The Second Night and Day

An Ambush and Two Arrivals

Departing from Luciforus’ presence, the Scelus assassins marched into the royal armory.  Men who were gathered in the center of the room fled, their bowels turning to water, afraid to offend the Scelus by looking any of them in the eye.  Tales were told throughout the ranks of men who were fool enough to stand before them and dared look on them as equals.  It was said Celsus hamstrung one offender, leaving him alive only force his own roasted flesh down his throat.  It was also said that one man dared forbid the six of them entrance to his house for food and rest.  They tied him to a post in his barn and raped his wife in front of him for three days until she died, repeating process one by one with the man’s three daughters.  Only when all his family was dead ten days later did they kill the farmer by setting fire to the barn while he was still tied to the post.  No one knew if the stories were true, but neither did anyone dare test their validity.   

Quickly and efficiently they gathered their weapons of warfare: knives the size of a man’s forearm, arrows for their quivers, large wooden shields reinforced with iron, clubs and maces, and all other manner of weapons.  Once, MaleViscus and Vadoped quarreled over a particular sword almost coming to blows.  Only Celsus’ stern threat to make it impossible for them to carry a sword quelled the situation.  They quickly abandoned the argument and Celsus scooped up the sword for his own use.  When the Scelus had shoved their weapons into scabbards, between belt and pant, slung them over their shoulders, and tucked them under their arms, they exited the armory.

General Ra met them as they mounted their horses, strong, black beasts that reared their heads wildly and snorted with ferocity.  “Men,” he said, “I wish we knew how the princess left the castle that you would have some way of determining which course she took.  As yet we have only found a few secret passages and none of them lead anywhere outside of the castle.  I wish you luck on your journey.  May you be successful and return the girl to his Supremacy.”

“Worry not, General.”  Celsus answered, his obsidian eyes hard as they were dark, his comely face narrowed in sternness.  “We shall not return empty-handed.”

“You had better not.  If you cannot find the girl it would be better for you to fall on your own swords.  You should not like to incur the Supremacy’s wrath, should you fail.”

“Then we shall succeed or die,” answered Vadoped, who was all head and hands and feet with an amalgamation of undistinguishable parts between.

“I should call that noble if I did not think you would be insulted.” Replied the general ironically.  “Now, we must cease this mindless chatter and you must make haste and find the girl.” 

The men nodded to the general and quickly thereafter they were away, thundering through the city.  They knew they were a full day behind, but as they were used to long, hard travel and sleep deprivation, and as they doubted the princess had a horse, they were convinced they would make up ground very quickly.  Outside the city, the road diverged.  The Northern Road looped to the left toward Maleficus Cruel before jogging back toward the east where it connected the land-locked forts and strongholds of the Northern provinces to the citadel.  It was used primarily as a logging road, builders and foresters felling trees for sundry uses and carting them on from the Northern outposts back to the capital city.  The Southern Road stayed within five despits of the Veritan Sea, connecting all of the sea ports and provincial seats to one another from Purus City in Pacis Pure Province to Macto, the provincial seat of the southernmost province, Fidelus All.  The assassins followed the Southern Road to the right, seeking for any trace of the girl they hunted.

At dusk, the six assassins stopped to water their horses at a well.  Near the well, they saw a large hillside thick with berry bushes.  Decidedly hungry, Subjectio, who had shoulders the size of small mountains and arms like fifty-year old oak trees, lumbered toward the hill to search for berries.  What he found as he drew near the embankment surprised him.  He placed his hand on his hilt and walked nearer until he could see it clearly.  It was an overturned cart in front of a cave opening. He loosened his grip and called out to the other five, “Ho!  I have found something here in the hillside.  A cart overturned and a cave, and some strange notching in the stone floor.”

When they drew near, he said.  “See how the cart sits in these ruts.  Someone has taken great pains to construct this cave.  It is not unlikely that this is the mode of escape the girl took.  Had I not hungered, I might never have found this cave and cart.”

“You are conjecturing, Subjectio.” Arbitro remarked.  He was the ugliest of the group.  His teeth were rotted, his face mottled with pock marks and scars, the reddish-purple flesh around his neck and chin evidencing a venereal disease commonly found in Maleficus Cruel, his bronze hair thin and oily, matted together in huge clumps.  “This might be nothing more than a mine.”

“Perhaps not, but, tell me, Arbitro, who would leave a mine cart overturned in this manner?  Only someone in a great hurry, and what hurry does any miner have that would warrant such negligence?”

“And there are footprints in this mud here.” Cruoris answered, pointing to the tracks.  “Too small to be a man’s, but too large to be a child.”

