish what meager alms they were receiving from the people?¡± He scoffed disagreeably at the notion as he took another bite out of a miniature tart. ¡°Utterly foolish.¡±

    ¡°Shall I write to inform Baron Otkorn that everything is proceeding smoothly?¡± Asked the servant.

    ¡°Yes, do that. I think this will keep the Count and Countess fighting amongst themselves for long enough.¡±

    He tossed a final cookie into his insatiable maw, licking his lips in satisfaction and brushing a few stray crumbs off the fine material of his coat. But as he spoke again, his eyes looked even hungrier than ever.

    ¡°If these boons were not enough to move the Count to our side¡­ Well, by the time they realize what is going on, it will be too late anyways. Regardless of his choice, it will be our win.¡±

    The Servant nodded his head again, his face adorned with the smallest hint of a smile.

    ¡°Very good, sir. I am sure my Lord will be quite pleased.¡±

 Cunning Ploys at Work

    Niklas soon returned to the lounge unaccompanied, and the rest of the meeting therein proceeded quite smoothly. This was in stark comparison to the previous attempt, which had gone so poorly that Uldred had stormed out of the room and marched directly to her quarters without uttering a single word, where she shut the doors firmly in her pursuing fianc¨¦''s face. Once the Mayor and the young Count stood outside and before that disconcertingly opulent carriage once again, Lord Borney quite enthusiastically agreed to keep Niklas up-to-date on his implementation of the proposed renovations. It was a handshake deal, one which Niklas accepted with a slight hesitation and a grain of salt. Finally, the rotund Mayor once more boarded the resplendent vehicle with his servant in tow, his Knight took up the reigns, and then they departed back towards the now-setting sun.

    The Count and his two men stood dutifully and watched as the carriage made its way along, but slumped their shoulders and breathed sighs of relief once their guests were completely out of view. What a tiring affair that had been! It put an ugly feeling in Niklas¡¯ gut to think that several more such meetings with the other local Mayors were in store for him in the future. Not to mention his issues with the Countess¡­

    ¡­I don¡¯t suppose she¡¯s going to come out to the other meetings now, is she?

    Suddenly the glimpse he had caught of her pretty chin and lips appeared in his mind¡¯s eye. His face immediately flushed bright red, and he clapped his hand loudly upon his forehead, as if trying to knock the very thought from his mind, as the other two men looked over in obvious concern for his health.

    <hr>

    Over the coming weeks many notes of reply arrived in a steady flow, carried by runner or by raven. Of the Mayors of the twelve cities and towns of the territory, only one refused to even meet with him, and implied that Niklas¡¯ fraternization with Lord Borney was the cause for her denial.

    ¡°Lady¡­Merida¡­hates¡­Lord¡­Borney¡­¡± Niklas had scribbled as a note to himself upon the back of that particular missive. Even being rebuffed in such a way provided him vital knowledge such as this, and he was sure he could convince the Lady to see him at a later date, so the rejection did not leave him entirely despondent.

    Time then began to resume a familiar and comfortable pattern for the young Count. Long, solitary bouts of candlelit study and planning in that dark library took up most of his waking hours, broken up only by meals, bedtime, and the occasional bath. The foodstuffs provided by Lord Borney were a most welcome inclusion to their daily routine, and Niklas had not been aware at how much his sanity may have suffered from the lack of flavor and variety in his meals.

    Uldred somehow left her room even more infrequently than before, if such a feat was even possible, and she seemed fully committed to avoiding even the sight of him for as long as she possibly could. Suffice it to say, she did not join the others during the arrivals of the subsequently visiting Mayors, who Niklas would simply inform that the Countess was not well and could not join them.

    On the topic of the Mayors, those Lords or Ladies who commanded the many cities and towns of Petrice, with the noble goal of having them function like sterling vessels, Niklas found himself surprised at how much they differed from his expectations. Perhaps Mayor Borney and his abundant display of wealth had been something of a red herring, for with each Mayor he met thereafter, the people he was met with were figures of cold, suspicious stoicism, much like the heads of the villages whom Niklas had previously traveled far and wide to meet. By and large these Mayors wore simple clothes, only showing their status in how much warmer and sturdier their garments were when compared to those worn by the average peasant, and they went about business with a straightforward matter-of-factness. While they were, compared to Lord Borney, noticeably less enthused by the many proposals of their new and young Count, they did not entirely shut him out completely like the village heads had done, and their criticisms were much more informative and constructive.

    But as Lady Usheke of the city of Tobmar, the sixth or seventh Mayor he had met with in as many weeks, rode away with her retinue, Niklas mulled over a common pattern of criticism the Mayors had for his proposals. There was a large hitch in his plans, and while it was one that was not entirely unexpected to him, it was nonetheless one that was not easily rectified: Money. Or, to be more specific, a quite terrible lack of it.

    If these Lords are to be believed, there just might not be enough coin in the region to cover my expenses, with or without establishing a tax. He thought to himself.

    It was a possibility which he had considered, but had dearly hoped would not come to pass. But coffers were indeed practically empty, for Nobles and commoners alike, and trade with the surrounding territories was all but nonexistent, which drove the prices offered by what few traveling merchants entered their borders to impossible heights.

    The whole of my efforts up till now will be for naught if I cannot pay for materials by implementing a system of tax, for the paving of roads was meant to be completed posthaste to increase trade in the first place¡­

    It seemed that many more long, arduous days and nights in the library were yet to come in the young Count¡¯s future.

    <hr>

    One night, high inside his private quarters, Niklas sat draped in a soft robe in front of the fire, his hair still wet from his recent bath. A quiet knock came from the other side of his chamber door, which bade him to rise and answer. As he pulled it open he was met by Hemsley, who was still huffing a bit from the long walk up the spiral stair of the tower, though he did his best to hide it. In one slightly sweaty hand he held a letter.

    ¡°A message for you, my Lord!¡±

    Niklas took it from him. ¡°Thank you as always, Hemsley.¡±

    He tore into the envelope right then and there, for if it required a reply he did not wish to later call the poor man all of the way back up the stair to fetch it. Inside, he found a small note containing familiar handwriting. As his eyes ran to and fro along its contents his brow slowly sunk into an indignant and incredulous furrow.

    Dear Count,

    Read the letter, in the handwriting of the traveling swordsman, Thomas.

    By the time this arrives to you, I will have completed my final delivery to the town of Parway and its Lord. As this place is not too far from Coronton, the very first location that I visited upon your order, I thought I would pop inside there to witness for myself any new effects brought by your developments.

    It was the paragraph that followed after which began to pique the young Count¡¯s interest, and as he read he could not help but begin to mutter the words aloud with a suspicious tone.

    It appears that your implementations are moving along most efficiently! Many peasant men were conscripted and have already paved much of the road heading Southeast of the town, and the guards were moving door-to-door collecting taxes from the citizenry.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Niklas was too stunned to continue reading for a moment. Paving and conscription? Tax collection? What was this nonsense!? He then abruptly looked up to the servant before him and began to query him, incredulity evident in his expression.

    ¡°Have we received any recent messages that I have not yet seen? Particularly, messages from Coronton or its Mayor, Borney?¡±

    Hemsley scratched his chin contemplatively, his own brow now furrowed in deep remembrance. A long ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± left his throat, and he squinted his eyes as he peered into nothing. After a few moments of effort, he made his reply. ¡°...No, sir, I cannot recall any such thing having arrived.¡±

    ¡°Of course we haven¡¯t!¡± Niklas scoffed through gritted teeth, although his ire was not aimed at Hemsley, but rather the figure of Lord Borney which appeared just then in his mind¡¯s eye. With a deep, fortifying breath, he then restrained his frustrations for long enough to finish reading the rest of Thomas¡¯ message.

    I must warn you, however, that it seems the morale amongst the general populace is quite low, and your name is not uttered by them along with particularly pleasant or polite language. So do be careful, my Lord.

    -Thomas

    I should have known that bastard Mayor¡¯s clammy handshake was not worth dirt! Niklas thought to himself, his face heating up and hands trembling with the force of his rage.

    He looked back up to Hemsley then with a red face pinched in an irritated glare, which made the poor, fatigued servant startle. ¡°I want you and Belfort to find me a horse. I care not what its condition is like so long as it can run, it can be starved or near to death, and I do not care what you pay for it!¡± He spoke in a commanding tone that brooked no argument, and he then produced a pouch from a nearby table, which he forcefully shoved into the servant¡¯s hands. This pouch contained within it twenty silver coins¨Chis own personal reserves. Then Niklas turned and re-entered his room, making to shut the door behind him before he was briefly interrupted.

    ¡°Is this to be done t-tonight, my Lord?¡± Hemsley practically squeaked out, most startled by this sudden development.

    ¡°Tonight!¡± Niklas firmly ordered as he once again attempted to shut himself insider.

    Hemsley caught the door before he closed it, and it cracked against his fingers painfully with the force Niklas had been using to slam it shut. The servant flinched and hastily asked his final question so that he could quickly leave the company of the enraged young Count. ¡°F-for what destination, my Lord?¡±

    Niklas turned over his shoulder and met Hemsley¡¯s eyes with an expression more angry than his servant had ever before seen on him.

    ¡°Coronton!¡±

    <hr>

    It was already late into the night by the time Lady Frith¡¯s carriage arrived at the Royal Palace. Anyone other than her might have been concerned about their sudden and unscheduled arrival there, at such an inconvenient time, and with a request to see the King himself, no less. Such a thing would normally be considered quite an offense, to the point of potentially being a punishable one, but she had no such worries about propriety. In fact, she considered the possibility that her arrival may cause some measure of inconvenience or discomfort to him to be a silver lining, for he was the one who usually wagged his tongue like a dog whenever he saw her and transformed her every social event in the capital into most unpleasant experiences.

    The head maid of the Palace furrowed her brow as the Baron¡¯s Daughter ascended the marble staircase towards the entrance, but did not speak her obvious distaste aloud, only offering her guest the proper greetings, as was her duty. The old Maid then led the visiting Lady inside and up yet another set of stairs, crossing a long distance through many opulent halls, until they reached the third floor. Here, scores of eerily neutral and menacingly scowled faces eyed Frith from out of the many, many portraits that lined the halls. Finally, the two women came to a set of wooden double-doors which the maid opened to allow her guest inside, before bowing out of the room and shutting them behind her.

    Frith made her way to the center of the room and sat down upon the comfortable furniture arranged there, and no sooner had she done so, than did a new maid arrive to gracefully pour her a cup of a fragrant tea that smelled pleasantly floral and fruity.

    At least the refreshments are enjoyable. The young Lady thought to herself as she took a sip from the delicate china teacup, while before her the maid placed a plate bearing an arrangement of light pastries.

    A long stretch of time passed in silence then as she sat there alone, nibbling upon sweet treats and sipping her tea¨Cin fact, it continued for so long that the maids began to exchange nervous glances between each other, although they dared not utter a word. It was likely that they were used to visits from a more haughty and ill-tempered kind of Noble, people who were impatient and entitled, and who would not hesitate to berate the help to relieve their frustrations. Frith, however, was not so uncouth. She only smiled pleasantly towards them, showing she was quite content and unbothered by the wait, and in the two maids visibly relaxed where they stood as they silently released the breaths they had held in tense anticipation.

    After the long wait, the door across from the one Frith had entered by all but flew open, revealing the figure of Markefalt Boratan himself. The young King looking as best as he could be expected to, given the short time he had to prepare, but he still nonetheless appeared a touch disheveled.

    ¡°Lady van der Leigh!¡± He announced excitedly, opening his arms wide as if to embrace her. ¡°What a pleasant surprise it is to see you, even at such a late hour!¡±

    She had stood at once for his arrival, and she then curtsied with beautiful form as she formally returned his greeting. ¡°Your Highness, King Boratan. The Heavens part for your shadow.¡±

    He put up one hand as if to wave away the very notion of using such propriety. ¡°Oh there is no need for such formality, my dear! It was I who posed such an invitation to you. Though, truthfully, I had not expected you to make use of it at such a late hour.¡± And though he smiled as if making a casual jest, she detected an undercurrent of true annoyance in his voice.

    Good.

    Frith simply smiled, took her seat once again upon the couch, and drew another sip of tea from her cup. So welcome was her presence before him, and so beauteous and elegant was her figure, that the King worried she might have heard the thump of his heart as he took in the sight of her.

    ¡°My most heartfelt apologies to your Majesty¡­¡± She murmured politely as she demurely lowered her eyes, though the lilt in her voice revealed that she was much less apologetic than her words suggested. ¡°...You know that I would not have imposed on your hospitality like this if I were not in most urgent and dire need.¡±

    ¡°My Lady, if there is something that troubles you, I am naught but ears to listen!¡± He declared, now taking a seat across from her. ¡°You need but tell me what mountains stand in your way and I will move them for you!¡±

    Frith had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, a habit she used to indulge in whenever he spoke to her so poetically. But that was back when they both attended the Academy together, when he was but a third son with neither great power nor future expectations attached to his rank. Now, he was the most Noble Bachelor in the land, and she was well aware that she must respond to him with greater care than she once had.

    Placing a hand upon her cheek, acting a touch on the overdramatic side, Frith feigned at a worried dismay. ¡°You see, it is about my Father¡¯s business. You are aware of the iron mines that my family had acquired recently? Well there was a bit of a worrying development the other day¡­¡±

    The young King leaned forward in his seat, listening intently to her words with a face that had now become quite serious. ¡°That is quite terrible, my dear! Just tell me what I can do to help alleviate your woes.¡±

    Hearing that, Frith grinned a wide, smug smile that was quite unbefitting of a beautiful Noble lady, which she carefully hid behind an elegantly cupped hand.

 Roadside Assistance

    The sounds of a distant commotion roused Uldred from her regular weary, withdrawn state. Pulling herself from her cocoon of blankets with just about all of the effort that she could muster, Uldred stumbled through the treacherous terrain of her dark and messy room until she reached one of the windows which looked out over the courtyard. It had been so long since those cloth coverings had last been touched that when she pulled them open now a great plume of dust erupted and filled the air around her, causing her nose to itch and her eyes to tear up as it settled.

    Blearily peering down over the courtyard, Uldred wondered what could be happening so late into the evening that the sun had already dipped below the wastelands to the West. She was surprised when her eyes fell upon the small and irritating man who was her new husband, who was right that moment sat straddled atop some poor steed! She had not a clue as to where he might have acquired the animal, but nonetheless there he was trotting away upon it while Belfort chased behind him and called out with a worried tone. Niklas shouted back, and though from that distance Uldred could not make out words, she noted the sharp anger in his voice. When he reached the gate the old Butler abandoned his futile pursuit, and could only catch his breath while looking on with dismay as the small, lone figure of the Count vanished into the darkness.

    Well, I hope he got sick of this place and is going home, never to return! Uldred thought spitefully. She didn¡¯t have much hope in that being the case, however, as she had noted his lack of luggage.

    After pulling the shades back over her window, Uldred marched back to her bed with a huff, stumbling a few times over the bits and bobbles littering the floor as she went. Crossing her arms, she grumbled to herself now, a habit she had been indulging in off-and-on over the past few weeks.

    ¡°Greedy, no-good rotten¡­¡±

    Truthfully, she still remained bitter over that ill-fated meeting with Lord Borney. Just as she had been coming back around to¡­ tolerating Niklas, after she had tricked her into destroying their precious contract¨Can event which still filled her with dismay and anxiety enough to keep her awake late into the night¨Cshe had then discovered the horrid details of those ¡®plans¡¯ which he had begged her to trust in.

    Taxes? Labor!? He would milk the Petrician people, my family¡¯s people, for what little they have, and just before the deadly wintertime, no less¡­!

    Uldred clenched her hands into fists as her mind drifted back to the service held for her Father¡¯s death and her own ascension, all those years ago. She could still recall the looks of relief and gratitude that had softened the normally stoic faces of the Yeoman and Elders who had filled that same courtyard below her window, as she shared her first and only decree as their Countess: to free them of any further commitment to supply taxes or tithe to their Countess. And that following winter, and what a terrible one it had turned out to be, the numbers of Petrician lives lost to cold or starvation fell to a record low, a feat which was owed to the amount of food and coin she had allowed them to save. Amidst her otherwise, self-admittedly, woeful and incompetent rule as Countess, that was Uldred¡¯¡¯s single moment of pride.

    If that man continues to harm the territory of my family and home¡­ I may have to do my duty as Countess, in order to protect it!

    But as she was already in a rather poor emotional state, that intrusive thought immediately brought a torrent of bad memories flooding to the surface of her mind. Front and center among them was an awful recollection that Uldred had done her utmost to keep buried, one which caused her body to tense up and break out into cold perspiration e, along with summoning a dreadful, lurching feeling to her gut as if she might hurl! She swiftly pulled the familiar, worn blankets over herself once again and shut her eyes tight, and let any remaining thoughts about her territorial duty slip away into nothing for the evening.

    <hr>

    Niklas wobbled precariously upon the back of his old, but newly-acquired, steed. By some stroke of good fortune a stable-boy in the town nearby had been leading an old mare back from the pasture. She was too old and weak to pull anything properly for her work, the lad had told them, and he was giving her one last sentimental jog before his father put her down in the morning. Hemsley had tossed him three silver coins for the old girl, which was more than four times her worth, and the lad readily handed over her reins. For once Niklas was truly thankful for his small stature, for even an elderly beast such as this could easily lift him on her back and trot along.

    But even with the lucky acquisition of the mare, the young Count¡¯s face was still twisted with the same anger and irritation that, hours ago, had driven him out of his comfortable robe and bedroom and back out into the cold Petrician winds. But as he caressed the rough mane of his new traveling companion Niklas sighed and let some of the fury dissipate into the air.

    ¡°So¡­ Chestnut, are you?¡± He asked, looking down to the horse.

    The beast¡¯s lips quivered as she let out a loud raspberry then, as if in reply to his question.

    ¡°Well then, Chestnut, I welcome you into the service of the Lord Count! Unfortunately, you shan¡¯t be paid in silvers like your two colleagues, but I doubt you would like that anyways. Perhaps¡­ a regular stipend of carrots or seeds would be a more comfortable arrangement for you?¡±

    The old horse¡¯s legs quaked then and she stumbled slightly, nearly sending the hapless Niklas toppling off of her back. He was well practiced in riding, as was traditional for all of the van der Leigh children, but that practice had been on a proud and mighty warhorse, not some old, knock-kneed plowmaid. He all too quickly learned that he would likely need to maintain a vigil readiness at all times, lest he fall from her back and crack his head against a stone due to a sudden mis-step. What an exhausting trip this was turning out to be already, without even considering the inevitable mess that he would have to resolve after he finally reached his destination.

    He placed a hand upon the small leather pack that hung at his side, which had been hastily stuffed with a water and wineskin, and some dried meat and fruits for the road. Although the whole purpose of this expedition was to reign in the efforts of a seemingly-rogue Mayor, the man¡¯s gift of plentiful and varied foodstuffs had single-handedly kept the Castle afloat since his previous visit, and Niklas couldn¡¯t help but be a little thankful for it.

    But the variety of food he has access to is what is most suspicious. Niklas reminded himself. It is part of the reason I must take this matter seriously and investigate him immediately!

    Many hours passed, then. They were so long, silent and dark that sometimes he began to wonder if he might have ridden into purgatory, where he would be condemned to ride in solitary frustration forever more. Yet, after what felt like a great deal of time had passed, and the sky was just beginning to show notes of purple to herald the light of the rising sun, Chestnut began to slow and breathe heavily with weariness, and Niklas decided to set up a little camp for them near some foliage some thirty paces off of the beaten road.

    Leaving the poor old girl to lay herself down upon a grassy bed, Niklas produced from his pack a simple bedroll for himself, which he settled down beside her. His previous temper now completely settled, the young Count felt a sudden wave of tiredness as the exhaustion of the late hour and his long travel finally caught up with him. But just as he was about to fall into a most welcome slumber, he felt a small sharp, urgent feeling, as nature called to him. Frustrated and only half awake, Niklas reluctantly dragged himself out of his comfortable blankets and groggily trudged a little further off from the camp and into a set of small bushes.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    As he relieved himself Niklas suddenly noticed something just past the bushes where he now stood, hidden slightly deeper in the brush. It was a color which appeared like normal stone, but with a shape like some giant boulder. It was light in color and its surface had a smooth texture, not unlike carved marble. After putting his trousers back to rights, Niklas reached with either arm and pulled back the brush and canopy obscuring his view of it and stepped through. There before him stood a mighty and strange sculpture. The thing was so round and bulbous that Niklas almost didn¡¯t notice the stalk at its base that was firmly planted in the dirt. He then looked about his feet and noticed that the ground was moist and tender¨Csomething which was not his doing¨Cand it was indeed nothing like the usual arid, rocky Petrician soil. With how healthy it appeared, it was as if this particular patch of earth had been fed regularly with water and nutritious fertilizer. What¡¯s more, growing in that moist dirt were clusters of dozens of of little mushrooms all around.

    ¡°What¡­ is all this?¡± Niklas wondered aloud, just under his breath.

    So taken was he by the dirt and smaller fungi along the ground that he did not notice the large, asymmetrical and bloodshot eyes which had slid open near the top of the single greater bulb, and which were now leering down at him!

    <hr>

    A scream of terror cut through the silence and the steadily breaking darkness of the waning morning, which caused a woman¡¯s head to perk up suddenly. She let the pouch she held lackadaisically over her shoulder fall to the ground, and with a wry grin now parting her lips, she ducked down slightly and broke into a full sprint towards the the location where the cry had arisen. Slightly off of the dirt road and over a small hill she came upon an old mare lying next to a pile of blankets, who had also perked her head up nervously at the shrill cry, and now at seeing the sudden and rapidly approaching form of the woman reared up and whinnied in distress.

    ¡°Shh, shhh shhhh!¡± The stranger came to a halt and reached out a copper-colored hand before her to quell the nerves of the old beast, who seemed to calm with an almost alarming quickness after taking a single whiff of the woman¡¯s skin.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good girl!¡± She cooed to the mare in a light accent, running a soothing hand down its snout.

    Another panicked call broke out in the middle of that sweet moment, and it was closer this time, coming from just behind an odd patch of greenery a bit further off from the makeshift camp. Again the woman broke into a run and beelined directly into the thick foliage. As she broke through to the other side of it she found the source of the commotion: the ugly, bulbous form of a giant gray mushroom cap, standing as tall as two men and as wide across as three. Rising up from the dirt all around it were a hundred gray, vein-like tendrilling roots. They appeared almost like a dozen boney forearms linked one after the other, and ending in equally thin, almost skeletal hands that reached up as one to grip what looked to be a small man.

    From where he was currently being held some five meters aloft Niklas was currently looking down and witnessing a nightmare image. For, emerging asymmetrically across the pileus of this horrid fungus were elements of some twisted human appearance: two disjointed eyes, a nose which jutted out at an odd angle near the peak, and a wailing mouth with crumbling yellow teeth which released from it a horrible moaning sound and breath which smelled of rotting meat.

    The dozens of tiny fungi growing in the shadow of the main body had also now sprouted a yellowing bloodshot eye, or an equally terrible wide, yawning jaws, which shrieked shrilly, or lolled out snake-like black tongues, or gnashed their own few and jagged teeth, all in greedy anticipation of the coming feast.

    Suddenly, a form broke through the surrounding tree cover to stand before that twisted creature and the hanging and helpless form of Niklas! It appeared to be a woman, and one who was quite large. She was not nearly as formidable as the Countess, mind you, but Niklas would wager she shared a similar height and wide frame as his eldest brother, and she was equally well-muscled to boot. Her skin was the deep, tanned copper color of a person with heritage originating from the southern countries, but her short, tomboyish hair was a strangely contrasting bright blonde that was nearly white at the tips.

    ¡°R-run away!¡± Niklas cried out in thought for her safety.

    But at his warning the woman only grinned brightly, reminding him somewhat of Thomas, although she had a slightly more fearsome look about her. ¡°Not to worry, sir, I¡¯m a professional!¡±

    She reached backwards then and clasped her hand upon the sword which hung from her back, which sported a hilt long enough to be held in two hands, but a blade short enough for it to be lifted with one hand Regardless of its odd make, she drew the thing from its scabbard to reveal it was made of a familiar black, iron-like material and had a wavy blade!

    A Flamberge! Niklas realized, and a sudden hope warmed his heart. But how will she face such a large creature with such a small blade?

    The woman hissed out a breath from between her clenched teeth, as if preparing for some great and taxing feat, and then lunged forward to strike a two-handed blow! She sunk her blade up to its base into the stalk of the Monster and cut through the gray, fleshy mass as easily as butter. The twisted face of the creature broke into an awful, ringing wail of pain, and it tipped over at the sudden loss of support from its ¡°neck.¡± Niklas was sent tumbling down to the dirt, only avoiding injury due to the mess of spindly hands and arms which somewhat broke his fall. As the greater bulb fell completely upon its side, the wound billowed out with a plume of light smoke, as if the woman¡¯s blade had somehow burned it from the inside!

    Everything became chaos after that point. The hundred root-like hands lunged towards the swordswoman, while a hundred more of them burst up out of the ground of the forest all around them, revealing the true reach of this Mushroom Monster was much more vast than this simple, single patch. In response she held her weapon over her shoulder in a two-handed grip, so close that her right hand touched the corner of her jaw, and she then burst out into a great twirling blade dance which swiftly rent all of the grasping, bony hands and roots just as fast as they came!

    Meanwhile, Niklas righted himself to a sitting position and looked about dizzily at the surrounding carnage. When he landed he had struck his head upon a tree root, and was not quite right from it. Before him there lay the great mushroom¡¯s stalk fallen on its side, barely still connected to the earth by a thread of tissue, and its horrible face stared down at him, wide-eyed. It suddenly began to wriggle and spasm violently, inching its way towards him like a massive worm, gnashing its teeth and spattering about large droplets of drool, quite clearly hoping to sweep him up and devour him whole!

    Niklas scrambled up, attempting to stand as best he could, but his equilibrium had been thrown off by his fall and his legs were completely numb from shock and fear! He whimpered out one last, terrified cry as the beast came nearly upon him. But then, the stranger came to his rescue once again!

    The woman had twirled and danced through the tangle of grasping hands and screaming, hungry baby-stalks with a violent grace, and she then brought her weapon down upon the writhing mass with all the force of a guillotine, finally disconnecting its cap in full! The creature came to a final, grim halt mere inches from Niklas¡¯ feet, its eyes lifelessly lolling in opposite directions, and its massive tongue slumped limply over its swollen gums and disgusting teeth. Finally, the thing was dead.

    Niklas sat back propped up upon his arms, huffing and perspiring from fright in the aftermath of the battle. His eyes welled up with tears which began to stream down his face, but strangely enough, rather than a sob, what came out from him now was a laugh. It was a great, heaving deep belly-laugh which rang out between his shaky exhaled breaths and sniffling, wet inhales. He couldn¡¯t believe he was still alive!

    The swordswoman stood before him and stuck the tip of her blade by her feet, theatrically holding the hilt of her weapon at an angle like a cane. She grinned brightly down at him then as the dawn broke behind her and began to limn the scenery in gold. ¡°Pleasure to meetcha, my good sir!¡±

 With Stars in her Eyes

    The aftermath of the battle was not silent, like Niklas had been expecting it to be. Since the newly-appeared swordswoman had cut the ¡®head¡¯ of the strange mushroom beast from its ¡°neck¡±, he had thought that was the end of it and thereafter everything would quiet down. However, this was not to be, for as the two of them stood for a moment breathing heavily, him from fright and her from exertion, a chorus of horrible, shrill wails of pain, fear, and anger erupted behind her, coming out from the dozens of small caps that remained. The ones which bore eyes looked about with manic swiftness, while the many with small mouths cried out unpleasantly and hungrily gnashed their rotting, yellowed teeth.

    The woman then stood up from where she knelt and looked back at that hellish, noisy patch. Around it hundreds of thin and spindly roots, now bisected, wriggled above the recently-severed bony hands that littered the dirt.

    ¡°Still alive, are we?¡± The dark skinned woman noted aloud, marching over to the source of the racket. Taking that black-iron bastard sword she carried, she lifted the weapon above her head before plunging it down into the dirt up to its lugs, and then, with the forceful application of a solid boot, it was buried down to its hilt.

    The screeching grew even louder then, and Niklas had to cover his ears against the pain the noise caused in his tender, banged-up skull. The woman only grinned as she kicked down upon the pommel at a particular angle. After that the very ground burst up in a spurt of mud and fungus! The patch of yawning shrooms flew up as if suddenly lifted by a great force, revealing a great pulsating, marble-white organ beneath it all!

    ¡°One more should do it!¡± She declared, and once again she stomped heavily upon the pommel of her sword.

    The entire organ was violently levered up then, and a wave of damp-smelling dirt showered all around it from the unhuman force of her blow. Niklas was horrified to see that amongst the dark, rich dirt were what looked to be many old bones¨Cones that appeared quite human! And with that, there upon the upturned forest floor lay the main body of the Monster, now fully uncovered, with those many hundred of veiny roots leading straight back to it.

    ¡°How did you make it so far past the Fort, I wonder..?¡± The woman mused to herself as she approached that writhing mass. She did not, however, bother waiting for any sort of answer. She sucked in a breath as she raised the blade above her head one final time, and for but an instant Niklas detected several loud, static-like cracks about her body as she went, before she drove her sword directly down into the heart of this beast! The Monster let out one last screeching chorus as it began to spasm violently, and more alarming still, plumes of dark smoke began to billow up from it, causing the whole of that little clearing to stink of burning meat. Its awful death throes lasted for ten long seconds, which felt more like an eternity to Niklas as he watched its pale flesh brown and then blacken from the inside-out with some unseen heat. Finally, the creature fell silent and still, and the woman wrenched her blade free from the now-charred crevice in its body.

    She then turned back to face the young Count where he still lay upon the ground, shaking a bit, and as she approached she smoothly slid her sword into its sheath upon her back. She grinned down at him and stretched a hand out for him to take, and from up close he could better observe her peculiar features. Her skin was a dark copper and the shaved-short hair around her ears was dark, but as her hair traveled up her scalp to the messy, tomboyish tuft at the top, it grew lighter steadily until it was a bright blond! What¡¯s more, strange scars which resembled branching vines traveled up her neck and down her muscled arms, which seemingly originated somewhere on her shoulders, with the exact point hidden by her shirt. Most notable, however, were her eyes, whose bright gold irises were ruptured in such a way that they resembled many-pronged stars!

    Niklas studied her with his eyes for a long, dazed moment before he finally recovered his wits enough to take her outstretched hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. His legs were still weak from fright and shook when he put his meager weight upon them, and he stumbled so clumsily that his savior had to catch him so that he did not fall back down!

    ¡°Woah, easy there! You¡¯ve been through quite a story, eh? Let¡¯s get you back to your horse, my new little friend.¡± She offered cheerfully.

    As they departed that place, with his arm slung over her shoulders, they did not see that wretched creature exhale its last breath, releasing some strange, greenish plume into the air as it died.

    <hr>

    ¡°What have you done?!¡±

    Kaiser van der Leigh brought the full force of his fist down upon his desk, which groaned terribly and caused him to startle a bit despite his rage. He liked this desk, and he would be loath to see it ruined due to a moment of heated emotion. He shot a glare back over to his daughter, who stood in proudly, demure defiance before him, meeting his furious look with a mischievous grin that she barely pretended to hide behind one manicured hand.

    ¡°Why father, whatever could you be so upset over?¡± She asked, her tone too composed and innocent to be anything but mocking.

    The patriarch¡¯s only answer was to snatch a parchment scroll off of the face of his desk and thrust it towards his daughter, non-verbally demanding for her to read it. He ground his teeth in anger, but  a bead of nervous sweat was also trickling down his broad, deeply-furrowed brow. She observed the proffered document, her expression nonplussed, with the same bemused distaste as if he were handing her a flier advertising  some cheap circus.

    ¡°Would you care to explain to me why, after you made an unannounced excursion to the Royal Palace, the King himself is now sponsoring the repair of our mine from his personal coffers?¡± He practically spat out then as a vein prominently throbbed on his swiftly-reddening brow.

    Despite his clearly burgeoning rage, Frith faced him with a bright grin that he knew meant she felt quite smug, which did not help his temper. ¡°Why, father, I thought you would have been overjoyed!¡± She cooed. ¡°Your dilemma has been resolved smoothly, which means you are no longer so financially burdened that you cannot fulfill your obligation to deliver brother¡¯s dowry, even if it¡¯ll arrive a little behind schedule.¡±

    Kaiser wanted nothing more than  to respond to her with a raised voice and continue venting his rage, but as his better sense whispered words of caution to him from the back of his mind those words were caught in his throat, for he knew that if he actually spoke them aloud they would have been most unwise and damaging. No, he was better than that. He shut his eyes for a moment and let out a long, shaky exhale as he slumped back into his chair.

    ¡°...What did you promise him?¡± He asked her once he could trust himself to speak again, attempting to rub  the stress from his temples as he did so.

    She folded her arms calmly. ¡°That is a personal matter between myself and His Majesty. Never you mind that, father.¡±

    ¡°Frith!¡± He could not stop himself from raising his voice then, his emotions still running quite high.

    She was taken aback for a moment at that¨Cnot because of his volume, but because his voice carried an unusual cord of anguish hidden under the usual veil of anger¨Cthough she quickly retained her confident and composed demeanor.

    ¡°If you must know, I have agreed to be his partner in a couple of months, at the upcoming Founding¡¯s Day Ball. Besides having to withstand his company for an evening, it is not so terribly daunting a promise.¡±

    But despite her calm reassurances, her father still groaned with deep-felt exasperation. Frith cocked an eyebrow at his reaction, for it was rather unusual¨Ctheir family had not an antagonistic relationship with King Boratan II. Nay, their standing with him had remained, even at its worst, quite firmly neutral.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Something smells fishy here¡­ She thought to herself, her gaze upon him narrowing as her suspicions grew. That his daughter making a simple social appearance alongside His Majesty would cause him such anguish¡­ What has my father gotten us into now?

    ¡°He supplied this much coin just to dance as your partner at the Ball?¡± The Baron asked then, his tone incredulous with obvious disbelief.

    Frith simply waved her hand dismissively then, as if to brush his worries aside like so much dust. ¡°If there were any hidden strings or fine print in our agreement then the King is truly the most quick-witted schemer the continent has ever seen. Be assured, I was the one who caught him unawares on this occasion. Perish the thought that he prepared some clever trap before our meeting¨Che had not even enough time to prepare his hair!¡±

    Kaiser sighed again in response to this, although not as heavily this time as he had before. ¡°...I suppose our family should receive it as a point of pride, then. That my daughter is so sought after that a King would gift us a mine simply for her attention¡­¡± He grumbled, his gaze distant as his mind worked to process the current situation.

    ¡°Quite.¡± was Frith¡¯s succinct reply, retaining her business-like demeanor. ¡°Well, if there is nothing else you wish to say to me¨C¡±

    ¡°--Yes, leave me.¡± Kaiser sternly interrupted her.

    Not needing any further prompting, his proud daughter swiftly turned on her heel and walked to the door, though as she opened it she stopped to look back over her shoulder at where her father still slumped in his chair.

    ¡°The dowry¡­¡± She said in a tone of command that was poorly pretending to be a question, to which her father simply waved a dismissive hand at her¨C a gesture she was annoyed to realize that she had learned from him.

    Not wishing to push him any further for the day, she then made her exit and let the door click shut behind her. Her face, however, was grim. Despite how well that conversation had gone compared to her previous attempts, she still had not yet wrangled a definitive promise out of that bull-headed father of hers. Meanwhile, back inside his now-quiet study, Kaiser was squeezing his fists until his knuckles were white from the strain.

    ¡°All of this effort¡­¡± He griped under his breath like a curse. ¡°All of this sacrifice, and it¡¯s all for that--¡± He held his tongue for a moment as countless ill words flitted through his mind. ¡°--boy.¡± He finished, mercifully.

    He then reached across the table to his right for a picture frame which had toppled over during his angry outburst. It held a portrait of a woman with curly brunette hair, who could not help but wear a wide smile even as the artist had warned her not to, for the strain had left her cheeks aching for days afterwards. He sighed one last time, though this time it was heavy with entirely different emotions, as he ran one callused finger over the smooth glass of the frame.

    <hr>

    ¡°So you¡¯re headed to Coronton, ey?¡±

    Back on the road, the dark-skinned swordswoman walked beside Niklas as he rode his steed at a casual pace, for now proceeding back in the direction from whence she came.

    ¡°I was meanin¡¯ to visit Coronton myself, anyhow, so I guess I shall join you! If you¡¯ll be coming back this way then I can still go where I was meaning to, just in the wrong order, but with a friend!¡±

    Her ever-cheerful and grinning demeanor once again reminded him somewhat of Thomas. Despite having seen similar flamberges in action before, the lad couldn¡¯t help but sneak a few curious glances at the weapon on her back every so often. For about half of the length of the sheath it only covered the edges of the blade, supposedly designed that way so drawing and replacing it on her back would be more convenient.

    She may indeed know Thomas, if they are both Hunters and share such a similar disposition. He mused to himself.

    ¡°What do I call you, madam?¡± He asked. ¡°I would like to know the name of the one to whom I will be eternally indebted to.¡±

    ¡°Pshh, nonsense!¡± She said, waving away his gratitude as if it were a thick smoke billowing into her face. ¡°I was simply doing my job, and rather poorly at that, for such a beast to have appeared so deep inside the territory!¡±

    She pointed a thumb towards herself proudly. ¡°You can call me Nayantara, from the Southern Lands!¡± From her vocal mannerisms, Niklas could tell she had likely been taught the common tongue by someone out of Otkorn. And Niklas swore her starry irises flashed a bright golden color as she did so.

    He opened his mouth to introduce himself in turn, but was cut off as she continued to speak effusively.

    ¡°Actually, I was on my way to Castle Petrice, originally! In the village where I was stayin¡¯ some ruffians appeared demanding coin and able bodies for some work. ¡®On the orders of the new Count¡¯ they said! Well, it¡¯s lucky I was there to run ¡®em off! So I was on my way to give that new Count a piece of my mind about all this taxation business, and tell him to quit!¡±

    At that, Niklas¡¯ adam''s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously.

