Novel Ashen Ghost. Chapter 23 is up!

Discussion in 'Community Fictions' started by eikichi, Jul 18, 2017.

  1. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    Hi folks. I recently started writing and I'm looking to improve. You can also find it on Royalroadl: https://royalroadl.com/fiction/9518/ashen-ghost *Edit: I have almost finished the first book in what should be a 3 to 4 volumes series.*

    Most of my friends don't read English well enough to give me proper feedback, so I'm asking for yours. Thanks for reading.

    Synopsis
    Gravelroy, the last free city, giant metropolis. All ethnicities, cultures, and religions can be found there. Merchants, sailors, criminals, everyone is welcome inside its walls. Everyone but a king, the free citizens don't kneel. But some rulers on the continent would like for this to change...

    A country bumpkin coming to the Big City. Raised by the wilderness as much as the war. Turned criminal by necessity.

    A wounded and insane woman. A monster lurks in her prison. She struggles to regain her memories and dreams of escape.

    A tiny, insignificant meeting. It will send ripples through the world. Given time, ripples can become waves. With enough luck, once in a very long while, a wave will turn into a storm.

    But for now, the stubborn little rock has yet to fall into the waters. He has quite a long way to go in fact. Let's give him a little nudge, shall we? With chance, something might happen. Life can be unpredictable.

    Especially when we consider the adventures of a crazy girl and a weird lad. Things might get dramatic as the prelude suggested, or they might decide to do as they want and go nuts. Maybe a bit of both.

    Table of Contents

    Prologue

    Part 1, chapter 1
    Part 1, chapter 2
    Part 1, chapter 3
    Part 1, chapter 4
    Part 1, chapter 5
    Part 1, chapter 6
    Part 1, chapter 7

    Part 2, chapter 1
    Part 2, chapter 2
    Part 2, chapter 3
    Part 2, chapter 4
    Part 2, chapter 5
    Part 2, chapter 6
    Part 2, chapter 7
    Part 2, chapter 8

    Part 3, chapter 1
    Part 3, chapter 2
    Part 3, chapter 3
    Part 3, chapter 4
    Part 3, chapter 5
    Part 3, chapter 6
    Part 3, chapter 7
    Part 3, chapter 8
     
    Last edited: Aug 22, 2017
  2. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    PROLOGUE.

    Five years ago.

    Jean-Christophe was standing atop a tower, his hands resting on the stone battlement. The sun was setting and he was admiring the view in front of him. The fortress of Kophendorst and its strong walls, nested among the surrounding mountains, shone in the orange light. He was considering the fortifications through his teachings, but couldn't find any flaw. It had been built in a perfect natural location, for it left attackers with only two choices. Find themselves funneled through a long, rocky ridge towards its gates. Or climb vertiginous cliffs before facing the ramparts.

    "General." A male voice came from behind him.

    "Lord Chaffaud." He greeted him, before pausing as he noticed the second figure. "Apologies, I do not recognize your companion. I believe we have not been properly introduced, sir?"

    "He is only my aide. Don't trouble yourself." The nobleman waved off his question.

    Next to the ostentatiously dressed and stern-looking councilman, stood a rather unremarkable individual. The contrast between the two was striking. He wore a long brown coat that matched his chestnut hair and hid most of his features. He seemed unphased by his master's remark and gave Jean a bow of acknowledgment.

    "Truly magnificent, is it not?" The Lord exclaimed as he joined him at the crenelations. Jean nodded his agreement.

    "I believe you understand how necessary this alliance was, now that you see the castle's might firsthand." He continued.

    "Yes indeed. The Empire could throw every last one of its levies against these walls, and it would remain standing." Jean marveled, pulling his gaze back to the view.

    "Surely an exaggeration, though you could be right. You are far more versed in military matters than most." Jean bowed slightly in response to the compliment.

    "Your absence has been noted at the festivities if I may add." The Lord said after a while.

    "These kind of distractions are not catching my interest anymore." The general responded without looking.

    "One would think that such things should, as a member of the celebrating houses." Jean ignored the observation. "Are you going to congratulate the bride? She has been looking for you, If I recall." The noble continued.

    "Spare me the false concern." He shot back acidly. Chaffaud raised an eyebrow at the outburst. "You already received your payment, while I have been waiting for results for months. This whole enterprise could prove itself costly if you failed."

    "I have been looking for you for this exact reason. You will forgive the delay, such matters can be complicated to organize. But I can now tell you the preparations are complete, everything should be over within a few weeks." Chaffaud informed him, seeming satisfied.

    "Very well." He nodded. "I am still pondering your underworld king's motives, however."

    "And I am perfectly content to keep them to myself." Behind the Lord, the brown-coated servant rolled his eyes. Jean frowned at the gesture.

    "Do not fret about such matters, general. You should focus on the fact that, if you succeed, you will be the first to realize an old dream of the Empire." The councilman reminded him.

    "Bringing down the Eastern Kingdoms." Jean finished for him.

    "I'll take my leave for an early bed, Gravelroy is quite a journey away after all. But before I bid you good night, I must ask you to reconsider my request." Chaffaud spoke, after some time.

    "And I will say my farewells to you, councilman. But I do not think that I will oblige." Jean straightened up, taking his hands off the battlement.

    "I would hate to insist, but the Lady was looking quite sad. A shame for such a beauty, really. She used to be a lot livelier, or so I heard." The Lord said with a smirk.

    "I wish you a good night, and safe travels." He shot back dryly.

    Lord Chaffaud bowed his goodbyes, imitated by his servant. Jean-Christophe kept his gaze on them until they left, before returning to his considerations.

    "She used to be lively indeed." He mused out loud.
     
  3. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.1 To the madhouse.

    The sun was dissipating the morning fog, revealing the squared shapes of stone houses. Ben was running down the cobbled streets of Gravelroy with hell on his heels. It wasn't hell, not really, except if you considered demons to be overweight, knife-carrying and very angry butchers. His back was slick of sweat from the chase now, as he steered his course towards a busy merchant street. It could work, big folks usually did poorly in crowds, he thought. But they weren't supposed to run so fast, and for so damn long either. Ben had to shoulder his way through a group of dirty, rag-wearing people who characterized the free city. He cursed as he let his bounty slip from his hands to the ground.

    The thief hesitated before giving up on the piece of beef. A bunch of street urchins jumped on it almost instantly and he resumed his flight. It wasn't all bad luck though, for the commotion slowed his pursuer down. Ben turned at the next corner in hope of losing the fat man. He had been stupid, getting confident after a few lucky 'findings,' only to nearly lose it all minutes later.