“Then it is the princess.”  Subjectio interposed.  “I say we track her from this opening.  She covered these seventy-five despits rather quickly in this tunnel.  Perhaps she has a horse now.  Whatever the case, we should mount up and continue on.  I fear she is further ahead of us than we estimated.”

The other men, though they doubted this was the girl’s escape route, could not disagree with Subjectio’s logic or the fact that they were wasting precious time staring at the cave and guessing its purpose.  So, they quickly gathered berries and figs and wild mushrooms readily available and travelled on, following the small tracks in the dirt that might or might not belong to the princess.

 

*****

In the dungeon the Pure family was slightly downtrodden and depressed now they were unable to sing without forfeiting their mother’s life.  They were all huddled together against one wall, attempting to comfort one another, but failing.  The babies wailed or slumbered, while the older children moaned of hunger or boredom or the stench of the full chamber pots.  Baron’s children and their spouses hushed the children as best they could, but it was vanity.  They were mere babes and did not comprehend the evil that held them captive.  Eventually the parents abandoned their attempts to shush their children, and merely cradled them in their arms and let them cry. 

At some point just after sunset, when the light through the tiny windows changed from red-gold to pale silver, the dungeon door flew open cascading the group with orange torchlight. A moment later the guard shoved an elderly man through the door and slammed it closed behind him without so much as a glance to anyone else in the room.  It took only a split second for Lady Tiela to recognized the hunched figure of her father.  She rushed to him and fell upon his breast weeping.  He held her close until she was calm.  It was then that she looked upon his face and saw the gash upon his forehead and the bruise upon his cheek.  “Father!” she exclaimed reaching up to raw, open skin of his forehead, “you have been hurt!”

The old Marquis winced at her touch and said, “Slightly mishandled, but well enough.  None of my wounds are mortal.”

“Thanks be to The Faithful for that.”  Tiela sighed, loosening her hold on her father.

“Lord Rowem,” the King said eventually, “I am both saddened and pleased to see you here.  What of your family?”

“Your Grace,” he nodded a bow to his sovereign.  “I was the only one present in Bellator, the rest of my family being in our country home twenty despits north.  No doubt my family has heard of the invasion by now, but they should all be safe.”

“Praise be to The Faithful!” King Baron exulted genuinely, “And what of Bellator?”

“She is compromised, Your Grace,” said the Marquis.  “I fear all of our provinces have fallen beneath Luciforus’ hand.”

“Indeed, Luciforus boasted of that earlier this day.  Had you any warning?”

“None, but five minutes, and what can be done in that short amount of time.”

“The same is true for us.  Luciforus had not the decency to,” King Baron shook his head and changed his sentence.  “I should not expect Luciforus to be decent, cruel tyrant that he is.  No declaration of war, nothing a dignified leader would do.  Simply a malicious invasion in the dark while we slept, or played, and thought ourselves safe.  I am ashamed that we were not prepared for this.”

“Good King, you need not be so harsh toward yourself.  We have all erred egregiously in assuming that because we serve The Faithful we should never experience war.  Now we can only hope that our people will rise up together in faith and battle to set us free.”

“That is not our only hope, Papa,” Tiela added, squeezing his hand.  “Mairien escaped and is sojourning to bring aid to our great nation.”

“Praise be to The Faithful!  All is not lost.  To where does she journey?”

“To Mount Trinitus,” Tiela whispered in her father’s ear, “that she might retrieve the Leo Palma and return to defeat Luciforus.”

“By herself!  Such an expedition!”  Lord Rowem exclaimed, shocked and slightly doubtful.

“My daughter is resourceful and wise, Lord Rowem, and The Faithful shall guide and protect her.”  Said the queen, who rarely spoke, but always spoke words of wisdom and import, “We have no doubts of The Faithful, nor of Mairien’s faith in him, and I dreamed last night that she received aid from a brave knight of our kingdom who will journey with her to the end, and that end is in this castle defeating our adversary.”

“So shall it be, Mother,” said Eron, “For I had the same dream.”

“Then we shall have no fear or doubts any longer of Mairien’s fate,” said the King.  “The Faithful has provided us with a vision of our victory, and has confirmed it now.  Let us remain true and devoted to it as The Faithful is to us.”

“So let us say a prayer of thanks to The Faithful for Lord Rowem’s safe arrival and the vision of our success and victory.” Eron urged, “And let us rejoice knowing that Mairien has received aid from a faithful knight who is devoted to our great nation.”