    ¡°Anyways put ¡®er there stranger!¡± She said, extending a hand for him to shake. ¡°What can I call ye?¡±

    ¡°N-Niklas.¡± he stammered in reply as he hesitantly shook her hand. ¡°Just Niklas.¡±

    ¡°Well, ¡®just Niklas¡¯, I suppose it shall be you and me on the road to Coronton and back. And don¡¯t you worry none¨CI¡¯ll make sure any more Beasties that might¡¯ve snuck past the Fort don¡¯t trouble you one bit!¡±

    Niklas couldn¡¯t help but return her grin with a weak smile of his own, although he was still a little nervous. ¡°I shall be in your care then, Nayantara.¡±

    And so the two unplanned companions walked onwards for a good, long while. Nayantara always had some comment to share about whatever she happened to see, and whatever that thing reminded her of, too. She was different from Thomas in that regard; Thomas would have entertained Niklas¡¯ idle chatter, but he also had periods of quiet contemplation during which neither traveler would speak, but simply enjoy their thoughts and the ever-changing sights of the surrounding countryside. She, on the other hand, never seemed to run out of words to say, and once she had swept Niklas up in conversation, the time and the long road would pass by faster than he could blink!

    Before he knew it the sun was just about to set, once more and Chestnut was shuddering a bit from the effort of walking all day at her age.

    ¡°I suggest that we set up camp for the night. I had forgotten that this poor girl has had such little rest!¡± He declared, rubbing his weary steed about her mane.

    She readily agreed, and so they found a spot to rest a few dozen meters off of the main road. Both of them had obviously only prepared travel rations for one, and Niklas¡¯ stock was fresher and much higher in quality. So, as in thanks for her good deed earlier that day, he offered that they might pool their food stores together and prepare a meal that both of them could enjoy. Nayantara accepted the offer graciously, and even offered to do the cooking herself. After spending some time over a stew-pot and fire, she returned bearing two wooden bowls filled with a steaming, mushy substance that had been sprinkled with colorful toppings.

    ¡°I picked this recipe up during my travels in the Easterlands!¡± She declared as she handed him his bowl. ¡°It was called ¡®congee¡¯ or something like that, although the grains they used to make it were different from the oats I have. But I make do with what I have!¡±

    It turned out to be a delightfully savory oat porridge, which had been garnished with the diced, dried meats and vegetables from Niklas¡¯ bags. It was a bit of a hodgepodge recipe, if her words were to be believed, but delicious nonetheless. Indeed, the pair of them both devoured their bowls of the stuff greedily, and returned for seconds too. Truthfully, anything with flavor seemed most appealing to Niklas after so many weeks eating nothing but a bland gray gruel. A meal would have to be something truly vile to him to not welcome it as a distraction from the nauseating boredom he was forced to endure at the Castle.

    Feeling most satisfied from that evening¡¯s meal, Niklas had no sooner laid his head back against Chestnut¡¯s belly than did the two of them fall into a deep slumber, both man and beast obviously more drained than either had realized, and feeling most safe under the watchful gaze of their Huntress companion. As the two began to breathe in the soft, rhythmic patterns of those sound asleep, the woman with starry eyes leaned back against a dry and leafless young tree herself and drifted into the kind of peculiar and wary half-sleep that only a truly seasoned Adventurer could maintain.

    No trouble would make it past her keen senses and well-honed instincts, even at rest.

 Troublesome News

    ¡°Ahh~¡±

    Thomas laid back on his hands which propped him sitting on the grass, enjoying a rare beam of sunlight which had broken through the clouds that constantly blanketed Petrice, warming the normally chill breeze, which was now most pleasant. He and Missy the mule had settled down to rest a few miles out from Coronton city and nearing the territory of the town of Qiche, at a spot set upon a particularly peaked hill which granted them a soft bed of grass and a pleasant view. A picturesque handful of small farms descended down a gentle slope towards the blue-green waters of a small lake, a rare find in an arid land such as this.

    Missy was digging into a bag of feed Thomas had strapped around her ears, while he himself tore into a loaf of bread he had just bought from a local baker, which was so fresh it released a plume of hot and fragrant steam as he broke into it. The crust was tough enough to produce a satisfying crunch, but not so hard that it hurt the teeth to bite from directly, while the insides were dense, hearty and enriched with flavorful seeds and nuts, which were likely the same kinds Missy was currently devouring.

    ¡°Five coppers was far too humble a sum to pay for a work of art such as this!¡± He declared, kicking his feet a little as he enjoyed another bite.

    His keen eyes then picked up on some movement a ways off on one of the small dirt roads. A gaggle of rough-looking men were gathered there, all of them wearing simple metal skull caps and cheap, patchy tabards bearing the symbol of the Mayor of Coronton. Their eyes were cruel and sharp, and they wore wolfish grins as they laughed raucously amongst themselves, disturbing the calm, quiet atmosphere of Thomas¡¯ evening in a very un-Petrician way.

    They must have felt his eyes fall upon them then, because one of them stopped laughing and nudged his fellow with his shoulder, gesturing in Thomas¡¯ direction. Then the entire group of eight or nine men turned as one and began making their way towards him with menacing expressions. When they came to within a dozen feet of him Thomas set his meal aside and leaned forward to rest one hand upon his knee.

    ¡°Ey, you!¡± Called out the man who lead the group, the lot of them coming to a halt near the base of the small hill Thomas rested upon. ¡°There¡¯s a new tax for anybody stayin¡¯ within the territory of Coronton. Mayor¡¯s orders!¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Thomas called back down in acknowledgement. ¡°And I paid my tax at the gate to the City when I arrived!¡±

    The ruffians glanced slyly between each other and giggled mischievously as their leader continued his speech. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t see that, did I? I weren¡¯t there! So for all I knows yer just another tax evader, like the rest of these ungrateful folk.¡± And he lifted a hand to point about at the residences dotting the surrounding landscape.

    Thomas grimaced at the man¡¯s insinuation, noting his foreign accent as well. ¡°And what if I decide not to pay this additional ¡®sitting in peace tax¡¯?¡± He asked, although he could already see the answer leering up at him in the eyes of these thugs.

    ¡°Well then, we¡¯d be forced to do what we do to all the rubbish who won¡¯t pay their dues. We¡¯ll drag ye away, and it¡¯ll be hard labor for you ¡®til your debt is worked off!¡±

    Thomas sighed in frustration and reluctantly reached down to his purse to retrieve a small sum of silver coins which he tossed down with an expertly-aimed flick into the hands of the man, who instinctually caught them but startled as he did so. Those five silver coins could comfortably feed a small family for a month, but the thug griped and turned the coins this way and that to inspect them with narrowed eyes.

    ¡°Well¡­ if this is all ye can offer, I suppose we can let you off this time.¡± He grumbled out, and his men turned to continue on their way, but the leader remained for a few moments more, determined to intimidate the traveler since he¡¯d been denied the fun of capturing him.

    ¡°Ye¡¯d best not be here when we return.¡± He warned Thomas, glowering up at his perch upon the hill. ¡°A few drinks and I may forget you paid yer tax again.¡±

    Finally satisfied with his performance, the man turned back to meet up with his band, and they had soon departed out of sight, though the distant sound of their gloating laughter still rang out for a short while after.

    Thomas frowned as he retrieved the remaining half-loaf of his supper, which had by now grown quite cold.

    ¡°So much for a relaxing moment.¡± He mumbled to Missy, who was still crunching away contentedly upon her feed.

    Thereafter the pair resumed another long stretch of quiet as they concluded their meal, and just as Thomas prepared himself to head back out onto the road once again, a sudden shriek echoed out from a little further into the hills--and, in fact, the exact direction where those brutish men had gone! Missy leapt to her feet with a start, and Thomas reached onto her back to retrieve his sword from its place among the packs she carried. At a jogging pace he made his way down the slope of his small hill and around the next, following the curve of the rough dirt path. The sounds of a distant commotion grew louder with every step he took, until finally he turned the corner of a dilapidated wooden fence to find the same group who had so rudely interrupted his rest earlier.

    Several of the ruffians were in the middle of beating down on the form of a middle-aged man who had curled himself in a protective fetal position upon the ground, while two of the others gripped a wailing, struggling woman who may be his wife. Thomas was alarmed to find he recognized the unfortunate couple¨Cthe two owned and ran the very same bakery wherein he had bought that delectable baked confection only a few hours prior. As Thomas came to a halt before this scene, the leader of the thugs turned, saw him standing there, and grinned darkly at him.

    ¡°What d¡¯you want? Here to pay another toll?¡± He asked, chuckling meanly.

    But it was only when one of the other brigands beside him took a step backwards, with terror writ across his face, that he peered down at the weapon that Thomas held in his hand and took in its characteristic black metal and wavy blade.

    Immediately his grin fell and his face paled, but he only had time enough to stammer out, ¡°F-Flamberge?!¡± before Thomas lunged forward!

    A quite different symphony of panicked cries and violence rang out across the surrounding countryside as he went to work.

    Thomas smiled, his mind already wandering back to that delicious bread. I wonder if this will mean I get another fresh, hot loaf¡­? Thomas thought dreamily, his mouth watering a little as he reaped.

    <hr>

    Nayantara estimated that they were now only another day¡¯s march from the city of Coronton. Niklas deferred to her judgment on the matter, even though he was the only one who bore a map of the province, one which he had taken from the Castle library. She had, after all, personally wandered these roads for the many years since she first became a conscript at the Old Fort.

    The swordswoman seemed to be in higher spirits even than usual. Her jubilant mood was likely due to the many breaks that had emerged in the normally thick ceiling of dark Petrician clouds which allowed rays of precious sunshine to warm the frigid winds that swept the province. Even old Chestnut had walked with nary a shudder of effort since the morning, as if determined to enjoy this rare sunny day despite the hardships of the road.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    This was the first long stretch of daytime that Nayantara had spent walking without making a single peep of conversation, an incredible occasion that Niklas attributed to the fortunate weather that graced them. Even he, as someone who had only lived here for a few months and had enjoyed many a sunny day back at the van der Leigh estate, found an alien emotion well up inside him from this suspiciously pleasant atmosphere.

    As they continued on their long journey they soon enough spied something peculiar coming their way in the far distance. From his lofted position on the horse¡¯s back, Niklas was able to discern that it was a small gaggle of people as they drew closer. There were people of all kinds¨Cmen and women, the young and the old, accompanied by some drought animals whose backs were laden with large packs and sacks that strained at their seams. All of those assembled were grave and stony-faced, wearing that familiar, neutral demeanor which was the norm for the citizens of Petrice.

    ¡°What¡¯s that all about..?¡± Niklas wondered aloud as he peered at the group.

    ¡°Want me to find out? Wait right here!¡± Nayantara said without waiting even a moment for his response, immediately turning on her heel and running over.

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t have to--¡± Niklas called out in a rush, but she was already gone, so he simply sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

    Resigned to waiting for his companion to return, he descended from the back of his horse to give the poor old girl a chance to rest and munch on some nearby grass, while he himself took a seat upon a large rock. At his current distance Niklas could not hear what words Nayantara exchanged with the other travelers, but as he watched them speak he observed how her usually chipper demeanor quickly turned serious. Some of the people there appeared to recognize her on sight, while others at least softened their flinty gazes when they spied the telling make of the sword strapped to her back. But many suspicious eyes also came to rest upon where he sat, and so he busied himself with rubbing Chestnut¡¯s mane so as to pretend not to notice their burning glares.

    After a few minutes of conversation the Huntress returned to Niklas¡¯ side.

    ¡°I suppose you could call them... refugees from Coronton.¡± She said, pointing a thumb back and over her shoulder to indicate the group, who were currently making their way past. ¡°It sounds like they left just in time to avoid the tyranny of the Lord there.¡±

    Niklas wore a pained expression as he watched these poor and weary folk pass by, some of whom stumbled weakly over patches of loose dirt or dry grass, and who one and all carried far too much luggage upon their stooped backs.

    How quick some men are to grab onto any opportunity to wring the common people dry¡­

    The pity on his face then morphed into an angry determination.

    ¡°Let us make for Coronton double-quick.¡± He declared.

    Nayantara nodded agreeably, but after his sudden change in demeanor she couldn¡¯t help but glance curiously over at her traveling companion as they resumed their journey together.

    <hr>

    Back within the halls of Castle Petrice, the old Butler sighed dejectedly for what must have been the thousandth time since that morning. His gaze was uncharacteristically distant and distracted even as he stood precariously at the top of a rickety ladder to dust behind a bookshelf inside one of the Castle¡¯s guest rooms.

    Hemsley, who was completing the same task in another guest room across the hallway, rolled his eyes as he heard yet another overly dramatic exhale from the old man. He had been making such sounds all morning.

    At first only the things which reminded him of their suddenly-departed young Lord had drawn out the old man out of his sullen mood. Things such as preparing breakfast or rearranging the Count¡¯s quarters. However, as the day had progressed, he had maintained his forlorn state constantly, even while attending to trivial tasks that would have drawn any lesser man out of his thoughts for a time.

    It¡¯s been less than two days since the Lord departed for Coronton. Hemsley thought to himself, taking out his frustration with a particularly aggressive swipe of his dusting rag. Please return soon, Count Niklas, I dunno how long I can stand this..!

    Mercifully, it was then that a sudden, loud and heavy knocking erupted from the courtyard doors!

    ¡°Oh! I shall get it!¡± Belfort announced excitedly, tossing aside his cleaning supplies and all but running into the hallway.

    Hemsley dutifully followed along behind the old man, though he didn¡¯t bother to match his hurried pace. By the time he had made it past the door to the Countess¡¯ study, Belfort was already pulling open one of the large front doors much further down the hall.

    Unfortunately, the Butler soon discovered that behind the door was not the Count as he had hoped, but rather a large, older Petrician man with a beard of rough stubble and a head of graying, receding hair. As was usual for the men of this land he wore a deep-set scowl upon his face, as did the large group of men and women who stood behind him in the courtyard. Belfort recognized this dour visitor near-instantly¨Che was the Elder head of the nearby Village of Wiffeld. The burly Elder took a step into the threshold, bodily shoving Belfort backwards as the small old man attempted to bar him entrance!

    ¡°Where is your Lord, old man?¡± Demanded the Village Head then, glowering down at the Butler.

    ¡°T-the Lord is out and away!¡± Stammered Belfort, who had clearly been caught quite wrong-footed, yet still stood his ground. ¡°And you will address our Count with the respect that he deserves!¡±

    The large, rude fellow did not reply, but instead peered over his head to look at Hemsley who was only just arriving to the site of the commotion.

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Scoffed the Elder. ¡°Already bringing foreigners into the house of Petrice? What gall!¡±

    Hemsley came to a sudden halt as he took in this newcomer¡¯s threatening demeanor, and he set his jaw in a defiant expressions as he met the man¡¯s cold gaze.

    The Village Head didn¡¯t bother with his staring contest, but instead looked down at Belfort again, who struggled to push his larger frame back out of the landing. ¡°Do not lie to me, Butler! Bring out your Lord. We bring words for him, and perhaps worse ones than planned if he continues to hide like a rat!¡±

    ¡°As we said before, the Count is not. Here.¡± Hemsley angrily refuted, giving his chest another ineffectual shove as he spoke. ¡°He set out for Coronton the sundown before last, to set the Mayor there straight!¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± The Elder scoffed again, this time with a cynical, disbelieving chuckle. ¡°More like he¡¯s left to meet his conspirator and collect his share of the spoils¡± He said, forcefully taking another step forward into the hall then, which fully pushed the smaller Belfort back and sent him sprawling to his seat on the flagstones!

    Hemsley worriedly rushed over to his colleague¡¯s side as the Village Elder and many more of the grim-faced men he had brought with him proceeded past them down the hall towards the ballroom.

    ¡°You cannot enter!¡± Shouted Hemsley with all the conviction he could muster, but he was ignored by the lot of them.

    Finally reaching the large, grand ballroom, the gaggle of intruders distractedly stopped to look about it with some awe, as they had never laid eyes on a building so large before.

    ¡°...He has plenty of room for us, so I think we shall make ourselves at home here until that little Lord returns.¡± Said the Village Head to his men. And no sooner had he spoken than did the others begin laying down the rough woolen cushions and blankets they had brought with them.

    The two servants could only look on helplessly as this odd campsite was created, Hemsley with Belfort¡¯s arm slung over his shoulders for support. The younger man whispered. ¡°Whatever shall we do about this..?¡±

    Belfort clasped a clammy and shaking hand over his forehead in dismay. ¡°...Never has there been such a disgraceful display as this in the house of our Lords.¡± He moaned, shaking his head. ¡°Oh my father will be rolling in his-¡±

    ¡°--Belfort!¡± Hemsley interrupted him shrilly, anxious to bring his colleague¡¯s mind back to the issue at hand.

    ¡°R-right, right.¡± The old servant replied, sighing in resignation. ¡°I had hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to this, but¡­ I think we must call for the Countess.¡±

    Relieved to have a plan, Hemsley nodded his acknowledgement and began to help him make their way to the grand staircase in the center of the room.

    ¡°Oh, but it¡¯s going to be so hard to get the blood out of the carpet¡­¡± Belfort grumbled quietly as they walked, which caused Hemsley to stumble a moment in dismay, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers as he remembered the last time the Countess was called on to deal with a large and angry group of men.

 Know your Place

    Uldred did not appreciate change, for she found much comfort in routine and sameness. At least at this point in her young life, things unfamiliar to her caused her to feel a nauseating discomfort. So, therefore, you can surely imagine the ice wave of shock that had washed over her when she heard the distant chattering of dozens of men echoing down from the front hall of her ancestral home!

    Soon the hinges of the eternally-shut door to her quarters creaked open, and a face mostly obscured by long, unkempt bangs peeked out to peer down the hall. Her eyes immediately fell upon Hemsley, who had been just about to knock, with the slumped form of old Belfort still propped against his back. He froze where he stood as her cold gaze pinned him in place.

    ¡°What?¡± She demanded, and somehow with that single word was able to convey the chaotic torrent of her current emotions.

    Hemsley opened his mouth to reply but found that he could not bring himself to speak, so he simply pointed down the hall towards the ballroom, where the men had started to set up their camp.

    The passage of only a few moments saw Uldred, clad in only a simple white sleeping gown, dragging her heavy black-iron sword behind her in a hand by its pommel as she made her way towards the source of the disruptive commotion. Her countenance was not one of a noble Lady set on calmly resolving a dispute, but rather that of some dreadful, lumbering creature bent on defending its cave from an incursion of noisy pests! The two servants winced as the tip of her great sword dragged against the carpet lining the hall and pierced through it to the stones beneath, damaging it terribly and producing a horrible metallic screech as she advanced.

    Meanwhile, the assembled men from Wiffeld were sitting upon the cloths and cushions they had brought, clumped in small groups about the fine marble floor, conversing idly as they sipped from wineskins and tore into dried meats and fruits from their packs. But it was not long until their keen ears began to pick up the foreboding, approaching sound of something metal being scraped heavily across stone, and their muttering conversations fell silent to listen to the sound coming from the top of the ballroom staircase. When their flinty eyes turned up to observe the source of that awful sound, all of their faces paled and mouths fell agape as one.

    For up at the top of those grand stairs appeared the very apparition of dread! A woman, who was much too large to be real, stood there draped in nothing but a thin white gown, with long, stringy hair that fell over her face like a mask so that only a single, piercing violet eye could be seen. She then let the tip of the massive black Flamberge sword she carried strike violently against the marble floor, cracking the stone with a sound that boomed across the enormous room like a thunderclap.

    A heavy, silent atmosphere fell over the room as the men found themselves frozen in fright. None of them even dared breathe in that moment, perhaps hoping that if they did not move a muscle they would not be perceived by this monstrous apparition, and its terrible wrath would fall upon the others instead.

    ¡°Who dares?¡± Asked the woman in a voice suffused with a steely calm, but which was so resonant that it seemed to effortlessly fill the room, echoing dramatically off the polished stone.

    Nobody said a word in reply to her, for her presence was so intimidating that none could find the courage. But as her grip tightened upon the hilt of her sword and the leather wrapping it creaked audibly, the Elder and leader of the group finally gathered his composure enough to step forward.

    For once his stoic and confident demeanor had crumbled into a mask of fear, no different from the rest of his men. But as he recognized the swordswoman, and realized that she was not some vengeful spirit that haunted the Castle Petrice, his face once again settled into an unpleasant frown. He was far too old, and had been angry for far too long, to be cowed by some overgrown Noble-born child!

    The Elder stepped forward, past the petrified throng of his terrified men, and climbed a few steps to get a little closer to his head-of-state before he spoke.

    ¡°I am Crawford, Elder of the Village of Wiffeld. We are here to put an end to the new Count¡¯s tyranny!¡±

    Uldred remained where she stood at the top of the stair, eerily still, and did not reply.

    He stolidly continued. ¡°That Lord Borney of Coronton has hired thugs from Otkorn as soldiers to extort what little money and food his people have saved, all under the guise of new ¡®taxes.; The same taxes that your Count came to peddle to us weeks ago, and was set straight for trying to swindle us¡­ Or so we thought!¡±

    Again Uldred did not move a single muscle in response, and the Elder¡¯s anger only grew as he felt a mounting, intolerable feeling of disrespect. Emboldened by this righteous indignation, he made his advance up a few steps more.

    ¡°Now these ruffians are roaming the countryside, harassing villages deeper into the territory, brazenly and violently robbing people in broad daylight! They must be stopped; this all must be stopped!¡±

    He continued further up the stairs as he spoke, until he finally reached the top, mere feet from the stony figure of the Countess. ¡°--And it starts with that husband of yours!¡± He spat out, jabbing an arrogant finger directly at her.

    There was another long moment of quiet after this. The Elder squared his shoulders and stood tall and strong, his lips twitching upwards with the urge to break out into a smug smile, quite confident in his feeling that he had given this young upstart a good what-for. But suddenly, a great hand appeared before him and shoved his chest with a terrible strength, and he was abruptly thrown from his feet!

    All at once the men and women scattered across the marble floors leapt up with a start and scrambled to amass at the base of the stair, their arms outstretched to catch the Elder as he fell from the second story landing in a great arc. When he collided with the group, it was with such a force that it caused most of them to topple to the ground in a great pile of sprawled bodies! It was only then while the throng was attempting to set themselves to rights that the Lady¡¯s voice rang out once more, her words enunciated slowly and clearly, but dripping with disgust.

    ¡°In the history of Petrice, never has there been such an insubordinate and disrespectful intrusion into the Castle of my family. Never!¡± Uldred called down from her perch to the sprawled subjects beneath her.

    ¡°I care not for what you do, I offer you burdenless freedom. You may wait for the Count to arrive¡­ Outside. In the Courtyard.¡±

    Quickly and wordlessly the terrified men began to gather their things and file back out of the room and down the hall leading to the Castle doors. But the Elder still glared up at Uldred from the ballroom floor with an insulted and defiant expression.

    ¡°We shall wait in the elements, then, but do not think you can avoid this for much longer! The Moot has already been called, and the other Elders and Lords are on their way here.¡± And with that said he limped slowly after his men and out of sight.

    After all the troublesome intruders had finally departed Uldred sighed deeply and her entire posture relaxed into a slouch. She turned to look back over her shoulder, and Hemsley gasped as the movement caused her heavy bangs to part and reveal the gruesome, ruined skin of her face. She ignored his reaction entirely and relayed her command.

    ¡°Prepare my armor. I will make sure that our guests do not misbehave any more than they already have.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    <hr>

    ¡°There it is!¡±

    Nayantara jutted a finger out to point towards the peaks of the towers that were just now beginning to creep into view over the top of a distant hill. A few hours more would see them stood within the City of Coronton, with a small yet proud Castle at its center. As their party crested the the top of the hill and peered down towards the entrance of the city some miles off they were greeted with a pleasant birds-eye view of the place. It had clearly been built to accommodate its surroundings, with its tall outer walls becoming a round, oblong sort of shape. This was a land of large hills with long and gradual embankments, which was quite different from the area around Castle Petrice where the hills were smaller and steeper, not unlike rippling waves stirred up by a strong wind.

    After a brief moment spent taking in the view the two travelers continued their trek down the decline that eventually led to the main gate of the city, but as they drew closer Niklas felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end as the atmosphere became strangely heavy. The area surrounding the gatehouse was filled with the clamor and bustle with many different small crowds. There was a short line of folks waiting to get in, their backs and mules laden with crops and goods to sell within at the markets, and also a long and inscrutable line leaving the gate, their backs burdened with many large packs and other luggage. Just exiting from the gate¡¯s portcullis was a swarthy man wearing the tabard of Coronton, and he led a line of miserable, downtrodden-looking fellows whose feet were bound with clinking chains. Farther off, Niklas watched where a singular man was kicked and struck by three more uniformed soldiers before the poor soul fell to his knees and produced a purse-pouch from his belt that was quickly snatched away by his tormentors.

    ¡°This place is far worse off than I had feared¡­¡± Niklas mumbled in a shocked daze, to which his companion only grunted in reply.

    The two of them then took their place in the entrance line behind the farmers and their carts, where they waited for a good deal of time as the men preceding them spoke with the guards and paid their tolls. Their patience rewarded them with opportunities to witness more disturbing and unsettling scenes. A man barely older than Niklas himself, clad in naught but tattered trousers, sprinted past the exit queue only to be tackled harshly to the mud by more of those thuggish soldiers. A woman prostrated herself before an Officer and pleaded to him with words that were unintelligible due to the distance, but the man simply waved his hand dismissively and she was promptly picked up and dragged back deep into the bowels of the city, wailing and sobbing the whole way.

    Niklas gulped audibly at what he saw from his mounted seat, and Nayantara reached up and placed a warm hand on his leg to comfort him. Finally the line moved and their turn arrived. Niklas kicked Chestnut¡¯s sides a little and she placidly trotted up to the group of five rough-looking men who were handling the gate¡¯s entry toll.

    ¡°Ten silvers.¡± Was all that the soldier in the front said to them, extending a hand expectantly.

    Ten?! Niklas thought with a start. For simple entry into the city? Those farmers must barely be making a profit, even if they sell every last scrap of what crops they could produce!

    Reaching down into the pouch on his belt, Niklas then retrieved not a handful of coins but an aged wooden stamp, its body carved from fine mahogany and its head of scarlet rubber embossed with the symbol of the House of Petrice. The sallow and half-toothed soldier peered down at the thing, having obviously not received enough education to recognize it.

    ¡°...What the devil is this?¡± He asked with clear confusion.

    Niklas squared his shoulders and straightened his posture as best he could while sat atop his horse. ¡°The Count of Petrice requests entry to Coronton. I am on important business to see your Lord Mayor Borney.¡±

    All of the gate soldiers, as well as Nayantara, looked up at him then with startled expressions. ¡°You are the Count..?¡± Asked the man who still held the Seal of Petrice, voicing the thought that he shared with everyone assembled there.

    ¡°Aye, and it would do you good to let me pass.¡±

    The soldiers exchanged baffled looks between each other before turning back to Niklas to scrutinize him with a thorough up-and-down inspection. This strange man called himself a Count, and yet his fine clothes were crusted with dry dirt, while he rode the back of a horse that could barely hold itself up, let alone a rider. They peered behind him and saw no carriage nor a crew of knights and servants to escort him. Only a foreign-looking woman stood by his side, and she looked even more a peasant than they did in their stained and worn tabards. The sallow man smiled and he held up the stamp in pinched fingers, eyeing the thing and it''s fine make with greedy eyes, and he finally clicked his tongue.

    ¡°You know, it''s not a good look, lad. Impersonating a Noble is a serious offense, one that carries a serious fine along with it!¡± He chuckled in dark amusement and the men behind him laughed mischievously along with him.

    Niklas set his jaw and wore an unpleasant and serious look upon his face, steadying his horse as her knees wobbled beneath her. ¡°That is the Seal of Petrice and it is completely authentic, as am I. You would do well to speak to your Lord if you are unsure of my identity, for he will confirm it.¡±

    But that only drew another round of giggles from these men, who were already certain they had the right of it. ¡°Look, lad¡­¡± Replied the sallow man once he recovered from his mirth. ¡°... I¡¯ll be merciful to you, cuz you seem like a good kid. Just pay the toll and I¡¯ll forget all about your little ruse, as long as you leave this here with me.¡±

    Niklas narrowed his eyes at the man¡¯s condescending and greedy attitude. ¡°That, sir, is the mark of Petrice. You would do best to honor it, and not to offend me further. This is your only warning.¡±

    The sallow man¡¯s demeanor fell from into an unpleasant scowl at that, and he clutched his free hand upon the hilt of his sword. ¡°Or you¡¯ll do what, boy?¡±

    Niklas sighed, and looked down to where Nayantara stood at his side. ¡°Huntress, please assist me in retrieving my stamp?¡± He asked with his best attempt at a voice filled with confident authority, but which wavered with a note of tentative uncertainty.

    Up to this point Nayantara had been quite caught up in staring up at him with her mouth agape in surprise, but hearing him address her directly she seemed to come to, and her face broke out in a wolfish grin. ¡°Right away, my Lord!¡± She replied, pulling up her sleeves and squaring her shoulders as she stepped forward towards the menacing brutes.

    ¡°What¨C¡± Began to ask the sallow man, before his query was cut off by way of a tanned fist delivering a quick and powerful blow directly to his nose! The muscular woman used her stepping-in foot to put such force into her strike that the man was fully lifted from his feet, and he spun around several times before falling limply onto the dirt like a flapjack!

    ¡°Oi!¡± Several of his fellows called out in alarm as they hurriedly yanked their swords from their scabbards. Nayantara quickly followed suit, and as they caught sight of the distinctively wavy blade a few of the men squealed in fright, and one of them was so terrified he fell to his seat!

    ¡°Flamberge!¡±

    While the initial commotion and the ensuing violence had not drawn many eyes their way, for such events were unfortunately quite commonplace within Coronton, the sighting of a Huntress from the Old Fort caused a great hush to fall over the surrounding crowd before it then erupted into a chorus of curious whispers.

    ¡°Is that a Flamberge?¡±

    ¡°Monster Hunter¨C!¡±

    ¡°--must really be the Count, then!¡±

    Niklas did his best to maintain a suitably Noble posture as the villagers and guardsmen looked up at him with expressions ranging between awe and resentment. Nayantara reached up to hand him his seal, which she had collected from the ground beside the unconscious guardsman. He inspected it closely, then blew on it and brushed off some dirt with his finger before he was satisfied.

    ¡°Shall I take the thief¡¯s hand as well, sir?¡± Asked Nayantara, dutifully saluting him as if she were a House Knight. The other soldiers flinched and gazed down at their fallen friend in dismay.

    ¡°Nay.¡± Replied Niklas dismissively. ¡°Hopefully, when he awakes, he will have learnt his lesson.¡± To which he heard some sighs of relief from among the thugs.

    ¡°What is going on here?!¡± Came a loud call from behind the gathered throng of onlookers. Arriving there was someone who looked to be a real soldier of Coronton, for his tabard was finely-made and well-kept, and he wore armor of steel on his shoulders and hands, as well as a shirt of chain beneath his clothes. ¡°What is this?¡± He asked again.

    ¡°Th-they says he¡¯s the Count, sir! Here to see Lord Borney!¡± Stammered one of the toll-collectors.

    ¡°Is this true?¡± The Coronton soldier asked to Niklas and Nayantara, who both nodded to him with serious expressions.

    The soldier looked down at the limp, insensate body of the man who lay twitching on the ground. ¡°And have you verified this?¡±

    The other thugs looked at each other nervously, and one of them gulped audibly before he spoke. ¡°W-well they showed us a stamp, sir.¡± And he gestured to Niklas, who held up the Seal once again for the soldier to observe.

    ¡°The Seal of the House of Petrice..!¡± Murmured the soldier with a surprised tone, his eyes growing wide, but he recovered his composure quickly enough and began to retake control of the situation. ¡°W-well, right this way, my Lord! And get out of the way you imbeciles!¡± He ordered, shooing the lesser soldiers, who dragged their unconscious fellow out of the way of Niklas and his old mare as they went. ¡°We humbly welcome you to the City of Coronton!¡±

 The Actions of a Desperate Man

    From his position atop the back of his ignoble steed Niklas was saddened, although not at all surprised, to see the sad state of the people who bustled about that initial narrow passage that led into Coronton from its gate. Even considering the stoic nature of most Petricians, among those who stood patiently awaiting their turn to permanently exit the walled city they had called home, their faces were worn and defeated. But just as Niklas and Nayantara, with this true Coronton man-at-arms as their guide, finally passed the end of that unhappy queue they heard the distinctive rattling of large, moving chains and the whoosh-THUD of a falling heavy weight as the gate abruptly slammed shut behind them!

    At that, a tumultuous outcry of anger and despair arose from that crowd of potential refugees who had been filing out of the City, and the sounds of thuggish men barking out orders followed soon on its heels. Niklas had briefly stopped to peer back over his shoulder at the commotion, which caused the armored Coronton soldier to rush to his side.

    ¡°Worry not, my Lord, the gate is only shut for the common folk, per the Mayor¡¯s orders. I¡¯m certain you will be allowed to leave at your leisure.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Niklas replied, obviously unconvinced, as he continued to observe the situation.

    The outrage that erupted amongst the crowd at the gate now looked as if it threatened to break out into a full-blown riot. Peasant men threateningly held aloft crude shovels or hoes, while the women and children shouted curses and hurled stones or handfuls of mud.

    ¡°Back to yer homes!¡± Ordered a particularly large and gruff-looking man in a worn tabard, his booming voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. ¡°Mayor¡¯s orders! Go back now, or it¡¯ll be the labor line for the lot of ya!¡±

    Meanwhile the soldier escorting them inside began to urgently lead Chestnut away by her reins. ¡°We must go, my Lord. It¡¯s becoming dangerous here!¡±

    Niklas did not argue with him, simply turning away from the gate once again. He did not wish to see any more of this¨Cwhether it be poor folk being beaten and robbed of their meager savings, or their hopeless and defeated faces as they trudged back to whatever hovels they slept in. Unfortunately for the young Count, such events were apparently Coronton¡¯s main export, for they passed many more roving bands of crudely-uniformed men collecting ¡®taxes¡¯ on their way towards the small Castle in the city center. Finally the group came upon another fortified gate which led to a small district wherein the Nobles resided, including among them the Mayor, his Knights, and their families.

    After spending most of the ride sheepishly peering down at his Huntress companion every so often, Niklas cleared his throat and finally mustered up the courage to speak to her. ¡°You¡¯re not mad at me at all, are you?¡±

    ¡°Why, my Lord? Whatever reason would I have to be upset with you?¡± She replied with a small, teasing grin.

    There was a brief moment of silence as Niklas fidgeted uncomfortably on his saddle. Nayantara finally couldn¡¯t hold herself back and laughed.

    ¡°It¡¯s true that I was gonna go to the Count¡¯s place after this and give him a piece of my mind, maybe even rough him up a little...¡± A cold sweat formed on Niklas¡¯ nervous brow at that. ¡°...but if you really are the Count, and you came here to set things right, well¡­ I think I can forgive you for deceiving me these last few days.¡±

    Niklas looked down at her with a little start of surprise. ¡°How did you know I was coming here to stop all of this?¡±

    Nayantara shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Back when we first met, you said you had ¡®business in Coronton¡¯, and you had a look in your eyes like somethin¡¯ had you real miffed. I thought you must¡¯ve had an actual business fall through or something of the like. But now¡­¡±

    She trailed off as their little group was just now arriving in front of the Castle in which Lord Borney resided. Two soldiers stood guard at its gate, with two more at the doors of the courtyard which led inside. The men before the gate were firm of body and properly garbed, the same as the man who had led them through the city. His fellows simply nodded as he made his way past them. But those men stationed at the inner doors were generally disheveled and wore rough, patchy uniforms, and the pair of them crossed their spears to bar their way as the guests and their guide approached.

    ¡°Who goes there?¡± Growled one of the thugs.

    The escorting soldier huffed and set his jaw. ¡°This is the Lord Count, here to see the Lord Mayor. Stand aside.¡±

    The two rough men scrutinously looked Niklas up-and-down as he descended from the stooped back of his frail horse. Looks of suspicion and disbelief washed across their faces. ¡°...You¡¯re sure of that?¡± One of them said.

    ¡°I have seen and verified his official seal myself.¡± Replied the soldier, obviously affronted by the lack of respect shown by these lesser guards, both towards the Count and himself as their Superior. ¡°You will let us pass.¡±

    The two men glowered down at the three of them as if they wanted to say more, but in the end they finally gave in and shrugged as they uncrossed their weapons.. ¡°Fine. In ya go.¡± One grumbled, but then gestured at Nayantara before she could take a step forward. ¡°But she stays.¡± Niklas looked back at the Huntress apologetically, but she waved her hands to reassure him. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Nik¨Cmy Lord. Somebody has to look after old Chestnut, anyhow.¡±

    He sighed then in slight exasperation, but he nodded and turned back alone to follow his guide in through the tall wooden doors. Just before they fell shut behind him Niklas looked back one more time at Nayantara, who grinned and lifted her fists in a pugilist stance.

    ¡°Give him the ol¡¯ what-for for me, eh?¡±

    And then he disappeared from her sight as the door slammed shut between them. She chuckled and let her arms fall back to her sides, looking over at the two guardsmen who were now eyeing her warily with cocked brows.

    ¡°...Just a joke, fellas.¡±

    <hr>

    Niklas marched down the hall with as gallant and confident a poise as he could muster to cover his nerves. He looked about as he went and he was struck by the opulent finery which decorated the castle¡¯s interior. Upon the floor were many long and tapestry-like carpets, the ceilings were lit by intricate and finely-made chandeliers, and the cobbled stone walls bore many a leering, stony-faced painting of various Nobility. These portraits were not unlike those he¡¯d seen hanging in his own Castle Petrice, except for the many gilded and bejeweled ornaments that hung between and around their frames.