    He kept a hard pace as he went down another lane towards the lower town. His feet were racing on dirt now, while he did not bother to look behind him for his foe. The whole ordeal shouldn't have happened, he thought. Leaving your shop unattended to pursue a burglar was the dumbest thing to do in these parts. You'd find the place wiped clean when you returned to it, that was a given. Maybe there would be a new tenant and a different sign already, Ben mused. Criminals here sure worked fast.

    It hadn't been his fault, or not so much. It has been a while since he and Mae had any meat so his hand had moved almost on its own. Back in the Wilds, he'd rarely spend a day without eating some, let alone a whole damn week. Idiot, that had been damn sloppy, never go for a larceny before checking how many folks tended the place. An apprentice must have been in the back somewhere, and the large owner had left him in charge to run after the thief, Ben concluded. He would have noticed the lad, if he had taken his goddamn time!

    He was now in view of the slums, his destination. It was the poorest part of town though not necessarily the most dangerous. Shady types usually lurked closer to the stone docks or the cobbled merchant streets, where there was at least some money to be made. The ground under his feet was now turning slowly into mud as his home drew closer. Habitations had regressed from carved rocks to wood. Their shapes as well had had their own evolution: from rectangular and topped with tiled roofs to just 'somehow standing'. -Damn, I forgot!- He glanced behind him to find no sign of pursuit. He must have lost his company at some point, he sighed in relief.

    Ben's stomach growled, and he wondered if he could ever get used to having to pay for food. Nothing was growing in this stinking city, and there was not much in terms of game but for rats and pigeons. Nothing hard to catch for a woodsman such as him, but hunting in these parts was nothing like back home. Here you found competition, lots of it. You had to fight your way through the gutter rats to get to the actual animals, and Ben didn't fancy beating on brats much. Not that he was a saint himself, or that the nasty buggers were any better. -they made some of the creatures living in the Wilds look meek in comparison-. But everybody must have a line they didn't cross right? Else you ended up doing stuff such as burning villages and killing babes.

    As for pigeons, Ben had spent a nasty few days in the city watch's jail for "endangering the life of the good citizens of Gravelroy". As if the assholes cared about the population's safety, the damn hypocrites. A shakedown is what it had been! Three fresh birds and a good hunting bow! Cursed place. No fruits to pick and you couldn't hunt, no wonder half the population was starving. All things considered, one could be forgiven for a bit of thieving here and there. Ben's lips twitched up at the thought. Good timing that was, for he was going to need his smile. He slowed down his walk.

    He was now in front of the door to a rundown shack. One standing among hundreds of similar shelters, made of rotten wood and holes, or mostly holes. Wood, another thing he never thought could cost money in the Wilds. The stuff used to be lying around everywhere, same as food. You just had to pick it up and there was no fat asshole to chase you with a knife when you took some! But here in the free city you found no trees for miles around, it was surrounded by water, between swamps and sea. Ben wouldn't mind the pitiful shed but for Mae's illness, they'd slept in worse places after all. Various doctors kept saying living in such a wet environment didn't help her getting better, while Ben kept asking if there was a single goddamn dry place in the whole city. There probably was a few though, uphill in the high town with them rich folks.

    He shook his head and set out to review the day's findings. He took out the leather bag from under his dark wool tunic and peeked inside. A loaf of bread with barely any mold on it, this alone made for a nice day. Unidentified vegetables, probably an overseas kind. One of the benefits of the harbor, -apart from adding to the city's smell-, was that you could eat weird stuff coming from countries with weirder names. Last but not least: a bunch of fresh pastries, Mae's favorites. A good haul he concluded, and most importantly, last night's job had somewhat worked. Things were looking up then, he thought, now all Ben had to do was to summon his best smile and...

    "Blessed cunt and holy balls!" A loud, husky female voice shouted inside.

    Ben didn't need to force his grin then. Nobody, not even the worst cutthroats or hardened mercenaries in town, cursed the way Mae did. He opened the door and got inside without ceremony. She was sitting on their single stool, working on her long dark hair, fighting week-long knots with a comb. She was holding out a small bronze mirror in the other hand, squinting her eyes at the reflection. Ben sat down on the straw bed wich occupied most of the space, careful not to let her see his damp back, and waited.

    "How do I look?" She asked after giving up and putting her weapons down.

    She had always been the most beautiful person in Ben's world. Even now, years after he had got over his childish adoration of her. Even now that he was facing a middle-aged, skinny and frail woman. Wrinkles were trying to undermine her fair skin without success. A few teeth had gone missing, in a futile attempt to besmirch her smile. Some treacherous streaks of white had slipped in her mane, and again, failed in graying it. She was still Mae.

    "I had to duel a few princes on my way here. They were lining up for a chance to look at your beauty." He said, in his best impression of a fancy nobleman, or what he imagined one sounded like. Her smile widened at that, adding to Ben's joy.

    "You must have hit your head somewhere, lad. Last I checked, princes don't smell of piss and cheap wine, like the kind usually lining up in front of my door." She jested.

    These eyes and that tone though, those were as sharp as when they first met, Ben recalled fondly.

    "Smelled many of 'em princes in yer time, have ya?" He teased her. She rolled her eyes for an answer, picked her comb and went back to her battle.

    "How goes thieving?" She asked, wincing as she defeated more of the tangled hair.

    "Ain't bad." He showed her his bag, less empty than usual. She nodded in approval before giving him an inquisitive stare. Ben tried to put his most innocent expression on.

    "Did something stupid again, did you?" She finally said. -Damn, it never worked with her.-

    "Jus' had a little jog is all. Keep m'self in shape." She snorted at the excuse, and Ben let his face slip into a sheepish smile. "How goes business?" He said, trying to change the subject. She shrugged in response.

    There was no judgment between them, never has been. Just two people making conversation, asking how each other's day went. Ben understood that some folks, mostly them godfolks, would find something to say about both of their professions. But he didn't give a damn. He only cared about Mae. Ben couldn't remember smiling before he met her. No smiles no, only pain and despair. The young man didn't know much about God but he was pretty sure his flock was wrong about whores. If Ben had ever met an angel, it was Mae. She was the reason he came to the damn city. She was worth enduring the stench, the weird inhabitants and the constant struggle for food. A small happy cry upon her discovering the pastries took him off from his thoughts. He grinned at her delight.

    "Howdya do lasht nit?" The woman asked him, her mouth now full of the stuff.