 

*****

Night waned and dawn drew near as Sir Gaelus and Mairien continued their travel through the dense Abigo Forest.  For more than eight hours they trekked across the thick woodland, stopping only twice to rest for a few minutes before resuming their travel.  As dawn broke, streaking gray and purple across the sky, barely visible through the thick foliage, the two travelers heard a clamor of horse hooves thundering nearer and nearer.  Sir Gaelus shouted back to Mairien, “We must sprint, Your Highness.  The gypsies draw nigh.”

Digging their heels into their horses’ sides and snapping the reins, they rode hard and fast, barely able to see what lay before them.  Their bodies flat against the horses’ backs, their pace was almost a reckless one, as they were unable to avoid the tree branches that hit them in the face or leg, almost knocking them off their saddles.  For every stride they took, though, the thundering sound of approaching hooves grew ever louder and drew ever closer.  For half an hour they outran the marauders, but as the purple-gray sky slowly melted into pink and soft blue and visibility increased, they realized that the gypsies, dressed in long, black cloaks, had surrounded them and were slowly closing in.

Sir Gaelus abruptly sat up in his saddle and turned to look at Mairien. “We must fight, Princess.”

“Sir Gaelus,” she returned breathlessly, “there must be one score and ten men.  How shall we two defeat them?”

“One may defeat ten, princess, but two may defeat one hundred.”  Sir Gaelus answered, pulling back the reins and bringing Regalis to a stop.  “We are two, Your Highness, and these men are not one hundred.  By the power of The Faithful we shall defeat them.”

Mairien halted her horse as well, and said, “Then, by The Faithful, we shall fight.”

“Know you how to wield your weapon?”  Sir Gaelus asked drawing his broadsword and side sword from their sheaths at his waist as the sound of hooves drew ever nearer.

“Moderately, but even if I do not there is no time for a lesson, Sir Gaelus.  They are upon us even now.  We must fight and believe in The Faithful.”

“Stay close, Your Highness, they come in haste.” 

As he said those words, Sir Gaelus turned Regalis around, searching for the first wave of bandits.  They came quickly, swords drawn, sprinting hard and fast toward heroine and hero.  Their eyes were the only things visible, having covered their noses and mouths with scarves.  In their eyes was bloodlust and fearlessness, but Mairien and Gaelus were not to be cowed by their attackers.  Sir Gaelus was sword to sword with several men quickly, the metal blades clanging loudly, echoes bouncing off the tree trunks, rattling Mairien’s bones.  Fear crept up her spine slow and cold, frost across glass, but she vowed she would not be overcome by it.  “Faithful, protect us,” she whispered as she faced her first attacker.  He came close, his sword raised.  Her horse, Spiritas, instinctively lowered his head, the bandit swung his heavy sword down toward her head, and she intuitively ducked low and thrust the sword upward, closing her eyes as the attacker came within reach.  She felt the sword lodge in something and opened her eyes.  When she did, she saw that the tip of her sword had stuck a hand’s length deep in the eye socket of her attacker.  The man, now dead, dropped his sword and fell off his horse, dislodging Mairien’s sword from his head.

She was shaken for a moment, at the realization that she’d just ended a man’s life.  She fought the urge to panic, to weep, to slump over in her saddle and retch.  She never thought she’d take a man’s life from him, never thought she’d watch the light go from his eyes.  It made her nauseous while the excitement of battle made it difficult to breath.  She was bordering on hysterics when Sir Gaelus’s shout roused her and she turned to see that he had already incapacitated more than five men.  He fought as a man possessed�"with the strength and agility of five men, brandishing a sword in each hand.  One man he struck on the shoulder while he jabbed another through the throat.  He pulled both weapons out simultaneously and slung the residual blood upon his horse’s white coat. The sight of him so furious and brave forced the fear and nausea away.  She blinked and awe rose in her breast as she watched Sir Gaelus fight.  The sound of more hooves drew her attention away from the knight and she faced her next attacker.  The bandit bore down upon her from the left.  This man had a club in his left hand and swung it upward at her, as if to strike her from below the chin.  Mairien ducked to the right; the man’s blow missed its target, and she heaved a sigh of relief as he passed by and was forced to circle back around.  As he did, another gypsy approached from the right, wielding a long sword.  He swung, and Mairien barely dodged the blow, haphazardly swinging her sword at him as he passed.  The tip of her sword sliced through the soft tissue beneath his right arm, but did little damage.  On she fought, ducking and dodging in the saddle as Spiritas maneuvered about, swinging her sword when she was able and thanking the Faithful when her enemies missed their mark.