    For the cost of the contents of this hall alone I could afford to pave half the roads in the territory! The destitute Count thought to himself, feeling both marvel and irritation in the same moment. What reason could he have to extort and terrorize his people so if he already has wealth such as this..?

    Every so often the servant leading Niklas would peer back at him, and he would meet the man¡¯s gaze with as intimidating a countenance as he could muster. At first it did not seem to have any effect, but after the third such occurrence he noticed the butler begin to quicken his walking pace just a little.

    Finally the man came to an abrupt halt before a pair of finely-made double doors, which he turned on his heels to face and then, with great effort, pushed open on squeaking hinges. He stepped through the threshold, and then dutifully off to the side so that Niklas could enter behind him.

    ¡°Presenting! Lord Count Niklas of Petrice!¡± Announced the butler.

    Lord Borney idly patted his mouth with the silken napkin he had worn tucked over his collar as a bib, discarded the soiled cloth on the table, and then lackadaisically climbed to his feet, grasping his hand upon his chair to better support his weight. While rising to greet the Count was technically a sign of respect, it was one he made with as little effort and urgency as possible, so its effect was almost more insulting than if he had not bothered to move in the first place.

    Regardless, the Mayor now stood before a long wooden table in this grand dining room. The decorations and furniture were just as luxurious as those adorning the halls, and the table was spread with an astounding variety of dishes. Its surface was laden with many platters bearing carefully-arranged meats and cheeses, exquisitely-decorated desserts, as well as exotic imported vegetables and fruits.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°My Lord Count!¡± the Mayor greeted him warmly then with his arms outstretched as if for an embrace. ¡°It is an honor to see you once again. Come, sit! Dine with me.¡±

    Niklas heard the large doors he had just passed through creak and shut loudly behind him, and when he glanced back he was alarmed to see two of those thuggish soldiers stood guard at either side of the entrance, where they had previously been hidden from sight behind the opened doors. Niklas slowly and carefully made his way forward the handful of feet it took him to reach the end of the table that stood across from Lord Borney. His nerves were alight with suspicion and anxiety, so he could not help but scrutinize these unwelcome guardsmen as he went. Nonetheless he was forced to show them his back as he pulled out a gilded chair and seated himself.

    ¡°Try whatever you like my Lord, whatever you may like!¡± Lord Borney said merrily, falling back into his own seat as well.

    Niklas¡¯ empty stomach nearly rumbled aloud as he peered across the long table at all of the delicacies before him, which was far too much food for five hungry laborers to finish, let alone a single, consistently well-fed Mayor. Indeed it was now clear that the assortment of cooked and preserved foodstuffs that Borney had gifted to Castle Petrice, which had seemed to be an unimaginable abundance at the time, paled in comparison to what was served at just one of Lord Borney¡¯s lavish daily meals. To busy his hands while his mind processed these new revelations, Niklas took a few morsels from this or that gleaming tray and piled them onto the plate before him. He noticed also that many sets of gilded tableware had been expertly laid out along the length of the table, as if the Mayor was always expecting a contingent of high-ranking guests, whether or not any actually arrived at his door.

    Looking down over his plate, the animalistic desire to tear into the glistening and well-prepared foods heaped upon it¨Cjust like the Mayor himself was doing now, with much gusto¨Cwas almost overwhelming to the hungry young man. Only the combined strength of his sense of duty and depth of his resentment upheld his composure then, as well as the all-too-fresh memory of the many downtrodden and mistreated folk that he had witnessed on his way here. With upright posture and the most impeccable manners Niklas cut his food into tiny morsels and picked at a few select dishes, and although even these few bites yielded such a rich harmony of flavor and texture he felt he might melt, Niklas maintained his stoic demeanor as he ate, and so appeared more a Lord in his filthy and ragged traveling clothes than the man clad in clean, tailored finery seated across from him.

    Only when it felt as though he had supped for a proper length of time did Niklas finally set his fork and knife back upon the wooden table, this quiet gesture speaking loudly enough to catch the keen eyes of Lord Borney, even as on the surface the larger man appeared absorbed in his decadent feast.

    The Mayor cleared his throat then and patted his lips clean once more with a silken napkin. ¡°S-so, my Lord, what brings you here today, and so suddenly as well?¡± He asked, unable to suppress a nervous stutter as he felt an unexpectedly strong aura of pressure emanating from the small, poorly-dressed Nobleman before him.

    ¡°My apologies for coming on such short notice-¡± Niklas began, his tone low and grave. ¡°--but I felt that petty etiquette was an acceptable sacrifice considering the current situation, for I fear you were not entirely forthright with me the last time we spoke, Mayor Borney.¡± He enunciated the man¡¯s title with some care, clearly meant to remind him of his position, one which ranked far under Niklas¡¯ own.

    Lord Borney couldn¡¯t keep himself from balking a bit at these words, rubbing his hands together in a subtle nervous tick. ¡°W-why, whatever could you be referring to, my Lord..?¡± He said with a weak attempt at a placating smile, lifting his goblet then to take what was meant to be a nonchalant sip of his wine, but which he gulped down too desperately in his need to fortify his fraying spirit.

    ¡°I did not take you as such a forgetful or absent-minded man, Lord Mayor, nor one who is unused to drink.¡± Niklas said in barely-obscured derision. ¡°Surely you still retain enough of your faculties to recall our previous discussions at Castle Petrice?¡±

    Mayor Borney gulped, but forced out a chuckle. ¡°Ha ha, of course, of course! How could I forget, my Lord? You had many fine and well-planned proposals for the improvement of the County¨C¡±

    ¡°¨CProposals, yes, that is exactly right!¡± Niklas cut him off, a steely anger in his voice. ¡°Plans that were nonetheless untested, unproven, and unfinished! Strategies which still needed time and work so as to keep them from unwittingly and unnecessarily burdening the people!¡± Niklas nearly shouted across the table, his small frame visibly quivering with the force of his rage.

    Lord Borney looked quite unsettled then, like a child being scolded by their parent for the first time. Indeed, how many years had it been since anyone had spoken to him in such a tone?

    ¡°What is it that I am seeing out there, Mayor?¡± Niklas demanded, gesturing back towards the closed door. ¡°Refugees on the road fleeing the city, surly thugs beating men for their meager purses, farmers and artisans being charged a full day¡¯s earnings just to enter the gates? And all of this done under my name, but without my consent or approval?¡±

    Lord Borney continued to rub his clammy, ring-laden hands together as he perspired heavily. ¡°Y-you see, my Lord, I had thought¡­ Well, I had just--¡± He stammered, having been left quite at a loss. ¡°I had already drafted up the documentation for your approval, yes, and perhaps, in my eagerness to follow your guidance, I had simply¡­ forgotten to send it to you first!¡± He said with a renewed and desperate hope, as if this were anywhere close to an acceptable explanation which could save him.

    Niklas sighed and rubbed his temple, then, suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion that doused the majority of his temper. ¡°I am going to have to report this situation to the Duke, perhaps even the King, you understand?¡± He said, causing the Mayor¡¯s face to go even paler than it had been before. ¡°I was personally appointed to serve as Count of Petrice by the King himself, and so any disrespect shown to me also counts as disrespect to his Royal Person.¡±

    As Niklas spoke these words, that mustached butler had silently made his way across the length of that impressive table to his master¡¯s side, and he whispered something to him then behind a cupped hand, which was unintelligible to Niklas at that distance. Color swiftly returned to Lord Borney¡¯s face after listening to whatever his henchman had reported, and he appeared to relax again, but for a lingering sheen of nervous sweat which remained upon his brow.

    ¡°Well, I am most sorry to have disappointed you, my Lord Count.¡± The Mayor replied then, though he had a strange air about him now. ¡°And you have undoubtedly gone through much hardship to arrive here so quickly. Why don¡¯t you stay for a few days and enjoy what luxuries Castle Coronton has to offer? It is the least I can do to make this up to you.¡±

    Niklas eyed the other man¡¯s change in demeanor with suspicion, also glancing at that servant who leered down at him now from the Mayor¡¯s side. ¡°I am sorry, Mayor Borney, but I will have to refuse. I have much pressing business to take care of back at Castle Petrice-¡±

    ¡°I must insist, my Lord Count!¡± Lord Borney interrupted him then, clearly no longer interested in feigning politeness.

    The look the Mayor wore now was a strange one. His expression was no longer the calm and jovial he normally affected, nor the affronted and nervous demeanor he had shown just now under the force of Niklas¡¯ anger. Instead, now a small and crooked grin tugged up the corner of his mouth, but his brow was furrowed and one of his eyes twitched slightly with agitation, and his skin still glistened with that nervous sweat. He appeared to Niklas¡¯ trained eyes like a desperate man who was about to take a drastic measure, and beneath his confident and stern guise this terrified the small and exhausted Count.

    ¡°Stay awhile, make yourself comfortable. And¡­ allow me to convince you of the wisdom of my intentions. It would be a shame for my plans not to receive your approval while you are so conveniently¡­ visiting Coronton. For you have brought that Seal all of the way here with you!¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ turn to immediately grow deathly pale. He leapt up from his chair and to his feet, but those two thuggish soldiers he had earlier been so wary of were already at either side of his chair, for they had crept up surprisingly quietly behind him while he was distracted. In a flash they had each grabbed either of his arms, and when he struggled to pull himself free one of the guards balled up his hand into a meaty fist and socked him good and hard in the soft flesh of his solar-plexus!

    The smaller man quaked and retched in their grip, and he sank a bit as he lost the strength in his legs, only remaining upright thanks to his captors¡¯ hold upon him. The butler marched back around the table to Niklas then and felt around on his person, soon enough triumphantly plucking the Seal from Niklas¡¯ breast pocket and bringing it to the Mayor, whose eyes sparkled with greed as he turned the stamp over in his hands.

    ¡°Oh dear, my Lord, you do not look well at all!¡± Mayor Borney then declared with feigned concern. ¡°Men, quickly escort the Count to his chambers so that he might rest! And stand guard at the door so that no one else can¡­ bother him.¡±

    The two large men wordlessly began to drag Niklas away, his feet scraping against the carpet as he was carried along and weakly still attempting some small resistance.

    ¡°B-Borney!¡± He managed to spit out angrily as they reached the doors.

    But in that moment Mayor Borney was too enraptured in looking at that Seal, the stamp which imbued a document with the Petrician Count and Countess¡¯ signature of approval, his face alight with that same nervous excitement. It was as if he knew that he was stepping over a line which would afford him no possibility of return afterwards. He only turned his head to watch the final moment when Niklas was yanked roughly out of the room, and just as the creaking doors were slowly falling shut he called out.

    ¡°Oh, and my Lord Count?¡±

    Niklas glared back at him through that steadily narrowing sliver of the open door.

    ¡°Thank you in advance¡­ for signing my proposals.¡±

    And he then returned to gleefully twirling the Seal about in his fingers as the heavy doors slammed shut between them.

 A New Old Face

    Not unlike a gargoyle Uldred leered menacingly down upon the courtyard which now housed ever more village-folk as relevant parties were still arriving for the Moot. Such a gathering was an old tradition¨Cone rarely engaged anymore¨Cdating back to the ancient times when there were no villages, towns or cities, but rather clans of folk who roamed the stony hills and mountains of Petrice. Back in those days, after foreigners first began to encroach upon the territory in search of game or foraging, the many clans gathered together to establish a High-Chieftain to represent their mutual interests in negotiations and warfare alike. With the help of the slow, transformative trickle of modernization, the elected position of High Chieftain evolved to eventually become the hereditary Title of Count. A Moot was usually a gathering called to deliberate the position of the High Chief, among other reasons, so when the Moot¡¯s primary purpose was rendered moot the event itself became quite rare.

    Uldred stood behind a large and grand window which looked down from the second story just above the courtyard doors. Every so often a few wary eyes would peek up from the throng below to check if she was still there, like children hoping for a chance to misbehave chafing under the scrutiny of their watchful nanny.

    Though most of the Village Heads and Elders had only traveled with a handful of attendants apiece for protection, the arrival of so many of these otherwise small groups at once now made the courtyard within the high walls of Castle Petrice quite loud and bustling with activity¨Cand the arrival of the many Mayors of the larger Towns and Cities were still on the horizon. The unlucky Hostess of such a chaotic occasion could only huff in irritation.

    I will have to take the minor Nobles in as guests of the Castle after all. There shan¡¯t be room for them all within the Courtyard alone¡­ Uldred postulated with some exasperation.

    Her eyes briefly met with the gaze of old Crawford, who sneered up at her before shaking his head and returning to his business.

    Some, it seems, have become arrogant from my loose grip upon them. She observed, narrowing her violet eyes. I hope I am not forced to reign them in¡­

    The thought of doing so pained her, for having lived without any true education or expertise to guide her in assuming her Title, the sole act she could do for her people up to this point had been to show her respect for their autonomy by leaving them to their own devices and allowing them to live on their own terms. But they were clearly beginning to take her mercy for granted, and indeed, this was not the first time in recent history that they had acted out of turn.

    As she reminisced, another small group of her subjects had begun to trickle in through the gate and joined the greater mass. This one intrigued her enough to pull her from her thoughts, for something notable had caught her eye. Most of the men and women in the courtyard bore weathered faces and graying hair, and even the youngest of them were greater than forty years old. So it was somewhat of a surprise to see a collection of men, most of whom must have just come of age within the past few years, led at the front by a tall, thin, and unsteady-looking young woman. These newcomers looked about them at the many confused and disdainful faces turned their way before deciding to set up their tents in a small nook off to one side of the courtyard, a position which left them separate from the main body of the crowd.

    What has become of Thuud, that they would send a delegation of children to the Moot..? Uldred wondered, and for once her thoughts perfectly mirrored those of the many villagers who had traveled to the Castle.

    But her wondering would have to wait for another time, for the next arrival through the gate came jogging into the courtyard door, and this was a soldierly young man in appearance, clad in a leather cap and a quilted gambeson, and carrying a sword at his hip. Losing sight of him beneath the window sill, Uldred finally turned and made her way to the stairs, and sweeping down them towards the entrance-way. Meeting her at the bottom of the stairs was the stooped form of old Belfort, a small note clutched in his shaky and wrinkled hands, which he promptly handed to her.

    She tossed the folded missive open with a flick of her hand and quickly scanned its contents. As soon as her violet eyes had finished taking in the message they then returned to the butler.

    ¡°Prepare the guest rooms, we are to have company soon. Lady Mayor Merida is expected to arrive before the day¡¯s end.¡±

    This done, the Countess immediately turned on her heel and marched back up to her perch.

    <hr>

    Niklas threw what little weight he had at the thick wooden door that had locked behind him after he was roughly tossed into the guest room that currently served as his prison cell, banging furiously upon it with his balled fists when it did not so much as shudder under his pitiful attempts. But his attempts were to no avail.

    ¡°Borney, you rapacious thug! Release me this instant!¡± He cried out furiously, but he could hear no response coming back from the hallway outside, so the guards had apparently gone away. After hauling him there, they were likely quite confident that this weak and spindly young man would be unable to escape.

    At this realization, Niklas growled out a noise of pure frustration as he pulled away from the door and began to bite his nails while pacing the carpeted floor of his room. It was a much finer sort of cell than the last one he had been tossed into, to be sure, but he was in no situation to enjoy the plush furniture, the fine paintings and tapestries, or the gilded decorations scattered about the richly carved wooden shelves. He was tense with worry about what this corrupt Mayor would do now that he had acquired the Seal of the Count of Petrice, the stamp with which Uldred officially signed off onto changes to the territory and its laws.

    As long as he has that stamp, and I remain stuck in here and unable to interfere, that man will have free reign to propose and approve of whatever he wishes!

    No sooner had that thought entered his mind than did such a surge of adrenaline flush through his body that he immediately lifted a wooden chair¨Cone which would normally have been much too heavy for him to move¨Cand aggressively bashed it against the far window. The glass cracked in an impressive spiderweb pattern as the weaponized furniture shattered into thousands of splinters against it, but did not break.

    With his pulse pounding in his ears, Niklas balled his fists and gritted his teeth before letting out a guttural roar of pure, animalistic fury! Once he had screamed himself hoarse, the adrenaline left him and took the last of his strength with it, and he could do nothing but collapse onto the nearby mattress. He was by this point incredibly tired, for he had been walking or riding for days on end to make it to Coronton as quickly as he could. As he let out a muffled sigh of resignation while laying prone on the downy bedding, Niklas blinked his eyes slowly, not having anticipated that his weariness would overtake him quite so quickly.

    In what felt like a blink, the daylight that had previously streamed in through the damaged window was all but gone, and it was nearly nighttime! With a great effort the young Count heaved himself up to a seated position, a movement which caused his head to spin as if it had been struck with a rock.

    The muffled sound of several sets of footsteps growing in volume quickly caught his attention, then. It was apparent that two or three people were approaching his door, and he heard the jingling sound of a ring of keys being handled, followed by a clicking of the lock on the door coming undone. No sooner had a crack of light appeared from the hallway beyond his cell then Niklas began a desperate bolt for the door!

    He was quick enough that he had nearly made it outside, but then a pair of thick arms grabbed roughly at his waist! A young, startled voice cried out in fright at this sudden and unexpected scuffle, but Niklas was too busy writhing for freedom against the hold of his captor to notice it, and he came so near to breaking loose! But in the exact moment before he escaped for good, another large man crossed before him to block his path. The newcomer then reeled back and struck the young Nobleman fully across the face, sending him sprawling back into the room where he crashed against a shelf, causing the books and bobbles it had held to rain down painfully atop him!

    ¡°Fackin¡¯ Hell!¡± One of the guards yelled as best he could while panting to catch his breath, Niklas¡¯ desperate maneuver having clearly caught him quite unawares. ¡°Behave yerself!¡±

    The other guard shoved at his partner roughly. ¡°The Lord told us ¡®not the face,¡¯ ya idiot!¡±

    ¡°He woulda¡¯ got out otherwise!¡± The first hissed at him in protest.

    Niklas looked back up at the door as best he could, despite his swimming vision and a large gilded book that had fallen open over one side of his head. As those two large guardsmen continued to bicker and recover their wits in the hallway, a smaller figure with long hair stepped past them into the room and nervously placed a gleaming silver tray of food onto the floor. He appeared to have his gaze locked upon where Niklas lay slumped, but it was hard to be certain of this due to his heavy fringe, which came all the way down to the tip of his nose. Having delivered the tray, the lad bowed with a quick little bob of his head and backed out of the room without a word, the door slamming shut as soon as he had left.

    ¡°Damn it all..!¡± Niklas cursed under his breath, shaking himself free from debris and clutching his rapidly-swelling eye as he crawled back over to the door to retrieve what was the most decadent meal a prisoner had ever been served in all the history of Petrice.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    <hr>

    Cresting the top of one last small-but steep hill while mounted on the back of her stallion, Lady Merida finally laid eyes upon Castle Petrice for the first time in nearly two decades. She grimaced at the sight of it, even as the men at her back could not help but marvel at the structure that stood as the Capital of their home.

    Riding beside her on the only other horse amongst their group was her Knight and confidante, Ser Gregory. He looked to be in his middle-thirties, making him about a decade her junior. His skin was a sun-kissed tan and his sandy-blonde hair was as short as it could be without being considered ¡®shaven¡¯, which was a direct contrast to her pale complexion and  the long, sleek, jet-black mane of her hair which was currently tied into a tight bun. She appeared to be of an average height and build for her age, save for a bit of extra muscle she had acquired from routine exercise. Regardless, she would disappear completely behind Ser Gregory¡¯s massive frame if placed behind him, for he stood a head and a half taller than her and his shoulders were twice as broad.

    This giant of a man was sat upon a muscled warhorse almost as impressive as himself, which had been quite an expensive acquisition, but was the only mount that could carry his considerable weight. She, in turn, rode upon a pale blonde thoroughbred steed, which was yet an even more expensive acquisition. Still, it was the only mount which could carry her due to the unsettling weight of her airs, which was so scrutinizing, cold and heavy that it sent any lesser horse into a fit of nerves.

    Ser Gregory looked over and cocked his brow at her quizzically, and her violet eyes returned his look with one which conveyed the utter distaste that she felt as she looked upon her long-since former home.

    ¡°...Finally!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m exhausted!¡±

    ¡°--my aching feet¡­¡±

    As the Castle came into view a murmur of relief broke out amongst the young and undisciplined men who marched at her back, drawing a loud grunt and a harsh look from the large mounted Knight, which swiftly cowed them all back into silence. He then turned back to face forward once again and sighed heavily, for he had spent weeks trying to turn this rabble into men-at-arms worthy of her Ladyship¡­ Though he could admit to himself that with his stalwart dedication to her service, his expectations may have been set a bit too high.

    Lady Merida lifted a single pale hand, the back of which smacked against the large Knight¡¯s shoulder to draw his attention. Returning to them now was the runner they had sent ahead to announce their imminent arrival to the Castle. He was a young man in his late twenties, but still the eldest of the lads they had brought with them. As he reached the two horses he could not help but lean over his knees and gasp loudly for air for a few moments before he could speak so much as a single word.

    ¡°Ap-apologies, my Lady¡­¡± He stammered through heavy breaths after he had recovered enough to attempt speech. ¡°The Castle has been notified of your arrival. They say they have prepared accommodations.¡±

    Lady Merida scoffed at the notion. ¡°I was not aware that Castle Petrice had accommodations to prepare in the first place.¡± But then she looked down at the exhausted messenger again, and her stern countenance softened slightly. ¡°Good work, Nathaniel. A cup of wine will be added for your rations tonight.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, m¡¯Lady.¡± he bowed gratefully before staggering away to complete his rest elsewhere.

    After he had departed, Ser Gregory grimaced and scratched the small, fuzzy goatee sprouting from his chin. ¡°You should not spoil them, My Lady. Being entrusted with such a duty alone should have been reward enough for a soldier.¡±

    ¡°Aye, but they are not real soldiers.¡± She replied, looking back at them with a small, wry smile. ¡°Well, not yet, anyways.¡±

    The tired smiles of the young conscripts dropped and were replaced with grim, but fiery looks of determination. Some of them sucked in their guts and puffed up their chests, while others tried to stand straighter and better their postures. Lady Merida turned back towards the distant castle, still with a little smile, and she rolled her eyes in an amused way.

    ¡°Then shall we continue, My Lady?¡± Ser Gregory asked, to which she nodded in reply.

    So their motley group continued on the last leg of their weary trek, crossing the sparse, hilly grassland and emerging onto the crude dirt road which led in a straight line directly to the gates of the Castle. When they were close enough, one of the men raised an arm and shouted, attempting to hail the two armored guards who stood at either side of the portcullis in suits of full plate.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡± Lady Merida said then, extending a hand down towards one of her men. ¡°A rock, if you please.¡±

    he young man hesitantly obeyed, plucking a stone from the earth near his feet and handing it to her., She then promptly reeled back her arm and pitched it directly at the head of one of those stoic gate-guardians, just as she had done so many times when she was a child. The stone clanged strangely loudly against his metal helmet. The young men were quite startled when the impact then caused the hollow figure to collapse into a clattering mess of old armor!

    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be..!¡± One of the men exclaimed, while Lady Merida clenched a fist proudly at her success. Ser Gregory¡¯s face remained entirely stoic throughout this demonstration, and it took him a great effort of will to suppress a long-suffering sigh before he finally followed his Noble Lady as she spurred her horse onward.

    And thus they continued on through the open gate and along a path which turned a bit as it connected to the courtyard. They were surprised to see the small, but growing, encampment of village folk that congregated within the center of the compound, who looked back at them with those grim and stony expressions which were a trademark of the people of Petrice. They did not look kindly upon the Lady Mayor and her people as they filed into the courtyard. Perhaps it was because of those striking violet eyes of hers, which immediately denoted her Noble blood and familial relation to the Countess. However, when she returned their hostile stares with a steady, sharp gaze that bore some animosity of her own, the pressure she exuded caused one and all to break out in a nervous sweat and hastily look down at their feet.

    After this silent exchange of hostilities, Lady Merida closed her eyes in exasperation and leaned back on her horse, while Ser Gregory chuckled over her little display of authority. It was then that something entirely unexpected caught her eye, and while it was not enough of a shock to bring her to a halt, the fact that she consciously took note of it was evidence of how much of a surprise it was. For at the back of the expected crowd of mature, time-hardened peasantry was a small sect of younger village folk, all about the same age as her own followers. They had set up their tents and supplies a bit away from the main group, from whom they were obviously being alienated. And it was this group alone that looked upon Lady Merida and her men as they passed¨Cnot with disdain or hostility, as did the elders from the other villages¨Cbut with simple curiosity.

    Well, that is new! Lady Merida thought to herself, her mood growing a little lighter at the unexpected addition to the Moot. Perhaps this meeting might be more constructive than I had first believed...

    Finally, their group stopped before the tall wooden doors which led into the castle. One of them was quickly opened by the familiar figure of Belfort, who was now much older than when she had last seen him, and who seemed to have been dutifully awaiting her arrival.

    After descending from her steed¨Calong with Ser Gregory beside her¨Cshe handed her reins to one of the lads in her crew. ¡°Let the men have some rest.¡± She commanded him, to which he nodded gratefully. ¡°Set up the tents somewhere comfortable¡­ Maybe over there.¡± She suggested, pointedly gesturing over towards that farther-off group of younger folk who were situated near the corner of the courtyard, whose members began to murmur amongst each other after they noticed her gesture to them.

    With Ser Gregory following at her back, Lady Merida marched over towards the doors where Belfort stood in waiting. She did her best to maintain her regal poise, but as she approached and saw Belfort beaming down at her from the top of the steps, she could not help but allow a small, warm smile to pierce her prim and proper facade.

    ¡°Mister Belfort!¡± She announced¨Cin a more pleased tone than she had meant to betray¨Cas she put her hand out for him to take.

    He took her hand and bowed to briefly peck the back of it, his eyes moist and shining with affection like a proud grandfather. ¡°Why, my Lady Merida! How good it is to see you again! Has it really been twenty years?¡±

    ¡°Aye. It is good to see you again, my old friend. Though I wish it were under better circumstances...¡± She replied, casting a brief sidelong glance up towards the dark and looming form of the great Castle.

    Lady Merida had hoped she would never have cause to return to this bleak old place. Even when she was a child, when the territory had not yet been as poor and dilapidated as it had become under Uldred¡¯s rule, the Castle was still a dank and foreboding place. Its many dusty old rooms were filled with large hanging cobwebs and deep shadowy corners that still caused her to suffer from unpleasant dreams even to this day. Despite all of this, Mr. Belfort would never fail to be a pleasing sight to her, his warmth and devotion serving to ever-so-slightly brighten this whole miserable affair. Truthfully, whenever she had recalled her fond memories of him during these long decades apart, she had feared him to already be long-dead. So for her to see him here, much more withered and gray than before, but still alive and well, lifted her mood up quite considerably.

    ¡°Allow me to show you and your attendant to the guest rooms!¡± He bade her enthusiastically, drawing her back out of her thoughts. ¡°I can take your luggage from you as well.¡±

    Ser Gregory glanced down at the large sack he carried, which appeared to be twice the size and weight of this little old servant, and he hesitated halfway through the motion of handing the thing over, silently cocking an eyebrow down at him.

    ¡°I must insist!¡± Belfort declared, promptly reaching out to take the bag from the larger man¡¯s hands. Gregory could only look on in disbelief as the rickety old fellow easily threw it onto his back¨Cas if the thing were filled with naught but feathers!

    Now following behind the Butler as he happily tromped back through the doors while under the weight of that massive bag, Lady Merida closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the familiar and nostalgic smell of her old home. She then slowly opened her eyes, expecting to see the dark, unlit halls, matted with dust and dripping with cobwebs, that she was familiar with. But wherever she looked now, from the ceiling to the floor her eyes fell upon nothing but stone polished to a dazzling gleam, brightly lit by fresh candles. As she took in the sight of it, the shocked Noblewoman sucked in her breath so harshly that she began to stumble and cough!

    Ser Gregory turned back towards her with a start then, a worried expression wrought upon his face. ¡°M¡¯lady, are you unwell?¡± He asked, much surprised himself.

    Lady Merida, however, waved a hand dismissively towards him even as she still fumbled to regain control of her breathing. After resting her weight against a nearby end table for a brief respite, she lifted her head and her gaze to look past her Knight to meet the twinkling gaze of old Belfort again, who could not help but beam back at her with smug satisfaction.

 A Little Diplomacy and Subterfuge

    First a cracked window, then many splintered pieces of what had recently been a fine and heavy wooden chair, and now a small pile of shattered dining ware joined together in a heaped graveyard of destruction. Every small item that Niklas could get his hands on would be first beaten and bent terribly out of shape, before being jammed beneath the sill of the window, or into the lock of the large door, and then torqued with all of the strength that the little man could muster, until they had finally broken too much for even this final use. As he wrenched his salad fork free from the lock on his door lock and took in its thoroughly broken and mangled flanges, Niklas grunted in exasperation and slumped back to his seat on the floor.

    ¡°Excuse me, sir?¡± Came a muffled voice from behind the heavy door, causing him to jump. ¡°If you push your dishes and your tray beneath the gap of the door, I could take them from you.¡±

    It was the young, weak voice of a shy and awkward teenager¨Clikely that of the lad who had brought the imprisoned Count his food hours ago while accompanied by those two brutish guards. Niklas took his tray and arranged it with the plates and bowls it had come with¨Cminus the tableware which he had just destroyed¨Cand slid them out beneath the gap at the bottom of the door. However, as he felt the grip of the other lad fall upon it on the other side, however, on his own side Niklas held onto the thing tightly!

    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± He demanded of the servant, whose breath caught in his throat loudly enough to be audible through the door.

    ¡°You-you are the Count, my Lord! The Count of Petrice!¡± Was stammered out in response.

    ¡°Are you aware of the severity of the punishment that comes with knowingly holding a Noble against his will?¡±

    The lad did not respond to that, so after a moment of silence, Niklas continued. ¡°It''s the gallows, lad! You¡¯re all going to swing for this offense¨Cunless you let me out of this room right now!¡± But despite his best efforts, his voice sounded more pleading and desperate than threatening and authoritative.

    Suddenly, with a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength of his own, the lad wrenched the tray free of his grip! He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he left, but then he broke out into hurried footsteps that grew fainter as he took off running back down the hallway, leaving Niklas alone once again. The dejected prisoner sighed at this development and fell back to his previous position on the floor once again, cursing internally as he turned his current predicament over in his mind.

    Damn it all! I must find a way to get out of this room before that miserable excuse for a Lord does too much damage..!

    He scratched the back of his head in frustration. Then a small intrusive thought entered into his mind, one he usually did his best to suppress, but couldn¡¯t now due to the boredom and anxiety of his current situation.

    I wonder what Uldred is doing right now...

    <hr>

    Lady Merida still looked about at the halls of Castle Petrice with no small amount of awe. Though it had been decades since she had last visited, some part of her had been sure it would still be the same dusty, shadowy place that it had remained throughout her upbringing there. For her to see a flame dancing upon every candle they passed, which all together illuminated a spotless and gleaming interior, gilded with colors she had never been aware were present under years worth of of grime¡­, Why, the scale of the transformation brought even this notoriously cold and strict Lady-Mayor to a momentary state of breathless wonder! She did recover herself quickly, however: partly in order to maintain her composure as any Noble should strive to do, but also because she did not want to give the old Butler any further satisfaction. The man in question was currently staring up at her and mischievously wiggling his large eyebrows, so she was admittedly not off to the strongest start.

    Some fifty paces down the hall Belfort stopped before another pair of large wooden doors. They were not as big as the ones which led inside from the courtyard, but were still sizable enough to be somewhat imposing.

    ¡°Here is the Office of the Countess. She is currently¨Cexcuse me. She is currently within, attending to her work¡­¡± Merida and Gregory exchanged a concerned look, as the Butler seemed to become a bit choked up at that comment. He cleared his throat before he continued ¡°...I shall show you to your guest rooms now, and after you¡¯ve settled in you may find the Countess here at your leisure.¡±

    The trio then made their way into the ballroom and up the long central stairs to the second level, turning to the right and heading down the first of two corridors. Ser Gregory maintained his concerned and quizzical look the entire way, though now it was mostly centered upon his charge. Lady Merida swayed unsteadily the further they walked, growing uncharacteristically weak with every section of the Castle which they passed through, often letting out small, poorly-suppressed gasps as well. He had never seen her act this way before, and he soon found himself hovering one large hand in the air just behind her back, ready to catch her if she fainted, which seemed increasingly likely!

    Lady Merida, on the other hand, was stuck in a perpetual state of awe, to the point where she felt like she may have been transported to another world entirely! Every part of the once-gloomy Castle had been dusted, cleaned and polished to a shine. Those dreaded halls which still featured within her nightmares had suddenly become grand enough that they rivaled the opulence of the manor of the Duke of Lionel, the finest place she had ever laid eyes on¡­ at least, until now. As they made their way down that second-floor hall she was met with the familiar and unsettling scrutiny of dozens of her ancestors and relatives who had long-since passed, who lined this hall in the form of dour and stoic portraits; no amount of cleaning could ever make them pleasant to behold. She stubbornly righted her posture and stuck out her jaw as she passed between them, as if attempting to scoff at those leering paintings which had troubled her so during her childhood.

    Finally, butler and guests alike arrived at the doors to the guest room where the pair would be staying. Belfort held open the door and stepped to one side politely so that they might enter first, and as she stepped inside the room Lady Merida could not help but let her jaw fall open! For like the rest of the Castle, the space was spotlessly clean, the beds were freshly made and their linens appeared comfortably plush, and the usually sparse and barren interior was now artfully filled with fine furniture and elegant decorations!

    Merida could do nothing but stumble back weakly into the waiting and massive arms of Ser Gregory, who easily held her upright. He looked back over his shoulder to speak to the aged Butler who was now setting their luggage upon one of the beds with the utmost care.

    ¡°I think we shall need to take a few moments of rest. The Lady is¡­ tired from the road, I think.¡±

    Belfort replied only with a bowing nod, dexterously backing through the open door before finally shutting it behind him. But as just as the door was drawing to a close, through the small remaining sliver of space he met Merida¡¯s eyes, and he could not help but show her his widest, most irritatingly satisfied grin before the door clicked shut at last.

    For some indiscernible reason this exchange left Lady Merida feeling a looming feeling of utter defeat as she hung limply in the arms of her massive Knight and she hurriedly pushed away from him and placed her hands upon the wall to steady herself instead.

    ¡°My Lady..?¡± Asked the confused and worried Ser Gregory.

    She sighed heavily in reply. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Gregory... It¡¯s nothing.¡±

    <hr>

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    After a few long, dull hours of waiting, another meal arrived at Niklas¡¯ door. The guards were much more prepared now than they had been for their first attempt, and had readied countermeasures against him. As the young servant lad opened the door just enough to place the tray onto the floor inside, at his back the guardsmen raised the heads of two spears, so that if Niklas had thought to charge them again he would have found himself pierced through. The three of them eyed him warily  for the entire event, but Niklas made no move from where he sat upon his opulent bed. He now had a much better idea of where his true opportunity for escape lay, and it was not yet at hand. However, throughout the delivery of the food, his keen gaze followed the form of that young servant who carried it. Though he could not make out the lad¡¯s eyes beneath his long and bushy fringe, Niklas could tell the unrelenting scrutiny left him quite unsettled.

    The door then slammed shut once again, and only then did Niklas make his way over to collect that silver tray and its contents. Once again, it was laden with a veritable private feast compared to the Count¡¯s usual fare: mouthwatering thick-sliced fried bacon, honey-glazed and roasted root vegetables, a buttered load of freshly baked herbed bread, a cup of hearty and steaming stew, a colorful dressed salad, and a large fruit tart for dessert. Topping it all off was a tall, empty glass and a bottle of expensive wine.

    I wonder if he is forcing such pleasant meals upon me as part of some nefarious scheme... Or, perhaps, there is simply no quality of food inferior to this stocked within the Castle?

    No matter Lord Borney¡¯s intentions, Niklas was quite sure that the tray and all its contents were bought off of the backs of those peasants whom the Mayor¡¯s men extorted daily Indeed, he knew for a fact that many of these foodstuffs must have been imported at great expense, since they could not be found for purchase within the County. Nonetheless, if Niklas wanted to conserve his strength to escape this gilded cage and begin cleaning up Coronton, he would have to eat.

    I swear I will make it up to you all! You will have your recompense, every last one of you! He silently promised, his heart going heavy with guilt even as he took a bite so juicy and succulent it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

    <hr>

    After a couple of hours had gone by it was beginning to grow dark once again. Niklas had long since finished his torturously delicious meal, and was now idly sipping upon his third-or-so glass of wine.

    Another full set of tableware lay strewn chaotically about the room now, more casualties of this conflict between the Mayor and the Count. The once-pristine utensils were now mangled and bent at terrible angles from Niklas¡¯ continued and futile attempts at using them as tools of escape. Perhaps if Niklas had any previous experience with the picking of locks, or other such slight-of-hand tricks, he would already have long since freed himself, but instead all he could manage was to send another pair of silver forks to the refuse pile. He had a little more success with using the butterknife: by striking its dull tip against the already cracked pane of the window, small chips of glass had flown away, and now a couple of small holes allowed a chill breeze to flow freely into the room. Unfortunately, one final hard strike had caused the blade to snap suddenly and clatter to the floor, leaving Niklas with only its wooden handle and the tang within.

    I suppose the only real option is diplomacy, then. Thought Niklas, resigning himself to his secondary plan while taking another sip of the wine. No sooner had he finished it than did the telling sounds of light, skittish footsteps pitter-patter up to the other side of the door.

    ¡°I-I shall take your tray and your dishes away, my Lord!¡± Came the familiar voice of that shy youth, muffled slightly by the door.

    Niklas stumbled over to his side of the door, just across from where he heard the voice emerge, feeling wobbly and slightly flushed from the alcohol. Once again he slid the tray and the remaining empty, unmangled dishes beneath the crack of the door, and once again he waited until he felt the other young man¡¯s hands grasp it before he tightened his grip to hold it in place!

    ¡°What is your name, lad?¡± He asked.