    Ben had to compose himself. Keep smiling he told himself, things were hard enough, no need to had to her burdens. Feeling bad for Mae wouldn't help. The thief used to think her getting old was a good thing, he didn't mind her looks fading for it meant fewer customers and abuse. Less money of course, but out the Wilds Ben could provide for the both of them. He used to dream of Mae retiring and him taking care of her somewhere quiet. But time was having its due. The whore's body was growing tired, her joints aching and now disease had taken hold. The two had tried the few doctors they could afford and none had proven helpful. Only the smoking of some foreign weeds seemed to work these days. Of course, it had to be the illegal sort, more expensive and harder to find. You had to go in the worst parts of town to get it, and folks down there didn't blink once at robbing you. Not much different than the rest of the city then, Ben remarked, or maybe they'd blink twice there.

    "Went as planned." He responded, and she gave him her customary 'I told you so' smirk.

    Mae knew the city, it was in her blood. She had left it about ten years ago as she was already aging then. 'If you ain't the prettiest whore round' the corner, you end up spending all yesterday's coin prettying up for today's tumble' she had explained. She had traveled quite a bit since, but Gravelroy had always been always her home. The free city, whose people were too tough and too stubborn to rule as they claimed. No king took it in a hundred years they said. Ben had a different opinion: it was the horrible smell that kept the invaders away. Now Mae had returned, and she wasn't the prettiest around the corner, she had to suffer the very fate she had fled from. The woman had only managed to delay the inevitable by a few years. A sad little victory, but in their world, it was a victory nonetheless. Ben's gaze went back to her, she was crossing her arms, waiting for him to elaborate on his report.

    "Got mugged as you said I'd get." He said.

    It had all been her idea. Going down there in the slums, taking his 'dumb country bumpkin' accent and clothes as she called them, and asking around for drugs. It had not taken long for some bastards to jump Ben and shake him down. Then they had asked questions, disappointed by the few coins they had found on him. Ben's ma' was sick and he had come a long way to buy weeds to ease her pain, went the story. -Not much different from the real one-. He wasn't going to get much of the stuff with a handful of coppers they had told him. It was his uncle who kept the purse containing the silver, the tale went on. He was waiting in a tavern located in a more proper part of town, having sent his dumb nephew for the errand.

    The trick, Mae had said, was to ask for the right amount. Enough so that the thugs had to go and see the middle guy to get it, but not so much as to arouse suspicion from the upper guys, the ones with half a brain. It all had worked in the end, of course it had, for Mae understood the city and its residents. It came with the job, according to her. You didn't grow old as a whore if you didn't. Ben had learned a lot about people from her, he still was.

    "Told the story, cried a bit, 'n when they heard 'bout the silver they stopped. Sorry they said, return tomorrow with it they said. Then I left real quick, came back the other way and followed 'em to the middle guy."

    She nodded approvingly, and Ben felt as a proud little kid performing a trick he had just learned. He couldn't help his grin then, for he was definitively too old for that.

    "In the end, I sat on him a few hours before he went fer the upper guy."

    She coughed violently for ten long seconds, before answering. Damn sickness.

    "That was quick. Either you got lucky or you got made." She pointed, raising an eyebrow. Ben gave her a derisive snort.

    "More like 'em who got stupid." He protested.

    "Don't get cocky lad, We're in the city now, things are different here."

    She was pointedly avoiding a particular topic. See, Ben was a good tracker in the Wilds, and sneaky when needed. One of his first thoughts arriving in Gravelroy, after the initial shock, was how easy it would be. So much stuff lying around for grabs. So many places to hide among so many people, so much noise and smell to cover his tracks. In the end he'd been thinking like... well, a dumb country bumpkin. Folks here weren't looking for your tracks on the ground, putting their nose up for your smell in the wind, nor were they listening for your footsteps. People here were reading people. They could tell you didn't belong in their neighborhood in a single a glance. They saw him coming from miles away. After many failures, a few days in the city jail following the 'pigeon incident', he had resolved himself to ask Mae for advice.

    He'd never seen her laugh so hard, and for so long, than when she heard about the misadventure. 'You actually tried hunting pigeons...' she had paused to catch her breath '... IN THE CITY?...' she'd been rolling on the floor by then '... WITH A FUCKING BOW?'. Ben's face had never felt hotter or more red. He wasn't one to get embarrassed easily, but a lot of passersbys had drawn close to see what all the commotion was about. Soon enough Mae had been telling the story to a crowd. She had sung the tale of 'Ben, pigeon-bane' for days.

    She was now giving him a knowing grin, as if reading his thoughts. Ben couldn't help but smile in return. Now, thinking back on these events, he'd do it all over again. Looking ridiculous and all, just to see her have fun that way once more.

    "I should have put down a hat on the street and made a show that day. People pay good money for stories like that." She said wistfully.

    "I m'self recall some damn silly mistakes bein' made in the woods, by a certain person. On more 'n one occasion." Ben shot back at her.

    "Oh, I am not denying doing a few mistakes here and there." Ben snorted at the understatement. "But none that would make people on the street stop and piss themselves laughing." She continued. Ben rolled his eyes at her, faking annoyance. The truth was he was holding down a smile himself.

    "Aw' come on lad! You have no idea how it felt all these years in the Wilds. Hearing you saying stuff such as: 'follow the birds' or: 'listen to the leaves', and such shit". She said, imitating him.

    Damn if that woman's humor wasn't contagious. Ben's mouth widened and then, right on cue, Mae burst out laughing. Ben followed in defeat, and they went on for a good minute or so. He realized they hadn't had such fun in weeks. It felt really nice forgetting their worries for a bit.

    "A'right now, it's been months, I'm a lot better. Pretty sure I didn't get made" He told her as they both finally had cooled down.

    It was true, Ben had learned a lot. You HAD to have a suspicious air when walking around low town, Mae had explained to him. Trying to look innocent made him stand out, especially with his facial scars. It made sense, you didn't walk into a wolves' den wearing sheepskin, ben had agreed. 'Drop the dumb smile. And let your hair and beard grow, it's so short it looks plain weird. Like a kid who got lice.' she had advised. Long hair was stupid, it could get dirty and then smell, or get into your eyes at the wrong time. But Ben had complied and now he had the appearance of a proper criminal. One with short blond hair, and a week old beard covering most of the cuts on his face. Ben didn't use to like his somewhat middling size. Small and nimble could be useful to hide, climb and such, whereas tall and big helped in a fight. Medium size was just stupid. But here in Gravelroy, it helped. Too short was same as catnip to petty bullies, while too large attracted other big bastards for pissing contests. All in all, he now looked shabby enough, but not too much.