As Mairien waged a defensive battle against her attackers, Sir Gaelus waged an offensive one.  Directing Regalis by nudging his knees against the animal’s flanks, the brave knight fought in circles around his princess.  Every enemy within reach, he cut down, slashing, thrusting, blocking, kicking, hitting, and once head-butting, with speed and accuracy.  He missed only one attacker that approached him from the left because he was otherwise engaged with two men on his right, but he was able to dodge enough of the strike that the man’s sword sliced into the meat of his left tricep instead of piercing through his shoulder or heart.  Adrenaline coursing through his body, Sir Gaelus did not feel the pain of the wound, nor did he experience a reduction in strength.  He fought on, now with seemingly more spirit and bravery.

When the same man who wounded Sir Gaelus passed him, his eyes fastened on Mairien and he raised his sword again, determined to cut her down.  Mairien, however, saw his approach and predicted his attack, dodging it in such a way that she was able to thrust her sword between his ribs beneath his left arm, piercing his lung.  The man gasped and fell off his horse in agony.

Sir Gaelus fought with a bravery Mairien had seen in no other man, not even her brother, Aron, and his bravery encouraged her to fight with determination.  Sir Gaelus would cut down most of the men they faced, but she would not sit atop her horse as an easy target.  If the gypsies managed to pass the brave knight, they would be forced to contend with a girl who refused to be a damsel in distress.  And so they fought wave after wave, man after man, wounding those they could wound, and slaying those they could slay. 

When the sun broke through the night and shone bright yellow in a clear blue sky, bright enough that the forest was no longer shrouded in darkness, it illuminated the carnage on the forest floor.  There, a full hour after first being attacked, Sir Gaelus and Mairien sat mounted on their horses, heaving heavy breaths with all their energy spent, limbs weak with exertion, hearts pounding in their chests, blood running from open wounds.  Round about them were the bloody bodies of the thirty thieves who attacked them, some seriously injured, some dismembered, some dead, others soon-to-be.  All were too wounded to fight any longer. 

“Well, Your Highness,” said the knight, “it seems we have stood our ground and succeeded.”

“By the hand of The Faithful,” she gulped, the gory sight making her nauseous once more.

“Yes.  By the hand of The Faithful.”  He looked at her, noticing the blood on her dress at her right knee.  “Princess, I believe you are wounded,” he stated, quickly dismounting to attend to her.  “We must stop the bleeding.  Might I have your permission to clean and dress the wound?”

“Of course, only…” she could not finish the sentence.  Leaning away from him, she retched, unable to quell the nausea any longer.  Sir Gaelus had covered her hand with his as she gave in to the retched time and time again.  When she sat up straight again, a thin sheen of sweat covered her face.  She smiled weakly, apologetically.  “I fear I am unaccustomed to carnage and battle.  I must beg your pardon.”

“There is nothing to pardon, Your Highness.  Many a man, myself included, suffered the same after their first battle.  I would have been more surprised if you were unaffected.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I shall attend to your wound.”

She nodded, carefully pulling her dress up just far enough for him to see the cut.  “But really, Sir Gaelus, it is a minor wound.  One of the men you wounded threw his sword in my direction and the blade caught me just above the knee.”

“That is your only wound?” Sir Gaelus marveled.

Mairien nodded, adding, “Really it is little more than a cut.  I hardly feel any pain; it only stings a little.”  At that point, Sir Gaelus touched the laceration to see how deep it was and Mairien winced.  “Save when you dig your finger into it.”

“I am sorry, Your Highness.  I do not wish to cause you pain.  I only wish to tend to your wound.”  He said, ripping off a piece of cloth from the shirt beneath his cloak to tie about her knee.

“And what of your own wound, Sir Gaelus?  It is far worse than mine.  You bleed steadily, and now that you have tended to me, please tend to yourself.”

“Am I wounded?” Sir Gaelus asked, looking about for his red badge of courage.  “I feel no pain.”

“There, on your left arm.  You are cut and it appears deep.”

Sir Gaelus then noticed the wetness of his shirtsleeve and the cut in his upper arm.  After surveying the damage he remarked, “It is a long wound, but it is not very deep.  I will be fine, but will require your help binding it.”  He said, as he finished tying the cloth about her wound.

“I shall assist you in any way possible.”  Mairien answered, as he ripped more cloth off his shirt.

Handing Mairien the cloth he said, “Wrap it firmly about the wound and tie it tightly.  When we reach my parent’s home beyond Profecto we should be better able to clean and dress our wounds.”

Mairien did as he bade and asked, “How far are we from Profecto?”

“Less than fifty despits.  We should arrive by midday.  What have we left of our provisions?”

“Two pears, three apples, a loaf, and half a wineskin.”  Mairien answered.

“Then we shall breakfast,” Sir Gaelus answered, “Only let us distance ourselves from the bloodiness of this battle; it quells my appetite.  There is a creek nearby where we may water the horses.  That shall be a sufficient place to eat.” 

