Volume 1 - CH 5.5

From the window of the west wing flew the lords of Albeck, father and son both. Onto a haystack below they fell, for the most part unharmed by the landing, but being bound as they were, they could not flee. Not that they had a mind to—their unceasing gripes had compelled Frieda and me to cudgel the wits out of them.

The four of us followed close behind. With Ina on my back and Carola on Frieda’s, we climbed out of the window and descended by way of rain spouts. At the bottom, we found ourselves right before the stables. Just as planned.

Off into the shadows we scampered, and from there peered at the west gate over yonder. The flanks of the manor were thinly surveilled, as we’d anticipated: not more than three men manned the secondary exit.

“Rolf, ‘twon’t be long ‘fore the lackeys catch a whiff of the stench we’ve cooked up in the manor,” whispered Frieda. “Best we blast our way out ‘fore they’re sore fierce on our tail.”

“Then we move now.”

The longer we tarried about twiddling our thumbs, the more the fates were fain to have us fail in our flight. Unflinching fearlessness was needed, with perhaps a pinch of recklessness: unlike my infiltration of the place, breaking out with a bang was a card I could now afford to play.

We helped ourselves to three steeds from the stable: one for Ina and I, another for Frieda and Carola, and the last for the Albecks. Our captives were tied to their mount, the reins of which I held from afar.

“Ina, Carola. Hold on tight,” I cautioned lowly. “Worry not. You’ll all be free before you know it. Arrows, magicks—they’ll not harry us. Our noble hostages here make for a fine shield.”

“Home’s on the horizon, loves!” soothed Frieda. “Let’s move!”

Sudden hoof-falls filled the air—the gallops of three horses gunning for the west gate.

“Wh—!?”

“B-b-b-bloody ‘ell, they ‘ave us lords, they do!”

Blindsighted by our brazen escape, the guards did little but stand agape as we sped through their midst.

The getaway was as painless as it was successful. We were free at last from the viscount’s haunt. The west-side stables would provide our pursuers no avail, for we rode the only horses kept at them. Whomever had a mind to wind about to the front and call for aid would have found the effort futile, for by then we will have long disappeared beyond the horizon.

♰

Our mounted escape carried us a few mīllia-passūs from the manor. There, we stopped and dismounted on the banks of a brook running through the bottom of a verdant valley. The sun was sunk below the mountains. The skies blushed a wine-shade; night was falling.

“My thanks, Rolf,” said Frieda, looking up to me. “The authorities’ve kept the viscount’s villainy in their sights for a long while now, but this devil’s kept his tail tucked away a bit too well, y’see.”

“And I trust you’ve enough to have him stand before a tribunal?”

“Plenty. Our testimonial will be grounds enough for a good scouring of that mad manor. And the torture chamber—well, our viscount here’ll sooner don the monk’s frock ‘fore that place sprouts wings to fly away with. It’ll clinch our case quite nicely, I reckon,” Frieda smiled. “Our princely paraphiles are tied up tight. They won’t be going anywhere.”

“I see…” My thoughts turned to the torture chamber. “The skulls. Give them a proper burial for me, will you?”

“You have my word.”

“And my name and face are to stay secret—I’ve your word on that as well?” I carefully requested. “‘A bystander in a helpful mood, gone after the escape’. That’s my meagre part in this play. It’s hardly a lie, at least.”

“Scandals of the aristocracy are as tangled skeins; I’ll not blame you for wanting to keep clear of the mess. But do you truly mean to part with not a merit to your name?”

“I do,” nodded I. “Consider them all yours.”

As they should be.

My actions heretofore were to be as divorced from Emilie’s involvement and knowledge as much as possible. Even were House Albeck to be found full-guilty of its transgressions, if it came to light that I had a hand in the matter, all but ill awaited Emilie.

Indeed, it would all be seen as an underhanded inquiry by the young mareschal to force an annulment of her own betrothal. And who was it that did the snooping? Why, no less than a member of the 5th, her very own Order.

‘’Twas but a bit of scrutiny upon my husband-to-be.’ None amongst the aristocracy would dare brook such an excuse. Penned at the end of such a scenario would most certainly be the humble name of House Mernesse, forever tarnished, and Emilie’s many toils in keeping her family afloat—all as whispers set to the four winds.

I could not allow such to come to pass.

“Right then,” Frieda nodded back. “But don’t you forget: we owe you much for your deeds on this day, Rolf. Thank you.”

“And I, you.” Our hands met and shook. I knew then what it was like to have a friend-in-arms. Gladly so. “Back to town with you, is it? To rendezvous with your employers?”