    "Watched the upper guy the rest of the night, lookin' fer any deliveries goin' to the nicer bits of town." He continued.

    "You being back and bringing groceries to boot tells me you already found something." She noted.

    Ben winced before answering "Aye. Got an address. Weird place though..." He hesitated. She raised an eyebrow at him.

    "Looks to be an old church, but different. Like it's not one anymore. Like some folks took a church and turned it into some kind of prison. Got bars on windows, guards, walls and such."

    "Aw shit." She winced.

    He paused and waited. She seemed to have recognized the place during his description. The plan was to rob some customer. One from a wealthy neighborhood who bought directly from higher in the criminal chain, meaning quantity. Such types would surely not make a fuss, Mae said. They couldn't really complain to the city watch about stolen drugs, nor would they investigate the slums. Rich folks didn't go there.

    "The loonie bin!" Mae exclaimed, finally remembering the place's name.

    "The what?" Ben asked, startled.

    "You know loonies, loons! People not right in the head, demented and such. It's a place where they put them. The drugs must be to keep them quiet." She explained.

    "Never heard anythin' of the sort." Ben answered, bewildered.

    "It's the only one actually. Some priest got in his head to help them loonies years ago, it explains the church I guess."

    "Ya mean, I got to sneak in a place full of lunatics? What if I catch the crazies myself? What about 'em walls, bars on windows, guards and all that? What if I get got? They gonna lock me up with 'em cracked folks?" He ranted, distressed.

    Ben had already thought it a bad idea, upon seeing the building the night before. The security was much more than expected and now it sounded well... crazy. He'd seen some of the insane things people can do, drunk on alcohol, drugs or violence. And there was the special kind of madness that happened at war, in the heat of battle. But in this case, it sounded like full-time crazy folks. And a place filled with them! He'd have to go back and sit on the drug guy a few more nights and find an easier prey. No way he was going in there.

    "I think you can do it. Ain't that many loons inside, they just keep the wealthy ones or so I heard." Ben was not looking very convinced, so Mae went on:

    "Well the poor ones don't grow old, nobody can afford to spare bread for them."

    Ben nodded. Of course, folks here had a hard time enough feeding themselves, who else could afford taking care of mad kids but the rich? But raising crazies? You'd have to be one yourself to have such an idea. The more Ben heard about rich folks, the less they made sense to him.

    "What 'bout security then? Seems to me they got a shitton of it." He asked. He still didn't want to go there.

    "Think about it lad, who would try to break in such place?" She raised both hands in askance. "The guards and everything else, It's all here to keep the loons inside." she concluded, with her 'I got it all figured out' grin.

    Ben couldn't believe he was now considering the whole enterprise. Sneaking in such a mad place, what did that make of him? He looked at Mae. There was a bit of worry behind her smile, worry and some guilt. Mae didn't like asking him to do this for her sake, but she knew him well. He'd try something anyway, so she might as well do the planning. Ben sighed in surrender, before standing up. He kissed her fondly on the forehead before heading for the door.
     
  4. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.2 Haunted church.

    Ben was sitting in the shadows of a small porch, watching the old church and feeling pissed off.

    He had found a great spot a few hours ago. One on a hard roof, almost dry, with good cover and a nice view of the loonie bin. Then night had come but the watchman at the gate wouldn't budge at all. One had to take a piss, or go for a round to stretch their legs at some point, right? It was not like anyone would want to break into the place, until Ben came that was. Plus the poor crazies must be locked up for the night anyway, Mae had said. All things considered, the lad's job was pretty stupid. But the bastard wouldn't move an inch.

    He'd been standing for a few hours, looking straight ahead with the eyes of a dead fish. Heck, the guard had barely reacted at all when four white-clad figures had left the building, soon after nightfall. -Godfolks, those were-. Maybe he was a former resident from the madhouse, and staying still for hours was an exciting job for him. Ben sighed.

    He despised guards. During the war, guards were game for him. Like rabbits. Except them furries weren't so dumb. They didn't stand still, dozing off and waiting to get stabbed. Ben had yet to meet someone who could do the same to a rabbit. With these animals you had to use your brains, set up traps in the right spots. A steady hand with a bow worked too, but you had to be sneaky, or the fast little shits would run off before you could shoot. Not a good comparison then, Ben corrected himself. Or maybe guards were like very fat, old and dumb rabbits.

    Defeated by the man's stubborn imitation of a statue, Ben had then considered climbing up the walls surrounding the church. They weren't so tall but some asshole had put spikes on top of them. Not that these would stop the thief, but he couldn't see inside the courtyard from his hiding spot. Nothing worse than standing atop a wall, with spikes dangerously close to your arse, when you realized there had been one more guard on the other side. The story would make Mae laugh for a few days though, he mused. In short, scaling the enclave was tricky and the city's most boring lad was tending the gate, so Ben had got bored. He'd gone away for a bit then, looking to steal something to munch on while waiting. Only to come back to a bunch of buggering pigeons occupying his previous spot

    So here he was now, having climbed back down, and cursing his luck. He finished his meal and took a sip of cheap wine from his gourd -he was certainly not going to drink water around here-. It was a nice part of the city though, he tried to console himself. Cobbled, not carved stone like in the upper town, but the houses were square enough.

    He might go back and shoo the damn birds off, he considered, but it would attract attention. What was it between him and pigeons anyway? It could be they got word around of his adventures with his a bow, and the bastards were now having their revenge. And then there was the sentinel, still having his staring contest against a wall. Hell, he was possibly winning. Ben was considering just walking up to the entrance and punching him in the face. He sighed.

    As unpleasant as the evening has been, it was no real reason to be upset. He was a hunter and the wait came with the job. But these days staying idle made his mind drift to dark thoughts, thoughts of Mae's illness. The young man had to keep himself busy. Considering the third way in wasn't helping with Ben's mood though.

    There was a stream passing behind the building, it wasn't water, not really. In Ben's experience, you could see through water, plus you knew what would happen when you stepped in it. You sank. The small canal came from the sewers and went under the crazy house's outer walls. He wondered if he could just cross it on foot. Things wich looked like that you could usually walk upon them. And the stench was terrible. The fact Ben made it out among all the other smells in the city spoke for itself. 'People are civilized in the city lad, like in your damned forests and muddy hamlets' Mae had said. Ben wasn't quite sure of the word's meaning. He could have had gotten it wrong, and 'civilized' meant that their nose didn't work anymore.