They traveled a few despits to the creek, where they ate quickly, desiring to make haste to Profecto, hoping to discover a different scene than they beheld in Bellator.  What they found was something they would not soon forget.  As they drew to within ten despits of the city, they noticed that the sky was filled with gray and black smoke.  It seemed to pervade every inch of creation, as if to block out the sun. 

Once again, Mairien felt her heart begin to sink within her chest.  If the smoke was any indication, she doubted they would find little more than charred rubble when they reached the city.  Her intuition proved correct.  Approaching from the northwest, they topped the hill against which the city sat as it sloped down to meet the sandy beaches of Veritas Bay.  The scene that greeted her was mortifying.  The once thriving city was now in embers and rubble, smoldering black smoke and ash against the bright blue backdrop of the ocean.  The sweet smell of salt-water air was distorted by the acrid smell of sulfur and burned flesh.  Tears came quickly into Mairien’s eyes and stole down her cheeks as she and Sir Gaelus paused on the crest of the hill.  She saw no activity in the city.  There were no carts rattling, no children running, no women gathered round the well drawing water.  Even the herds and flocks that usually grazed upon the hillside were nowhere to be found.  Nothing inhabited the area but the charred remains of a great city staring bleakly out across the sea.

Mairien buried her head in her hands and wept.  Such destruction, such devastation, she had never seen.  To look upon what was a thriving city not three days prior, and see it now as a broken-down, charred ember was more than she could bear.  She thought of the mothers and fathers, sons and daughters who lived here, simply farming or spinning wool or tending to flocks.  How full and busy their lives had been, and now what was left of them?  Naught but what the fire left in its wake.  And what was that but ruin?  The thought caused her to weep more bitterly than before.

Her heart was downcast within her, and, despite their recent victory in the Abigo Forest, Mairien felt as though they had encountered an undefeatable foe.  At that moment, with the picture of Profecto burned to the ground in the forefront of her mind, the situation they faced and the quest they pursued seemed hopeless, and Luciforus’ evil reach seemed indefatigable and more powerful than their strength or ability.

She lamented aloud, “Why! Why?  Why would He allow such tragedy?  Why an army so undefeatable?  Luciforus is too formidable a foe.  He is heartless and cruel and wicked, and he destroys the children, the women, even the entire city.  I am not strong enough and I cannot do this.  I cannot endure these atrocities!  They are too great.  The enemy is too great if he can do such things without blinking an eye.  There is nothing but ruination!”

More and harder weeping succeeded her lamentation, during which she succumbed to the despair and sorrow she had allowed to creep into her soul.  While she wept bitterly, Sir Gaelus crossed his arms over his chest and stared out blankly across the city that was razed to the ground.  His heart constricted within him and he clenched his jaw, thinking of the numerous families, the many childhood friends he knew that lived in Profecto.  His body tingled with outrage, and the beginnings of wrath and hatred began to ooze into his mind.  As quickly as he felt those emotions, he took a deep breath and pushed them away by quoting a passage from the scrolls that he knew intimately, “Love and wrath cannot abide together.”

It was then that he heard Mairien lamenting, giving air to the struggle within her soul, and Sir Gaelus knew that the tenderhearted princess at his side needed him to be focused and understanding.  She was, no doubt, experiencing a bit of shock, having been protected her entire life from the evils and harshness of the world�"so much so that she was already battling doubt so soon after their wonderful victory.

Her lamentation now over, Sir Gaelus laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder and said, “Come, Your Highness, this is a sad moment indeed, but we have seen such victory this very day that we cannot doubt The Faithful or this quest.  Our foe is strong, but the Faithful is stronger.”

His words seemed to calm her, and at length her sobs quieted to sniffles.  She was then silent for several minutes, obviously attempting to regain her composure.  She did so eventually and, sighing, looked up at the knight seated on his horse.  “Thank you for your kind and wise words, Sir Gaelus.  I know that The Faithful is much stronger than our enemy, but the devastation overpowered me for the moment.”

“That has happened to us all, I am sure.”

“I do not usually struggle with doubt, and I am not sure why I struggle now.”

“You have lived a very…shall we say ‘protected’ life.”

“And by that you mean sheltered.” Mairien answered.  “Yes, I am unaccustomed to this much freedom.”

Sir Gaelus nodded.  “As such, the trials of the world are mostly unknown to you.  It only follows that after fighting for your life, seeing the massacre below should impact you greatly, perhaps even make you question the very things you know to be true.  It is a struggle we all must face, Princess.  The important thing is that when doubt comes, we are not taken captive by it, but that we cast it away as a work contrary to faith.  If it is contrary to Faith, then it cannot be from The Faithful.”