“That’s the plan. ‘Twon’t do to keep these girls cut up for so long, anyway. I’ll have them seen to.”

“You’re no less cut up either, Frieda.”

A gentle chuckle. “I suppose not.”

“I must return before the morrow’s light. We part here,” I announced. “Apologies. I would escort you all to town, but the luxury’s lost, I’m afraid.”

“Pay it no mind. The sun is set; our pursuers’ll be blind to our whereabouts,” Frieda smiled again. “We’ll be all right from here on out.”

“…oah… mmrgh…” came a slobbering murmur. “…Wha… where… where is this…?” Verily had we beaten the nobles unconscious, but it would seem the viscount was spared of a fist too few, for his wits now returned to him. “…F-fiends! W-what is the meaning of this!?” he squirmed.

“Look and know, fiend,” Frieda fired back. “You, your boy, House Albeck—your ends are nigh.”

“Q-quit your mummery! Y-you are all but sheep bleating for the milk of my poppy! And you would for shame bare your teeth at me!?”

“You sooner seem the bleating sheep than I, shameful master.”

“S-silence! Silence, you! You dare speak of shame!? Hoh! Shame! ‘Tis but a base shadow before the brilliance of House Albeck! We are foremost amongst the nobility, we are! Our lands are holy! None other than the St. Rakliammelech himself sojourned within these vales!” the viscount vaunted. “I was made steward of this land by His Majesty’s grace—I’ll not be brought low by the likes of you motley rabble!”

To this, Frieda offered little more than a smirk. “High words! From a worm.”

“Aaach!” the lord redly fumed. His eyes were crazed. They searched about in twitches, settling upon Ina and Carola. To them rushed his railing spit. “You there! Wasteful wenches both! Free me at once, will you!?”

“Aah…!” they shrank back.

“Stay your whimpering! Hie now! Have me unbound! Why, I’ll have you all cut up and served, I will! For that’s all you’re good for!!”

“Ah…! N-no… aa… aah!”

“That’s enough from you.” A nerve of mine was finally struck. I came up to the viscount and summarily had his mouth muffled with whatever was at hand.

“…mmmgh…! Mmrgh…!” his indignance erupted further.

“Aaaaah! Aah! No…! No!!”

“P… please… mercy upon us… please…! Ah… aaah!”

Yet to Ina and Carola, their oppressor’s silence proved to be of little succour, for the nightmares that howled up from their hearts hounded them beyond all bearing.

“My loves, you are safe!” came Frieda, taking them into her arms. “The pain is ended—you are freed! All is well now!”

But despite her sincerest efforts, the poor souls could not be calmed.

“Ina, Carola both. Look to me,” I said, gentle yet firm.

“Aa! Aaah…!”

“Look,” I repeated, with as much heart as I could muster. “I beg of you.”

“Ah… aah…”

A fragile moment of stillness. This was my only chance.

“You’ve all been affrighted and aggrieved too much, far beyond my knowing. I cannot even begin to share nor salve your pain, and that tears away at me to no end.”

“…Ah… au…”

“I’m sorry to say, but the wounds you bear—they would sooner heal many times over before you’re freed from the nightmares. Till then, you must brave the many sleepless nights that await you.”

A frightening realisation, to know that the hurt shall not end today. The weight of it left the two quieted.

“But, you have each other, and together you may remember this day of all days; this, I hope. The day you stood up. The day you fought your fears. The day you saved Frieda from Kenneth’s feint.”

Their brows unfurrowed, as if the adventure was relived in their minds.

“Were it not for your courage, would we not be lost in this moment?”

I knew well the answer. As did Ina and Carola, perhaps, whose quiverings lessened at last.

“There is strength in you both. A solace to grace you against the demons set upon your hearts. Of that, I am certain.”

“…a… ah…”

“Fear is a mighty foe. But you can fight. This very moment attests to it.”

“…S… Ser Rolf…”

“I… I…”

A spark returned to their eyes. I knew gladness then.

“You’ve shown me valour worthy of a storied knight. To have met you all is a treasure I’ll forever cherish. Thank you.”

“…N… no… I… Tha…”

“Hic… Ser Rolf… Ser Rolf…!”

Through the benighted valley, their cries echoed.

As they did through my heart, for I then found myself wishing upon every star I could see for but one simple hope: that the victims here would find peace in their days henceforth.

────　Notes　────

Mille-Passus

(plural: mīllia passūs) A unit of measure used by the ancient Romans; known as the “Roman mile”, it spanned 1,000 passūs in length. 1 kilometre is equal to 0.6757 of a mille-passus. A mille-passus, therefore, can be roughly equated to 1 and a half kilometres.