    There came no immediate reply, but he felt the lad tug a few times upon the tray in an urgent attempt to free it. Niklas felt a small measure of gratitude then, that the person his captors had sent to wait on him was likely the only other person in the whole castle who was just as spindly and feeble as himself.

    ¡°Are you ignoring an order from your Count, lad..?¡± He asked after another moment of silence, attempting to imbue his voice with hint of authority.

    ¡°It¡­ It¡¯s Alvin, sir!¡± The lad finally stuttered in reply, his voice going a bit shrill with fright.

    ¡°Alvin, then.¡± Niklas said. ¡°Alvin, do you have any family here in this Castle?¡±

    Even through the thick wooden door of his cell, Niklas could make out the telltale sound of a nervous gulp.

    ¡°... The mayor, sir. He¡¯s my Uncle.¡±

    That information caused Niklas to cock one eyebrow. ¡°Well! You¡¯re the Mayor¡¯s nephew! Tell me, son: do you like your Uncle?¡±

    Another long, hesitant pause ensued, and Niklas could almost hear the gears of contemplation spinning in the young man¡¯s head as he carefully considered his next words.

    ¡°...He feeds me, and puts a roof over my head, sir.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not what I asked.¡± Niklas tutted, harshly tugging the tray back out of the young man¡¯s grasp. ¡°I asked if you like the man!¡±

    Beneath the door Niklas saw thin fingers wriggle desperately towards the tray, which nonetheless now lay just beyond their reach. ¡°No, I d-don¡¯t! H-he beats me terribly if I do not complete my tasks!¡± He cried out, more to vent out his distress, than to answer the question.

    ¡°Well!¡± Niklas exclaimed then, interrupting the lad¡¯s loud, panicked breathing. ¡°Have you ever considered, Alvin, how nice it would feel to stick it to that bastard? To get some revenge and free yourself from living beneath his thumb along with it?¡±

    The wriggling fingers halted then and drew back from the crack under the door. ¡°I¡­ No I¡¯ve never thought of that, my Lord. This castle is all I know, and if I went against my Uncle he¡¯d just throw me out onto the street to starve!¡±

    Hearing that, Niklas sighed heavily. ¡°Listen, son. I told you before, that when this is through, everyone involved in this¡­ scheme of your Uncle¡¯s is likely going to hang.¡± He heard Alvin¡¯s breath catch in his throat once again as he continued. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to, you hear me? I can speak to your innocence and save you from that grisly fate¡­ But first, you¡¯d have to save me from mine.¡±

    No further motion could be seen or heard from behind the door. Alvin was likely knelt there, pale and frozen just out of sight, his anxious mind working furiously to decide what his best option would be. After a long, tense moment without any further action, Niklas pushed the tray slowly forward beneath the doorframe and clear to the other side. speaking more gently as he did.

    ¡°... Once this is over, you could come to stay at my Castle. I¡¯ll give you food and a room, and if you lend me your service you¡¯ll even get spending money! I doubt your bastard of an Uncle is paying you for your work.¡± Alvin only grunted then in confirmations.

    Niklas was silent for a few moments longer, allowing his words time to sink in before he made his final plea to the lad. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. ¡°You save me lad, and I shall save you. Deal?¡±

    Alvin did not reply this time either. Instead, the tray was yanked suddenly from Niklas¡¯ fingertips, and he heard the young man clamber to his feet, and then his quiet footsteps pitter-patted back down the hall from whence he previously arrived.

    Once again, Niklas fell back to rest on his arms, just as he had after their previous exchange, and he breathed out a guttural sound of pure frustration and exasperation.

    Gods dammit! He cursed to himself.

    But then¡­ another pitter-patter!

    The returning footsteps swiftly grew louder until they stopped just outside the door. And then Alvin¡¯s muffled voice rang out between them, and while it still shook in his nervousness, bolstering it now was a spark of fiery determination.

    ¡°M-My Lord Count? I¡¯ll do it!¡±

 A Great Escape (Despite being a bit on the short side)

    Digging into a plate of hot sausages and a tall mug of ale, Nayantara was a most welcome guest of the innkeeper and his wife, for the sudden and heavy taxation from the Lord Mayor had caused Coronton¡¯s economy to stagnate, so before she had arrived a customer had not set foot in that place for a fortnight. She, in the meantime, ate with gusto out of both hunger and necessity, but also to stifle the anxious feeling that had begun churning in her gut ever since she had allowed the Count to enter into the Castle unattended what was now over two days ago.

    She watched with a grimace as the remaining sunlight of the third day dimmed and drew back behind the distant western mountains. Her heart panged once more with a sudden, intense worry, which she quickly did her best to suppress with another hearty mouthful of ale.

    Meanwhile, as the lone Huntress ate in the center of the otherwise empty hall, a quiet knock rang upon the door. With nothing else to occupy his time with, the Innkeeper walked around his makeshift bar counter and over to the door to peer tentatively outside. He half expected to be met with the sneering visage of one of the Mayor¡¯s men, come for another round of extortion, but instead what he found was a strange fellow wrapped in a hooded gray cloak. At this time of day a stranger wearing such a garb as this would have looked quite intimidating, if not for this particular wearer¡¯s diminutive stature.

    Nayantara could not help but perk up as she looked over towards where the innkeeper stood at the door, for he whispered something to whoever was outside and nodded a bit, peeking back over his shoulder at where she sat several times during his hushed conversation. She did not halt her feast, but she significantly slowed the pace of her bites as she stared back at him, well-distracted by the intrigue.

    Finally, the Innkeeper bade the stranger a goodnight and the door clicked shut once again. He stood still for a moment to scratch quizzically at his head before he turned and made his way over to Nayantara¡¯s table, clutching a small yellow parchment between two fingers.

    ¡°I suppose I have a message for you, ma¡¯am.¡± He said, still sounding a bit befuddled even as he handed the small parcel to her.

    She promptly flicked the thing open with her wrist as she took another swig of her ale. Its contents were sparse and had clearly been hastily scribbled with a bit of charcoal, which had smudged considerably during the folding and transportation of the message. She set her mug aside and leaned in closer so that she could study its text more intimately.

    I am in no rush. Do not bother to come find me.

    The mushrooms are beautiful this time of year.

    -N

    She read the note over again several times, to be sure her understanding of the characters was correct and she had not missed anything. Then she leaned back against her chair, breathed out an exasperated sigh and tousled her hair.

    ¡°What to do¡­ What to do?¡± She murmured, before she narrowed her eyes and suddenly pushed her chair back as she shot straight to her feet!

    A handful of silver coins clattered down upon the table, the noise causing the preoccupied Innkeeper to startle. ¡°I may have to leave a bit earlier than scheduled.¡± The woman said to him. ¡°So I¡¯ll pay you upfront for the room and service, just in case.¡±

    He stared down at the small pile of shiny silver coins, which would have been more than enough to pay for a month¡¯s stay in one of his rooms, and was an unthinkable amount to put down for just a few days and a meal! But by the time he had managed to recover his wits and direct his attention back towards his guest, she was already jogging out of the front door and into the night, with her scabbarded sword clutched in her hand!

    <hr>

    Having just arrived at the door which stood before the office of the Countess, Lady Merida took a deep, steadying breath before she lifted her fist and knocked the middle knuckles of her hand upon the polished wood. Ser Gregory respectfully held his hand before her, stepping forward to knock upon the door himself, as if by acting in her stead he was averting some kind of danger to her person.

    ¡°Come¡­ in.¡± Came a muffled, halting voice from inside, which was not so much quieter because it was heard through the wood and stone of the walls, but because something solid rested over the speaker¡¯s mouth.

    Unnoticed by them both, on the other side of the door Uldred cleared her throat as silently she could manage, for she had not spoken all morning and her voice had initially come out deeper and much more menacing than she had intended.

    Lady Merida and Ser Gregory shared an uncertain look between each other, the two of them slightly rattled by the menacing voice that had beckoned them inside, but the Mayor recovered herself quickly. Putting on a stoic face, she marched through the door which Gregory diligently opened before her.

    ¡°Th-the Lady Mayor Merida from Stoppridge!¡± Stammered out Ser Gregory to announce her, though he was obviously cowed a bit by the dark and intimidating presence of the Countess, who was huge even compared to himself. Lady Merida dipped in a small but proper curtsy, and Uldred swiftly rose and swept around her desk, then dropped to one knee¨Cmuch like a man would have¨Cand knelt so that she could press the silver lips of her mask against the other woman¡¯s finger. Lady Merida felt a shivery surge of goosebumps climb all the way up her outstretched arm to the back of her neck, but fought to maintain her uncaring visage despite her body¡¯s visceral reaction. Uldred rose back up to a standing position just as quickly as she had knelt, and behind her inscrutable silver mask her violet eyes turned towards Ser Gregory, as his hand had instinctively slipped to the hilt of the greatsword on his back as he noticed the discomfort of his Lady. As the Countess¡¯ gaze focused upon him he realized his mistake, and quickly removed his hand from the hilt and placed it on the back of his neck, awkwardly avoiding her eyes as he pretended his motion earlier had been an attempt to scratch an itch there.

    ¡°Ahem! Ser Gregory? Thank you for seeing me here. Now, please leave us.¡± The Mayor pointedly requested then, and Ser Gregory bowed respectfully to them both before promptly turning on his heels to leave, audibly exhaling in relief as the door once again clicked shut behind him.

    ¡°Lady Merida. It is a privilege and an honor to once again welcome you into the House of Petrice.¡± Uldred recited in the exact way her father had drilled into her as an adolescent.

    Her Noble guest could not help but scoff as she heard those words, taking Uldred quite aback for a moment as she wondered if she had done something wrong, though she did not outwardly show any sign of this disturbance. Lady Merida then went on to reply, in a dry sort of tone, ¡°I am quite certain your Father would not have agreed with that sentiment, had he been alive today.¡±

    Uldred grimaced a little behind the cover of her mask as she recalled her own bittersweet feelings towards her late father¨Cthe man had been proud and brash, stubborn and strong. She pulled herself back out of her memories to respond. ¡°...You may be correct in that, but any animosity this Castle held for you passed along with him. I prefer to consider you a¡­ valuable ally.¡±

    Lady Merida narrowed her eyes at that. Choosing your words carefully, are we? Good. It seems that if nothing else, your father taught you well.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The Mayor wore a small inscrutable grin, like one you would see on the face of a person in a portrait. ¡°That is most pleasing to hear, Countess. While I and the people of Stoppridge were¡­ troubled to hear of the Count¡¯s recent movements, we would like you to know that in this Moot we are on your side, and will follow with whatever plan of action you advise. Of course, only as long as it does not go against our own interests.¡±

    Uldred was silent for a long moment, staring unblinkingly down at the Lady Mayor in a way that unnerved her a bit behind her cold fa?ade. Then the larger woman turned and swept back across the room to fall back onto the large¨Cand likely reinforced¨Cchair that had used to belong to her Father, which creaked in protest beneath her weight.

    ¡°I hope you enjoy your stay here, my Lady. We have recently been furnished with a variety of edible goods. Feel free to let one of our two Castle servants know if you are feeling peckish or have any particular requests.¡± The Countess said, again with the air of someone reading a pre-prepared speech off a slip of paper.

    Lady Merida then made her way back towards the door, where she briefly paused to curtsy once more, just as it was reopened by the hand of the attentive Ser Gregory, who had been listening for her approaching footsteps. ¡°My most gracious thanks, my Countess. I think that, with your permission, I might like to tour the grounds in which I spent my youth. Thank you for your time.¡± And with this cordial farewell she departed, leaving Uldred alone in her study once more.

    A variety of edible goods? Two servants? Whatever has been happening here¡­ Lady Merida wondered to herself as she marched away down the corridor.

    Meanwhile, Uldred raised up one of her gloved hands and let it strike against the side of her head, repeating the motion many times over. ¡°Stupid, stupid! Stupid girl!¡± She repeated like a mantra as she struck. ¡°Can¡¯t even perform a simple greeting correctly!¡±

    As she recalled the suspicious and distrustful gaze of her aunt, Uldred¡¯s posture sank along with her mood and she practically drooped over her desk, feeling quite melancholy. Her face buried safely in the hollow between her crossed arms, she he sniffled a bit¨Cbut this was surely only due to the effects of the chill morning air.

    <hr>

    Atop his plush bed, Niklas sprang up from his nap at the sound of jingling keys wrestling with the lock on his door. After what sounded like a bit of panicked effort and cursing, Alvin finally found the correct key and the door swung open, allowing light to pour across the gleaming contents of that dark space from the corridor outside.

    ¡°Come on!¡± Alvin hissed at him, his face pale and sweaty with nervousness.

    In another moment the Count was on his feet and the two small men quickly emerged out into the hallway. Niklas looked about in every direction for any oncoming guards, and while he saw nothing, the scattered sound of shouting and running footsteps could be heard from every direction.

    ¡°What is going on?¡± Niklas asked, his body tense and his senses alert.

    Alvin shook his head. ¡°I dunno! Maybe¡­ maybe they discovered I stole the keys?¡±

    Niklas grimaced at that. ¡°Then we¡¯d better hurry. You know the way out, yes?¡±

    ¡°Aye, sir¨Cmy Lord! I¡¯ve lived here all my life. This way!¡±

    Together the two scampered through the halls as quiet as mice, terrified that at every corner they might turn to find a group of swarthy thugs coming straight for them¡­ But, thankfully, their worries were always for naught, for the corridors they used were all quite deserted.

    If they were really looking for us, surely they would be patrolling the halls around my room¡­? Niklas pondered suspiciously, his brow furrowed.

    ¡°...Did you deliver my note?¡± He asked Alvin in a panting whisper as they ran.

    ¡°I did, sir! I don¡¯t¡­ I still think you should have just written her a normal message.¡±

    ¡°Good man!¡± Niklas replied, his expression lightening slightly at this news. ¡°And you needn¡¯t worry, it¡¯s like a code, a sentence with hidden meaning. She¡¯ll understand it for certain.¡±

    ¡°...If you say so, my Lord.¡± came the lad¡¯s skeptical response, which Niklas graciously ignored.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s any chance we could retrieve my Seal from the Mayor¡¯s quarters?¡± Niklas asked.

    But Alvin merely shook his head solemnly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it would be impossible for us, milord. His rooms and office are at the top of the castle, and he appears to keep it on his person at all times.¡±

    Likely because he¡¯s busy using the thing to sign off on all kinds of outlandish laws and changes using my name! Niklas thought at that, gritting his teeth.

    The shouting was growing louder now as they ran, coming from up ahead of them. Niklas looked anxiously over at Alvin, but he did not speak his worry aloud. If the front entrance was their only means of escape, then of course a large number of guards would be stationed there waiting for them to come through. All Niklas could hope was that there would be some opening that the two could capitalize on to escape! Together they reached the end of this final corridor, which suddenly became familiar to Niklas as they passed through it. The paintings and portraits adorning the walls were the ones he had passed upon his initial entry to the castle, and they also ran past a set of double-doors which he recognized as leading into that large and opulent dining hall where he had met Lord Borney.

    As they rushed out onto the second-story bannister which looked down upon the entrance lobby, Niklas witnessed a sight below which was both exhilarating and relieving to him, and his face could not help but burst out into a wide grin. Several limp bodies were already strewn across the fine carpets or slumped against the walls. Meanwhile, a lone soul stood before a large group of thugs, clutching in her hand a large sword with a distinct and wavy blade.

    ¡°Nayantara!¡± He called out with delight, causing the Hunter and the men surrounding her to look up at him with alarm.

    ¡°My Lord!¡± She replied, reaching into her belt and retrieving a familiar¨Cif rather crumpled¨Clittle note, which she waved in his direction. ¡°What the devil does any of this mean?¡±

    Even in a situation such as this, Alvin had to cough and clear his throat to stifle the giggle which threatened to bubble up from his gut.

    ¡°It was a code!¡± cried Niklas, sounding quite crestfallen. ¡°It was supposed to¨C¡±

    But he was cut off then by a shout coming from one of the guards below. ¡°--The Count is free! Somebody grab him, quick!¡±

    One of the larger and more imposing men thrust a short spear about as he barked out commands to the others. ¡°You lot, hold her back! Anybody at the back, go an¡¯ grab those runts, or the Mayor will have our asses!¡±

    Just as he had directed, while one group doubled down on accosting Nayantara all at once, another line of thick-necked goons in ragged tabards came clambering up the stairs towards the balcony that held Alvin and Niklas. The timid servant froze like a rabbit at the sight of their approach, but the agile little Count raced, perhaps spurred to action by his Noble and Chivalric blood. Reaching out a spindly pair of arms, Niklas grasped upon the tasset of a heavy, decorative set of armor¨Cone of the many which lined the room¨Cand with a strength born of adrenaline he pulled the thing from its riggings and sent it clattering down upon the oncoming men, who all were sent rolling and tumbling back to the first floor!

    ¡°Blighted idiots!¡± Cursed the head guard. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll get him myself!¡±

    With shocking speed the large man was already halfway up the stair, where Alvin was still quite frozen in fright! A large hand caught the servant lad by his scruff, and its mate reached out for Niklas, but in that moment of desperation, Niklas put a foot up upon the railing and leapt bodily from it! He soared over the thugs assembled below, who stared up at him in shock¨Cand not a little awe¨Cas he sailed into the open and waiting arms of Nayantara, who then immediately turned and dashed towards the open doors!

    And as Niklas stared back dejectedly towards the captured form of Alvin, the servant reached out a finger and pointed after him, shouting a fervent, ¡°Go!¡± just before another large and calloused hand covered his mouth!

 Pursuit

    Urgent shouts of ¡°Close the gate!¡± came from the direction of castle Coronton., but it was too little, too late. A horse in full gallop was already barreling out through the portcullis, and very soon after her came a dozen more. However, most of the pursuers were halted in their tracks as the gate crashed down before them. Only one of their number remained undeterred in their chase: a figure clad in all-black clothes and armor, and even riding a pearl-black steed to boot! From the top of the high wall soon came the silhouette of a horse leaping over the crenels¨C and from a height seemingly impossible for man or beast to survive unscathed¨Cand yet both horse and rider thundered to the earth with a crash, and only required but the briefest moment of recovery before they took off after their quarry once again!

    <hr>

    Niklas stared in amazement down at old Chestnut, who had not only carried both his weight and Nayantara¡¯s on top of that, but had then galloped as fast as a prize stallion and was putting even the expensive warhorses that were hot on her tail through their paces. He almost wondered if the Huntress had fed the beast some strange, unholy elixir for her to strengthen and quicken so unexpectedly, but as he peeked back over his shoulder at her he saw the same look of amazement upon her face as well! No sooner had he turned back, however, than was he forced to swiftly duck his head, as a hatchet suddenly whooshed past it through the air!

    ¡°Don¡¯t hit the Count, you idiots!¡± He heard a gruff, chiding voice shout from the back of the oncoming pack.

    Despite Chestnut¡¯s best efforts, six of those large and ragged soldiers straddling large war mounts were steadily gaining on her, and even began to circle around her at the sides and the back!

    ¡°Give us the boy!¡± That same gruff voice yelled out as the horse and rider on the right closed in fast, the man with his arm outstretched, reaching right for Niklas¡¯ scruff! However, just then, he was forced to pull back and away to avoid a tall mound of rocky earth; and indeed, when Niklas looked forward again he saw that they were leaving behind the long, steep slopes of Coronton¡¯s countryside for the many short and wave-like hills that were more common throughout the rest of the County.

    Spying an opening, the pair on the left now approached, the rider lofting an arming sword with which he lunged at Nayantara, who pulled back to avoid the blow. He followed her movement with a cut backwards towards her neck, to which she leaned back even further still, until the back of her head nearly touched the horses¡¯ haunch! But it turned out to be fortunate that she did so, for as she hung upside-down from her steed, another assailant behind them fired a crossbow bolt straight at Chestnut, which Nayantara snatched from the air with her hand just before the barbed tip could reach her horse¡¯s thigh!

    The soldier at their left growled in frustration and disbelief at her dexterous maneuver, and he was forced to pull away again by oncoming terrain. But he had no sooner withdrawn than did another man on horseback close in to take his place, and before Nayantara had righted herself. Even for a woman of her strength, the awkward angle at which she currently held herself, along with the force of gravity and the jostling from the speeding horse, were too much for her to overcome in time!

    A worried ¡°Uh oh!¡± came from Nayantara as she saw the man approaching her, his axe raised high, fully prepared to bring it down upon her neck in a beheading blow!

    A cold fear suddenly swept through Niklas, and he reached down to his inverted companion¡¯s belt and grasped for the small, dull knife she kept there¨Ca tool meant more for craftsmanship than war, but it was a weapon nonetheless. Then, as the oncoming soldier leaned back to build momentum and strike a stronger blow upon the Huntress, Niklas whipped the little blade at his foe by its handle. His makeshift projectile did not spin in the air as he had pictured it in his mind, but rather it flew straight and true, and promptly sank into the axe-wielding thug¡¯s meaty neck! The target shook with a violent spasm as he instinctively raised both of his hands up to his throat, letting go of his horse¡¯s reins and twisting his body in an awkward angle! Unsurprisingly, he quickly tumbled from the back of his horse, landing hard upon the rocky soil and rolling lifelessly away. Meanwhile his mount stumbled and corrected itself too far to the left, causing it to collide harshly with another horse and rider at the back of the group, causing them to tumble and lose their bearings as well!

    Niklas stared, wide-eyed, back at the mess of bodies he had inadvertently caused. As he realized what he had just done, he retched over the side of his mount and nearly vomited up the sumptuous meal he had been served in his cell. He must have looked quite dreadful, then, as all the blood had drained from his face and he was queasy and covered in a cold sweat besides.

    ¡°First time, my Lord?¡± Asked Nayantara, who had finally pulled herself back up to a properly seated position. ¡°I remember I reacted much the same way when I first killed a man, though I was only seven at the time¡­¡± As she spoke she tossed the bolt that she had caught out of the air nonchalantly back over her shoulder¨C which then, unseen by her, struck the crossbow of the man who had originally fired it right as he was aiming for her again. Her unplanned maneuver caused him to misfire wildly, his bolt veering into the haunch of the horse at his left, which tumbled head-over-hoof, crushing its rider dead as it rolled across the ground!

    ¡°Shit!¡± The crossbowman cursed, realizing what he had just done. ¡°We¡¯re dropping like flies!¡±

    The man on their right roared in frustration, but finally found a gap in the terrain to close in on them again! This time he lofted a short spear above his head, the tip angled downward at a diagonal, aiming straight for the head of the galloping Chestnut! Thankfully, his blow was intercepted by a black and wavy blade, as Nayantara had drawn her sword off of her back and used it to swat the weapon from his hand with a clang!

    This attacker was forced to pull away once again, just in time for another man on the left to make his approach. He traded a couple of swings of his sword with Nayantara, who parried him with her own blade. It was abundantly clear she thoroughly outclassed the man, and she ended their short duel by deftly etching into the man¡¯s sternum with a powerful cut, one which shattered his chain shirt and felled him from his steed!

    The man behind her then fired his crossbow for a third time, but this time with a spinning flourish, and what appeared to be like some precognitive sight, her sword was held at the perfect position for the bolt to deflect off the flat of its blade just before it would strike her in the back!

    Without a pause, the rider to their right came swooping in one last time, reaching out towards Nayantara with both of his hands. Clutching her sword at its half, she attempted to cut him away, but the man intercepted her blow and deftly caught the blade of her sword with both of his hands! The two combatants then wrestled for the weapon while balanced precariously upon the back of their steeds, who were both running side-by-side at full tilt. Perking her head up suddenly, Nayantara pulled back harshly and let go of her sword, and as the momentum forced the man to lurch forward after her, he was unable to avoid an oncoming patch of trees, whose branches struck him with a meaty thud and vanished him off of his horse in an instant!

    ¡°My sword!¡± Nayantara cried dejectedly, craning to look back over her shoulder to where her flamberge was now lost to the wind.

    As his Captain fell with the rest of the men, the final rider at their back pulled on his reins and his horse came to a halt and reared, leaving Niklas and Nayantara to ride on alone.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Finally there was silence, but for the galloping of the horse beneath them. ¡°I...I think it¡¯s over.¡± Niklas stammered, still pale and recovering a bit from his retching.

    But Nayantara did not respond, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked about.

    ¡°Look out!¡± She abruptly cried out.

    For suddenly closing in from their blind-spot came a black mare with a fully cloaked and hooded rider! He appeared to be unarmed, but yet as he pulled up alongside them he raised his arms into a fighting stance. He quickly struck multiple times at Nayantara with his knuckles or the palms of his hands, and she in turn raised her arms before her as a bulwark. Niklas hurriedly took the reins from her and leaned forward fully until his body rested upon the back of Chestnut¡¯s head, all so he would not be accidentally struck in the melee!

    The Huntress and the mysterious black-garbed figure rapidly traded blows back-and-forth, him attacking without any regard for himself, while she held her forearms up in front of her head and collar in a protective stance. Unfortunately, a brawl seemed to be more of his forte than hers, and with a few deft strikes to her ribs and then to her shoulder, he was able to pry her arms apart. Now he was able to target her nose with a stiff palm strike that sent her toppling back from her horse and rolling away, head-over-heels, into the distance!

    ¡°No!¡± Niklas cried out in fright as his only protector vanished from view.

    But he had not the time to worry for her, much less turn back to find her, for the black-clad man was still running along at his side and was just reaching out to snatch him. First, he placed a hand on the back of Niklas¡¯ neck and pulled him to the side, though Niklas resisted him with every fiber of his being, and so the assailant wrapped his other arm beneath the struggling Count¡¯s chin and squeezed!

    In an instant Niklas felt his consciousness begin to fade as the flow of blood to his brain was forcefully cut off. He felt his extremities begin to weaken and grow limp, and the sensation of his body being lifted from the back of his horse even as she still raced forward at a break-neck speed¨C

    ¨CCrack!

    It was then that a terrible and ugly noise rang all of their ears, horses and riders alike! Niklas felt the grip loosen from around his neck, and with all of the strength he could muster he slipped free and desperately pressed himself back down across Chestnut¡¯s neck! Meanwhile, the assailant pulled away from him and reared in agony, his back and the cloak upon it now smoldering and releasing smoke! His hood finally fell back then to reveal a defined and rugged man, with skin as dark as his clothes and curly salt-and-pepper hair. Niklas had only ever read about the likes of him, besides for his recent acquaintance with Nayantara herself: this was a man from the South Continent!

    The black-clad man pulled away at last, just as the face of a jagged rock wall hid him fully from view, leaving Niklas free to continue his journey back towards the distant mountain where his Castle resided¡­

    ¡­ Unpursued, but entirely alone once more.

    <hr>

    As she stood upon the battlements and stared down across the surrounding countryside, Uldred resembled some tall and menacing grotesque, made to unsettle and strike fear into the hearts of any men or evil spirits who thought to infiltrate her home. This was not a place she visited often, and in fact she went so rarely that it had taken her several tries to find the door which led her onto the correct path, but she was driven by a most unpleasant feeling that had recently set root in her gut. For as the last few parties of Elders and Lords from the most distant Towns and Cities had steadily trickled into the courtyard over the past day, no sign of her diminutive husband had been seen nor heard since his abrupt midnight departure all those nights ago.

    A loud and cynical voice in her mind scoffed at his absence. He¡¯s probably gone off to stay with his wealthy friend Lord Borney for good, and left all of his responsibilities and consequences to be sorted out by the rest of us!

    The logical part of her mind, however, would not be so easily swayed with such a meagre supply of evidence. But news of the Moot did not reach us ¡®til several days after he left for Coronton, so he should have had no way to know of it.

    Additionally, the note which had originally spurred his sudden departure had come by way of the ever-traveling Thomas, who was not such a cunning man as to buddy up to a immoral fellow such as Lord Borney, nor was he wise or forward-thinking enough to consider the potential rewards of doing such a thing. No, something was definitely amiss, and yet all Uldred could do right then was gaze off into the misty distance and brood on it.

    ¡°Countess?¡± Called a voice at her back, and as she turned to look at its source her eyes landed upon Lady Mayor Merida, who was just now climbing up one of the stairs that led to the battlement. ¡°Come here often?¡±

    ¡°...Yes.¡± Uldred fibbed curtly, turning away from the other woman once more to continue her weary vigil.

    Lady Merida approached so that she could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her niece and follow her gaze up the road and into the gray nothingness which lay beyond.

    ¡°Waiting for your husband, I take it?¡± Her Auntie asked, allowing a rare wry smile to crack her normally dutiful and stoic visage.

    Uldred nearly jumped at that, startled by the woman¡¯s mortifyingly accurate supposition. Lady Merida smiled in full for a brief moment at her reaction before she stifled the expression and returned it to her regular blank neutrality.

    ¡°I only thought,¡± She continued as she slowly circled around Uldred¡¯s back and over to her other side. ¡°-that you resembled a woman I know. Her husband captains a ship upon the Eastern Ocean, and so she tends to stand on the docks and stare out into nothingness, awaiting his return¡­ much like you are doing now.¡±

    A terrible, wrenching, conflicted feeling erupted in Uldred¡¯s gut. On the one hand, such a romantic tale took hold of her young, inexperienced heart and caused it to race with excitement, for there were not many such tales included among the dusty tomes she had found around the Castle. However, at the same time, the thought of she herself engaging in such a soppy and romantic act, and for him of all people, left her to wrestle with some particularly embarrassing, unpleasant and conflicted feelings.

    ¡°I¡­ am merely awaiting his¨Cthe Count¡¯s arrival, as is my duty as the Countess. So that once he returns we may resolve this matter promptly, and sooner free my courtyard of all this rabble and noise.¡±

    Merida leered over at her with suspicion in her eyes, but did not comment on her suggestion any further. ¡°Well, I simply came to mention that enough Elders and Lords have arrived that the Moot may begin at any time. All who meant to attend will have arrived by now, and any who did not are unlikely to appear.¡±

    She then turned and began to depart, but stopped halfway in her descent back down the battlement stair from which she had first arrived. She spoke a final time.

    ¡°You had better hope that he arrives soon, lest the Moot take place without him. You know how it is likely to go if he is absent for it and can provide no defense for himself. It will be the end of him, and maybe you along with him if you are not careful.¡±

    And with that the Lady Mayor disappeared entirely from view, and the sounds of her clacking footsteps upon the cobbled stone faded into the distance as well, leaving Uldred alone once again.

    Uldred sighed heavily and shrank in on herself a bit as well, now able to relax her demeanor away from the scrutiny of others. Do not be too much longer, please! She prayed. thinking of a certain...

    ¡­She then startled as she realized what she was thinking, and who about. It is about the Moot, the Moot I tell you! It will be difficult for me if he is absent for the Moot, is all.

    But it was far too late for such denial, as her cheeks and ears were already hot and flushed., All she could do was clench her fists by her chest and hang her head, letting out a defeated noise as she cursed her Aunt, whose terrible words had taken root so strongly in her mind.

    ¡°Oh!¡± She moaned in frustration.

 The Last Steps Home

    And so, Chestnut passed.

    It was a beautiful scene: together with his short-known but stalwart steed, Niklas had collapsed into a weary slumber beneath a singular tree that shaded a rare, small patch of flowers, brightly colored with shades of pink, and purple, and blue. He had laid back upon the belly of his fallen beast of burden and immediately fallen into a deep and restorative slumber, but wherein he was troubled most terribly by dreams of being chased unendingly by a hoard of dead men riding upon skeletal horses, these specters crying out for recompense for his part in leading them to their violent ends. One man in particular rode faster than the rest and appeared right at Niklas¡¯ side, a crude knife embedded in his throat, and he wept his menacing curses right in the young Count¡¯s ear.

    He awoke at some point when the sky was still cloaked in the thick darkness of night, sitting up in a rush as he perspired heavily and gasped for air, as if he truly had been running in his sleep! As he caught his breath and looked about he realized again where he was: laying coddled within the legs of his horse like her child, with her looming head hanging protectively over him. He soon fell back into slumber once more, but this time, it was a relaxing one filled with much more pleasant dreams.

    When he awoke again it was dawn, and a noteworthy break in the otherwise constant cloud-cover allowed the rising sun to beam down upon him warmly. He was still curled up in the patch of flowers, wrapped in Chestnut¡¯s embrace.

    ¡°Hey girl.¡± He said aloud, reaching a hand up to touch her face. ¡°We should wake up, we¡¯ve got to get going¡­¡±

    But then his eyes widened as he felt her cheek, and he quickly freed himself from his blanket and leapt to his feet! He stood there for a moment, staring down at her in silent shock, but slowly his shoulders sank and he allowed the breath that he had held to slowly release. For she had been cold to the touch, even as she lay there comfortably with a most relaxed and peaceful expression. That night, the old girl had raced along on pure adrenaline, to the point where it had drained the last bit of life she had in her, so that no sooner had she come to a trotting halt than did she fall comfortably into her final slumber, cradling her companion while surrounded by flowers and shaded beneath a pleasant young tree.

    Niklas could not help but be moved to tears, but he withheld them with a valiant effort, scrunching up his face as he sniffled and stood dutifully upright before her. He had only known this mare for a few days, but strangely enough, he now felt as if he had just lost a lifelong companion.

    He announced, with many pauses to swallow heavily and snort breaths through his rapidly-clogging nose: ¡°You are the first person¡­ to ever sacrifice their life to save mine.¡± He spoke aloud in a trembling voice. ¡°I shall make you¡­ the first of my Knights! And when I have an Order of my own¡­ they shall be named in your honor my¨Cmy friend.¡±

    Then, after putting his hands to his sides, he bowed deeply towards the dead horse, before turning on his heels and marching away back down to the road to continue on his lonesome journey. Perhaps, normally, he might have felt hungry or parched with thirst from his tumultuous journey, and thereby would¡¯ve been hesitant to continue on his way so soon, but there was a determination rising inside him now as he marched along the road, a feeling which likely would not have allowed him to sit still for longer than a few minutes regardless.

    The hours passed slowly, and the road was so long as to seem unending. Niklas¡¯ emotion-fueled enthusiasm steadily faded as he walked alone down this somber and lonesome road. The break in the clouds from that morning had not lasted longer than an hour, and the clouds returned quickly, bringing with them a moist and hazy fog which was thicker than was usual, even of this dreary land.

    Niklas found then that he could not see in further than thirty or so meters in any direction. One does not realize how surreal it can be for a person whose senses are suppressed, or even taken in their entirety, until they are forced to move in the moment itself. As he trudged step-by-step through this concealing fog, with no ability to see his surroundings or know where he was going besides the lesser-used dirt path beneath his feet, some part of Niklas¡¯ mind wondered if he was even still in Petrice, or if he had in fact accidentally wandered into Purgatory itself¡­ But regardless, all he could do was continue on just as he had been doing.

    How close am I? How far do I have yet to go? It was several days'' walk from the Castle to Coronton, so how long would it take at a full gallop...?

    These questions sprang up one after the other in Niklas¡¯ mind, creating an internal cacophony of uncertainty that moved too fast for him to even focus on. The silence was so deafening that he reached up and covered his ears, hoping to find some small comfort in the sound of his own heartbeat, but it was to no avail. His ears felt hot as he touched them. He quickly moved one of his hands to his forehead, and found it was hot as well.

    ¡°Oh bother!¡± He cursed as he was reminded of his frail constitution.

    He knew not for how long he walked. At first his feet had begun to ache terribly, but as he continued forward the rest of him began to ache as well, the pain spreading up from his ankles to his legs, then to his hips, and then continued all the way up to his shoulders. Soon enough, so much of him ached that no one part of him ached any worse than the others, and he found he had become quite numb to the sensation. For much of his travels the light, or what amount of it there was to be seen, stayed much the same. With his steadily growing fever and the unchanging weather both working to cloud his senses, he could not even recall if he had walked for minutes or hours. Only when the sun finally, mercifully began to set, and the sky glowed faintly orange, did he have some indicator of the time.

    Only when the bottom of the sun touched the tips of the distant mountains in the horizon did the heavy fog finally subside, and before him then appeared the image of his home¨Cthe Castle Petrice, its ominous spires gilded with the final rays of sunlight, loomed up welcomingly close over him. He was almost there! And up atop the battlements of the Castle, just above the gate, stood a large and dark figure, her distinctive silver mask gleaming like a beacon in the twilight as she stared down at him. He tried to take another step forward, his spirits bolstered by the nearness of his destination, but when he moved again he found his head had become too light, and his vision faded quickly as he crumpled down to his knees, his head and shoulders hanging low as he slumped forward. The last thing heard as he drifted off into unconsciousness was a blurred commotion of shouting voices, far too many of them to be originating from just the servants of the Castle and its Countess. As everything finally went dark, he wondered what was going on...

    <hr>

    ¡°How is he?¡±

    Hearing this, the medical officer, who had just shut the door to the Count¡¯s quarters, stumbled backwards into the wall with a fright! It took him a moment to realize that it was none other than the Countess who had accosted him, rather than some large and ferocious beast roaming the halls of the Castle. He cleared his throat to buy a moment to settle himself, tugging on his collar to set it to rights before he spoke his reply.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°He¨Cthe Count is fine, and he is resting now. He appears to have collapsed due to a combination of exhaustion and overexertion.¡±

    Uldred narrowed her violet eyes down upon him as she listened, but said nothing in response. She turned her head to look over her shoulder just before the distinct clacking of footsteps upon stone could be heard approaching up the narrow spiral staircase. The officer looking past her, visibly settling with some relief, as coming into view beyond the bend, was the Lady Mayor Merida.

    ¡°A-as I was saying¡­¡± Continued the medic, ¡°...the Count likely fainted due to complications with his constitution. He should be fine after a little bedrest and nutrition.¡±

    ¡°There are no other serious injuries?¡± Asked the Mayor as she now strode up to stand beside the two of them.

    ¡°Nothing serious. He has some minor injuries here and there, a couple of scratches and bruises. The most notable is probably his right eye, where he appears to have been struck, for it is undergoing extensive discoloration¨Cbruising, that is¨Cand is swollen shut.¡± At that last part he peered up nervously at the Countess, unsure as to how she would react to this news.