Mairien nodded once more and added, “My brother, Eron, speaks of faith often.  He is in the priesthood.  He should like you very much, Sir Gaelus, if he were here this moment, and he shall be very glad that I had someone on this journey with me to keep me focused and grounded.”

“I take that as a great compliment,” Sir Gaelus answered.  “But you must not think me rude when I suggest that we continue to my parents’ home.  It is but five despits hence and there we might learn of what happened to this great city.”

Mairien wiped her eyes once more and nodded her head, following Sir Gaelus as he rode around the north of the city towards his parents’ home.  As they drew near the gray stone house, which had a thatched roof with a weather vane, Mairien saw a tall, lanky man in a wide-brimmed straw hat brushing down a bay horse.  On the north side of the house sat a barn, pigpen, and chicken coop.  Between the two, a woman, perhaps in her thirty-fifth circuit, stood at a large basin washing clothes.  Several children ran about barefoot, laughing as they chased chickens in the small park inside the wooden fence, but when they saw the two approaching on horseback, the children stopped their hunt and ran out directly towards them shouting, “It is Sir Gaelus!  Papa, it is Sir Gaelus come home!”

As Mairien and Sir Gaelus rode through the gate, the children reached them and Sir Gaelus dismounted, picking them up one by one to greet them and toss them in the air playfully.  As the man in the wide-brimmed hat approached, Sir Gaelus sat the children down and shook his hand.  “Mikus, it is good to see you.  I hope all is well here.”

“Indeed, Sir Gaelus.  The raid did not reach the property.”

“And mother and father?”

“Quite well, I assure you.  They are within at table.”

“Then we must join them, if you will see to our horses.”  Sir Gaelus assisted Mairien down and said, “Might I introduce to you Princess Mairien, youngest daughter of the king.”

Mikus bowed immediately, removing his hat to reveal a completely bald head, save the gray tufts of hair about his ears, and said, “Your Highness.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mikus.  Thank you for your assistance.”

“It is my pleasure, Your Highness.”  He bowed again.

News of Sir Gaelus’ arrival traveled quickly, for the woman at her washing abandoned the chore to inform the household, and Gaelus’ parents opened the door as he approached the house.  After receiving a warm hug from his mother and a firm handshake from his father, Sir Gaelus introduced Mairien.  His parents bowed and his mother�"a woman short in stature but full of dignity�"said, “It is an honor to have you as our guest, Your Highness.  I must apologize upfront for the disarray, for we have a house full of rambunctious children.”

“There is nothing to excuse, Lady Aria.  A house well lived in is a happy home.”

“Shall we eat then?” asked Sir Baelus, “I am sure you are quite famished from your trip.”

“I should be happy to dine as soon as we have attended to our wounds,” Sir Gaelus answered, showing his parents the crude bandage covering his wound.  “We had a very unfriendly meeting with marauders in the Abigo Forest this morning, and did not have proper time or items to bind our wounds.”

“Of course,” answered Lady Aria, “I shall call for Rhia immediately.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sir Gaelus rejoined his family in the breakfast room.  Mairien’s wound was cleaned and dressed first, and she had joined his parents at table Mairien some time before.  She was, as he walked in, giving an animated description of their fight in the forest.  “He was quite brave, Sir Baelus.  I am sure that I have never seen anyone as fearless as your son was this morning.  We were so outnumbered, and I am really nothing more than a novice with a sword.”

“You were quite a fine aid in the battle, Your Highness.”  Sir Gaelus inserted as he walked through the door.  “Father, she stuck her first attacker through his eye socket.  I was very impressed.”

“Truly, it was luck.  I closed my eyes and thrust the sword forward hoping for the best.”  Mairien shrugged.  “But that is enough talk of our battle today.  If you do not mind, I would like to know what happened to Profecto.”

The old baronet was sixty, though he looked a man of eighty, with his thin white hair and deep, defined wrinkles. Age spots smattered his skin.  He spoke in a quiet, wheezing voice, for he had been caught in a terrible storm on an open plain some fifteen circuits prior, and had fallen gravely ill with pneumonia.  Though he recovered from the illness, vestiges of it had made him somewhat of an invalid and prone to infirmity.  He sighed and shook his head with sadness.  “It was a terrible, terrible ordeal.  The Marquis and all of the soldiers in the town attempted to defend the city, but they were quite overpowered.   A fisherman spied the invading fleet from his boat about a quarter of a despit off shore.  He rowed quickly in to warn everyone.  The Marquis and our forces had only thirty minutes to prepare for the attack, and, as you are well aware, that is not long at all.  The armada was upon them quickly, but the men were organized.  They fought for several hours before the armada shot flaming arrows into the city.  The homes with thatched roofs caught fire quickly, and the people tried to escape but the armada had surrounded the city.  Nevertheless, Lord Colium and the soldiers fought, but they were outnumbered, and eventually the city fell.  The Armada killed everyone who was left and set fire to the remains of the city and the people.”  The old knight drew a deep, wheezing breath.  “I am quite ashamed, Your Highness, that I was unable to aid the Marquis and the city.  I have grown infirm in my old age, and am reduced to biding my time here in my home until The Faithful sees fit to take me from this world into the next.”