    After a last glance towards the front entry, Ben headed towards the dreaded sewer. The worst part was, he would have to keep his clothes on. Leaving them outside was a good way to have them stolen, even in the middle of the night. Carrying them over his head was an option but if things went wrong, he would have to run around naked. City folks acted weird when seeing you naked, Ben had discovered. Especially the city watch. Apparently, it was an even worse offense in their book than hunting pigeons. They had chased him a bunch of times for it. Thieves and cutthroats could prowl the streets unchallenged, while the idiots ran after honest hunters or nude people. He shook his head in disbelief.

    Why couldn't anyone around here make sense? They'd rather stay covered in filth than clean up when the weather allowed. City folks didn't understand what rain was for. Mae often chided him for showering outside and so did their neighbours. Still, there was a limit to how civilized Ben would allow himself to become. He sighed before tying up a scarf over his face, covering his mouth and nose, and then stepping in the muddy waters. It was chest-deep so the crossing was slow and he had to keep his bag above. It'd better rain soon or he was going to reek for a while, then Mae would have him sleep outdoors, Ben thought. Damn city.

    Climbing the back of the building proved harder than expected. Ben had dealt with more difficult and higher cliffs in the mountains, but he had never tried it while being all wet and slimy. Luckily the church was old, so the mortar between stones was coming off nicely. Not all bad luck tonight it seemed, he smirked. It took a bit of time but the young man managed, with the help of his knife, to carve big enough holes for his hands and feet. He reached the first window's level, and took a break to inspect the iron bars protecting it. Of course, the damned things wouldn't even shake a little. Ben sighed before resuming his slow and methodical ascend. After a long time, a lot of grunting and sweating, Ben reached the roof. Now having caught his breath, he pulled out a rope from his bag and tied it down to secure a faster escape route. Satisfied, he headed for the small bell tower, stepping carefully on worn tiles.

    The young man threaded even slower inside, walking on rotten and squeaky steps. It was pretty dark in there and he couldn't see the bottom of the stairwell, making it a risky endeavor. Ben considered for a moment grabbing the rope wich hung in the middle of the well, and sliding all the way down. Maybe the old rusty bell didn't work anymore. But then, maybe it did, and he would wake up all the crazies and land right in the midst of them. They'd probably be pissed at the guy who rang their bell in the middle of the night. The door he found at the bottom was locked, he realized before taking out his tools. He didn't have a lot of experience picking locks. Folks in the Wilds didn't use them much since everyone there usually carried around an ax or two. The one in front of Ben wasn't much complicated, but the damn thing was old and rusty, so it occupied him for quite a bit. All that was left after was to grease the hinges, pull and pray for silence.

    The young thief was now crossing a decrepit attic, stepping cautiously on a cranky floor. He wondered how long the whole adventure was going to take if he had to be silent, when he heard the noise. A strange hum or moaning, unlike any animal he ever heard. Ben had never met any ghost but he figured that if they existed, they'd sound like that. He took a deep breath, and moved on. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about being quiet anymore. The thought didn't help him much as he headed down another set of dark and dusty steps, thinking of all the crazies lurking around. Mae was going to owe him.

    The ominous humming was now getting louder and clearer. Ben went down to find a narrow corridor, where an eerie fog floated in the darkness. Squinting his eyes, he could make out openings on both its sides. The strange chant was coming from the crazies in their chambers, he realized. Maybe that was how they talked to each other. Ben now distinguished different voices. Some were weird shriekings and some completely repeated same words tirelessly. A few ones had a very deep and sorrowful tone, as if their owners understood the terrible place they were held in, and yearned to escape.

    Ben's nose recognized the smell of the weeds Mae used, so strong it came through the scarf covering his nose. Thick fumes were coming from inside the various rooms, making it hard to see. The whole thing made for a frightening scene, and he had to take a minute to steady himself before he kept going. Finally stepping further, Ben could discern grids made of iron bars, gates guarding cells with ominous human forms inside each. He was too scared to have a closer look at the inmates, so he hurried forward.

    The burglar stopped near the end of the gangway, his attention attracted by a particular door. Unlike the others, this one was made of thick oak and you couldn't see inside. Probably not a cell, he assumed, it might be a good place to start looking for the drugs. Ben knelt down, took out his wrench and pick, and set to work on the lock. A bit of greasing and Ben was now slowly and carefully pushing the door open. As soon as he did, he recoiled from the cloud of smoke wich escaped from it. The drugs' sent was even stronger, Ben tightened the cloth over his nose before risking a peek inside.

    A tiny window shone a bit of moonlight there, revealing a narrow room and an empty straw bed. Ben gasped at the walls, they looked like nothing he ever saw. The gray plaster was covered in uncanny drawings from the bottom up to the ceiling. The wooden floor had been carved as well with the same odd designs. Fascinated, the thief took a step in to have a closer look. Layers upon layers of writings had been scratched everywhere. Ben couldn't read but he knew what letters looked like, and some of the ones in front of him were very different. Stranger or fancier he didn't know. Mae once told him that different lands used different characters and languages. It was plain stupid. As if reading wasn't difficult enough, you had to learn it all over again once you changed countries. Dark stains sprinkled the whole picture, revealing upon inspection to be blood. Someone hurt themselves a lot of times, etching these curious murals. Ben couldn't help but wonder why. Probably one of them crazies, but in his mind, writing was supposed to be for smart and special people. Scribes and generals, and those were rare in the Wilds. The cracked folks sure screamed a lot but they didn't scribble, right? And if the room's owner wasn't insane, how would one have so much stuff to tell? So much that entire damn walls didn't suffice?

    A soft sound, almost impossible to discern amidst the ambient shrieking and moaning, made him freeze. A scratch, coming from close, right behind him. The young man was holding his breath, standing still in the entrance, listening. Another scratch. Ben almost cried out in fright. Was the mysterious writer behind the door? Was he still working at this late hour, unconcerned by someone entering, with only a few rays of moonlight to go on? Was his task so important?

    Ben was torn between curiosity and fear. He could now hear more distinctly the dreaded noise, faint but regular. But the situation was so unnatural, the work seemed so important, that Ben felt it wrong to intrude. What would Mae do in this situation? -Oh shit, Mae! - He was here for her, he scolded himself, not to watch loons doodling on walls dammit.