    Uldred appeared unaffected at first and did not outwardly react, but the Medic made note of the slight sound of creaking leather, and with a glance down he saw that the large woman¡¯s fists were clenched and shaking with rage. As subtly as he could, he took a small step back and away from her.

    ¡°For the Count himself to return in such a state¡­¡± Lady Merida murmured to herself, stopping then and peering over at where her niece stood beside her, an unsure look writ across her face. ¡°You said he departed for Coronton on horseback several nights ago. Why would the Count return alone, on foot, and in such a state besides..?¡±

    Uldred did not reply again, leaving Lady Merida to speculate alone. Desperate to escape, the Medic cracked the door open with his hand and slipped back inside the room under the guise of waiting on the Count, leaving the two women in the hall.

    ¡°Even if the County had no men to spare to accompany him as an entourage on the road, it is only right and customary for Coronton to return him with at the very least a single guard.¡±

    After voicing her thoughts, Merida placed her thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and lowered her gaze to the floor, still deep in contemplation.

    ¡°Could it have been Bandits..?¡±

    ¡°There are no Bandits in Petrice.¡± Replied the Countess, finally breaking her silence.

    ¡°That may be, but there are Bandits in Coronton. Recently all kinds of ne''er-do-wells are coming in from over the border from Otkorn to take up residence there. As of late, Mayor Borney has been quite lax and irresponsible in preventing this.¡±

    ¡°For him¨Cfor the Count to race off so suddenly in the middle of the night¡­ has something greater happened in Coronton?¡± Uldred wondered aloud.

    Lady Merida sighed with resignation and shrugged her shoulders. ¡°I supposed there is no way for us to know, at least not until the Count awakens. But who knows when that will be..?¡±

    Then she shot a sharp glare up at her niece, who could not help but startle at her sudden scrutiny. ¡°But! Now that he has returned, you had best prepare yourself for the Moot. He is most disliked by the commoners, and they will likely push you to begin as soon as he does awaken, if not before. They hold no mercy in their hearts for him, and if you are not ready they may take you down along with him.¡±

    Uldred growled at the thought, clasping a hand at the side of her head in frustration. She was dreading the coming event more and more with every passing day. She already experienced a great deal of discomfort when interacting with a single person whom she did not know well. The thought of engaging in a heated argument with a gathering of hundreds left her with an inescapable, sickening sensation in her gut, and she was quite ready for it all to be over and done with.

    Having delivered her warning, Lady Merida began to descend the spiral stair leading back down to the main Castle, but briefly stopped to turn back over her shoulder and impart one last request. ¡°Notify me at once if the Count awakens.¡± And with that, she finally disappeared beyond the bend, leaving Uldred alone in the hall with only her thoughts to occupy her.

    <hr>

    The past few moments had seen Niklas¡¯ labored breathing calm somewhat, which caused the Medic to put down the little book he had been reading and to lean over the slumbering Count in anticipation. The young man¡¯s eyes slowly cracked open then, and he peered around in obvious confusion. He found that he was in a familiar room, but had an unfamiliar face hovering over him. His eyes struggled to adjust to the light, and his vision swam as he tried to regain his bearings.

    ¡°My Lord, are you well? My name is¨C¡± He heard, but the voice speaking to him began to muffle, and his head suddenly became light. It was a few moments before his vertigo ended and his senses returned enough that he could make out words again. ¡°--about a day and a half now. My Lord?¡±

    ¡°W-water¡­¡± He mumbled weakly, causing the Medic to scramble to the small table at his bedside and retrieve a goblet of lukewarm water. He quickly held it up to Niklas¡¯ lips to drink from, placing his other hand behind Nikas¡¯ head to gently lean him towards it.

    ¡°Luckily, it appears the worst is behind us.¡± The Medic said, placing the goblet back in its original place once Niklas had drunk his fill. ¡°Your fever has subsided, and with a little more bedrest, you should be well again.¡±

    Finally aware enough to wonder at the man¡¯s identity, Niklas peered down at the tabard he wore; upon it lay a set of four squares, the top-right and bottom-left of which were checkered in black and white, whilst the other two featured a galloping deer set over diagonal stripes. The man noticed his Count¡¯s gaze, glancing down at his tabard and then back up at him, where their eyes met.

    ¡°Why is there a man of Stoppridge in my home?¡± Niklas asked in a voice still rough from sleep, his tone more quizzical than accusatory.

    The Medic smiled back at him, but it was a nervous smile, one that communicated that he did not want to be the one to inform his superior of something that was both most important and unpleasant. ¡°...Let us worry about that later. For now, just know that I am a trained doctor, and if you follow my instructions you¡¯ll be back on your feet by tomorrow!¡±

    The man then stood up and made his way over towards the door. ¡°I will go down now to notify the Countess and Lady Merida of your recovery.¡± He declared. ¡°If you need anything, or if you feel unwell, feel free to ring and I will quickly return with your servant.¡±

    With that he departed, and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Niklas on his own. He reached over then to retrieve a hand-mirror from the drawer of his bedside table, using it to examine his reflection. He noted that the swelling in his eye had reduced enough by now that he could open and shut it with ease, although the terrible, dark bruising around it yet remained.

    The memory of Mayor Borney and the Seal came to him then, along with a sharp bolt of anxiety, and Niklas curled in on himself in the bed as he thought of what may happen when he told the Countess.

 Settling Back In

    Once again making her way up and around the spiraling staircase which eventually led to the Count¡¯s quarters, Lady Merida thanked her lucky stars that she engaged in regular physical exercise. She could not imagine how that Castle¡¯s elderly butler managed to clamber up these steep and numerous steps so often every day, let alone at twice the pace that she could manage. As she neared the top of the spire which held the Count¡¯s current residence, a strange, loud clamoring could be heard emanating through the doors, which had been left cracked slightly open.

    ¡°Get off me¨Cno, off! And quit your blubbering--¡±

    While she was not willing to act so undignified as to intentionally conceal herself and eavesdrop, Lady Merida still stopped just before the door to peek curiously at the chambers within. There in his bed sat the Count¨Cor at least, the man she assumed to be the Count for they had not officially been introduced to one another¨Cand straddling atop him were the two butlers of the Castle, who were much preoccupied with tightly embracing their master while bawling wetly into his shirt.

    ¡°W-we were worried about what might¡¯ve happened, your Lordship!¡± Belfort blubbered. ¡°First you d-disappeared, and then you collapsed and slept for days. Oh, I was so afraid to think that I would be masterless once again!¡±

    Having had quite enough of this nonsense, and with some effort, Count Niklas pushed with all of the strength he could summon into his spindly arms and forced the two servants back off of him. Then the sound of a loud creak emanating from the door brought this trio to a sudden halt, their heads perking up like meerkats as their gazes swiveled in unison to rest upon the figure of the Lady Mayor who had just entered the room. In less than the time it took to blink, the two servants stood dutifully at attention at their Lord¡¯s side, who himself had fallen back onto his pillow.

    ¡°Ahem!¡± Belfort cleared his throat, though his voice was somewhat rough, and his eyes were red and puffy from crying. ¡°My Lord Count, may I present to you Lady Merida, Mayor of the City of Stoppridge!¡±

    Lady Merida gracefully lowered her head and bent her knees in a small, but regal bow, before she raised her familiar, distinctively violet-colored eyes and met Niklas¡¯ gaze.

    Niklas gulped audibly as he took in her appearance for the first time. She was a beautiful and mature woman, with an upright and austere demeanor¨C that is to say, she strongly reminded him of his sister, Frith.

    ¡°Pleased to make your acquaintance!¡± He said in greeting and although his frayed nerves had caused him to speak a little too loudly, he was relieved that he had managed not to stutter.

    Her voice was smooth and unperturbed as she returned his greeting with her own. ¡°Likewise, my Lord. I apologize for meeting with you while you are still in the midst of your recuperation. However, considering the importance of the upcoming event, I felt it necessary to act with some haste, even if that meant I must be a little discourteous.¡±

    Niklas wore a puzzled face then. ¡°By all means, if the matter is urgent then it cannot be helped. But please elaborate: to what are you referring when you mention an ¡®upcoming event¡¯, my Lady..?¡±

    It was her turn to wear a confused expression then. ¡°...Has nobody informed you? Neither your servants, nor the Countess herself?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Niklas couldn¡¯t help but scoff, his reaction causing Lady Merida to cock one elegant eyebrow. ¡°The Countess and I do not speak to one another much, if ever.¡±

    ¡°...Ah.¡± Lady Merida looked like she was lost in thought for a moment, a small smile forming upon her face as she recalled some vivid memory in the back of her mind. ¡°Yes, I suppose it would be like that.¡± She spoke softly, giving an impression she was speaking more to herself than responding to him. Returning to the present, she then turned her eyes to the two servants, one young and one old, who stood a bit more rigidly as they received her attention.

    ¡°W-we were just getting to that, m¡¯Lord¨C¡± Stammered Hemsley, his face and ears going slightly pink.

    ¡°--Never you mind; I shall do it. You may leave us.¡± Lady Merida declared with a dismissive wave of her hand, and no sooner had the command been given than the two manservants were already on their way out the door.

    ¡°Now then, I don¡¯t suppose you are aware of what a Petrician Moot entails?¡± Merida asked.

    Niklas scratched his head briefly for a moment, trying his best to recall any relevant information. He had taken note of it during his recent studies¨Cit was an older tradition, but one nonetheless treated with a great deal of respect due to the severity of its nature. ¡°...Vaguely.¡±

    Lady Merida sighed and thought for a moment before she continued. ¡°Do you feel fit to walk, my Lord? It may be better if I just show you.¡±

    <hr>

    From his current position stood before the large balcony window that looked down upon the courtyard, Niklas took in the bustling throng of people and clusters of hastily-made tents that now populated this once-lonely Castle. He was most thankful for the arm that the Lady Mayor had hooked through his own to help steady his walk, for he was still of a shaky constitution, and this surprise nearly made him lose his footing.

    ¡°Whoo boy!¡± Niklas exhaled audibly with a note of exasperation. ¡°Are these¡­ are they all¨C?¡±

    ¡°--The heads of most of the nearby villages, the Mayors and Lords of some of the more distant towns and cities, and their entourages as well, of course.¡± Lady Merida listed matter-of-factly.

    ¡°I suppose I have landed myself in quite a pickle, then?¡± Niklas said to her, his pale face wearing a nervous and slightly-frantic grin.

    Lady Merida grinned back down at him, replying with, ¡°If you were to think of yourself in terms of pure social importance, you have accomplished something very great. Before today, a Moot has not been called in Petrice for over forty years!¡±

    Niklas did not feel reassured to hear that, and as he looked back down towards the courtyard as his belly filled with butterflies. ¡°I can already hazard a guess, but¡­ what exactly does the Moot entail?¡±

    His taller companion exhaled through her nose and looked up at the ceiling, as if recalling something she had learned long ago. ¡°For the Moot, beginning with the lowest heads-of-state and traveling upwards in rank, each person will list your crimes against them and the grievances they have with you. Once that process is completed you will be given the floor in order to defend yourself. Finally, the heads-of-state will hand out their sentences for you, beginning with the highest authorities present and working their way back down the ranks once again.¡±

    Niklas gulped audibly as Merida¡¯s explanation concluded.

    ¡°Historically speaking, the most common sentences from the Moot have been Deposition, for crimes great enough to enrage most of the province, and Recommendation of Duel, given for more minor grudges between Lords. Considering your situation, you are likely to face the former. What with the Countess here, and her bloody reputation, I doubt any present would bother attempting the latter.¡±

    ¡°Well then...¡± Was all Niklas replied in a distant tone of voice, obviously still absorbing this information.

    The two of them stood there in silence for a few more moments, looking down upon their people. Then a strange noise, like a high, squeaking sort of growl, interrupted the peaceful moment between the two. It had come from Niklas¡¯ stomach.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°...Would you like to visit the dining hall, my Lord?¡± The Lady Mayor asked dutifully, to which Niklas simply nodded, his ears turning a little red with embarrassment.

    And with that the two turned and made their unsteady way around the balcony and down the grand staircase towards the dining room below.

    <hr>

    The doors that lead into an opulent office swung open suddenly, and the man behind them quickly made his way inside. He was obviously not at his full strength, and he walked with a heavy limp before collapsing heavily into a tall, cushioned wooden seat positioned before a wide desk. Across from him and sat at the other end of the desk was the silhouette of a heavyset man, surrounded by many papers and pieces of parchment that appeared to be in various states of disarray, with many of them obviously having been written upon, crumpled up in frustration, and then unfolded again.

    ¡°I see you have failed to complete the retrieval, unless you happen to have that small Count tucked somewhere beneath your cloak.¡± Spat Mayor Borney. The man¡¯s countenance was a bit pale and glistened with cold sweat¨Che was nervous. He looked like a child who knew he was doing something his parents disapproved of, but still committed to doing it anyways, and right under their noses. ¡°Our benefactor does not pay you your ludicrous fees just for you to fail.¡±

    Manqoba arranged himself in his seat to better appear upright and poised, even as the great swath of tender, burned flesh on his back cursed him with a pain so terrible as to cause sweat to break out over his brow.

    ¡°They paid me to guarantee that your little venture becomes a success.¡± He replied in a deep and accented tone, his voice deliberately neutral.

    Mayor Borney grimaced at the man across from him, his face twisted with a passionate anger fueled by nervous anxiety. ¡°You were supposed to bring him back! Now everything must be moved forward ahead of schedule..!¡±

    The handsome dark-skinned man sighed and rubbed his temple in response to his colleague¡¯s enraged nagging. ¡°Success is never guaranteed when dealing with those Monster Hunters.¡± And then he scoffed at the thought. ¡°Ha, they are called ¡®Monster Hunters,¡¯ but they are just as much Monsters themselves.¡± He felt the pain radiating up his spine grow in intensity even just thinking about them.

    He then turned and directed a sharp glare at the nobleman sat across from him, who startled slightly to receive such a rebellious attitude from this dangerous hireling. Mayor Borney balked at his glare and pointedly looked away so as not to make contact with his eyes. ¡°As if anybody even believes in ¡®Monsters¡¯ anyways¡­¡± He grumbled under his breath.

    ¡°They are real. I have seen them.¡± Manqoba replied, startling the Lord once again, who had not expected the other man¡¯s hearing to be so keen. Even still, Mayor Borney simply laughed in amusement at the notion, and Manqoba sighed with some exasperation as his statements were dismissed.

    I pity the people of this City, for whom this man is their Lord. If one of those Monsters makes its way here, the loss of life shall be devastating. But then his eyes shot back open and narrowed into another glare. But¡­ that is none of my concern.

    With an effort of will, he suppressed his pain once more and smoothly rose back to his feet and turned back towards the door. ¡°I shall retrieve that little Count for you, and you will keep up your end of the bargain.¡±

    Mayor Borney shrank back in his chair at the man¡¯s intimidating words, watching fearfully as his conspirator limped back out the doors until they had clicked shut behind him. Once he was alone the tension left him in a rush, and he began grumbling to himself in the otherwise silent office.

    ¡°I hate him.¡± The Mayor declared aloud. ¡°Unpleasant fellow! I wonder why Count Otkorn keeps him around. Come to think of it, has he ever even mentioned the man before..?¡±

    His gaze then turned down to the table before him, where beside his plate sat that Seal¨Cthat stamp that was emblazoned with the symbol of the House of Petrice, and which denoted the signature of its Count and the Countess. He reverently took the thing in his hand, as he was habitually wont to do lately, and a small chuckle of nervous excitement parted his lips as he looked it over, despite his best effort to stifle it.

    ¡°Soon¡­ I just need a little more time!¡±

    Standing up from his seat, he then reached over and loudly shook at a gleaming brass bell, and no sooner had he done so then the door peeked open again, allowing the little servant Alvin to creep inside. The corner of his mouth was quite red, as a fresh cut was visible crossing the right side of his lips. Beneath the thick curtain of his bangs the dark swelling of a wicked bruise could just barely be made out. He also clutched at his ribs with his hand as he walked, a spot whereupon no doubt many more such bruises and welts lay unseen beneath his clothes.

    ¡°I am heading out. Prepare my carriage.¡± He commanded the lad.

    Alvin exhaled in pain and exhaustion as yet another task had been added onto his already cruelly long list of them, as he had been summoned while he was still in the midst of clearing away the remainder of Borney¡¯s supper. Having been reminded of this, the Lord stopped and leaned in close over the young man until that the two of them were eye-to-eye, the servant grimacing at his proximity.

    ¡°If I catch you giving away my leftovers to those filthy street urchins again, then compared to what you got today, it¡¯ll be two-fold worse for you tomorrow! You burn it all properly, and don¡¯t leave out a single morsel.¡± He growled, before he finally left, slamming the door shut behind him as he did so.

    Alvin clutched at his aching side a little more protectively at hearing such a threat, clenching his teeth with frustration even while his expression sank in dejection. His only hope now lay with that young Lord, wherever he may be now...

    <hr>

    Having finished a brief but most appreciated meal, Niklas now stood before the door that led into the Countess¡¯ study. He still rested his weight against the firm arm of the Lady Mayor Merida who walked patiently at his side. He looked up at her pleadingly as he hesitated at the threshold, even though he knew quite well that this was something that he must eventually face.

    Lady Merida let a little grin appear on her normally impassive face. She had found that, over the course of the conversations they shared as they walked together that morning, he was not the man whom she had been expecting to meet based on the rumors and the uproar stirred amongst the villagers. What¡¯s more, she had quickly begun to take a liking to him.

    ¡°Respectfully, my Lord, it will do you no good to delay the meeting with your Countess any longer. Especially if the matter concerns the state of the territory¨Cshe must know of it.¡±

    Niklas sighed. ¡°I know, I know. It¡¯s just¡­ I cannot say that any of our past interactions have been exactly pleasant.¡±

    The Lady Mayor then recalled her own memories, going back to the one time that the previous Count had visited her Hold with his fledgling daughter in tow. Uldred had been a girl of only three years then, for this had happened many years ago, and what a timid child she had been. Too shy to even say a word of greeting towards her father¡¯s sister, she had instead hid silently behind his cloak, stealing glances when she could, but tucking herself back out of sight whenever their eyes happened to meet. She had remained just as shy for the entire duration of their stay, never leaving her safe orbit around the Count¡¯s ankles, remaining ever quiet until something disturbed her, which would lead her to throw one of her many loud and weeping tantrums.

    ¡­It appears my niece has not changed much since then. Lady Merida thought to herself in amused introspection.

    ¡°My Lord Count, might I give you some advice?¡± She asked him, to which he peered up at her with a look torn between gratitude and intrigued curiosity. She had to stifle a laugh, for from how he looked at her then, one would think she was some Goddess offering the gift of fire down to the forefathers of men.

    ¡°Perhaps when you speak to the Countess, try thinking of her as a cat?¡±

    Niklas¡¯ rapt expression transformed into pure confusion at that, so she elaborated further.

    ¡°Picture a massive and exotic cat, one that would take your hand off if she bit you, but a cat nonetheless¨Cthink of her in such a way. When you first meet a cat, you must put out your hand and allow it to smell you. So, figuratively, extend your hand to her. Move slowly, and first and foremost, allow her to know your intentions. Treat her patiently, respectfully, and with great care, and she may become more at ease with you.¡±

    Niklas nodded to her. ¡°I¡­ I will try to do that. Thank you, my Lady.¡±

    He then slipped his arm out from where it had been hooked with hers and knocked upon the door to announce himself, before pushing inside and letting it fall closed behind him.

    Before him sat the Countess at her desk, resting the chin of her masked face upon her crossed fingers. ¡°You have some explaining to do...¡±

 In the Trenches

    The steady rhythm of slow, trotting footfalls thrummed within the natural basin formed between two steep and tall hills. One boot struck an unexpected rock, which was sent skittering and clacking across its many hundreds of fellows, creating echoes of its sound which were much louder than what such a small stone should be capable of. The soldier at the front of the group paused and whirled around to glare over his shoulders at his companions: a group of rougher-looking and more swarthy fellows than he. He pointedly pressed a single gloved finger to his lips, causing the other seven men to roll their eyes and grumble under their breaths. The lead soldier sighed with bone-deep exasperation then¨Cnot for the first time that day¨Cbefore turning back to continue on his way.

    It had been a day or so prior that the Lord Mayor had ordered his men to spread themselves out in every direction, with the task of seeking any new routes leading near to the center of the territory where the Castle of the Count and the Countess resided. This soldier knew not why the Mayor would seek unseen paths into the territory of their Lord Count, and it made something in his gut stir with unease, but he was sworn to his service and therefore could not refuse the order.

    And indeed, this was not the first edict in recent memory that had left him, or his fellows amongst the House Guards for that matter, ill at easy. The ranks swelling up with an influx of rough-looking and uncivilized brutes of unknown origins had already caused a great deal of dismay and worry among the highly-trained local Coronton soldiers, who now found themselves outnumbered four-to-one by these rambunctious strangers.

    The city of Coronton sat just along the border Petrice shared with the Barony of Otkorn, Southeast from the Castle at the center of the County. South of the Castle lay a row of mountains, similar to the ones which encased the territory on all sides, and near to which the already tall and steep hills turned into craggy slopes of rocks and sand for several miles. It was into this rough terrain where this soldier and his men had made their way, up until they had come across an odd trench, one which was deep, round and winding, and which had continued on for several hundred yards from where they had entered it and which threatened to continue on further still.

    The soldier looked about with a nervous sheen of sweat dripping slowly down his furrowed brow. It had been within the last half-hour that he had realized that this trench was taking them more Westward than North¨C towards the No-Man¡¯s land. While traveling on foot, it would take several tens of days for them to reach the wastelands where the Monsters roamed, the path that they were on showed no sign of changing its course, and sometimes those vile creatures were known to wander towards civilization if left to their own devices. With every step this motley company took West, the threat of stumbling upon some horrible and dangerous Thing grew ever greater.

    ¡°Lord ¡®ave mercy, what are you lookin¡¯ so spooked fer?¡± Came a shout from the back of the procession.

    A small chorus of chuckles arose from across the group, but another pointed glare from the soldier at the front smothered them back into silence once more. The other men shared both skeptical and exasperated looks between each other.

    ¡°...You were fine not ten minutes ago, what¡¯s got your guts in a knot now?¡± Another man complained quietly, although this time his voice was threaded with an undercurrent of his own anxiety.

    The head soldier came to an abrupt halt, and therefore forced the men at his back to a stop in their tracks as well. He peered over his shoulder towards his men, while with one hand he gestured down at the dirt around them.

    ¡°Look at this.¡± He said, still keeping his voice somewhat hushed. ¡°Does this all look¡­ natural to you?¡± To which the thugs all peered about and squinted down at the soil in confusion, although with little enthusiasm.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about those ¡®Monsters¡¯ you Petricians ¡®re always goin¡¯ on about, is it?¡± One man asked. When the soldier did not reply, this crude querent let his shoulders sink, as if exhausted by the very notion, before he continued. ¡°Look, ¡®ave you ever even seen one of these ¡®Monsters¡¯ before, boss?¡±

    The soldier remained silent, but narrowed his eyes at the man who had spoken. Then he turned his head up to the sky. It was gray as always, but it appeared then to be slowly descending down towards the earth as a blanket of misty fog settled across the surrounding terrain, obscuring their already narrow view of the path ahead.

    ¡°...We¡¯re going back.¡± The soldier said then, in a louder and more decisive voice than he had used up til then. ¡°About face! Now!¡±

    Some of the men openly groaned or cried out in protest, while others grumbled about how they had come so far only to turn back now. The lead soldier paid them little heed. The moment he had turned his back, a horrible feeling had swept over him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight, a cold and shivery feeling ran down his spine, and his stomach threatened to upturn itself for a brief instance before reluctantly settling once more.

    As the other men slowly trudged around and began to dejectedly march back the way they had come, one of the men who now stood as the last in the line, and therefore was the closest to the commanding soldier, glanced back at him and noticed his newly-pale visage.

    ¡°Boss..?¡± He asked. ¡°Are you feelin¡¯ alright?¡±

    The soldier shook his head, then. ¡°I¡¯m fine, I-¡± But as he raised his head to meet the other man¡¯s gaze, he found that the ruffian in question was no longer looking at him. The man was currently staring just over his shoulder, back down the way they had just been headed moments prior, into the veil of fog that covered the path fog. His eyes were blown wide with shock and trained on something the soldier could not see.

    ¡°Private..?¡±

    The soldier directly addressing him managed to shake the swarthy underling from his stupor, and their eyes finally met. Now both of these men wore matching expressions¨Cpale, shaken and unsure. The rest of the company had walked a few paces further before they noticed their fellows lagging behind, and they paused and turned back to them.

    ¡°Are we leavin¡¯ or what?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah! We¡¯re comin¡¯!¡±

    With that, together those two men ran at a jogging pace in order to catch up to the others. As they went, further on and deeper into the steadily-thickening cover of fog, a pair of eyes remained locked upon them¨Ceyes that would have appeared Human, but were much too large, bloodshot, and¡­ strange.

    <hr>

    You would not have thought, at a first glance, that this was a meeting between a Count and Countess, a husband and wife, or two such equals with any shared regard between them. For Niklas stood stiffly at the doorway, staring at the floor in a pose most withdrawn, while his wife sat behind her desk across the room from him, glaring at him menacingly through the polished surface of her mask. Niklas cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head awkwardly in the silence, quite evidently waiting for the Countess to make the first move. Uldred sighed in resignation before she gave in and spoke.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°For a man in the seat of the Count to abscond alone, without warning, in the middle of the night...¡±

    Even though he had been bracing himself for it, his Lady¡¯s scolding tone nonetheless caused Niklas to wince.

    ¡°...and let me remind you, Count Niklas, that you had not yet even resided in Petrice for longer than six months before you disappeared suddenly, and without a word!¡±

    As she spoke, and her voice continued to grow louder, Uldred also steadily began leaning forwards onto her hands which were laid flat upon the desk. Soon she was not even resting in her seat anymore, but rather leaning entirely forward over the desk, whose wooden surface was creaking beneath her weight!

    ¡°What was I to think, pray tell? For all I knew, you were never to return. Stealing off into the dark and abandoning me to clean up the mess you left in your wake!¡±

    After a brief silence she realized how tense she had grown, and her desk groaned in relief as she righted herself before falling back into her large chair, from which Niklas heard a distinct crack as she did, but which Uldred chose to ignore as she continued.

    ¡°I stood upon those battlements, waiting for some glimpse of a lone horseman coming down the road. It was all I could do! We have no footmen to send on a wild goose-chase searching for their lost Lord.¡±

    As she spoke Uldred unthinkingly reached beneath her mask to rub at the center of her brow, her knuckles causing the mask¡¯s gleaming face to lift a little as she did so. So when she peered back up at her husband, expecting to see a small and quivering figure, you could imagine her surprise when her gaze met his gleaming and doe-eyed stare.

    ¡°...what is it?¡± She asked then, suspicious and unsure of this reaction.¡±

    Catching himself, Niklas cleared his throat again and shook his head then as if to clear it. ¡°N-nothing. It was nothing.¡±

    Uldred narrowed her eyes then, and one of her gloved fists slammed against the surface of her poor old desk. ¡°What?¡± She growled with such force it nearly caused him to leap out of his boots!

    ¡°Well, I-I had simply realized¡­¡± Niklas stammered in reply. ¡°Th-that this was the first time I¡¯ve ever heard your voice! Without the mask in the way, that is!¡± And as he explained this he gestured up at his own face, as if to guide her understanding with his hands as well as his words.

    To Niklas¡¯ eyes it appeared that she simply stared back at him for a long moment, unaffected and uncaring. He could not see beneath her mask to know how she had turned beet-red at the realization of what she had just done.

    ¡°...It is a b-beautiful voice, might I add.¡± He added.

    He had scored a critical hit.

    Uldred suddenly slumped, with her head now limply resting upon the palms of her hands. Niklas broke out into a cold sweat as she deflated before his eyes. From his point of view, he saw himself as a doddering little man who had just distracted his hard-working wife from serious affairs just so he could pay her a woefully lacking compliment. He quickly began to stammer out a panicked apology, one which she thankfully could not hear over her heart, which was beating quite loudly inside her burning, tomato-colored ears!

    ¡°Enough!¡± Uldred cried out again, mercifully interrupting the stumbling torrent of words that Niklas had been releasing in his panicked state.

    Now it was her turn to stammer as she spoke again, so unsettled was she by his unexpected compliments. With one hand she gestured in the direction of the courtyard. ¡°Th-this is your mess out there¨Cthat Moot! I cannot save you from it.¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ face which turned serious and determined, and he stood with a bit more rigidity, like a soldier called before a commanding officer.

    ¡°You on your lonesome will have to go out there and convince¡­ those people of your innocence. The taxation, the issue of Coronton, all of your meddling, it will be your burden to bear! And I will be frank: I do not see you coming out of this with your seat intact, at least not without God Himself acting in your favor somehow¡±

    Niklas grit his teeth at her blunt words and furrowed his brow as he contemplated the worst possibility. And what if I am to be forced to return home, mere months after my ascension and departure, because I was dethroned in record time due to sheer incompetence? My career would be over¨CI could never recover from such a disgrace. I cannot allow this to happen!

    Drawing himself out of his thoughts, he then took a step forward towards the Countess and dipped into a bow, one which was small but nonetheless rigid and dutiful, like his knightly ancestors before him. There was no trace of a stutter in his voice when he next spoke, and his voice rang clear and sure. ¡°I swear to you, Countess Uldred, that I shall overcome this plight! This minor issue will be resolved posthaste, and then together we shall lead this territory into such glory days as it has never seen before!¡±

    Uldred was most taken aback by the heavy undercurrent of responsibility in his words and in his tone. Indeed, for the first time since she had met him, he now appeared like a true example of Nobility, in both his actions and spirit!

    ¡°Y-yes well¡­ see that you do.¡± Uldred managed to reply, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°N-not that I care if you get kicked out¨CI mean¡­ it would just be a shame. To have to be wed again, I mean!¡±

    Niklas had to stifle a laugh then, for in that moment the prickly Countess had appeared inexplicably cute as she yammered on, obviously unsure of what to say. As the smallest humorous exhale escaped his lips, a sharp violet glare shot over in his direction, causing him to cough vigorously into his fist to mask his amusement! He then realized something with a start, and he returned Uldred¡¯s angered gaze with a confused one of his own.

    ¡°W-what?¡± Uldred asked, a bit unsettled.

    ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Niklas mumbled aloud, realizing that the subject of questioning that he had been dreading this whole day had not yet come up during Uldred¡¯s scolding. ¡°...I had thought that you were going to ask me what has happened to our Seal..?¡±

    At his words Uldred herself was struck with a bolt of realization herself. She scrambled about with her hands as she feverishly searched for perhaps the most important item in the entire Castle, one which she had not even thought might be missing until now, despite the copious amounts of documents that she had been working over for the last few days!

    Unable to hold it in any longer, Niklas burst out into a hearty belly-laugh, one that could not be stifled even by the full weight of Uldred¡¯s heaviest glare, and which caused Lady Merida, who had been waiting just outside the door, to jump in surprise!

    ¡°Wh-where is it?!¡± Uldred demanded of her husband then, who was now nearly doubled-over in uproarious cackling!

    Finding an opening to speak through his irrepressible glee, Niklas wiped the tears from his eyes and replied. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll tell you¡­ I¡¯ll tell you after this meeting-thing!¡±

    He then took the opportunity to crack open the doors behind him, which he then slipped through quick as a flash, just before a heavy old leather-bound tome crashed into the wood where his head had just been! Now alone, the discombobulated Countess clasped her hands to her head and released a guttural roar full of a terrible anger, the sort of rage fueled by the emotion called embarrassment that Uldred had never quite felt so keenly before Niklas had unwittingly thrust himself into her life.

 And So, a few Gatherings

    Trembling a bit as he stood with his arms outstretched, Niklas somehow managed to endure long enough for Belfort to fit him into the finest coat available to him. It was attire he had only worn for special occasions ever since he had come of age. The fabric was a rich emerald color highlighted by the golden epaulettes on its shoulders, with further golden accents in the form of threaded tassels and gleaming buttons. With it he wore a pair of crisp white silk gloves and tidy black boots, the latter of which Hemsley had vigorously rubbed with a cloth until they shone.

    All the while the Medical Officer who had been sent by Lady Merida looked on disapprovingly, holding his arms crossed over his chest as he rested his back against the cool stone of a wall. As the two servants completed their tasks and pulled away to allow Niklas to inspect their work, the young Count struck a few poses in the mirror, carefully checking for any abnormalities or faults in his apparel. Seeing this, the Medic leaned forward to stand to his feet and sighed.

    ¡°My Lord, I still advise you to reconsider, or at least postpone this event for a few days more.¡± He said to Niklas, a note of concern in his voice.

    Niklas did not look his way as he replied, his eyes still focused upon his reflection in the mirror. ¡°My good sir, I assure you that I am well enough. Those people have waited for me for near a fortnight, and I do not intend to test their patience any longer, especially not when the winter months draw so close.¡±

    ¡°We Petricians are hearty folk, my Lord, a little cold in their tents will not be the death of them. You, on the other hand¡­¡±

    As the man¡¯s words hesitantly trailed off into silence, Niklas was just giving the hem of his jacket a satisfied tug, and he then turned away and towards the doorway, though he gestured for the man to follow along as he began to descend the spiraling staircase beyond.

    ¡°...You have yet to fully adjust to the weather, coming from a temperate and humid climate, whereas this one is colder and dry.¡±

    Together the two circled the spire several times until they reached the doorway which led out the Castle¡¯s 4th story. Through the door the plain cobbled stone opened onto a long hallway, its walls lined with large and leering portraits of Nobility long-passed, and its floor with faded and moth-eaten carpet. Though now thoroughly cleaned by the backbreaking effort of the two servants, still a dour and dark sight it remained.

    ¡°...your diet of late has varied drastically as well.¡± Continued the nagging Medic. ¡°If I recall correctly, until recently you had been subsisting entirely on grain-porridge and tea-¡±

    Niklas could not help but scoff as he recalled that drying rack where Belfort would hang the wet teabags after use, and while the Medic cocked an eyebrow at his reaction, the man did not pay it any further mind.

    ¡°After undergoing such a harsh transition into a poor diet, along with losing the usual exercise routine you maintained at your previous home¨C¡±

    ¡°--Your point, officer?¡± Niklas interrupted him.

    ¡°My point, my Lord, is that you are currently putting yourself through an incredible amount of stress, and I am not just referring to the mental burdens you have incurred. It would be inadvisable for an average man to endure such trials, let alone a man with... conditions such as yours.¡±

    At that Niklas stopped, and so to then did the man at his back. The Count turned on his heel to face the officer, and he put a hand up on his shoulder as firmly as he could, trying to instill some kind of comfort in him.

    ¡°I am fine sir. And as I said before; I cannot leave my people waiting any longer.¡±

    As Niklas turned and continued on his way the Medic could only grimace silently and follow him once more. Together they made their way down another slightly shorter stretch of halls, until they came to the stairs which led down to the second floor and into the grand ballroom which lay below.

    ¡°A-at least it is comforting to know that you get some exercise in this place!¡± The Medic huffed. Niklas did not bother to respond to this remark with words, but only grunted once in affirmation between his own labored breaths.

    As the two quickly descended down that grand staircase they quickly spotted the two figures standing at the bottom looking up at them, who spoke betwixt each other in hushed tones¨CCountess Uldred and Lady Merida. Matching sets of eerie violet eyes locked upon Niklas as he approached, causing him to quickly direct his own stare off to one side to better avoid their gazes. Being scrutinized by one person with such eyes was bad enough on its own, so two doing it at once was nearly impossible to bear..!

    Once he had fortified his heart enough to look back down at her, he saw that Uldred was dressed in her usual garb, appearing to him as inscrutable as she ever was. She wore dark clothes obscured beneath a thick black cloak, while its raised hood entirely concealed her neck, head, and hair. To top it all off, the simple face of her characteristic dull silver mask covered all of her face save for her eyes.

    She looks the same as usual.  Was Niklas¡¯ internal observation.

    ¡­He looks cute. Thought Uldred as she took in his long-awaited appearance. However, when she realized what she had just thought, she then vigorously attempted to shake the thought from her mind.

    ¡°My Ladies, shall we?¡± Asked Niklas as Uldred recovered her composure.

    Lady Merida nodded in acknowledgement before turning an inquisitive glance towards Uldred, who curtly folded her arms and grunted to signal her own agreement. So then the Count gestured forward, and the two Noble Ladies began to make their way down towards the Castle entrance, just beyond which lay the courtyard. Niklas, however, paused to take one last slow breath, attempting to settle the butterflies in his gut. He turned back over his shoulder and shot the Medic a quick thumbs-up in as reassuring a manner as he could manage, to which the man skeptically cocked his brow, before hurrying on after them.

    <hr>

    Whistling as he walked, the pleasant chirping tune that sprang from Thomas¡¯ lips sounded quite alien amidst the dreary, gray, and obfuscating landscape of Petrice. Beside him trotted his stalwart companion, Missy the Mule, laden with many assorted bags and packs and looking entirely nonplussed about the goings-on around her.

    His whistling nearly abated for a moment as some large silhouette came into view through the fog. He did not fully end his song just then, but his note fell low and out-of-tune for a moment as he observed it. Some sort of mound heaped along the side of the road steadily began to take shape as the two drew nearer to it. Eventually, Thomas realized it was made up of the carcasses of several horses and men who were presumably their riders. They must have been running at quite a speed before something caused the poor mares to collide and roll themselves into an early grave. Although the corpses appeared quite fresh, they were already beginning to take on an ugly stench, and a noisy cloud of small insects were busy at work making a nest of their hides, so the two travelers did not linger.

    Once the bodies were well and truly behind them Thomas¡¯ happy tune flared up again, not unlike a low fire rekindled with a heaping of dry pine needles, and already that abhorrent sight was out of their minds and memories as if it had never existed at all. So the pair walked on for a while more. The day¡¯s fog, though it had considerably lightened, still obscured most signs a man could use to take measure of his time or location, leading to a feeling that one may have accidentally stumbled into some other plane of existence, where minutes and meters held less weight.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    All too soon his whistling was nearly halted again as, this time, a few small silhouettes began to enter their view through the fog. Once more he held the tune, now low and out-of-tune, as the majority of his attention was held by the ominous shapes as they grew steadily closer. Soon enough he could make them out¨Cit was another horse, and another rider. Both quite dead.