Mairien reached across the table and covered the old knight’s hand with her own.  “You have served your people well for many circuits, Sir Baelus, by your loyalty to The Faithful and to the king.  This was not your battle and you should feel no shame.  We are hard pressed now, but we shall not be overcome.  We shall overcome because The Faithful has promised us victory.”

 

*****

“Ra,” Luciforus said to his general, “Eighteen hours have passed since we dispatched the Scelus Assassins and they have neither returned nor sent word of their progress.  I grow impatient.”

“Yes, Supremacy, but it has only been one day,” General Ra answered, mopping the sweat off his face and neck, “and the girl did have a full day’s head start.”

“You need not remind me of your failure, Ra.  I have not forgotten.”  Luciforus answered, biting lustily into a turkey leg.  “Nevertheless, it should not take our six best men this long to gain ground on a little girl on foot.”

“Should we assume she is on foot, Supremacy?  It is possible that she has obtained a horse or some other transport.  If so, her travel speed has increased drastically and it should take the Scelus longer to retrieve her.”

Luciforus growled, obviously unhappy with the idea of the search for Mairien lengthening.  “I do not care how she travels, Ra.  She is not skilled in traveling like the Scelus and their inability to find her angers me.  I want that girl back here and I want her back here now.  Do you understand that?”

“I do, Supremacy, and I believe I might know a way for you to learn of her location.”  Ra answered submissively.

“Tell me, then, you imbecile.  Do not keep it to yourself.”

“Well, Supremacy, perhaps there is a way to force Baron to disclose the information we need.  Perhaps if we use some of our instruments of persuasion on him he will reveal her purpose and destination.”

“You mean, of course, that we should torture Baron.”  Luciforus answered plainly.

“Yes, Supremacy.”

Luciforus paused for a moment, inwardly weighing the option.  At length, he said, “I, too, have considered that option, Ra, and I seriously doubt that Baron would tell us anything of his daughter’s journey, no matter how we torture him.  However, I am anxious for her capture and return.  Inflicting harm on him would be therapeutic, even entertaining.  And, perhaps seeing the leader of their family in pain and injured would persuade our other captives to cooperate.”

“Should I ready the chamber, then, Supremacy?”

“Yes, Ra, I believe you should.  And we shall commence after I have finished my leg.”

 

*****

In the dungeon, the king spoke to his family.  “We must all prepare ourselves.  A day has almost passed since Luciforus realized Mairien’s absence, and I believe he will grow short of temper quickly.”

“Father, you cannot mean to say that he…” Iriena’s voice trailed off and she clutched her children close to her, unable to bear the thought of harm befalling them.

“I cannot claim to know exactly what he will do.” King Baron answered, “What I do know is that he is a cruel and evil tyrant who will stop at nothing to achieve his plans.  Right now his greatest desire is to find Mairien at any cost.  It might be that we are called to pay that cost.  And pay it we shall for our nation and our people depend upon Mairien’s success.  No matter what befalls us, no matter what we must endure, we cannot breathe a word of her journey to Luciforus.  The cost may seem high to us, but it would be higher still if your sister were caught before she could complete this mission.”

Wives sought strength and reassurance in their husband’s arms; children cuddled against their parents.  King Baron grasped his wife’s hand in his own and continued.  “We must remember that we are the house of Pure, the only true rulers of Veritas Pure, the only family ordained by The Faithful to sit upon the throne of this great nation, and our lives must be dedicated to serving our people and serving The Faithful in whatever way is required.  If we must give up our lives so that our nation will know freedom, then that is what we shall do.  For our cause is not a selfish and vain cause.  Our cause is righteous and true, and it is our duty and our privilege to lay our lives down for our people.  Should our lives be the ransom that brings restoration and freedom to our great nation and its people, then our lives are forfeit and we must willingly pay the ransom demanded.  Let us hold each other close today.  I feel in my soul that some of us will not be here much longer.”  At that sentence, the women wept, the children trembled, and the men held their families close. 