    He stepped out cautiously and hesitated a bit at the entrance. Crazy or not, the poor bugger merely wanted to write, didn't he? Heck, what was the harm in leaving the cell open? Plenty of fresh walls to go around outside, no need to ruin your work by writing all over it again. Have some fun lad, Ben thought, and left the door ajar. He headed downstairs feeling slightly good about himself.

    The floor bellow was a lot quieter, there were no inmates around. A stone hallway with a small altar, a few benches and a couple openings on the sides. A few religious statues and windows made of colored stained glass. Well, it was an old church, no surprises there. Ben glanced at the two side doors. Third lock picking of the night he sighed, as he set himself to work. He must have been getting the hang of it, for it didn't take long. Then Ben went on to the hinges, they seemed well maintained but a bit of grease could never hurt.

    This time the young man made sure to check behind the door after opening it. The room looked like some sort of cellar, with a dozen barrels and few shelves on the sides. He closed his eyes and let his nose do the job. Mae often teased him about it. She had said he probably was some kind of half-dog, seeing how much better his sense of smell was compared to hers. Ben now understood that it wasn't her fault, the woman was civilized. It didn't take him long to find the weeds and putting them away in his bag. The thief exited the storage room, locked it behind him, and headed back the way he had come from.

    Ben slowed down before reaching the loonies' floor, wondering if he would see the mysterious scribbler. Funny that he forgot how scared he originally was of the place, now curiosity had taken over. But the door to the strange room was still in the same position and the passageway was empty. He was a bit disappointed but well, he had found what he came for. He shrugged and walked on.

    "...brother?" A faint voice asked amidst the crazy humming.

    Ben stopped short with surprise, the movement making the cloth covering his face fall down. He was unsure if he had really heard something. Guards usually shouted, and stupid things at that, such as: "Halt!" or "Freeze!". Ben wondered if it ever worked. It must not have been a guard then. It should be safe to turn his head around, he reassured himself. It probably should.

    "Brother, is that you?" The small voice insisted. Ben gasped, then he decided to risk a look.

    It took all the self-control he possessed to stifle a scream of fear. Then, losing it, Ben ran like hell towards the stairs. As fast as he could and without looking back. He reached the base of the bell tower, before taking up the moldy stairs in a flight, not caring for noise nor safety. He went up to the roof. Ben didn't stop there either, he sprinted towards the rope had tied up. Deciding the climb would take too much time, he cut the thing loose and jumped down the canal. The adrenaline of the fall somehow managed to help to clear his mind a bit. Ben remembered about the drugs he carried while mid-air. In a desperate effort, he threw the bag towards the street before hitting the waters in a loud splash.

    The combined impacts of the surface, the sewer's smell, and the cold shook him out of his terror. Ben hurried out in search for his goods. He wanted to put some distance between him and the cursed edifice as soon as possible. The bag had opened during the fall, most of the herbs had been lost in the stream. Ben cursed as he swiftly salvaged what he could, and resumed his escape. He risked a few nervous glances behind him during his flight. Nobody, rather no... thing was following him. Still, he kept running.





    ****





    Ben was sitting outside Mae's, his back against the wall. The shack's door opened, shaking him off his reverie. He realized the day was well on its way now, when did the sun come out? A warm cup appeared in front of his eyes. Mae had brewed him some more tea. He took it gratefully and noticed as he thanked her that she looked a bit better. She must have used most of the meager stock he brought, he thought bitterly.

    "So, are you ready to talk?" She asked. He nodded numbly.

    "Good, because I was starting to consider sending you to live over there with the loonies. All that talk about ghosts and dead girls walking." She rolled her eyes.

    "Saw what I saw." The young man answered, stubbornly.

    He shivered as he remembered the thing, it must have been a girl judging by its size and shape. She wore some kind of robe and had long black hair covering her face. Well, most of it. The bit he had seen was blackened skin, like a burned corpse. He'd seen enough of those during the war to know for sure. Only those didn't walk, and they certainly didn't call him brother. He shuddered.

    "I've seen you fight and kill men twice your size, lad. Sure, you looked scared the whole time, but you fought them all the same." Mae remarked.

    "And you can sleep like a baby in the middle of the forest, with damned beast howling all night long."She continued, Ben shrugged.

    "Never thought I would see the day a girl make you piss your pants is all." She concluded, surprised.

    "Shit! I left that door open!" Ben cried as he scrambled to his feet.

    "You damn bumpkin! Calm the hell down and talk to me!" She shouted as she put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down.

    "The scribbler! Left the door open... The ghost must've..." Ben blurted incoherently.

    He was now breathing heavily. What an idiot he had been, leaving the room open for the mysterious artist, and feeling good about it. The poor bastard might have been perfectly happy, alone with his writings, but Ben had to open the cell. And now he was probably dead, eaten by the ghost. All for him to lose most of the weeds in his escape, bringing only a few copper's worth to Mae. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing in all kinds of weird directions.

    Then Mae slapped him, hard. The hurt snapping him out of it, Ben finally turned to look at her. She was standing over him outside the house, her face showing worry lines.

    "You must have breathed some of the friggin' fumes. A good amount, I would say. Makes you all messed up if you're not used to it." She explained. Ben shot her a dubious glance before sitting back down.

    "Had a cloth on m'face the whole time, Mae. Pretty sure I didn't breathe much shit." He recalled.

    "You didn't have anything on, when you came back." She pointed.

    "Well, I... Shit! It must've slipped when I ran away." He realized.

    Ben was sure of what he had seen. But then maybe the rest, his current state and all, were the results of the damn drugs. It made sense, but that didn't change the fact he left the scribbler to his fate with the walking corpse. It must be how he escaped, he realized, feeling guilty. Maybe the ghost was too busy eating the poor bastard that he let Ben run off. That felt wrong. He was glad to be alive but the artist and his work seemed special, important.

    "What 'bout the dead girl? I'm tellin' you it wasn't no damn hallucination."

    "I have an explanation." She shot back. Ben straightened up, giving her his full attention.

    "Well, while you were busy muttering to yourself and leaking shit on my doorstep, I asked around. Turns out the story is quite famous." Mae gave him her 'I know it all' grin.

    Ben hated when she did that. Couldn't she just tell the whole damn story straight, without pausing to tease him?
     
  5. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.3 Into her mind.

    The girl was sitting on a straw bed, surrounded by looming and ominous figures. They were going at it again, asking her the same questions and sounding upset. She assumed them to be the same ones as the day before. The inquiries were identical at least. Her memory might be playing tricks on her, but the ones from yesterday seemed pretty clear. She wished it could be the same with her vision, for she did not quite see accurately. Still, judging by the long white robes, they should be the same people. Religious, it seemed. How did she know that? Like many things, she did not manage not recall.