    Thomas wondered for a moment if they had accidentally walked in a circle and come upon the same corpses as before, but in an instant he dismissed the idea as he realized there were only one of each type of body in this particular mound. His expression turned a little more serious as he took note of a fletched bolt protruding from the dead horse¡¯s haunch. No longer was there any possibility that this could this have been a case of an unhappy accident; no, this had been a battlefield.

    Still, with a clap of his hand against Missy¡¯s own haunch to urge her forward, he once again dismissed his unease and leapt back into his regular charming tune as the two of them continued on down the dirt path. The bodies quickly disappeared back into mist behind them and back out of their thoughts as well.

    The two trotted along for a good while longer before they finally stopped to take a rest. Thomas immediately fell to his seat upon a patch of earth and began to dig into a handful of tender jerky from his pouch, while Missy went about finding her usual meal of whatever dry grass was available nearby. As he took a mouthful of his meal the swordsman finally took a break from the cheerful whistling he had sustained up ¡®til then.

    Yet for the third time, now approaching them as they rested, a dark silhouette once more grew nearer and larger as it came. Thomas did not react to it in any way, though he kept one indolent eye trained upon it even as he chewed upon his jerky. What came into sight then, as it moved at a slow trudge, was what looked to be a large warhorse, her head hung low as she moved rather dejectedly towards the resting pair of travelers. When she reached the patch of coarse grass where Missy the Mule stood grazing, looking as uninterested in her surroundings as she always did, the two nuzzled their muzzles  and sniffed at one another in some form of bestial greeting. Thomas, as if sensing the mare¡¯s intentions, retrieved an empty wooden bowl from one of Missy¡¯s sacks and filled it from his waterskin before offering it to her, and the horse lapped at it greedily until not a drop remained.

    And so the pair of travelers became a party of three. A warhorse was an expensive beast, and in fact she may have even outranked Thomas himself in terms of Nobility, depending on her previous owner. If this was so, it would clearly be his duty to rescue the poor creature from her distress, and so Thomas led her by the reins and she trotted happily enough down the road beside them.

    Thomas maintained a vigilant watch over his surroundings as they trekked, now in complete silence. However, they thankfully did not encounter any more festering corpses for the remainder of their journey.

    Likely the battle which had occurred had been between Men, Thomas thought as he walked, for the majority of Monsters that he had seen in his years would devour their prey, and would certainly never leave such a hearty meal as a horse and rider to rot. His mind went back to the bolt which had been stuck in that dead horse¡¯s haunch; no, he was quite certain now that this was a Human affair.

    ¡­Such a skirmish isn¡¯t a very Petrician thing, is it? He mused.

    Something caught his eye and distracted him from his thoughts then, from deeper into the mist just off of the road. However, this time it was not a looming shadow, but some kind of small, bright gleam from the dim sunlight striking upon a piece of metal. Thomas was not sure why this quite common sight piqued his interest as much as it did in that moment. Nonetheless, he brought his two companions to a halt and directed them to patches of grass upon which they could happily sup once more, allowing him a chance to break off and investigate on his own. Whatever the thing was, it was off the road by a good distance, perhaps fifty yards or so. Several times he peeked back over his shoulder to measure the distance and direction he had traveled from his friends, in case the fog grew thicker and he lost sight of them. With care, but not any sort of real fear, he crept through the patchy grasses and around small bushes and boulders, until the source of that peculiar gleaming light came into view.

    It was a sword wrought of a black, iron-like metal, whose blade was shaped into a distinct and wavy pattern.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Thomas huffed out as he came to a halt before the blade, placing his hands on his hips as he looked it up and down.

    This errant flamberge protruded diagonally from the bark of an old, fat and leafless tree. The depth to which it had sunk into the tree, about halfway up to its base, and the heavy splintering from where the tip emerged out of the back of the trunk, led Thomas to believe that it had been thrown at a great speed by some means or another.

    ¡°Now whose was this one again..?¡± Thomas pondered aloud, scratching at his chin as his mind raced through his memories of the faces of his peers.

    Suddenly then a thickly-muscled, copper-colored arm emerged out from behind the tree, and its hand clasped upon the hilt of the sword. Though it might have taken several men of an average strength to wrench that blade free from that tree, due to how deep it had plunged, for this figure one arm appeared to be all that was required. As the weapon was torn free so too was a great deal of bark and sawdust, and the whole tree sagged to one side and collapsed beneath its own weight between the two individuals who now occupied that clearing.

    ¡°Finally! There you are!¡± Came a woman¡¯s voice, with the lightly chiding tone one might expect to hear from someone retrieving their runaway cat. ¡°Now don¡¯t you go leavin¡¯ my sight again!¡±

    Nayantara reached back and slid her sword back into its sheath, which rested in its usual spot between her shoulderblades. Only once she had done so did she notice her current company. Thomas put up a hand in a small wave of greeting.

    ¡°Thomas?¡±

    ¡°Nanny! How fare you on this fine day?¡±

    His eyes then moved down to her right arm, where her copper skin grew slowly ashen and then fully black further past the bicep. At about her wrist the skin could not even be called such any more, for it was so burnt that it had hardened and cracked like charcoal, these patches interlaced with dark red scabs that once leaked ichor, and light pink flesh.

    ¡°It was serious, then?¡± Thomas asked knowingly and with some small surprise.

    ¡°Eh, only at the end, really¨C¡±

    It was then that a terrible whining growl suddenly sprung up between the two of them. Nayantara clutched  a hand over her belly and smiled apologetically. Truthfully she had not eaten properly for several days by now, for her packs and other things had been strapped to the back of that old mare Chestnut who the Count had sped away on, and meanwhile neither game animals nor edible plants were easily found on these dry and dreary plains.

    ¡°...Can you spare a morsel or two, perchance? I¡¯m famished!¡±

    Thomas put out his arms in a welcoming gesture. ¡°By all means, feel free to join our merry little band, though it has recently becoming less and less ¡®little.¡±

    Nayantara looked over his shoulder, and at a little break in the mist she spotted Missy and the warhorse huddled together around a particularly green and succulent patch of grass and weeds.

    ¡°Missy!¡± The Huntress called out happily, running over towards the mule. At her sudden approach, Missy tilted up her head to see who it was, and when she recognized the new Human she closed her eyes and let out a quiet honk. It was obvious that she adored Nayantara, for this was the most emotion Thomas had seen out of Missy in recent memory. As Nayantara embraced the mule and scratched gently under her chin, drawing out a few more satisfied honks from Missy, Thomas made his way over as well.

    ¡°We were just headed to the Castle. Feel free to join us if you¡¯d like.¡±

    Nayantara¡¯s head shot up in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s perfect! I was headed to the Castle as well!¡±

    ¡°Well, it is grand to have more company for the road. Especially yours, right Missy?¡± The mule honked again in reply. ¡°But first things first, let¡¯s do something about that empty belly of yours!¡±

    And such was the beginning of a humble, but merry dinner shared among the four of them, followed by most pleasant travels, as the four of them journeyed down the road leading back towards the Castle of the Count.

 The Moot

    Niklas gulped audibly after stepping out through the doorway that led into the courtyard, for until that moment he had not fully comprehended just how great a crowd had gathered for this meeting. One to two dozen men and women had accompanied each of the village Elders as part of their respective entourages, and the Lords and Mayors had brought even more attendants with them than that. If there were any further arrivals, the already-full courtyard would practically be bursting at the seams!

    Unfortunately, it appeared that would soon be the case, for just as Niklas, Uldred and Lady Merida had stepped out of the large doorway and onto the stone steps which descended into the courtyard, a small commotion could be heard from outside of the gates across from them. While the Count and Countess remained at the top of the stair, Lady Merida made her way down and then maneuvered through the crowds towards the gate, where mostly her own militia-men were stationed as guards. Sir Gregory strode over to her to report on the situation, though Niklas could not make out what he was saying from this distance.

    Even the stoic and composed Lady Merida appeared somewhat startled by whatever information Ser Gregory shared with her, and she made her way just as quickly back over to the stairs so that she could lean over and whisper her news to the Noble couple.

    ¡°It would appear that a delegation from Lengar has arrived quite unannounced. They said they were here to¡­ ¡¯sit in¡¯ at the Moot.¡±

    Niklas shared a startled and concerned look with his Countess then, who in turn, despite being fully veiled behind her usual mask and hood, still narrowed her eyes, which flashed with the same emotions as his.

    ¡°How many?¡± The Countess brusquely asked her aunt.

    ¡°Eleven.¡±

    Uldred scoffed at that. ¡°Well, I can certainly handle that many. Let them come and watch, but they are forbidden from speaking unless they are called upon first.¡±

    Lady Merida gave a small and respectful bow of her head to signal her acknowledgement before making her way back down the stairs to deliver the message. Niklas watched her go before turning his gaze back towards Uldred, his expression filled with incredulity as he spoke up.

    ¡°...Is that wise? Allowing representatives of another territory such intimate knowings of the state of our own?¡±

    Uldred did not immediately answer him, but instead took a long moment to peer silently down at him, and then back out over the large crowd, which bustled with the quiet hum of many overlapping conversations.

    ¡°Before you arrived Lengar was one of our biggest benefactors. Petrice and Lengar shared many contracts between them. If you were to be¡­ removed from here, we will likely resume that relationship. I am sure they will do nothing to jeopardize that opportunity.¡±

    Niklas¡¯ expression became flat. ¡°You also regularly contracted against them, and slew their fighters by the dozens.¡± He pointed out, to which Uldred¡¯s expression stiffened slightly.

    From afar the two watched now as the new group entered through the gate and made their way to the very back of the courtyard. They were dressed in tabards of cambridge blue accented with copper. The standard of a lion¡¯s head set above two crossed axes was displayed proudly. However, the most notable detail to Niklas was the make of their arms and armor, which appeared to be of quite a high quality. Ten of the men wore their tabards over a coat of chain, with their extremities then protected by a layer of steel plate, and finally their heads were protected by sturdy skull-cap helmets with chain aventails. Not only was this kind of armor expensive, but it was also intimidating as well.

    At the head of this pack strode a confident-looking man with a round, doughy face set over a thick neck, wreathed in a mass of platinum-blonde hair which lent him a somewhat Cupid-like appearance. He wore a long coat of fine, sturdy brown leather over a plate cuirass, with a uniform showing through underneath.

    ¡°Salza Lengarson¡­¡± Uldred murmured in voice which, while soft, was laced with clear annoyance.

    The heir to the County of Lengar came here himself? Niklas thought in surprise. He must be very brave¡­ or at least very self-assured.

    No sooner had he thought this than did the man himself notice the Count¡¯s attention upon him, which he quickly returned with his own smug grin and a slight raise of his chin, as if he was somehow looking down upon Niklas despite the disparity in their current elevations.

    I suppose it must be the latter, then¡­

    Near the center of the Petrician crowd, Elder Crawford of Wiffeld grit his teeth. His face reddened with suppressed frustration, until he could finally wait no longer as he burst out into a yell.

    ¡°Enough stalling. Let¡¯s get this over with already!¡± He cried out while shaking his fist in anger, which garnered a few shouts of support from the people around him, although they mostly originated from members of his own party.

    ¡°HOLD YOUR TONGUES!¡± Boomed the Countess from where she loomed ominously above them on the stairs, which immediately cowed most of the disruptive party, save for Crawford who still maintained his rebellious demeanor.

    In the brief silence that followed Uldred¡¯s command, Niklas took the opportunity to loudly clear his throat, catching the attention of most of the people assembled there. Once he¡¯d confirmed his tactic had worked, he began to address them.

    ¡°Greetings everyone, my name is Count Niklas¨C¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Cried a voice from the far back of the crowd. ¡°We can¡¯t quite hear you!¡±

    ¡°I said¨C¡± Niklas attempted to respond, except that just then a great hand struck his back with such force that it nearly knocked all of the wind from his lungs. If it had not hurt so much, Niklas would have been impressed by Uldred¡¯s careful measure of her own strength, as she had managed not to send him flying off of his perch.

    ¡°I am Count Niklas, your Lord of Petrice!¡± He declared over the fading echoes of Uldred¡¯s slap, and in a voice much louder and more authoritative than he had been expecting¨Ca pitch he did his best to maintain as he continued.

    ¡°I have called¡­ no, you have all called me here today as a result of my recent actions, so that I may provide explanations for them, allowing you to better judge them with an understanding of my intentions!¡±

    Several small looks of surprise ran amongst the people in the crowd as they listened. Lady Merida grinned a little.

    He leant authority over the situation back to the people, rather than trying to maintain it as his own. A clever start¡­

    ¡°I will not say that I am here to ¡®defend¡¯ my actions, because I do not believe that what I have been doing is wrong. With the opportunity you all have provided me with here today, I believe that I can¡­ ingratiate you towards my preparations for the betterment of the territory!¡±

    Several hushed conversations sprung up amongst the crowd, some questioning the sincerity of his words while others doubted the validity of the harsh rumors about his demeanor. Niklas was satisfied to allow doubt to fester amongst his hostile audience. If he could just fracture their unified stance against him, he was confident he could avoid the worst-case scenario.

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to his honeyed words!¡± Crawford yelled forth again. ¡°Have you not already seen evidence of his crimes first-hand? The refugees from Coronton turning up on our doorsteps in droves, stretching our already-meagre resources even further as they flee from his heavy taxation, and all of this right before the winter months?!¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right! Explain that, yer Lordship!¡± Cried another voice, that of an older woman, who Niklas recognized as being the Elder from the village of Pyrt. ¡°This man came to many of our villages, peddlin¡¯ his plans to tax us out of our goods and our savings, as if it¡¯d be a boon to us. We told him ¡®No¡¯ to his face, but he ignored us and went ahead and did it anyway! ¡®An now that he¡¯s seeing some rightful consequences, he¡¯s tryna¡¯ justify his crimes.¡±

    At that a great wave of outrage began to spread amongst the people. It is an underappreciated experience to undergo, with the suffocating pressure of hundreds of hostile gazes all bearing down on one man. A cold sweat broke out upon Niklas¡¯ forehead, and he struggled to remember to breathe. All he wanted to do in that moment was turn around, shut the thick wooden door behind him, and hide away from this horrible weight within the safety of the Castle walls. But he knew that if he did so, that would be the end of him. So he continued to hold himself properly upright before the crowd, and he raised his hands in a placating gesture as he attempted to bring down the many loud and overlapping voices there.

    Lady Merida rubbed her brow to stave off the beginnings of a headache. ¡°They¡¯ve already lost the plot! They¡¯re not even going to follow the proper protocol of a Moot, are they?¡± She grumbled in a low tone. ¡°This is just a mob.¡± Ser Gregory merely grunted in reply.

    ¡°My people. My people, please! Give me your gracious mercy for one moment, so that I might explain everything that has happened.¡±

    From behind him Uldred watched in surprise as his calm demeanor did manage to settle the crowd, although not completely. Nonetheless, the raging fire that was their anger diminished to a simmer as they waited for his explanation.

    Niklas took a single deep breath to settle himself before he continued. ¡°As of this moment, I, as Count of Petrice, declare that the City of Coronton is in open rebellion against the territory!¡±

    A wave of gasps ran through the crowd. Uldred perked up, looking down at Niklas in surprise. She, and the majority of the people in the crowd as well, had been operating under the assumption that Lord Borney and he were allies. They had all thought that he would attend the Moot with the goal of defending the Lord-Mayor to them, before proceeding with the taxation plans that were already underway. No one had thought that he would take the harshest measure possible against the Mayor and declare him as an Outlaw!

    ¡°As I¡¯m sure all of you have been witness to, the Lord-Mayor Borney has recently enacted and enforced several laws of unjustified and unsustainable taxation over his own people, the very same laws that have caused so many poor folk to be ousted from their homes, and he has done so entirely without my prior knowledge, nor my consent!¡±

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not true!¡± Called a nervous-sounding male voice from the crowd. ¡°I am from Coronton, and before I fled I saw the writ of Law was passed with his seal upon it!¡±

    Many dozens of expectant eyes then turned back to Niklas, all of them waiting for an explanation. ¡°Aye, that you did!¡± Niklas declared in response. ¡°--and I thank you for bringing our attention to what you have witnessed, since that brings me to the next component of Lord Mayor Borney¡¯s crimes!¡±

    Niklas raised his hand to gesture towards his right eye, the one that was still a faintly discolored and bruised dark around its edges. ¡°When I was informed of the Lord Mayor¡¯s actions, I personally rode posthaste to Coronton, in order to oppose his orders and restore the status quo..!¡±

    Lady Merida¡¯s expression, along with those of the other Lords and Mayors present, immediately darkened. A feeling of dreadful anticipation began to radiate from each of them as they quickly realized the direction in which this narrative was headed.

    ¡°...but when I arrived there I was harshly detained by the Lord Mayor¡¯s men, beaten to within an inch of my life, and placed under arrest within his Castle! Meanwhile, the Lord Mayor stole from me the item I had brought with me in order to verify my identity¨Cthe very Seal of Petrice itself!¡±

    The crowd fell deathly silent as he relayed this information. If it was true, then what had occurred was a most terrible crime, the likes of which had never before been witnessed within the history of the County!

    ¡°Even now, the Lord Mayor draws up and stamps more Laws of his own creation, all done without any oversight, validity, nor care for their impact upon his people! I defy every last one of his fraudulent declarations, and I vow forthwith to reclaim that Seal and to return order and justice to Coronton, its people, and you all!¡±

    Several claps and cheers of support arose then, but they were all-too quickly culled by Crawford¡¯s renewed barking. He sounded not a little desperate at this time, as he had not foreseen such a shocking turn of events, and he felt that his golden opportunity to dismiss this foreign Count was slipping away before his eyes!

    ¡°Th-this is not a Moot called for the Mayor of Coronton! This Moot was called for you, Count!¡± And with that, just as quickly as they had arisen, any stirrings of support for Niklas from amongst the assembled crowd now vanished in a puff of smoke.

    ¡°Do not be fooled! We Elders saw his ¡®plans¡¯ for the future¨Che brought them to us weeks ago! And even at that time, I and all of the rest of the wise Elders present saw them for what they were. For all the Petricians gathered here today, is it not telling that, even if fraudulent, he showed these plans to the Mayor of Coronton¨Cwhose corruption and greed is known well to us all¨Cand yet even then, it was not until that man employed the Count¡¯s plans than did Coronton began to suffer so much damage and grief?¡±

    ¡°Aye!¡± Came a cry of agreement from many of the other Elders.

    By this point the majority of the people present looked unsure of who to believe, and they had ridden many tumultuous waves of emotion as the Moot unfolded. Their initial perceptions of the Count had been completely shattered: the rumors of his intelligence, his demeanor, even his looks had been vastly exaggerated. He seemed to these uneducated folk to be the very picture of an upright and upstanding Nobleman. However, at the same time, the village Elders, who had served for many years as their wise leaders, looked upon him with disdain, and every point of argument they brought against the Count was so criminal and abhorrent that it dragged their perception of him right back down into the mud!

    ¡°N-not all of the Elders are in agreement!¡± A small voice emerged from near the back of the crowd, causing heads to turn and bodies to part before the thin and coltish figure of the youngest ¡®Elder¡¯ to ever hold the position.

    ¡°Who in the Hells are you?¡± Demanded Elder Crawford.

    ¡°I-I am Elder Finona from Thuud!¡±

    Crawford and his people narrowed their eyes at her, along with the many young twenty-somethings who had come as the representatives of Thuud, who returned those hostile glares with their own.

    ¡°I l-looked over the same plans as you all did, which had been brought before me by the Count himself, who braved the harsh terrain to travel to all of the Western villages¨Cand, might I add, with only a single man to protect him!¡±

    Well, my guard was a Flamberge, but we¡¯ll just keep that detail to ourselves¡­ Niklas thought, feeling a bit of passing guilt for some reason.

    ¡°After much careful discussion and deliberation, I found that th-the Count¡¯s plans were sound, and were full of good ideas, which, if adopted, could only bring future benefit to the people of Petrice!¡±

    It was one thing for a Lord to say so, and about his own proposals no less, but now these words were coming from a village Elder, one of the traditional leaders of the people of Petrice! Regardless of how young she was, her earnest approval of the Count seemed to have some positive effects on the gathered throng.

    Finona cast a pointed glare towards Crawford before turning it upon the other Elders present as well. ¡°A-and after hearing their words, I wonder if any of the other village Heads present truly read and considered all of the details of the Count¡¯s proposals, and the possibility that they could improve the well-being of the people... or did they simply dismiss them without bothering to look them over, just because of his Lordship¡¯s foreign origins?¡±

    For once, Crawford appeared stricken as he listened to those words. The veins of his face began to grow prominent as every inch of it flushed puce. Indeed, so strong was the force of his outrage over witnessing such defiance from one so young, that Niklas worried the man may suffer a medical emergency on the spot. Many of the other Elders appeared similarly shocked and upset, while a few of them appeared genuinely remorseful at her accusations, looking down at their feet as they hung their heads in guilt.

    Then a hand arose from amongst the crowd.

    Niklas was the first to notice it, and as the crowd caught on to the new direction of his gaze, many other eyes followed his to the very back of the courtyard, and all attention now came to rest upon one man. It was Salza Lengarson who had taken a step forward and raised up his hand in a silent request for permission to speak, a serpent-like grin curling at his lip as he did so.

    A horrible anxiety twisted in his gut and made Niklas not want to acknowledge the man, and thereby force him to remain silent for the remainder of the Moot. He wanted to simply ride the wave of positive emotions that Finona had crafted for him until it led to a successful resolution... But it would be most rude to ignore Salza¡¯s request, and would in fact count as an insult towards the entire Lengar family. Niklas suppressed a wince as he slowly and begrudgingly raised a finger until its point rested directly upon the distant form of the Noble Heir.

    I have a terrible feeling about this¡­

 The Result of all our Efforts

    ¡°I thank you for granting me this gracious opportunity to speak, my Lord Count!¡± Said Salza Lengarsson, rubbing his hands together as he bowed respectfully. ¡°I¡­ simply had a question arise in my mind as I listened. A thought came to me, if you will. As all here are surely aware, a spell of misfortune has recently befallen the County. Food and coin are short, but winter is close. Lengar worries for the well-being of its neighbor in the cold months¨C¡±

    ¡°--Your point being?¡± Boomed Uldred, cutting him off from what seemed to be the beginning of a long speech.

    ¡°...Of course. My apologies, Countess, I do carry on sometimes.¡± He demurred, and then his ever-shut eyes peeked open for the first time, revealing intense lime-green irises that were trained directly upon Niklas.

    ¡°I simply wondered: How ever were you planning to implement these¡­ plans that you have described without the use of harsh taxation, forced labor, or some other such exploitation of your people?¡±

    The expectant collective gaze of the crowd turned back upon Niklas as one, and he could only grit his teeth and hold his upright posture steady. The visiting nobleman continued his performance, reaching into his coat and retrieving a scroll of vellum which he then unrolled, letting his eyes glance down upon its contents every now and again as he spoke.

    ¡°Cobbling roads, the introduction of new agricultural practices and tools, reinforcement of local infrastructures... the official annexation of the Road of Benedict?¡±

    Niklas¡¯ eyes widened further with every policy the man recited. How does the heir to Lengar have the details of my proposals..?

    Lengarson continued, his voice taking on a faux-concerned, mocking lilt as he went on. ¡°These are all very expensive proposals, I am sure you are aware that there is simply not enough currency within the entirety of Petrice to put these into practice within any reasonable amount of time!¡±

    Once again, the crowd was beginning to rest unsure, untrusting, and hostile gazes upon Niklas as the man from Lengar seized control over the emotions of the crowd.

    ¡°Even my distinguished Father, Count Lengar himself, a man notorious for his wealth, would have difficulty financing all of these proposals. The entire thing seems quite¡­ immature.¡±

    At that, many judgmental glares were turned upon the group from Thuud, who stood their ground for the most part, but did move to stand ever so slightly closer together. Finona cast a concerned and pleading look towards Niklas, who returned it with a guilty, resigned expression, powerless as he was to rectify this situation.

    ¡°What does he mean..?¡± Growled Uldred then, catching his attention.

    Niklas looked back at her then in surprise, realizing she must have been unaware of what the majority of his ideas were up until this very moment. She had been largely uninterested in them, and even upset when she heard his initial plan to re-introduce taxation to the territory, so he had not gone out of his way to show her any further details.

    ¡°You plan to sacrifice my people and insert us into that utterly stupid and fruitless conflict?¡±

    Niklas looked between Uldred and the ever-increasingly riled-up mass of her subjects, nervously stammering out a hasty response.

    ¡°Uldred please we can discuss this-¡±

    ¡°No. We shall discuss this now!¡±

    In desperation, he turned his gaze outwards to search for any ally he could find amongst those present. Finona and her friends had been subdued, and even Lady Merida looked upon him with incredulity after this most recent revelation.

    ¡°People, people, please!¡± Called Lengarson again, interrupting the tumult of growing outrage. ¡°I was simply asking a question, I did not wish to see such hostility directed towards your good Lord Count!¡± His voice feigned concern, but since all eyes yet remained on Niklas, he did not bother to repress the victorious grin he wore.

    ¡°I would be loath to see a well-meaning and ambitious Lord, who is not so dissimilar from myself, deposed due to my foolish bumblings! Surely we can find a way to settle this confusion more¡­ amicably.¡±

    Niklas glared at the man with as much malice as the masses were directing at himself. Everything had been going smoothly before he had stuck his nose in! It was not as if he had claimed that his proposals were all things that would definitely be implemented in Petrice, much less all of them at once in a short amount of time. They were merely ideas that he had developed and written down to show others, and in doing so receive their honest feedback. But there was no way he could possibly explain all of this away now¨Cthe entire body of the Moot was at his throat, and even the other Lords looked ready to give their verdicts at any moment.

    ¡°I know!¡± Said Lengarson, raising up a finger in a parody of sudden inspiration. ¡°If the Count simply¡­ swears upon his honor to never again speak of  these costly and unreasonable ideas,  that would be enough, wouldn¡¯t it? Surely that would put all of your anger and worries to rest!¡±

    The smug triumph that shone in his lime-green eyes in that moment seemed to bore right into Niklas¡¯ soul.

    ¡°Just swear that you shall keep everything the same as it''s always been¨Cthat''s all it will take! And then for the rest of your days you will be able to comfortably maintain your position as the Count. There would be no need for anything so unpleasant as¡­ ¡®punishments.''. Just as long as you promise to all of the people gathered here today that Petrice shall operate just as it always has. It¡¯s an easy solution, don¡¯t you think..?¡±

    After this conniving but convincing performance, there was not a single pair of eyes in that courtyard that wasn¡¯t looking at Niklas. Uldred, Lady Merida, Finona, Crawford... No, every single soul waited in tense silence to hear what Niklas would say next.

    Niklas, though, stood paralyzed before them, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes as wide as dinner-plates. His mind raced so fast that it felt like his blood was caught in a rolling boil. What should he do? No matter what he said now, he was utterly damned. By the looks on the faces of the present Lords, if he said anything other than ¡®Yes,¡¯ or did anything but swear here and now to put an end to his ambitions, he would be immediately deposed. If he was sent packing back to the van der Leigh territory he would be forever branded a failure by his kin, and mocked forever after. Or he could defy Lengarson¡¯s insinuations and remain here as the Count of nothing; an impoverished shell of a territory. He would live off of bland porridge and used, watery tealeaves until his death, all while enduring the worst torture he could possibly imagine¨Cbeing unable to enact change or improve anything around him, despite having an ingenuitive mind that was always hard at work churning out new ideas and possibilities for change.

    Looking down upon all of the people present for the Moot, the greater part of them shared a thin and starved appearance. Their hands were rough with callouses, and many of them limped, or held their arms with an awkward stiffness, or bore scars at various stages of healing. They were the result of lifetimes spent performing backbreaking work¨Cwork that he knew did not need to be so difficult that it left them in such a state. He thought of that crying mother he had witnessed kneeling over her child, who had been so brutally murdered by Monsters, and for whom he could do nothing but bear witness to her grief¡­ No, that did not sound to him to be a proper way to live. It would not bring about a peaceful and easy future, but rather a living Hell.

    ¡°Uh...¡±

    Yet no matter what he felt, he could not find a way out of his current predicament. As this first noise left his mouth, all those who were seemed to hold their breath, so as not to miss what he would say next.

    ¡°I, uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Swear it!¡± Demanded Crawford.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°...Just say it, already.¡± Lady Merida prompted him in a low voice, kneading at the center of her brow with her fingers.

    ¡°...¡±

    He opened his mouth again, just as he had been directed, except no words came out. He glanced over at Uldred for one final time, but she only returned his look with a glare filled with the utmost contempt. For some reason¨Ceven though she had never approved of any of this business in the first place¨Cit was her hostility, out of everyone¡¯s, which pained him the most to see.

    His posture sunk dejectedly as Niklas lowered his head before the crowd, almost as if an executioner¡¯s axe was about to fall upon his neck. He took a deep breath, let all of it exhale slowly through his nose, before finally opening his mouth to deliver his answer.

    ¡°I-¡±

    But just then, an unexpected cry arose.

    A commotion had suddenly sprung up from around the area of the portcullis of the outer gate, where Lady Merida¡¯s Stoppridge Militia was currently stationed.

    A young man in a Stopprigde gambeson came running into the courtyard, waving his arms to get the attention of his Lady.

    ¡°Lady Merida! My Lady, you must come at once!¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Merida called back in a flat tone, as she was exasperated by her man¡¯s unruly behavior during this very serious matter.

    ¡°Lady Merida, what is happening? This is most improper!¡± Cried Elder Crawford as he marched over towards her, obviously upset to have been interrupted during what was sure to be his moment of triumph.

    The Lady Mayor furrowed her brow at the man as he approached. ¡°You will not refer to me so casually! You do not know your place, Elder Crawford.¡± She chastised him, causing him to halt in his tracks, clearly surprised.

    Now pointedly ignoring Crawford, she then turned her attention back to her man. ¡°This had better be important, soldier. You are interruption a--¡±

    ¡°--With all respect, my Lady, you must come at once! This is¡­¡± and he trailed off, obviously unsure of a way to put his thoughts to words, though he emoted wildly with his hands in a vain attempt to communicate.

    Lady Merida sighed then, but nodded nonetheless. ¡°Alright, alright. My Lord, my Lady: it appears your attention is required immediately.¡±

    Niklas could have wept then, as this fateful interruption had freed him from the reaping scythe of Death, at least temporarily. He all but sprinted down off of the elevated position he had held above the crowd, with Uldred easily marching along behind him with her much longer stride. Together with Lady Merida, the three of them walked across the courtyard until they reached another set of stone stairs, these leading up to the top of the Castle¡¯s battlements. As they steadily climbed, and the horizon began to come into view, so too did an astonishing sight. Lady Merida was first to spot it, and her mouth fell open most inelegantly. Then came Uldred, her violet eyes bulging with disbelief behind her mask, and last to ascend was Niklas. As he crested the final stair-step and slowly approached the crenels he was greeted by the sight of a long line of horses or mules pulling many assorted carriages, carts and covered wagons, which in their numbers stretched all the way back up the road for a mile!

    ¡°What in the Hells..?¡± Lady Merida wondered aloud in her disbelief. Meanwhile, the crowd had also shifted across the courtyard and over to the gate, all the better to gawk and gaze in amazement at this most unexpected and grand arrival.

    Riding along beside the caravan in perfectly-spaced rows were a troupe of mounted Knights, each of them adorned in gleaming plate armor and who wore tabards dyed a rich emerald green and embroidered with golden accents. Several of the knights carried tall flags as well, their banners adorned with the familiar symbol of the van der Leigh Barony. One particular Knight, who rode at the head of the caravan wore a particularly fine dark-blue cape draped across his right shoulder,  spurred his horse forward, stopping just below the battlements upon which the young Count stood. He then lifted up the visor of his Barbute helm and raised his voice in greeting.

    ¡°I am Knight-Captain Glorifeld of the Kinghts-van der Leigh! I am here to oversee and secure the delivery of foodstuffs, livestock, and monetary goods to the Count and Countess of Petrice!¡±

    ¡°Glorifeld!¡± Niklas called down in a delighted tone. ¡°You old bastard! It is very good to see you again!¡±

    ¡°Language, sir¨Cyou are a Count now!¡± The Knight-Captain called back jokingly, although his face did not change from its stern expression. ¡°And it is ¡®Ser Glorifeld,¡¯ by the way.¡±

    An excited Niklas all but sprinted back down the stairs, turning back several times to usher Uldred and Lady Merida to follow after him, both of whom exchanged looks of confusion as they made their way back to the ground level. The crowd, which was now quite thoroughly congested within the portcullis, still parted quickly around the small Count, and they all looked just as shocked and confused as their Countess did as he darted ahead. As the three of them crossed outside of the boundary of the Castle walls, Glorifeld dismounted and marched over to meet them, dropping to one knee most respectfully before Niklas.

    ¡°My Lord--¡± He began, only to be interrupted.

    ¡°--No no, enough of that! Come on. Up!¡± Exclaimed the Count, taking the man¡¯s hand in his before pulling him insistently back to his feet. Once he was upright again, Niklas kept hold of his gauntlet and began to shake his hand most vigorously.

    ¡°...You honor me, my Lord.¡± Was all that Glorifeld could say in response, bowing his head then and placing his hand over his heart.

    ¡°What is all of this?¡± Lady Merida wondered aloud as she looked about them in amazement.

    At that, Ser Glorifeld turned back over his shoulder and put out a hand to gesture towards the caravan. ¡°The good Baron van der Leigh sends his most humble congratulations to the Countess of Petrice for her joyous marriage to his youngest son, the Lord Count Niklas.¡±

    Lady Merida spun her head around then, now looking to Uldred for some sort of explanation of the situation, but her niece only reflected back her own expression of wide-eyed bewilderment in response. The other woman was quite obviously just as confused as she was.

    ¡°It is a¡­ dowry?¡± She asked, returning her attention to the Knight-Captain.

    ¡°Five quality horses, ten heads of cattle, fifty pigs, fifty sheep, twenty-five hens, seventy-five pullets, twenty draft-animals¡­¡± Ser Glorifeld recited, as if reading off a list which he had dedicated to memory.

    Every one of the Nobles collected felt their foreheads begin to perspire, even in the frigid morning air, as this man extolled the seemingly never-ending list of goods and gifts he had brought. It seemed to go on and on and on, with no end in sight.

    ¡°... seven handcrafted tapestries detailing myths of creation from the Artisan-wives Association of the Capital, twelve portraits of van der Leigh family ancestry, one handcrafted bejeweled breaking wheel from the Church of the Almighty in the capital, three bottles of century-aged wines from the Baron¡¯s personal collection--¡±

    Niklas put up his hands then, his head spinning from attempting to comprehend everything that was unfolding. ¡°Th-that¡¯s quite alright Ser Glorifeld!¡± He stammered. ¡°I will just take the list for review once we enter the Castle.¡±

    Ser Glorifeld nodded his head in acknowledgement. ¡°I understand, my Lord. However, if you would allow me, I would like to remain here for a few days so that I might personally confirm the successful delivery of every item.¡±

    Niklas sighed, but he wore a small, resigned smile as he looked over the man again. Ser Glorifeld was a Knight¡¯s Knight, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to serving the van der Leigh family, as his forefathers had done before him. Four generations had served his family, and at least one more was surely to follow. But Glorifeld served all of his charges with equal respect, regardless of their age or standing within the family hierarchy.

    Glorifeld was the only one, besides my dear sister, who would not discriminate against me in that place. He treated me the same as he treated all of the other members of the family, which made him something of a pariah there. I still recall the time Bruder had been beating me until Ser Glorifeld arrived and struck him so hard that he could not eat solid food for weeks!

    ¡°I suppose that would be alright. I shan''t stand in the way of your duties, Knight-Captain.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your consideration, my Lord. For now, I will personally deliver these to you.¡±

    After marching back to his horse and rummaging through her saddlebags for a moment, the Knight-Captain presented Niklas with a small sword, along with several envelopes which were sealed with wax imprinted with the Sigil van der Leigh.

    ¡°These are promissory notes, my Lord, to be exchanged within the capital for a total sum of ten thousand silver pieces, two thousand electrum coins, and five-hundred golden sovereigns.¡±

    An abrupt hush descended upon everyone within earshot of this conversation, as if the collective breath of everyone present there had been violently knocked out of them.

    ¡°... Besides that, a chest containing funds for your immediate usage, totalling five hundred each of golden sovereigns, silver pieces, and electrum coins, awaits within the carriages here to be delivered to your person.¡±

    With a shaking hand, Niklas slowly, and oh-so carefully, reached forward and plucked the envelopes from Ser Glorifeld¡¯s hands, treating them as if they might crumble into dust if he handled them too roughly. His eyes looked upon the sword that had been presented to him then; it was a cutlass, the sort of blade that sailors commonly wore. While it was a small weapon for a normal man to wield, it seemed to be just right for Niklas. It was exquisitely crafted as well, within a fine black leather scabbard, its silvery blade having been polished to a mirror-like sheen, while its gilded pommel was adorned with emeralds.

    ¡°This is a gift from your sister which has been customized specifically for your¡­ unique stature. May it serve you well.¡±

    For a brief moment the image of his sister¡¯s smiling face flashed in Niklas¡¯ mind, and in its wake a great surge of confidence welled up inside him! He spun on his heel to face the assembled forces that had, just moments ago, stood ready to witness his surrender: his Countess, the Lady-Mayor, the other assorted Nobles and Foreigners, and the crowd of Petrician subjects. With a dramatic flourish he held aloft those miraculous envelopes for all to see, for all the world like the champion warrior in a tourney brandishing his sword to win the favor of the spectators.