 

*****

“Baron,” Luciforus remarked glibly as he walked through the dungeon door with his captives’ daily ration of food and drink.  “It seems that your daughter is far more resourceful than I gave her credit.  My assassins have yet to retrieve her.”

“Indeed.” Said the king.

“You realize, of course, that this perpetual waiting only increases my impatience and wrath.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.”

“Well, I should hope not.  You know my character.”  Luciforus answered, handing the king the loaves and wineskin.

“I do.”  Baron answered.  “Will you not have a piece of bread as a demonstration of good faith?”

“Baron, if I wanted to kill you, you would be already dead.”  Luciforus answered, pulling a piece of bread from the end of the loaf.  “But I suppose someone in your position must be cautious.”

“As you said, I know your character.”

Luciforus ate the piece of bread and answered, “Then you know that I cannot continue on this path.  I must know your daughter’s errand and destination, and I must know it now.  Baron, if I do not learn these things, your situation will change and you shall rue that change.”

“Then my situation will change, Luciforus, for neither I nor my family shall reveal anything to you.  I cannot regret the change of my situation if it brings hope and safety to those I love.”

Luciforus’ red face grew pale at the brave and just words of the king.  Baron’s bravery and righteousness caused bile to rise in his throat.  He could not stomach the good things for which the king stood; the situation quite literally made him ill.  After a moment or two, Luciforus composed himself and asked, “Are you prepared for the consequences of that decision, Baron?  Are you truly prepared?”

The king nodded.  “I am.”

“Very well, Baron.”  Luciforus turned to the nearest guard and said, “Take him to the chamber.  I shall be there shortly.”

King Baron stood regally and smiled down at his family with eyes full of bravery and resolve.  “Fear not and stay strong.  I love you all.”

The guard seized the king and led him roughly out the dungeon and down the hallway to the chamber where General Ra had amassed Luciforus’ myriad sundry instruments of torture.  When they were gone, Luciforus said to the remaining family, “Are you convinced that your silence is worth this?” and left.

I will spare the reader of the intimate details of king Baron’s time in the chamber with the evil conqueror.  It will suffice to say that after six hours enduring Luciforus’ mania, king Baron revealed nothing of his daughter’s journey, and Luciforus, grown bored with a lack of results, sent the king back to the dungeon exhausted, bruised, bleeding, and wondering if he would survive to see his daughter’s return. 

 

*****

As Luciforus returned King Baron to the dungeon, the Scelus assassins arrived in Bellator.  They quickly made haste toward Real Manor where many armada men were stationed at the Marquis’ home, storming through the city streets heedless of the peasantry in their way.  Women and children dove away from the path of the assassins, barely escaping the crushing underside of horses’ hooves.  Thundering through the gates, the Scelus assassins rode up to the front door of the manor and dismounted, handing their reins to the pages stationed there.  They entered quickly, not pausing to remove their outer garments or shake the dust from their clothes, and inquired where they might find Colonel Odium.  After a brief moment of inquiry, a lieutenant led them upstairs to Lord Rowem’s library, where the colonel was in a meeting with his captains.  The colonel was a pale-faced, flat-featured man, with lank tawny hair that fell into his eyes, but he was shrewd and an excellent soldier.

“Colonel Odium,” said Celsus, after the six men muscled through the several guards stationed in the hall outside the chamber door, “please indulge our intrusion.  We are on a time sensitive mission for his Supremacy and require information of you.”

“If the Scelus are all together,” he answered, “it must be very important, indeed.  Tell me what you require of me.”

“King Baron’s youngest daughter escaped from the castle and we are sent to retrieve her.  Have you seen a young girl traveling alone?”

“I have not.” Colonel Odium answered, pausing for a moment before adding, “However, yesterday, two of my men were found incapacitated in the stables.  A horse was missing.  Until now I thought that one of the townspeople was attempting bravery and gave the situation little credence.  But, in light of your errand, it is possible that the missing horse could be related to your girl.”

“It is not likely the princess could incapacitate your men and steal a horse without aid.” Celsus stated.  “If the two events are related, she has probably received aid from a warrior of her country.”

“That shall make our task more difficult,” Vadoped stated.

“Yes,” Celsus answered.  “Colonel, we must borrow one of your men as a messenger to His Supremacy.  Tell them we have reason to believe the king’s daughter is on horseback and is receiving aid from one of her countrymen, most likely a warrior.  Tell him that we are quickly tracking her eastward and will send more news as soon as we have it.”

“I am at your service,” said the Colonel.  “Help yourself to any food or drink you might need as you continue on your mission.  If the king’s daughter remains free, his Supremacy shall never have complete control of this country.”

“We shall find the girl,” Celsus answered, “Of that, you may be sure.”