    Apparently, they suspected her of breaking into the cellar and stealing some medicinal herbs. There was no sign of the burglary but for her door left open. Preposterous. Could they not see that she was drooling all over herself? And quite embarrassingly so, she might add. She did not remember what she ate two days ago, but they made her out to be some kind of criminal mastermind? And the idiots had the nerve to talk down to her, as if SHE was the dull-witted one. It must be because of the drool. If only she could tell her mouth to stop.

    Why did they keep asking about the same topic? It was only some weeds. They acted like these were vital to her treatment. The strange thing was, she could not help but feel better than before. She could remember most of her day and it unsettled her. Thinking back, perhaps it was not such a good thing, since she recalled her breakfast. Who would like to recollect being spoon-fed a suspicious and disgusting brown sloth, as if they were a babe or a disabled elderly?

    The questions kept coming. How did she manage to get out of her room they asked. The person in charge at the time sweared locking it up like they did so every other night. She wanted to scream at them that if she had any skill at picking locks, she would have left this awful place ages ago. Maybe it was worth a try, the never ending questions should stop then. She opened her mouth but no words came out, only drool. There was always more drool apparently. How useful. The girl tried sleeping, for there was always a chance these annoying intruders should be gone by the time she woke up.





    ****





    She opened her eyes to find herself alone, and smugly satisfied her plan had worked. She could see inside her room clearly now, it was odd since the few things she managed to recall were all foggy. Her vision was getting better, she concluded with a pang of hope. She was still laying on the same straw mattress. There was daylight coming inside from the unique window in the room. It was small, the glass was darkened, covered with some tight iron grid on the inside. Perhaps the white robbed idiots thought she would try getting out this way. She looked down at herself. Perhaps she was skinny -and filthy-, but she would have to undergo quite the diet to manage such an escape.

    Inspecting the walls proved to be surprising. The person in charge of the... decorations?... was obviously deranged. Writings over writings from top to bottom, covering every one of them. Most of the words did not even make sense, and the floor had also fallen victim to this mad writer. A whole area in a corner was black, the floor and walls around it seemed to be burned. And there were the disturbing spots of dried blood. The girl did not think she was much of an artist, but the ensemble was definitively done with poor taste. Nothing else in her chambers to turn her attention to but a lone chamber pot. She sighed.

    She thought back on the thieving incident and found an explanation. Someone had broken in and stolen the goods, before locking everything back, leaving her own room opened to frame her. Such conspiracy against her person warranted retribution. It should irk her but she could not do much about it, apart from drooling on the culprit perhaps. The girl was glad her mind was working better, so she decided to let it slide for now.

    Then she noticed the ambient noise. How could she not have had before? It might be worst characteristic of the place. A strange chorus, one without any intelligible words. Once more, she would concede not being an expert on musical matters. However, she was confident things like rhythm and melody were important. She wondered if the culprit was the same person who decorated her chamber. That should be a legitimate explanation. After failing as a writer -or interior artist she was not sure-, that person managed to fail as a composer. Such tenacity in face of adversity, namely an abysmal lack of talent or common sense, was surely laudable in a certain way.

    The last thing she noted was her own lack of hygiene. Her dark hair was long, filthy and filled with knots. There were more knots than actual hair, she remarked. The girl was wearing a long gray robe, adorned with an impressive collection of stains. She could guess the nature of most of them, but it would not be a proper thing to think about out loud. Whoever wore this dress before her, that person must have had trouble retaining all kinds of body fluids. But she had to admit that it was practical. One single piece of cloth was covering the whole body and it was not impairing movement.

    More alarming than the state of her garment was the one of her skin. It was covered in filth and scratches, disgraceful, truly. The hands were the worse off, for they showed a disgusting array of scratches and bruises. Finally, there was a disturbing amount of dried blood on her fingers, and most nails had gone missing. Feeling shame for such a pitiful appearance would be the proper reaction, but there was no water available in the vicinity. The blame was surely not hers then. Perhaps drooling could help? She would need a considerable amount.





    ****





    She woke up to the sound of her door opening. She was feeling terrible, and her senses seemed... sharper. The girl could feel her body aching in quite a few areas, especially her hands. And her throat was dry. Opening her eyes she saw an old, white-clad woman entering the room. She proceeded to feed her younger companion some more of the dreaded recipe. Another breakfast should mean another day though she wasn't certain. Judging by the way the intruder dressed, she must be a nun or a sister of the One God. She fed the girl with quick and efficient gestures, showing a long-term habit. She left without a word, grabbing the bedpan before locking behind her. The girl was feeling a strange kind of hunger growing inside of her, one the act of eating didn't seem to affect. On the bright side of things, her thought process was getting better. She was also beginning to remember her past a little.

    There had been another life before coming to this place. It was still not clear, but she suspected that it had been a significantly better one. How could it not be? She was starting to see her current predicament as a lot more awful than she previously did. How much time had she spent in this small, horrible room, she didn't know. Her hair used to be shorter, did she know the average growth rate of human hair? Probably not. It didn't seem something she would have found relevant in her previous existence. Perhaps a curious thought for a girl her age. Did she even know her age? The girl vaguely recalled turning sixteen once, but how long ago had it been? All these questions were making her head spin now, she should sleep. A fine idea, maybe it would make this strange hunger go away.

    She dreamt. There was a boy, but sometimes he was a young man. The little girl loved following him around but it did not please the adults very much. She did not care. Nobody understood her but him, he was like the sun to her. She tried everything the boy did, learned everything he learned. He used to be impressed with how clever she was, how well she was able to keep up. The parents -she could not remember their faces- kept telling her to stop such conduct but it was useless. The girl was getting better at avoiding them, scheming and plotting to follow the boy without getting caught. She was happy, so incredibly happy. Until that day.

    She woke up in a sweat, breathing heavily. She had a brother, an older one. How could she have forgotten? Or were these memories nothing but a fantasy? What happened that day? Did it have anything to do with her current situation? So many questions were racing through her mind. And the cursed hunger was back, only stronger. Her brain was working better but she could not feel really glad about it. Her whole body was aching now, and she was starting to miss the previous dullness of her senses. She missed the fog and wondered why.

    The same woman came back as the light coming from the window was growing thin. The meal was different this time, it must be supper then, the girl assumed.