    ¡°Salza Lengarsson!¡± He cried, watching as the man¡¯s look of surprise fell into a glower of resentment as he was addressed. ¡°You wished to know how I planned to fund all of my endeavors? Well, look no further!¡±

 A Few Bad Apples

    Elder Crawford grit his teeth as a bead of nervous sweat trickled down his brow. He marched forward, pushing aggressively through the crowd until he broke through the front just in time to watch as Salza Lengarsson and his men departed through the gate!

    No! He thought to himself desperately. We were so close...!

    Elder Crawford was a firm believer in the hierarchy of age. The young were foolish and were to be led by the old, who were experienced and wise, as they had survived for so long in such a rough environment. He also believed in strength above all, for anyone weak or runtish could not survive long in Petrice, and would only hold back the strong and leach away what few resources there were to be found. So this Count¨Cthis young, spindly, and foreign Count¨Cwas not only an insult to him on a personal level, but was an affront to Petrice as a whole! One which he would not tolerate.

    ¡°Th-this changes nothing!¡± He suddenly spat out, startling the people around him, and he jut a finger towards Niklas then. ¡°Do not forget the crimes he has committed against us, and those that he plans to commit against us. He should be cast out¨Cdeposed! And his wife along with him.¡±

    The crowd around him gasped in shock, for whatever they had thought of Niklas, no one here  would have dared to even think of challenging the Countess¡¯ position as well. Crawford looked about amongst the rest of the villagers present there, desperate for any sympathetic eyes, but even those within his direct view were slowly retreating from him, not wanting to chance being associated with his faction.

    ¡°Think, people! Why is he even here? This¡­ wench has sold us all out by bringing a foreigner into our midst who aims to bleed us dry, and all for her own benefit. She is as complicit as he is!¡±

    As this once-respected Elder exposed the true depths of his madness, several things nearly happened at once in response: Lady Merida began to turn around to face this slanderous man; Ser Glorifeld opened his mouth to shout; Uldred¡¯s eyes grew wide and she began to reach for the hilt of the sword on her back. However, in this pivotal moment, none moved faster than the Count of Petrice himself.

    ¡°You will not speak of my wife in this way!¡±

    His vision had gone white-hot in his rage, and without even thinking he had grasped upon the hilt of the dagger Ser Glorifeld wore upon his belt and drawn it from its scabbard. In less than a blink, he held its point directly towards the Elder¡¯s heart as he growled down at him from his perch, with eyes more like those of a feral beast than a man!

    ¡°Speak what you will of me, but if your gob leaks even one more syllable of slander towards my betrothed, then I will not hesitate to put you in your place.¡±

    A heavy silence hung over the place as everyone witnessed his declaration. Wide-eyed looks full of shocked surprise with mouths agape, all of them fell upon Niklas¡¯ small form, even as the Count regained enough of his wits to decide not to march over and commit a murder in full view of dozens of his subjects, taking a full step backwards as he calmed himself. No one had expected to witness such fire from him. Elder Crawford, on the other hand, was now redder than a ripe tomato, the veins in his forehead, neck, and arms bulging as his blood-pressure reached a dangerous peak. It took the combined strength of his entire entourage then to hold him back from charging over to engage the young Lord in direct fisticuffs, knife and witnesses be damned.

    ¡°You challenge me? You¡­ you runt! Fine¨Cyou will see what happens! You¡¯ll all see.¡± With that, the Elder shrugged off the restraining hands of his colleagues. ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± And then finally, altogether, they quickly departed.

    ¡°To defy their Lord...  the punishment is death.¡± Said Ser Glorifeld, watching the group depart with a great malice in his eyes. ¡°Simply say the word and my Knights can have him dealt with.¡±

    But Niklas put out his hand before the man as if to prevent him. At the same time, he reached up to the man and retrieved the scabbard, with which he re-stowed his dagger. ¡°No. I will deal with him myself in due time. Do not forget, I am still a son of Kaiser van der Leigh.¡±

    Ser Glorifeld looked at him with a surprised expression, but it was quickly replaced with a proud smile as he sighed softly. ¡°As you say, my Lord.¡±

    Behind them both, Lady Merida turned her gaze upon Uldred, who was stiff as a board and uncharacteristically silent despite the insults that had been aimed at her. Of what little could be seen of her, the Lady Mayor spied a hint of reddish-pinkish in the skin around her eyes, which were blown wide as she stood there, stiff and stunned. When Uldred noticed her studious gaze she swiftly turned away from her aunt, attempting to obscure her already much-shielded face. For indeed, in that moment her heart pounded so fast in her chest it was almost painful, and her face was so flushed that she was afraid her mask would begin to glow from the heat radiating off her skin.

    What was all that about? How could he say something so... embarrassing?

    Lady Merida could not help but cast a knowing smile towards her niece.

    ¡°My Lord, if I may, what is all of this? Do you require our assistance?¡± Ser Glorifeld asked with a serious expression as he looked back over the crowd. The other Knights also turned and stared down from their steeds at the many villagers gathered there, the most of whom cowered out of guilt and avoided the eyes of these well-furnished soldiers, as the balance of power no longer fell upon their side.

    Niklas¡¯ brow rose in realization then. For amongst the Knights-van der Leigh, and the loyal Ser Glorifeld in particular, defiance against their Lord was tantamount to an unforgivable sin. In fact, if they had arrived even slightly earlier and had borne witness to any of the actions or words of the assembled Petricians, Niklas feared he might not have been able to stop the Knights from riding through the crowd, cutting down many people where they stood and scattering the others to the wind!

    Quick as a whip, the small Count all but leapt out in front of the Knight-Captain between him and the crowd, his arms outstretched and with a nervous sweat beginning to form across his brow.

    ¡°N-nothing you must concern yourself with, Knight-Captain! That man was an outlier. These good people here had nothing to do with him!¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The throng of villagers then looked towards their Count with some startlement. Not moments ago they were caught up in an enraged bloodlust, demanding the forfeit of his position¨Cor maybe even his life! It was inarguable that they had done him a great disservice, yet now he stood as a bulwark protecting them from a most gruesome fate! Many of them looked down at their feet in shame, while others gulped loudly and began to tear up as they attempted to restrain their roiling emotions.

    ¡°In-in fact,¡± Nikals stammered. ¡°--there is a most dire matter for which I could use the Knight¡¯s assistance. I had called this meeting of Lords and Elders to deliver news about it!¡±

    Upon hearing this the Knight-Captain stood stiff and straight, placing a fist over his heart in salute. ¡°The Knights of van der Leigh stand ready to assist you, my Lord Count, in any endeavor that you might require!¡±

    Niklas wore a wolfish grin at that. ¡°Then let us go inside, and I will brief you on the situation.¡±

    <hr>

    Within the sturdy Castle Coronton, which had long-served as the seed around which the rest of the city grew, one unsure Sergeant hesitated before entering the fine wooden doors that led into the next hall. It was not often that he had found any part of his duty to be unpleasant, but as of late the thought of giving reports to or receiving orders from the Lord Mayor filled him with a not a small sense of dread and anxiety.

    The Lord Mayor¡¯s actions as of late had become increasingly erratic, unpredictable, and¨Cif the rumors he had heard from the other House Soldiers were to be believed¨Coutright treasonous. Following the arrival of that young, newly-instated Count, whom he had escorted from the city gates to the Castle, he had not laid eyes on him again until his supposed departure the following morning¡­ A departure which had suspiciously coincided with the occurrence of a violent break-in by some mysterious intruder. It was all quite fishy.

    The Sergeant sighed in resignation and steeled himself before he finally knocked upon the door with the knuckle of his finger before making his way inside. There inside was the Mayor, who was busy at work with a routine of morning exercise he had recently taken up: in his hands was a long, thin blade which he was using to repeatedly thwack away at a humanoid dummy made of straw. Mayor Borney gave but the slightest moment of attention to the entrance of the Sergeant, continuing to pierce here and there at the body of his stationary opponent with great vigor. In every corner of the room a guardsman sat or leaned against a wall. These were not the Sergeant¡¯s men but more of those large, ragged foreign fellows whom the Mayor had recently brought under his employ. As the Sergeant marched down the full length of the room towards the Lord they leered at him suspiciously, as if he were some unknown element, rather than a man of higher station and many more years spent in service to Coronton than themselves. It was all a most unpleasant experience, to say the least.

    As the Sergeant finally arrived at his Lord¡¯s side, the man properly seemed to take note of him, for he stood up straighter and used a small towel to wipe at the copious sweat which glistened upon his brow, turning his head only just enough to grimace over at his Knight.

    ¡°What is it?¡± He demanded brusquely, his voice free of any of the usual air of pleasantry which he maintained for important guests.

    ¡°My Lord, at your order, we have completed the scouting operation.¡± The Sergeant dutifully relayed to him, holding out a stack of parchment full of hastily scribbled notes and drawings gathered from amongst the various scouting teams.

    Mayor Borney greedily snatched the documents from his hands and began to pour over them with bright eyes and a unsettling grin.

    The Sergeant closed his eyes and began to silently offer up a small prayer to his Maker. Please: not to the West. Anything but the West¡­

    ¡°Excellent work, Sergeant!¡± The Mayor exclaimed, a rare word of praise coming from the man with whom he had, as of late, a tendency to butt heads with. ¡°This trench you have discovered, the one which cuts through the base of the Western mountains? This is perfect!¡±

    The Sergeant¡¯s heart sank, and he almost felt himself sway in place as the blood abruptly drained from his face. So strong was his reaction to his Lord¡¯s proclamation that he only just restrained himself from shouting at him in response. Instead, he took a deep and fortifying breath before he dared to speak again.

    ¡°...With respect, my Lord, th-that trench leads around and upwards into the plains lying between Castle Petrice and the Old Fort.¡±

    ¡°And¡­?¡± Demanded the Lord, shooting an incredulous look over at his man-at-arms.

    The Sergeant so wished to demand that the man explain what he even meant to do with a path leading towards the Castle of the Count, but he knew it was not his place to ask such a thing of his charge, and what¡¯s more: he dreaded the answer that he might receive.

    ¡°...Those plains are the beginnings of the No-Man¡¯s Land, sir.¡±

    Mayor Borney turned back to his exercise. ¡°Exactly, that¡¯s why it is perfect. The land is mostly flat and good for marching, and quite empty as well. The eyes of¡­ whoever still resides in that Fort will be looking further West, and the Count will not be looking in that direction at all, for he will have put his trust in the Fort to do so.¡±

    The Sergeant clenched his teeth and gulped quietly before he continued. ¡°B-but sir, the Monsters¨C¡±

    ¡°Yes yes. ¡®Monsters¡¯, I have already heard of such things numerous times, Sergeant.¡± Said the Mayor, cutting him off with a dismissive flip of his towel. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it is about time you¨CI mean we Petricians¨Cstop believing in such outlandish and childish stories?¡±

    For the first time, the Sergeant¡¯s face fully betrayed his emotions as he stared at the Lord Mayor in open bewilderment. He doesn¡¯t believe the Monsters are real?!

    ¡°Think of it, Sergeant: why would they spread such silly tales of Monsters to any ear that will hear it? Obviously they are hiding something in that region of the West! Something which they do not mean for anyone else to know about. Mines? Gems? Gold? No matter what it is, I mean to go there and find it for myself!¡±

    ¡°S-sir the Monsters are real! I have seen--¡±

    But the Sergeant¡¯s protests were cut off by the creak of the door swinging open as that mustachioed butler walked inside and began making his way over towards them.

    ¡°My Lord, the people have been called for your bi-weekly address, as you asked.¡± Proclaimed the butler while dipping into a respectful bow. He locked eyes with the Sergeant, as whom he shot a secret, smug grin before he continued. ¡°They shall arrive shortly and wait at your convenience.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, man. At least there are a few reliable hands in this superstitious place.¡± The Mayor said, scowling over at the soldier. ¡°The Sergeant was just leaving, anyhow.¡±

    The Sergeant looked ready to speak again, but a pair of thick, calloused hands clapped down upon either of his shoulders; two of those burly and thuggish men had approached him and stood menacingly behind him now.

    ¡°Sergeant, you are to ready your Company for departure to the West. Use this trench, avoid the eyes of the Fort and the Castle, and set up a forward camp here.¡± The Mayor jabbed a wide, stubby finger upon the County map, leaving a sweaty stain at a point upon the edge of the No-Man¡¯s Land which sat evenly between the Old Fort and Castle Petrice.¡±

    The Sergeant could do nothing but quake a bit as he received this order. ¡°Y-yes sir.¡± He acknowledged in a trembling voice.

    Then the Mayor nodded towards his two thuggish goons, and they forcefully escorted the Sergeant back through the doors and out of the hall.

 He Follows his Instincts

    ¡°That scoundrel!¡± Cried Knight-Captain Glorifeld, slamming his gauntleted fist against the table as he did so.

    Niklas had just finished recounting to him the tale of his meeting with the Lord-Mayor Borney, followed by his sudden and rushed departure to Coronton and his ensuing hurried escape from it. The good Ser Glorifeld had stood stoically before him as he absorbed Niklas¡¯ tale, his arms crossed, not allowing a hint of emotion to break through the shell of his calm exterior until Niklas had drawn the tale to its conclusion. It was only after that point that his anger burst out of him like a tea kettle left boiling on the fire for far too long.

    ¡°Allow me to apprehend this rogue Mayor, my Lord¨CI and my men shall see it done without fail!¡± Pleaded Ser Glorifeld, beseechingly putting his hand upon his chestplate just over his heart.

    ¡°As much as I admire your enthusiasm, Knight-Captain, I do not think even the Knights-van der Leigh could take on a whole city, and what¡¯s more, one which has recently been reinforced with an unknown number of brigands, with a force numbering just twenty-four men in total, no matter how well-trained and well-equipped it is.¡±

    Ser Glorifeld grit his teeth but begrudgingly relented, recognizing the truth in the Count¡¯s words. ¡°Is there truly nothing we could do? You do not currently have any men under your command?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, no.¡± Niklas replied. ¡°Aside from the Monster Hunters of the Old Fort who patrol the lands to the West, Petrice has never had need of a standing army. After all, who would even want it in the first place?¡±

    The Knight-Captain opened his mouth to speak again, but Niklas put up a hand to abate his response before it could even be spoken. ¡°And before you ask: no, the Flamberges would not come at my call. They are apolitical in their nature and extremely reclusive. The Countess, who is one in her own right, has told me as such many times over.¡±

    Suddenly then a thought came to the young Count. As the two men were currently holding their conversation in the Office of the Countess, Niklas only had to reach to one side to dig through one of the stacks of papers sat upon her desk. From there, it was only a few moments of searching until he came upon the thick ledger wherein he had recorded the information about many of his desired reforms for the County.

    He hurriedly flipped through several dozen pages of it until he finally landed upon a particularly brown and crumpled page. Without even a moment¡¯s hesitation he roughly tore it out and proudly held it before himself, his expression lifting into a mischievous grin.

    ¡°Actually, Knight-Captain, as it turns out there is something you and your men could do for me¡­¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°My Lord!¡± Finona greeted Niklas with enthusiasm when she noticed him marching over, though she cowered a bit when she saw the Knight-Captain behind him.

    ¡°Miss Finona. Lads.¡± He addressed her and the rather young group of Thuud villagers whom she had chosen to accompany her as part of an entourage. ¡°As you all know, the County faces a crisis. I find myself in need of young and ambitious hands, ones who are willing to trust in my vision and follow my instructions. I immediately thought of you all, anomalies that you are amongst the village representatives.¡± As he met each of their eyes with a conspiratorial grin he handed the young Elder a neatly-rolled scroll containing several pages, one which had been freshly sealed with wax just a half-hour prior. Finona just barely held in a giggle at the sight of the poorly-scratched rendition of the Seal of Petrice that Niklas had made using the tip of an old, blunted quill while the wax was soft.

    ¡°A-as you are aware I do not have my Seal at the moment¡­¡± He muttered, a hot, pink flush of embarrassment crawling up from his neck to his cheeks. ¡°...Just read it, damn you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir¨CSorry, sir.¡± Finona replied, avoiding the glowering eyes the Knight-Captain had trained upon her then. She promptly cracked the wax and unrolled the pages. Her fellows looked on quizzically, as they were unable to understand more than one or two of the words written within apiece. Meanwhile, Finona¡¯s bright and sharp gaze swept back-and-forth over the contents of the page, moving each page to the back of the stack she held as she finished reading them. As she scanned through the final page in particular, her eyes widened, and she briefly looked over at Niklas again with wide, shocked eyes before continuing.

    ¡°My Lord this is¡­ I mean, of course. Of course! I-I will need to d-discuss it with my friends-my colleagues, but I am sure that they will agree that this is¡­ wow!¡±

    Niklas grinned at her exuberant reaction. ¡°I suspected that you might feel this way. Keep that, talk it over with your people, and then spread word of it amongst any others you think you might be able to convince. Those who are not too set in their ways.¡± Finona and her flock all nodded their heads in acknowledgement, and with that, Niklas departed.

    After they had put a small distance between them and the group of youngsters, the Knight-Captain gave voice to his thoughts. ¡°I did not expect them to be so¡­ enthusiastic. From what I have witnessed from most Petricians thus far, they are by-and-large sullen, indifferent, and traditional folk.¡±

    Niklas grinned. ¡°Aye, but Finona and her people are different. They appear to hold a vast appetite for progress, and I suspect, even amongst the various other villages and towns, others of their generation do as well. They simply do not have the foothold or opportunity to express it that Finona found for herself.¡±

    Then he stopped and produced another sealed scroll, which was  a copy of the one he had given to the group from Thuud, and he handed it to the Knight-Captain. ¡°Now, if you would, please present this to Lady Merida in my stead. I think she should also find it most agreeable. I believe that Stoppridge had already been well on their way towards such a development anyhow, but they might appreciate a more¡­ official amendment, and the added boons which come along with it as well.¡±

    Ser Glorifeld put a hand to his heart and bowed respectfully. ¡°It shall be done, my Lord!¡± And with that he made his own departure.

    As Niklas watched the other man go he sighed and scratched at the back of his head. He then turned to the rest of the courtyard, where the gathered citizens were now all bustling about as they unloaded and organized the contents of the many wagons, having been offered rewards for their assistance.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I hope I am making the right decision, and that this does not lead to more suffering in the long run¡­¡± The ambitious young Count lamented aloud, yet still only to himself.

    <hr>

    The Sergeant of the Men-at-arms of Coronton shivered in his boots  even as he stood there before the gathered force of his many loyal men, holding his back stiff and his arms crossed, and altogether projecting an air of mighty indifference. After a day¡¯s march they finally stood at the opening to that unsettling and unearthly groove which appeared to stretch on forever towards the horizon. It was hard to tell how far it truly went, however, due to the ever-present thick, clinging veil of mist. While foggy weather was nothing new for the people of Petrice, what was truly unnerving about it now was how this particular fog seemed to coalesce only as one approached nearer the entrance to the trench, even while the weather was quite unchanged for anyone who stood to either side of it.

    He could feel the heavy weight of the eyes trained on his back. Young men, loyal men under his charge, looked towards him with unsure expressions, or peered about at their surroundings with clear anxiety and trepidation. He felt the same as them, but he could not show it. He must serve as their pillar, or morale would be sent crashing down with every step they took further Westward.

    ¡°W-we shall set up camp here for the night, I think.¡± The Sergeant could not help but stammer at first, although he quickly recovered control of himself.

    Calls of acknowledgement promptly sprang up from the lieutenants, and very quickly the land about them was dotted with groups of tents and modest campfires. His men¨Cfew in number as they were¨C were diligent and competent, most unlike those rough-hewn and unlikeable fellows with whom the Mayor had recently swelled the ranks with. Those men stood in entirely separate Companies with their own Sergeant to lead them, and were supposed to have met up with them here at the same time they arrived, but had apparently encountered some delay. If he were to hazard a guess himself, it was likely due to a severe shortage in discipline.

    Nothing we can do now but wait and rest, I suppose. Perhaps we should be grateful for their bumbling¡­ Thought the Sergeant to himself, shooting one last look of concern down the shaft into the trench.

    Despite the dour setting¨Cor, perhaps, because of it¨Cthe Soldiers appeared more merry and lively this night than most. They took the major share of their ale rations at once and made hearty stews with their portions of jerky, adding rootplants and herbs foraged from the surrounding wilderness  As night set in properly outside the glow of their fires the camp became abuzz with chatter.

    Even after several hours had passed, there was still no sign of the Second Company. If they had not yet arrived by the following morning, their orders were to begin down the trench towards the West at first light.

    I suppose I must cut them the barest amount of slack. Their Commanders appear inexperienced, and their number is double our own. Thought the Sergeant. However, that is no real excuse for such unprofessionalism.

    Only once had he met his equal, the Sergeant of the Second Company. He had been a young man whose accent and mannerisms suggested a direct Otkornian descent, much like the other brutes under his command. He was of an average stature, and therefore stood noticeably shorter than most of his men, yet he held himself with the composure of a career soldier. Truthfully, upon meeting his counterpart the Sergeant had been put at ease by his demeanor, but by now it had become painfully clear that it was simply not within the man¡¯s capabilities to instill order in such an unruly band all on his own.

    This feeling must be schadenfreude, I suppose¡­

    With nothing else to occupy his thoughts, the Sergeant took to patrolling between the tents, keeping a careful eye on everything to ensure his own men did not go overboard with their drink. Plenty of lads with happy, reddened faces raised their tankards with cheers to his good name as he passed them by, which he returned with a raised hand and a tight smile that just barely masked his anxiety.

    Strangely, the Sergeant found he could not turn his attention away from the opening to that ominous trench for very long before turning back to look at it again. It felt as though within it, beyond the fog, there was someone watching him from just out of sight. Nonetheless, he had a duty to maintain the wellbeing of his men, and so he did his best to ignore this perturbing feeling.

    After the evening¡¯s ¡®drinking party¡¯--for lack of a better term¨Cbegan winding down, and the men had tucked themselves within their bedrolls in as comfortable a fashion as they could atop the hard ground, the Sergeant finally drew his own blanket up to his chin and lay still with his eyes shut, although could not fall asleep. For as he rested there, the feeling of someone staring at him from the trench persisted for more than an hour, and his body would not let him fall into so vulnerable a state as sleep because of it.

    Suddenly his instincts flared in warning and a rush of abject terror flooded his mind. Whatever had been watching him up until this moment was now right on top of him, leering down over his bed! He did not know how he knew this to be true, but he felt a harrowing certainty that if he was to open his eyes and look upon whatever it was that stalked him, it would mean his doom!

    So the Sergeant lay unmoving, pretending to sleep, yet with his true status betrayed by the cold and violent shaking of his body as he was overtaken with an all-encompassing terror. For whatever reason, although it surely knew that he was awake and aware of its presence, it made no move to harm him in any way, almost as if it needed its presence acknowledged in order to proceed with its assault.

    Crack!

    From somewhere further off, what sounded like twenty meters or so, some poor fool had stepped upon a dry branch! Just as suddenly as it had appeared, that feeling of attention was gone. The horrible¡­ thing was gone, and after whatever fresh prey had just caught its attention!

    A feeling of absolute weariness overtook him then. He knew not how long he had laid there shaking in fright¨Cit could have been a minute or it might have lasted the entire night. Perception of time had been the first thing to leave him after he¡¯d closed his eyes.

    The sudden lack of adrenaline sapped whatever of his strength was left, and he quickly fell into an uneasy slumber. In his dreams, he saw out of many eyes as he stared down upon the sleeping faces of his men. He could see every one of them individually at the same time, despite the fact that there were dozens of them present in the camp. Under his gaze many of them perspired heavily and shook with fright, just as he had done. Then, although he looked through so many eyes at once that he felt overwhelmed with everything he could see, he found his attention drawn to one particular viewpoint, wherein he watched a deer gallop as fast as its hooves would carry it, while he somehow kept perfect pace with the creature.

    Hungry. He thought to himself, and he reached out a hand that was much too large and bony to pluck the creature up even as it fruitlessly attempted to flee¨C

    ¨CThen he awoke. His clothing and bedroll were still damp with sweat around him, causing him to shiver. As he raised his head and looked about, he confirmed that he was still in the camp, and he also noticed the heads of many others peering around from inside their shoddy tents along with him.

    Thinking no more deeply into his night-terrors and his strange dream, the Sergeant rose from his spot and went about ordering the cleanup of the camp and preparations for the day¡¯s march, once again putting on an unbothered air. His men attempted to act nonchalant as well, but he could tell that they were much relieved and grateful as they witnessed his confidence, for something had spooked them all terribly during the night. There was, however, still no sign of Second Company, and first light had long since broken over the mountaintops. Now dutifully stood in their rows, the lieutenants at his back looked to him for their orders. As the Sergeant stared once more down the mouth of that eerie trench he opened his mouth to speak.

    ¡°Let us march¡­ j-just off to the right. Not down the middle, shall we?¡±

 He Follows his Orders

    Having settled all matters of importance, the bustling crowd which had been gathered within the courtyard of Castle Petrice began to dissipate as the groups from various villages steadily departed back to their homes. It still remained a tiring affair for Niklas, for he had to be prepared to make himself available at any time in case a Mayor or Lord from this or that locale made to take their leave, since his wife was neither enthusiastic about nor well-suited for such social pleasantries and obligations. He would look each departing guest in the eye and shake their hands with as strong a grip as he could muster with his still-recovering health, and in return the various Nobility appeared somewhat relieved to finally have a liege who could engage in the rituals of social formality. Unfortunately, this role meant Niklas was often left staying up until the wee hours of the morning before collapsing into a weary slumber, only to be awoken again much too early to attend another departure.

    Finally, after enduring several days of this terrible routine, only the retinue of the Lady Mayor from Stoppridge yet remained in the Castle, along with the gaggle of villagers dedicated to the sorting and storage of the various goods from Niklas¡¯ dowry¨Cin return for a hefty reward of course.

    One day, as he crossed the halls of the Castle between one appointment to the next, Niklas came upon Lady Merida, who stood before one of the large portraits of past Petrician Lords, which leered unwelcomingly down at passerby from where they hung all about the walls in this place. Upon the sound of his approaching footsteps the Lady turned, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly when she saw who it was.

    ¡°My Lord Count, it is pleasant to see you here this fine morning.¡± She greeted him with evenly, dropping into a small curtsy as she did so.

    Niklas casually raised one hand in a simple return greeting. ¡°You as well, Lady Mayor.¡±

    ¡°Did you have need of me, my Lord? Or were you..?¡± She trailed off as she looked down at the bundle of papers and parchments he held clutched to his chest.

    ¡°Oh! Oh no, I was just¡­ going here to there. You know how it is.¡±

    ¡°Quite.¡± With that she turned to rest her eyes back upon the portrait which she had been gazing at prior to his entrance.

    Curious, Niklas walked over to stand at her side and looked up at the painted image that had caught her attention. Depicted in it was a man standing before a fine wooden desk and a backdrop of fine scarlet drapes. He wore a military dress uniform, not unlike the one Niklas himself had worn to the Moot a few days prior, but the uniform in the painting was black and it''s epaulets and other ornaments were silver instead of gold. He stood to the left, while his hand came down to rest upon the shoulder of an older child positioned across from him who was dressed much the same as he. The pair of them were similarly palid and stoic, and while the man¡¯s hairline was long since receded, the child¡¯s hair was a thick and familiar mop of black, and both of them glowered out at the viewer with matching pairs of striking violet eyes.

    ¡°My Uncle and brother, you see.¡± Lady Merida said, gesturing towards the small plaque located at the bottom of the frame. Niklas looked back up at the child, realizing this was the first time he had ever laid eyes on the previous Count, who was now his father-in-law.

    ¡°Brother¡¯s adult portrait is somewhere a couple of halls down that way, if you¡¯re interested to see it. You go two to the right and then around the corner, if I recall correctly.¡± Lady Merida informed him while gesturing to indicate the direction. Then she turned back to the portrait again and sighed heavily.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Niklas asked.

    Lady Merida shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve heard the story of my poor Uncle? The past week has brought up a few poignant memories from the past for me.¡±

    At Niklas¡¯ shake of his head, she began her tale. ¡°Uncle, being the second son, decided to travel. He left the County to study abroad at an early age, and he only returned after my Father passed, in order to take up the mantle of Count until my brother came of age.¡±

    This portrait must have been made to commemorate his ascension as Count. Niklas now realized. Two Counts of Petrice: one current, one future.

    Lady Merida grinned at him just a bit then as she read the realization that bloomed upon his face. ¡°Of course, once my brother came of age, Uncle refused to hand over the Seal and the Title to him, and it came out that he had been involved in my Father¡¯s early demise.¡± She said rather matter-of-factly, and much to Niklas¡¯ surprise.

    ¡°It is said that during his studies at the Academies in Boratan, Uncle was poisoned by foreign influences. For in other lands it is common¨Cand even somewhat expected¨Cfor second and third sons to stoop to vile means in order to take up the seat as head of their respective families.¡± She said, turning now to look at Niklas, who gulped audibly as he listened. ¡°...That is what the more insular Petricians purport, anyways. I believe that he had always been greedy by nature, and his actions had therefore been inevitable. Still, the anti-foreign sentiments that were already quite prevalent exploded after that scandal. I suppose that might be when the steady degradation of the County truly began, up until it became what you see today.¡±

    As she spoke, the Lady turned and began to slowly walk down the hall, passing by many more portraits as she did so. Niklas did his best to follow, though his gait became a bit of a stumbling jog due to the discrepancy in their statures.

    ¡°I admit, I never imagined it would get this bad.¡± The Lady lamented. ¡°A City in rebellion? And their Lord: a criminal holding his own people ransom in order to extract what little food or coin they have to their name, stealing the Seal of Petrice for his own nefarious means? It is another great scandal for the ages!¡±

    She then came to a halt before another portrait. This one appeared much less aged than the first, and the fact that it had been hung in some dark and remote corner hallway far and out of the way, denoted a lack of importance compared to the rest of the portraits they had seen.

    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you are aware from our previous correspondence, I¡¯ve never cared for Mayor Borney.¡± She said, now looking upon the new portrait. ¡°His brother was an unassuming man, average both in looks and ability, but at least he had been dedicated to his position. I suppose I was predisposed to disliking the man who is now the Lord Mayor of Coronton, even before I first met him, since he had been sent over to be the ward of a man like Baron Otkorn in his youth...¡±

    Niklas studied the portrait curiously; it depicted a family of three: the first of which was a most average-looking, clean-shaven man with slightly darker skin and short brunette hair. His wife, a stoic woman with dark hair and a familiar, pale complexion leered down from the portrait with a pair of subtle lavender eyes. And finally, a boy...

    ¡°It¡¯s such a shame that the three of them were taken so early in life; first the parents died in a carriage accident, followed by their son soon thereafter to ill health.¡± Merida continued.

    Niklas¡¯ eyes grew wide as he looked back and forth between Lady Merida and the portrait she gazed upon, feeling an uncomfortable wash of a panic coming over him.

    ¡°He was a bit too meek for my liking, but I doubt he would have turned out the scoundrel that his uncle has now beco--¡±

    ¡°--My apologies for the interruption, my Lady, truly. But I feel I have to ask: is the position of Mayor... a hereditary title here in Petrice?¡±

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    After hearing his question Lady Merida blinked down at the young Count in confusion. ¡°Why yes, the position of Lord Mayor is usually passed down from father to son, why do you ask?¡±

    As Niklas¡¯ fears were confirmed, he looked up again at the toddler in the portrait before him. His was a small figure, appearing quite similar to Niklas when he was of the same age. What he found most notable, however, was that his eyes were almost entirely obscured by the fringe of his thick brown mop of hair, which hung low over them.

    ¡°...and the boy in the painting would be the heir of the former Mayor of Coronton, am I correct?¡±

    Now Lady Merida looked unsettled as well, but she nodded slightly in acknowledgement. ¡°Yes, the late Alvin Borney.¡±

    Niklas¡¯ blood ran cold as he looked back towards the fateful portrait which depicted that poor and meek servant he had met. This was the very youth who had fed him and freed him from his confinement within the Castle in Coronton, and been captured himself for his efforts, and who he now thought must be dead at Lord Borney¡¯s hands!

    ¡°Oh dear¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Leading what could only be described as a disorderly gaggle of rough and brutish men rode a man; he was blonde and blue-eyed, with an average build. Despite the fact that he was clad in sturdy armor, at that moment he looked quite unsure of himself as he glanced nervously about at his dreary surroundings. He lacks the familiar tabard of the Barony of Otkorn, for how else could the conspirators of this plot have inserted Sergeant Rochester of Otkorn into a position of leadership in Coronton¡¯s Second Company while keeping their affiliations hidden?

    Sergeant Rochester once again found himself in a most unenviable position¨Cand once again it was one granted to him by his Lord¨Cas he was tasked with taking these conscripts of dubious origins from the towns and cities about Otkorn and crossing the Petrician border, all to bolster the military forces of the city of Coronton. He was not told the reasoning behind these orders, for it was not his place to know¨Cor at least, that is what he was told by the Baron himself after he protested.

    Three generations of service in the name of Otkorn. Three generations! This is the thanks my family is given? The Sergeant bemoaned to himself, shaking his head slightly. To be sent out to battlefield after battlefield chasing my death, all because I questioned the Baron¡¯s dishonorable methods...

    He glanced between the men walking at either side of his horse, but quickly averted his gaze when they sent unfriendly glares back up at him. He tsk¡¯ed quietly and once again returned to surveilling the eerie Petrician countryside which surrounded them. Despite the fact that the surrounding hills had become flatter the further they traveled, which, coupled with the general lack of any trees or tall grasses, meant that any approaching man or beast could be spotted from miles away, it still felt to him as if he was being¡­ watched by some unseen force.

    Finally his eyes landed upon the landmark which they had been told about. Before them now was a sizable groove in the land, which looked as if some massive spade had dug straight through the hills and carved a corridor that went on  beyond the distance that their eyes could see. This ¡®trench¡¯ as it had been described to them, would take them past the nearby towns and villages that might offer some resistance against them, as well as skirt beneath the watchful gaze of that peculiar Fort to the West, all while leading them directly towards Castle Petrice.

    Sergeant Rochester huffed in dismay as he thought of Castle Petrice; the place that housed the Countess herself, who had months ago offered him a new opportunity for service, a means to escape the yoke of the Baron of Otkorn. His honor, and that of his father and grandfather before him, had bade him to reject her offer and stay where he was, and oh did he regret that decision more and more with every day he had to spend herding this pack of scoundrels forward.

    ¡°It looks like they¡¯ve been here, but continued on.¡± Said one of the men standing beside the Sergeant, who was busy inspecting the ground, which had clearly been disturbed by hundreds of footprints and was littered with the charred remains of firepits. ¡°Weren¡¯t they supposed to wait ¡®fer us?¡±

    ¡°Like I told you¡¯s, it¡¯s ¡®cuz you all took too long an¡¯ dragged ¡®yer feets!¡± Grumbled the man stood at the Sergeant¡¯s other side, his words eliciting from the troup some shouts of agreement and just as many outcries in offense.

    A third man walked a bit further from the group, also closely inspecting the footprints on the ground. ¡°It¡¯s just as well, lads. It appears they went off and to the right instead of in!¡± His observation caused a group of hostile and mocking chuckles to break out amongst the men.

    ¡°Tisk tisk, ignoring their Lord¡¯s explicit instructions? I suppose that this¡¯ll be the excuse he needs to finally cut loose those goody-two-shoes once-an¡¯-fer-all, like he''s been wantin¡¯ to!¡±

    One of the men standing below the mounted Sergeant tapped the man¡¯s leg with his elbow, leering up at him with an unpleasant grin on his face. ¡°This is why you soldier-types never get anywheres in life. Yer always going on about honor an¡¯ such! If this goes tits-up we¡¯re all jus¡¯ sent back to the slums, but ¡®yer gonna swing ¡®fer it!¡± He cackled as the Sergeant¡¯s expression and mood sank into even more dour states than they had already been in.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Sergeant Rochester called out as loudly as he could. ¡°We¡¯re setting up camp here, and we¡¯ll continue down the Trench in the morning!¡±

    Nobody moved to obey his command. It was only when one of the large men at his side stepped forward and bellowed, ¡°He means we get to crack open the casks tonight, boys!¡± That they all cheered in gleeful acknowledgement and went about setting up their own tents, bedrolls and fires.

    It was another evening of chaos that the Sergeant could only stoically endure: Slovenly drinking, shouting, lewd songs, brawls and outright fights breaking out amongst the men. He wondered to himself if even this secret path they had discovered would be able to hide this disorganized and rambunctious horde from the locals, at least enough for them to complete their assigned tasks.

    If this plan goes tits-up ¡®yer gonna swing for it!

    Sergeant Rochester puffed out his cheeks and let out a stuttering, anxious exhale, wondering if this would spell his end. Would they be found out due to their loud and drunken evenings, the lot of them surrounded and captured by the locals, all to end in him, as their leader, being executed for his complicity in this... farce?

    I suppose it would be what I deserve for not taking the olive branch which was offered to me, by the woman I am about to betray no less...

    With that thought sending a pang of regret through him, the Sergeant turned over into his bedroll and attempted to settle in. However, that night it took him a long time to fall asleep, for as the clamors of drunken frivolity turned into a rumbling choir of snores and the lights of the fires slowly faded, there grew an unsettling feeling that something was watching him from just beyond the opening of that Trench, where a peculiar fog had now settled. When he finally did fall into a fitful slumber, he found himself caught up within a most strange dream, wherein he had a hundred eyes with which he stared down at all of the sleeping men in the camp at once...  including himself.

    As always, once he awoke first the next morning he was forced to wait several hours for the rest of his men to stumble into painful consciousness. Although most of them. predictably, had risen only to suffer the pangs of their inevitable hangovers, he noticed that some symptom beyond the usual dehydration, sensitivity or headaches seemed to be bringing down the usually jovial mood of the camp. However, he soon dismissed his doubts and thought no more about it. Then with the assistance of some of the larger men, who maintained positions of leadership over their slighter fellows, and whom he had bought with the promise of extra rations of drink that evening¨Cthey all finally set off down the Trench.

    As the final man in the column of almost two hundred disappeared into the cloying fog, Sergeant Rochester felt a horrible and foreboding sensation in his gut, as if an enormous and heavy gate had shut and locked itself behind them, trapping them within the Trench forever. He felt the sudden urge to turn back and flee this unsettling place, but with an effort of will he set his jaw and held firm, kicking his horse to keep her on a steady pace at the front of the group.

    And as the Company continued on their way down the Trench, they did not see that, around one of the walls enclosing the entrance of this unearthly groove, something watched them from afar, something which appeared to be some great, unblinking¡­ eye.

 Quite many affairs afoot

    The young Lady Scylla of Lionel took another unenthusiastic sip from the tall wine glass she held as she stalked about the floor of the grand ballroom. She had long since grown bored of listening to the chittering of the tits who had flocked around her as soon as they noticed her presence. All of their talk circling endlessly around ¡®they said what¡¯ or ¡®who is sleeping with who¡¯ was grating enough to make her ears bleed. She reached up to toss a tuft off her majestic, artfully tousled red hair back over the shoulder of her dress, which was sewn of fabric dyed in rich jewel tones reminiscent of rubies and emeralds, and huffed in not a little exasperation, puffing out her heavily-freckled cheeks as she did so.

    ¡°My Lady? Is everything alright?¡± Asked a Baroness who stood at her side, noticing the momentary drop in her usual regal fa?ade.

    ¡°Hm¡­? Oh yes, no! Do go on.¡± Stammered the young Lady from Lionel as she quickly resumed her demure demeanor.

    ¡°... If you insist. Anyhow, as I was saying-¡±

    Phew! Lady Scylla would have wiped away the bead of sweat dripping down her forehead if such an action wouldn¡¯t threaten to smudge her makeup. That was a close one!

    The Lady had only just come of age a few months prior, and despite her best efforts, she was simply not as attuned to the lifestyle of your average Noblewoman as she would have liked.

    ¡°--What about you, Lady Scylla? Are there any Noble sons who have struck your fancy?¡± Asked another, younger Noble daughter, suddenly cutting through the conversation to address the distracted redhead directly.

    Scylla retained her composure rather than rushing to answer, making it seem as if she was contemplating her response. She tapped her folded hand-fan to her lip and stared up into the air. If she was to answer truthfully she would have answered with ¡®none of them at all,¡¯ but that would not have been proper, nor would it have pleased the expectant eyes that surrounded her, waiting.

    Suddenly, trumpets blared out over the crowd, and there were a good many of them playing for a good while too, denoting a guest of most esteemed importance had arrived. ¡°Presenting His Royal Highness, Lord Markefalt Eren Alderic de la Thorn Boratan, the Second! King of Boratan!¡±

    All eyes turned upwards to watch as the young Regent made his grand entrance. Lady Scylla, who was still wearing her usual mild grin as she turned to look, found her expression falling into one of shocked and confused anger as she¨C and everyone else present, besides¨Csaw the woman on his arm! For there, walking beside him arm-in-arm, was the tall, fair, and well-built daughter of the Baron van der Leigh, dressed in finery which matched his own ensemble. After gaping in a moment of shocked stillness, the ballroom began to come alive again as the two began making their way down the large and opulent spiral staircase together.

    ¡°Is that Lady Frith?¡± ¡°The daughter of Baron van der Leigh?¡± ¡°Oh my word!¡± Came many startled and excited voices throughout the hall.

    No sooner had the couple¡¯s feet left the final step of the stairs than did a clamoring crowd of Nobles surround them, some of them desperate for the King¡¯s attention, others curious about their relationship, or of how this pairing came about. While the women who had been speaking to Lady Scylla left promptly to join into the newest throng, chasing the most potent source of gossip, the young Lady of Lionel was not so uncouth as to swarm and buzz about it like those other flies. As she pulled another sip from her glass, a second figure approached to stand and observe the commotion from at her side.

    ¡°She performs quite well in that position.¡± Said the other woman, causing Lady Scylla¡¯s head to snap to the side to face her.

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Lady Illund who has approached me, how do you do?¡± The red haired maiden spoke through her most polite smile, her voice dripping with a most saccharine and unfriendly lilt.

    Lady Illund only smiled inscrutably back at her. ¡°I am doing well, Silly.¡± Replied the bespectacled brunette in a comfortable and untroubled voice.

    ¡°Don''t. Call me. That.¡± Lady Scylla gritted out, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been playing together since we were babes, Silly. If anyone has the right to call you by a pet name, it should be me.¡± Replied Lady Illund, adjusting a piece of jewelry which adorned her hair, which was a warm black color cut at a medium length. ¡°At least until the object of your ambitions reciprocates your¡­ enthusiasm.¡±

    Lady Scylla turned to glare back over at the Royal couple across the way, aimed particularly at Lady Frith. ¡°Damn that woman!¡± She cursed. ¡°What did she do? I thought she had been consistently rejecting his advances!¡±

    ¡°She simply bided her time until she was offered something that she needed. It¡¯s what most Noblewoman do, Lady Scylla.¡± The youngest of the Illunds replied as she checked her nails for imperfections.

    The King raised his glass then, and the boisterous crowd about him grew silent for a moment so that he might speak.

    ¡°My good Ladies and Gentlemen: I am pleased to announce that Lady Frith van der Leigh has agreed to be my partner at the upcoming Foundings Day Ball!¡±

    Sounds of adulation arose from the excited Nobles and accompanied by a small outpouring of applause. With no more eyes scrutinizing her own behavior, and feeling most put-out, Lady Scylla stormed off out of the ballroom, leaving Lady Illund alone to watch her departure. She quietly removed her full-moon spectacles and rubbed them with her handkerchief.

    ¡°What a handful!¡± She sighed to herself, before she noticed a passing servant carrying a large tray loaded with savory pastries. ¡°Ooh!¡±

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    <hr>

    It had been a few days of arduous work, but many of the villagers who had remained to aid Castle Petrice with the storage and the organization of the newly-arrived gifts from the Barony were now departing, satisfied with their work and the benefits they had earned by it. To each village had been bequeathed a share of the poultry, livestock, and draft-animals, along with a personal stipend given to each person for their work. In turn, this was a beneficial arrangement for the members of the Castle, for they obviously had neither the necessary hands or space to care for so many creatures, so it was a boon to have them taken off of their hands. They did, however, retain the horses, two chickens for eggs, and a milk cow.

    Many of the halls of the Castle were set aglow with their new decorations: Large and lustrous handcrafted tapestries, carpets, and rugs, as well as gleaming trinkets and jewelry in glass displays. The Ancestors who hung about the place now found themselves in new company; departed van der Leighs and Petricians now glared at each other unblinkingly and eternally. The Castle Cathedral, even Fatherless as it was, now sported an opulent new Holy Wheel. Niklas worried a bit that this symbol of the Son of God, draped in gold and jewels as it was, would be considered a blasphemous mark against him during his inevitable judgment¡­ but as it had been sent from the Church of the Almighty in the Capital, surely it was all well and good?

    A comparatively small gathering of people yet remained in the courtyard after the departure of the majority of the villagers, townsmen, cityfolk and Lords. For the past several days, during their free time between shifts spent moving and organizing the dowry goods, the Militiamen from Stoppridge and the youths from Thuud, along with several dozen other Petricians from disparate villages, had taken to practicing drills and formations together, alongside basic self-defense with spears. After the Moot they had all taken to each other quite a bit, and Finona¡¯s people were interested in organizing a formal Militia of their own, for Stoppridge was far to the North.

    Many of these youths had lost fathers, brothers, or other family to monsters¨Csome of them quite recently, too¨Cand were therefore eager to gain the ability to protect those who they had left and exact retribution for their losses. The Count had also just penned a measure incentivising each of the villages and towns to create such forces, offering wages and the funding for materials paid from the County¡¯s own coffers, which the returning civilians would be bringing home with them along with the rest of their boons.

    Now that the work was all but done, this ambitious group could focus wholeheartedly on their new goals, and the presence of first-class Knights from van der Leigh was a once-in-a-lifetime learning opportunity for everyone present. Niklas spent a brief moment watching from a high window as Ser Glorifeld gave an enthusiastic demonstration on the use of the longsword. He grinned down at the scene below him before going on his way.

    While these fresh young hands toiled tirelessly to learn the art of soldiery, Hemsley was busy rushing back and forth between the Castle and the border-town of Tukk, where a great many craftsmen lived and survived day-by-day on the meagre funds they earned from the few travelers who passed through their gate. Even these normally stoic and reserved Petricians were left in an excitable state after they received the Count¡¯s recent missive, for he had placed a great order with their blacksmiths for spears, daggers and shirts of chain, and besides that, the rest of the craftsmen were tasked to make just as many boiled leathers, gambesons, and tabards bearing the crest of Petrice.

    They knew not from where the Count had received this sudden influx of coin, but they were more than grateful for the work. Soon, the lackadaisical little town was energized by a renewed toil and purpose that the place had not seen in decades. In the coming weeks the results of this incredible economic boost began to flow down the roads and stimulate the nearby towns and cities just the same. Word would begin to make its way back up the Road of Benedict, and even further on down the Royal Highway, that the County of Petrice was experiencing a strange and unexpected windfall. Soon enough, a small trickle of merchants and traders would cross Petrice¡¯s borders¨Ca trickle which steadily grew into a raging flood!

    That is, however, a story for another time. In the present, Hemsley was still hurrying on his way down the road, with the Count¡¯s first few missive-orders tucked securely under his arm, and he was even riding on the back of one of their new horses to boot! Niklas was yet quite unaware of the huge waves of effect he was about to set into motion with these orders. While he was aware of how they would serve as a shot of lifeblood for Tukk, as well as the territory at large, he underestimated just how great a shift his labors would cause to pass. You could forgive him for this lack of economic foresight, however, because his sights were currently focused elsewhere.

    Coronton had remained relatively quiet in the few days since the Moot had concluded. Too quiet. Niklas suspected something was afoot, but he had received no further word on the matter, and so he remained in the dark. The atmosphere in the Castle was one of breath held in anticipation; it was almost as though they were waiting for something to arrive. He did not like the continued silence. Thus, as soon as he was finished with his current tasks, he had decided that he would make his return to the City¨Conly this time with the Knights van der Leigh riding at his back!

    We shall see how that false and criminal Lord fares against the greatest order of Knights in the Kingdom! Niklas thought to himself with fire in his eyes.

    Then he recalled the look on Lady Merida¡¯s face the day before, as well as her own declaration of intent to march upon Coronton with the men under her own command, with or without him. It appeared that the revelation of the Lord Mayor¡¯s deception, and Alvin Borney¡¯s true fate, had hit her the hardest. All this time she had thought the young man was deceased, and his next of kin thereby rightful in his position¨Cif not his character¨Cnever imagining that anything foul could be afoot.

    Whatever we do, I should choose to leave soon, for she looked as though she was ready to take her men and go by herself at that very moment. I doubt she will wait for much longer!

    Still, he wondered¡­ why had the master of Coronton not yet made his move?

    <hr>

    With the Castle Petrice now in sight off in the distance, the 1st Company from Coronton had set their camp on a mostly flat plain set between the many steep hills which made up the majority of the local terrain. They had marched along beside that strange Trench with little issue. Every so often they would spot the small buildings of a village in the distance and worry that they might be seen, or even confronted, but no such troubles occurred. The villages even appeared strangely lifeless, and some of the soldiers wondered if there was something going on that had called everyone away.

    That¡¯s lucky for us, if so. Even if we don¡¯t conceal ourselves, we shan¡¯t be observed! The Sergeant had thought to himself, glancing back at that strange tunnel and shivering slightly.

    Once they had finally reached the place where they had originally planned to exit the trench by way of , if they had indeed travelled inside it, they marched a bit further until the Castle was in sight. They made to rest and wait for the arrival of the 2nd Company. There was nothing else they could do, really, for he had been explicitly told that only Rochester had been entrusted with further orders from the Lord Mayor.

    I have a terrible inkling about what those orders might be¡­

    For the first day or so, the Sergeant was content to believe that the lack of discipline must be the reason for 2nd Company¡¯s continued tardiness. However, after the second day had dawned, and with no sightings of them anywhere, the Sergeant experienced that terrible, twisting feeling in his gut again. It was indeed the same way he¡¯d felt the first time he stared into the peculiar fog that hung in the air within that damnable Trench.

    ¡°Sergeant Wilhelm, sir, what do we do now?¡± Asked one of his Corporals, looking nervous. ¡°Without them, we have no orders!¡±

    After a long, ponderous moment during which Sergeant Wilhelm peered back in the direction of that Trench with narrowed and suspicious eyes, he issued his own commands. ¡°We will return to Coronton, posthaste!¡±

 A Romantic horse ride for two

    ¡°My Lord!¡±

    Ser Glorifeld called out to Niklas as he marched down the hall with a determined stride. Niklas stopped in his tracks, his arms full of papers, books, and scrolls as had become common for him recently.

    ¡°Yes, what is it?¡± Niklas echoed down the hall in reply, doing his best not to drop his overabundant load.

    Ser Glorifeld hastened his stride, dutifully relieving his Lord of some of his burden of documents when he caught up to him. ¡°I have received a report from one of the men I sent to patrol the hills surrounding the Castle: A large gathering of soldiers was spotted making camp to the Southwest, not far from here.¡±

    ¡°Southwest?¡± Niklas said with a start. ¡°Soldiers? From where?¡±

    ¡°That is the interesting part; according to his report, they wore the banner of Coronton!¡±

    This only served to intensify the young Count¡¯s confusion. ¡°Coronton lies on the Southeastern border, why would they..?¡±

    ¡°We believe that they made march past the Southern mountains unobserved, possibly due to the reduction of villagers present in the area, as they had mostly gathered here.¡±

    ¡°Did they mean to attack, do you think?¡± Niklas wondered aloud, just as much to himself as to his subordinate, and the Knight-Captain¡¯s face darkened as he considered the possibility himself. ¡°I suppose they were expecting a mostly-empty Castle, besides the presence of myself and the Countess. The sight of your knights must have gave them pause.¡±

    ¡°To think he would send his own men, who are pledged to the defense of the land and its people, to attack the home of his Lord¡­¡± Ser Glorifeld¡¯s dark expression took on an edge of steely determination. ¡°Sir, please give the command to me and my Knights, and we will see this villain brought to justice!¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ turn to grimace in distaste, but he nodded to the other man nonetheless. ¡°While I am loath to order any such violent reprisal, or to send you or your men into danger, we cannot let this farce go on any longer.¡±

    Ser Glorifeld¡¯s face was set aglow, appearing almost like a restless hound who had finally been let off of his leash to hunt. Returning the papers and books which he had taken back to the precarious stack held in the Count¡¯s arms, Glorifeld then stood stiffly at attention and saluted him for a brief moment, before marching away with a quickened gait. Niklas would not have been surprised to see the man leap up and click his heels together mid-air, so uncharacteristically excited was his mood. Then, as he turned to continue making his own way down the hallway a realization struck him.

    ¡°...To the Southwest?¡±

    <hr>

    It had taken about an hour after his impromptu meeting with Ser Glorifeld for Niklas to finally locate Hemsley and help him to fit one of the new horses with reins. She was an astoundingly well-behaved beast, though he supposed this should not be so surprising. Their stock were carefully bred and raised to become the steeds of the Kingdom¡¯s greatest Chivalric Order, and they were almost just as worthy of the title of Knight as the men who rode atop them. However, just as he was bringing this new mare out for a warm-up trot through the open Castle gates, he detected the sound of another set of hoofbeats approaching from his rear. He turned over his shoulder, and was startled to lock eyes with the Countess, who rode straddled atop a horse of her own!

    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you out of my sight again, not after last time.¡± She stated, narrowing her eyes as she gazed down at her husband, who shivered slightly but mustered a nervous smile in response.

    ¡°B-by all means¡­¡±

    Together the young couple made their way Southwest, following the same route that the Knight-Captain had described. Uldred, however, having decided to accompany him quite spur-of-the-moment, knew not where they were headed.

    ¡°We should turn back.¡± She commanded. ¡°That is the No-Man¡¯s Land. It is not safe for you to be here.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I know.¡± Niklas replied through nervously-grit teeth, not bothering to look back at her.

    ¡°Then, why..?¡± She asked with a huff, though the small Count leading them forward was obviously not paying attention.

    Between keeping a watchful eye for the far-off silhouettes of terrible creatures, as well as for the remains of the camp of those suspicious Coronton soldiers, Niklas was not fit for much conversation.

    As much as I hate to admit it, I am thankful for the Countess¡¯ company. I would be doubly afraid if I were to have come here alone, as I had originally planned.

    Now he finally, briefly turned back over his shoulder to look back at his Countess, who returned his gaze with her usual cold glower. A few strands of black hair hung down over the silver surface of her mask, landing just beside the corner of her eye, and the memory of her face¨Cwhich he had glimpsed for the first and only time during that meal all those months ago¨Cwas suddenly and vividly conjured up from within his mind. He quickly turned to face forward again, a small flush rising across his face. Uldred could do naught but watch his strange behavior with some confusion.

    I¡¯m only glad to have her along for the protection. That¡¯s all¡­ He tried to convince himself.

    Finally, the two crested a hill and found what they had been searching for; after a steep descent, the land leveled out for a ways into a flat plain. Upon this flatland they could easily spot the remains of several bonfires, and the grass and sandy dirt had been disturbed greatly besides, and still showed the footprints of many dozens of men and draft beasts.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Demanded Uldred. ¡°Who would be foolish enough to make camp in the land of Monsters? And why?¡±

    Niklas took a deep breath in through his nostrils and set his jaw, almost as if preparing himself for some great labor. ¡°That, my dear, is what we are trying to figure out.¡±

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    Now it was Uldred¡¯s turn to feel the hot bloom of a blush spread across her cheeks, leaving her thankful as ever for the concealment provided by her silver mask.

    After spending some time plodding about the area and investigating, Niklas found the tracks that revealed the direction from which these men arrived, which matched the direction they had departed!

    ¡°For once I am thankful for the dreary weather, and the general lack of wind and rain in Petrice!¡± Niklas declared, for the tracks were quite clear, having been left undisturbed by the elements. Together the curious couple followed along this makeshift road of trodden soil, and Uldred grew more relieved the farther they went, as she saw that the tracks were steadily leading them back to the East. As the sun began to dip lower towards the peaks of the distant mountains, Niklas worried that the time to turn back was close at hand, and he had discovered no clues of any true significance. Uldred, he could tell, was growing restless, and did not want him to stay out so late among the Monsters.

    It was then that he laid eyes upon what appeared, at first, to be a mound of dirt about one and a half times as tall as Uldred, and which stretched on in either direction for what appeared like forever. As they drew nearer to it, they could see that its back dropped off quite abruptly¨Cit was not a wall... but a massive grooved trench!

    ¡°What in creation could have made this..?¡± Niklas wondered aloud. ¡°Do you have any idea--¡±

    Niklas turned back to pose his query to his wife, only to become startled when he saw that she had drawn the massive blade off of her back. She was on full alert, her head swiveling vigorously back and forth, as if they had been surrounded by some invisible foe that only she could see.

    ¡°Something is not right. We must return, NOW!¡±

    He hurriedly raised his hands up to the level of his shoulders with his palms open in a sign of agreement. ¡°Alright! We can go. I can return with a full expedition sometime in the--¡±

    Just then, something crept up, cresting the top of the mound as it came into view! It was the hand of a man, one battered and covered in cuts and scabs! Niklas yelped, and Uldred foisted up her blade towards whoever¨Cor whatever¨Cit was. As it emerged more fully into view, they could see that the figure was of a man, about in his mid-twenties. What remained of his armor and clothes were ragged and filthy scraps pocked with dark-red stains. He seemed to be so desperate to ascend that dirt wall, that no sooner had he heaved a shoulder over it than did he throw himself with reckless abandon down its slope, clattering all the way! He rolled quite violently before landing with a loud thud and striking the back of his head against the bark of an old, long-dead tree, whereafter he fell still as he slipped into either death or a state of unconsciousness.

    ¡°What in the Hells!?¡± Cried Niklas, his horse rearing up slightly and backing away from the carcass as it was startled in turn.

    Uldred quickly clambered down off of her own steed and marched over to the slumped figure, her sword still drawn and at the ready, peering about suspiciously for any signs of an ambush. When no further surprises emerged from the Trench, she knelt down, grasped the injured man¡¯s shoulder and rolled him onto his back. She was shocked to see a familiar face surrounded by tufts of blond hair, matted and crusted together with sweat and blood as it was.

    ¡°Rochester..?¡±

    Niklas peered down at her curiously. ¡°What is it? Do you know them..?¡± He asked in a tone of disbelief.

    She did not bother to answer him, but rather lifted the limp man roughly by his collar before hanging him over the back of her horse like an old rug.

    ¡°I believe he will give us the answers we seek, but we must return now. I refuse to make camp in such a place.

    Some awful, sharp cry erupted from further down that ominous furrow, and Niklas nodded nervously in agreement.

    <hr>

    Night had long since fallen by the time the Count and Countess finally returned to the Castle courtyard. Waiting for them by the doors were Belfort and a yawning Hemsley, who were both quite startled to see the Countess had the body of an unknown man draped across her horse¡¯s haunch, before the now-dismounted Countess lifted him to her own shoulder with ease.

    The two servants rushed over to retrieve this unexpected burden from their Lady, despite the obvious lack of physical strain she displayed, and carried him carefully inside so that the Medical Officer from Stoppridge might determine his condition. Once again the Count and Countess were left to their own devices. Niklas took this chance, turning to his Lady then and addressing her quietly.

    ¡°So... what do you suppose that ¡®that¡¯ place was?¡± He asked, shivering slightly at the memory of that strange and unearthly Trench from which they had retrieved the Sergeant.

    ¡°Mmm.¡± Uldred hummed in a vague non-reply, obviously lost in her own thoughts. ¡°I will have to send a missive to Chasm¡¯s Watch¡­¡± She mumbled, more to herself than to her husband, and she then began to march away.

    ¡°Chasm¡¯s Watch¡­ The old fort? Why, what is it?¡± He asked, falling into a light jog to keep up with her much-longer gait.

    But she continued to ignore him, silently and expeditiously making her way up the short steps to the doorway which led inside the Castle.

    ¡°Y-you know what made that, don¡¯t you?¡± Niklas demanded.

    Uldred stopped suddenly at the doorway, and turned her masked face so that one piercing violet eye peeked down at him over her massive shoulder. ¡°This is not a matter of concern for you. It is... Hunter¡¯s business.

    Niklas folded his arms and huffed in dissatisfaction, but did not attempt to pry any deeper.

    ¡°Oh! Well, look who it is!¡± A familiar voice rang out from the shadows just beyond the outer gate.

    Niklas and Uldred both turned back to see who had arrived at the Castle so late in the evening. Four figures then emerged into the dim light of the torches, two of them men and two of them beasts. A musclebound woman with tanned skin and bright blonde hair, her companion a rather fresh-faced fellow who grinned merrily. At their back they each led an animal by their reins, one being a horse and the other a mule laden down with many packs.

    ¡°Nayantara! Mister Thomas!¡± Niklas called out in elated surprise.

    Uldred cocked an eyebrow behind her mask, for while she had seen to the introduction of Niklas and Thomas all of those months ago, she wondered at the circumstances in which he had met Nayantara.

    ¡°It is good to see you well and safe, my Lord!¡± Called out Nayantara, jogging up to the shorter man, while Thomas chose to approach at a more casual pace. ¡°I had feared the worst!¡±

    Then her gaze rose up to the figure of the Countess, who had come back down the stairs and now stood behind her husband. ¡°My Lady!¡± Nayantara then opened her arms out wide as if to embrace her prickly Lady, grinning from ear-to-ear.

    ¡°No.¡± Growled Uldred. ¡°No hugs!¡±

    But there was no stopping the affectionate spitfire, and in a blink Nayantara had wrapped her up in a wide embrace, arms and all, and actually lifted the massive woman from her feet! Niklas¡¯ mouth fell agape in his shock, although Thomas simply looked on with a dumb smile, completely unsurprised by this amazing feat. Finally, mercifully, Nayantara set the thoroughly disgruntled warrior down on her feet. Uldred¡¯s eyes suddenly looked down and scanned over the other woman¡¯s left arm, which was still slightly blackened and terribly scabbed over, and she sighed in resignation. ¡°Well, come inside.¡± She commanded, and they all were quite content to follow her indoors and out of the dark.

 Calm Before the Storm

    You will forgive the good Sergeant Rochester if he at first assumed, upon regaining consciousness, that he had died and was currently in the care of the Afterlife. The last moment he had been conscious had seen him running for his life while hundreds of palid, bloodless hands grasped out to take ahold of him, scraping and bruising him all over with a terrible strength that he could just barely wriggle free of. The only thing which had kept him from their clutches was a moment of pure weakness¨Cfor while the gruesome massacre of his men unfolded before him, this normally-brave knight cast away his sword, his breastplate, and any other heavy article that may have weighed him down, before bolting off into a mad sprint headed further down that Hellish corridor and deeper into its thick, obscuring veil of fog. Although he could not see them whenever he looked back over his shoulder, he could still hear them: a horrible chorus of hundreds of voices crying out as if in great terror and pain, overlaying an ominous, shuffling rhythm as if a great mob dogged at his heels in a stumbling sprint.

    Once his lungs began to burn and he was forced to reluctantly slow his hurried gait, Rochester had realized there was only one thing he could do to save himself. With nothing left to power his aching body forward but sheer terror, he made a desperate running leap onto the side of the dirt wall. No sooner had he landed than did scores of rough hands reach out from the mist to latch onto his heels.

    Emerging out of these vivid and terrifying memories and back into the present, he looked down at his hands, which were well-bound with fresh bandages. They had been wounded as he had clawed and scratched in a desperate bid to free himself,  his nails having been torn away, and the tips of his fingers were scraped raw and up to the first knuckle.

    Because of the depth of the pit, the wall had been a climb of about six and a half meters, and the only reason that he had been able to press onward and upward was that the climb had not been completely vertical, and so was just barely climbable. When he had finally pulled himself far enough that his head could peek over the ridge of the dirt wall, he was startled and dismayed to see two large and silhouetted forms awaiting him! In his surprise he had lost his balance, and went tumbling ass-over-teakettle down the other side of the wall. For an instant he felt the back of his head collide with what felt like a large rock as he quite violently met the ground, and he knew nothing more until he awoke here¨Cwherever ¡®here¡¯ might be.

    As Rochester finally came to his vision swam as he adjusted to the light, until everything finally seemed to settle and he arose to a sitting position in his bed. He was in a small room lit partially by the blue-tinted light of early evening let in through the window, while at the opposite end of the room a fire crackled in the fireplace, its warm light casting the form of a person tending to it into shadow. As they heard the small creak of Rochester shifting in his bed, the woman turned to face him, and he was a little taken aback at who he saw there.

    She was a beautiful woman, perhaps the most beautiful that he had ever seen¨Cthough that was small praise, seeing as he had grown up in Otkorn. She was dressed finely and stood with proper posture, and the features of her face were defined and mature, accented well by her warm black hair which had been tied into a neat bun.

    ¡°Ah, you are awake.¡± She said, her voice as elegant as the rest of her, although her tone was completely neutral.

    That is when Rochester noticed her eyes, which glowed with a uniquely violet hue, and with a shock he realized that he was in the presence of Nobility! He did his best to hastily turn and to provide as respectful a bow as he could make in his current condition. Lady Merida raised her hands to wave away his efforts.

    ¡°No no, that is quite unnecessary! Please lay back down.¡± She bade him, and Rochester could do naught but comply.

    Looking a bit sheepish now, Rochester stammered out, ¡°S-so are you the Countess, then?¡± He imagined a woman of average size putting on a costume that made her form appear much taller and wider and a mask that obscured all of her features.

    ¡°Oh, not at all.¡± The woman replied with a little amused grin. ¡°The Countess is my niece. My name is Merida, Lady-Mayor of Stoppridge.¡±

    ¡°L-Lady Merida.¡± He said, bowing his head with respect despite her previous protests.

    ¡°The Countess was the one who found you, and returned you to the Castle for treatment.¡±

    Rochester smiled with a soft, bitter melancholy at that. ¡°Ah, then it seems I am in her debt once again.¡±

    Lady Merida folded her arms. ¡°A debt that you could surely repay just by answering any questions that the Count or Countess have for you.¡±

    Rochester looked up at her now with a determined expression. After being put through such horrors due to their ignorance and duplicity, any duty or loyalty he had felt for the Baron, or for Otkorn itself, had been cast away along with his sword in that dark trench.

    ¡°I shall gladly answer any questions they might have.¡±

    Lady Merida grinned again, but it was wider and warmer this time. ¡°Well, then I shall send them in without delay.¡± And with that she slipped out of the large wooden doors leading into the hallway beyond and was gone. Rochester scratched the back of his head, puffed out his cheeks with a held breath and sighed as he let it out, hoping that he was making the right choice. His anxieties would have to wait, however, for he detected from beyond the door the sound of approaching footfalls: one set was large and heavy, the other smaller and more frequent.

    The latch on the door clicked and Niklas and Uldred entered the room. It was Rochester¡¯s first time laying eyes on the new Count, but he looked just as had been described in the rumors, barring the obvious exaggerations. He was a small man, thin and spindly in stature, but with a handsome, youthful face framed by a head of short, dirty-blonde hair.

    ¡°Sergeant Rochester, I am glad to see you finally awake!¡±

    ¡°Aye my Lord, although I think I might be just plain Rochester, now.¡±

    <hr>

    Following this introduction, for the next few hours the former Sergeant was debriefed of the events leading up to the present moment. After that he also provided a detailed retelling of the recent history of the Baron of Otkorn, beginning a few years prior, just before the first time he had met the Countess when she had been contracted by Lengar to recapture the Road of Benedict from the forces of Otkorn led by Rochester¡¯s former commander.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t access to Baron Otkorn himself before the Countess... before I was promoted to the rank of Sergeant, so I know not how long he has been this way. But ever since I was allowed to meet him, his behavior has always been strange.¡± Said Rochester, taking a sip from the glass of water he had been provided to soothe his parched throat.

    Niklas was scribbling all of the information down since the start of this interview, which Uldred looked on, remaining stood and as inscrutable as usual with her cloak and her mask.

    ¡°He has always been a... cheap man, even though he does not lack for coin. Always trying to pay as little as possible, whether that be for construction or tools, or new men to replace those soldiers that he has lost.¡± Rochester¡¯s eyes turned to Uldred briefly, before sheepishly returning to looking down at his blanket.

    ¡°You are referring to those... thugs who have been appearing everywhere recently?¡± Niklas asked over his notes.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Aye. For as long as I can remember the Baron has preferred conscripting men from the prisons rather than the peasantry. Partly because of how full they have become¨C for the conditions the people of Otkorn live in are quite wretched¨Cbut also to replace the forces he regularly lost to Lengar as he fought for control of the Road. Recently he had increased this practice to such a great degree... It was almost like he had been swelling his ranks in preparation for some greater scheme... which I suppose in hindsight he was.¡±

    Niklas looked up at Uldred then, who returned his gaze with a knowing look of her own.

    ¡°I think we have heard all that we need to hear. Thank you for your assistance, Serg¨CMister Rochester.¡± Niklas quickly corrected himself before rising from his seat, the numerous and detailed notes he had taken during the former soldier¡¯s testimony clutched securely to his breast.

    ¡°Sleep.¡± Said the Countess in a tone that, while commanding, was not unkind. ¡°Your fate shall be decided when we return.¡±

    With that the Noble couple turned to make their exit back into the hall through the heavy wooden doors, through which the exhausted survivor could just barely hear  Niklas¡¯ voice as he quietly chided Uldred, before both the door and his eyelids fell shut and he knew no more.

    ¡°Did you have to say that so ominously?¡±

    <hr>

    The mismatched pair were shortly stood within the office of the Countess, positioned side by side behind her large wooden desk. Inside the room with them were the Lady Mayor Merida and Ser Gregory, along with Thomas and Nayantara. After a few moments of anticipatory silence, the door creaked open and the Knight-Captain Glorifeld entered the room. He was followed closely by Finona, who looked nervously about at the very important people who were already gathered there. And once the door had fallen shut behind her with a click, it was time to begin.

    ¡°My good people.¡± Said Niklas. ¡°I have called you all here today because I have decided that it is finally time to put the matter of Coronton to rest.¡±

    Reaching below Uldred¡¯s desk, Niklas retrieved a large scroll made of a thick parchment that was yellow with age, which he unfurled to its full size, engulfing the entire desk and all of the other documents that had been set upon it. From one moment to the next the ordinary table had been transformed into a most detailed, hand-drawn map of the County, crisscrossed with lines and symbols of various colors and thicknesses to depict and differentiate the roads and the sideroads, along with the terrain and features of each area. Without pause, Niklas then turned and, from behind the desk, selected three pieces from a chessboard that decorated an end-table beside the wall. He then placed these in different locations atop the vast map.

    Niklas carefully set the Queen where they all currently resided at Castle Petrice; the Pawn he placed atop Coronton; and finally he then positioned the King in a blank space beyond the Petrician border where the Barony of Otkorn lay. Several eyebrows raised at that gesture, while others looked on nonplussed, as if they had already guessed at the revelation themselves.

    ¡°Let us relay what we have learned thus far: that the man we know as ¡®the Lord Mayor Borney¡¯ is a charlatan and a criminal; that Otkorn has conscripted and transferred a considerable number of violent criminals to undermine Coronton¡¯s city watch with a standing force that will not balk at executing even the most cruel or unusual of orders.¡±

    He then pointed his finger towards the base of the small mountain range located slightly West of Coronton, and which was a good ways South of Castle Petrice. He then drew his finger along in a smooth arc until it reached a point closer to¨Cand just West of¨Cthe Castle.

    ¡°According to Mister Rochester, his orders from Borney were to enter into the trench which the Countess and I discovered the other day, and to lead a score of men to the Castle to take it from the West, where we would least expect such an attack.¡±

    All of the Petricians in the room exchanged looks of disbelief and dismay as they absorbed this news. The Knight-Captain Ser Glorifeld looked about at his cohorts with a bemused and uncertain expression. ¡°...You will have to explain to me, my Lord, the significance of that area to the West.¡±

    ¡°Monsters.¡±  The Countess answered in a booming voice before Niklas had a chance to reply himself. ¡°Surely you have heard of the Flamberges?¡±

    Ser Glorifeld exchanged a look with her, and then Nayantara and Thomas behind him as well. ¡°So they are real, then?¡± The two swordmasters grinned back at him as if in confirmation.

    ¡°Yes, although it appears that the Lord-Mayor does not believe that himself, leading to the failure of his planned encroachment.¡± Niklas explained.

    The idea of a Petrician Lord who did not believe in the existence of the Monsters was obviously an alarming one, based on the reactions of the other locals present in the room. Ser Glorifeld stepped forward to speak again.

    ¡°This is a good thing for us, is it not? A force of a hundred men has been removed from our opponent¡¯s hand without any effort on our part. We must seize this opportunity before they have a chance to reinforce themselves!¡±

    Niklas nodded to him. ¡°Yes, I agree. We mean to set out soon, three days from now at the very latest. You are all to prepare and assemble your forces so we can march for Coronton posthaste.¡±

    It was at that point that Finona raised a trembling hand to speak. ¡°W-what about me and my frie- my people, m¡¯Lord? Are we to come as well?¡±

    Glorifeld, Merida, and Gregory looked back at her with apologetic expressions. ¡°With all due respect, miss Finona, your... colleagues have only recently begun the first steps in their training.¡± Lady Merida said in a gentle tone. ¡°It is too dangerous, not to mention irresponsible, to bring such an inexperienced group to a battlefield. Truthfully, I am also worried about the readiness of my own men, for while they have been training for years, this is likely to be their first taste of real combat.¡±

    Finona looked over to Niklas then with pleading eyes, and he hesitantly rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated the situation. ¡°What if¡­¡± He began, trailing off as he became lost in thought for a moment before he continued. ¡°...What if we were to place them far in the rear? Even if we do not plan for them to fight, it may work in our favor to fraudulently bolster our forces.¡±

    Lady Merida folded her arms and her face fell into a serious and contemplative expression as she considered this proposal. ¡°To give the illusion that we have more men than we truly do, hmm?¡± Then she looked back at Finona herself, clearly still somewhat unconvinced. ¡°I suppose that could be... satisfactory.¡±

    Finona¡¯s face lit up for what seemed like the first time.

    ¡°Th-thank you! I promise that we won¡¯t l-let you down!¡± She stammered, bowing deeply towards the Lady Mayor, who waved her hand dismissively in reply.

    ¡°Save your thanks for after we see this through, for you may not be feeling so grateful after everything is said and done.¡±

    Now it was Niklas¡¯ turn to fold his arms. ¡°Well, that settles it, then. You are all dismissed. See to your people, and begin preparing to depart without delay!¡±

    The voices of all those present barked out their acknowledgements of his orders and then steadily began making their way out through the office doors, some of them more enthusiastically than the others. After a few moments had passed they were finally left with only four figures in the room: the Count and Countess along with Nayantara and Thomas. The two Hunters looked expectantly towards their leaders. Niklas leaned in towards his wife and whispered to her from behind the cover of his hand.

    ¡°Are you Hunters allowed to engage in matters of politics? I mean, I know you must do so, for you are after all the Countess. But for the two of you..?¡±

    Uldred did not attempt to whisper in the slightest as she replied. ¡°There are no rules against the matters a Flamberge may or may not engage in. At least, barring wanton murder or banditry. There are very few rules for them at all, in fact.¡±

    He paused to consider before he posed another query. ¡°...and what about you?¡±

    Uldred leered down at him through the slits in her mask. ¡°Of course, I must accompany you as well--all of you, I mean. Not just you.¡±

    Niklas grinned up at her. ¡°I knew I could count on you!¡±

    This drew out from the secretly-blushing Countess a flurry of stammered words and flustered gesturing the likes of which Nayantara and Thomas had never had the privilege of witnessing before. The two of them tactfully refrained from commenting, and simply watched the couple interact with silent grins of amusement.