    "Poor child, look at you all covered in sweat. Don't worry, we will have some more medicine for you soon enough. It will all get better I promise, just wait until after dark." She said after the embarrassing feeding was over.

    As the wrinkled woman left, the girl wondered how she felt about the news. Some form of treatment was probably needed, for she was now shaking violently. But she was remembering things now. Would she forget again? She had another life, a pleasant one with a wonderful brother. And she had parents. She did not recall much about them, but surely they could not be much worse than the ominous white robes, could they not?. But the pain was getting worse. Was it worth it, she asked herself? Perhaps she should sleep, and everything would be easier on the morrow. The pain should be gone, but that did not necessarily mean her memories would be too.

    DO NOT FORGET!

    The girl tried standing up but her legs were trembling, she fell back on her mattress. She should not forget, she took a deep breath and tried again, falling on her face this time. It hurt. But she could not allow herself to give up, she lifted her head and paused, seeing the wall. Of course, she realized, the answer was obvious. They had no right to take her memories from her, she thought as she crawled towards it. There must be some space somewhere, even the tiniest spot, where she could write it down. The pain was almost unbearable but she kept searching. She had to be quick, less she forgot.

    THERE!

    She found a small, blank patch. Now all she had to do was to start writing... But how to do so without tools?. There had to be something, she told herself, looking around her. Countless writings ornated the walls. These were done by an obviously deranged mind. Inside a closed room, where a single person was living. It was not a great mystery, you silly girl. If she was the culprit then she should have some kind of writing tool in her possession. She went through the only possible hiding place, the straw bed, not the chamber pot. The later was being emptied regularly anyway. The light coming from the window was fading now, adding to her sense of urgency. The old woman had said after dark, she recalled with fear. The girl was now throwing handfuls of straw around the room, destroying her bedding. But there was nothing inside, she cried out in disappointment.

    THINK!

    She took her blanket and looked it over. It was getting harder to see by the minute now. She shredded it in frustration when her search revealed nothing. There was only one other place left to investigate, she thought and patted down her own body in haste. Maybe she had pockets in her dirty blouse. The sound of voices coming from outside, men talking to each other, added to her sense of urgency. The chatting was getting louder, closer each instant. She was about to start ripping her clothes in despair, when she had another idea. Her hair. A hairpin would be the ideal instrument, easy to hide and one could scratch the walls or the floor using it. She was a genius. The girl started to go through her black mane with renewed energy, ignoring the hurt in her hands. Fingers were getting tangled in the many knots. It was there, she knew it, it made perfect sense.

    In what seemed like an eternity, the girl went on with her search. She heard the terrifying sound of a metallic door opening close by, but she could not let it distract her. Methodically, she went through each knot, each strand of hair. She had taken it all into her left hand while using the right one to separate and inspect. One small bunch after the other. The male voices were getting alarmingly close by now. Tears of despair were starting to flow down her cheeks, as the left hand was holding less and less. She was right, she knew it, it was there. It had to be there. The girl was now trembling, as she reached for the last bit of hair.

    YOU WERE WRONG.

    The crying intensified. She looked at the black ceiling in despair. She heard another door opening, it could be the last one before hers, but it did not matter anymore. Salty water was fogging her vision now. The girl started wiping it with both hands. She should feel better tomorrow. She would go back to being an empty shell, but at least the pain should be gone. She resigned herself to her fate. Perhaps this time she would not forget, she hoped. She opened her eyes and glanced towards the wall through her fingers.

    YOU IDIOT, STUPID GIRL.

    Her hands. The missing nails and the blood on the ones she had left. The bloodstains on the writings. How could she have missed it? Now was no time for beating herself up, she thought, she flew to the blank spot she had previously found. What should she write? About brother of course, that was the most important thing. The girl started scratching the wall in haste, ignoring the hurt in her fingers. She would win, she would remember, and one day the two of them would meet again. The girl cried out when her nail broke in half, but she kept writing. She heard the voices behind her now, followed by a clicking sound, keys going inside a lock. It didn't matter. Her hand was bleeding and tears of pain were clouding her vision but it did not stop her. Only a few more letters, she still had one nail. The door opened and light shone on her work.

    "When will you stop this nonsense? You're hurting yourself, girl." Said a dry, sharp voice, but she ignored it.

    "I'll just hang this from the ceiling and the smoke will make you feel better." Another one. The girl did not care for the task was almost finished.

    "Grab her will you, brother Gregory, the lass is bleeding."

    "No!" She yelled out when a hand took hold of her ankle.

    The girl's whole attention was on the small spot in front of her. The one where she was inscribing her most precious memory. So she kicked blindly behind her, using all her strength. She was rewarded with a scream of pain and a pang of satisfaction.

    Soon, another set of hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. They were too late, the writing was done. She let out a sigh of victory, and let herself being sat down. Three forms dressed in white were looming over her. One had just hanged a small contraption from the ceiling, smoke was coming out of it, slowly filling up the room. The second one, brother Gregory she assumed, was growling at her in a way that made her skin crawl. She averted her eyes and stared at the ceiling. After a little while, the third one took his hands off her and let go. The men, satisfied now that she was being docile, turned their backs to her and began to leave. The fools closed the door behind them, completely unaware they had been outsmarted. The girl couldn't help but smile smugly.

    She was feeling tired now, and decided to lie down. She glanced at the nearest wall and wondered how many bits and pieces of her past were hidden in there. Using the last rays of light coming from her window, she looked closer at the writings. A phrase which she could barely make out amidst others caught her attention. She must have had some ink at a time, maybe a quill also, for it was neatly penned. She squinted her eyes in a last ditch effort to understand it before falling into slumber.

    Then she felt her blood freeze in her veins, when she managed to read it:

    I HAVE A BROTHER.

    The exact same phrase she had just carved elsewhere. How many times had she... She fell asleep.
     
  6. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.4 An exotic tail.

    *I am not sure about this one, I am considering cutting this chapter off. It makes for a more slow start and most of its information can be deduced later on, tell me what you think.*

    Earlier that same day, Ben was walking down the streets of Gravelroy, feeling awkward. It was well into the afternoon so he saw folks everywhere. All kinds of different ones, he remarked. There were merchants of course, there were always some, but also godfolks. The white-clad ones he knew, for he had seen lots everywhere during the past four years, but the black ones had been new to him. They had dark skin, like the slaves the Emperor used to fight for him in the Wilds. They were the wrong color, or so Ben had heard. That was stupid, black was obviously the best when sneaking around in the night.

    He had envied their skin tone before fighting alongside them for his Majesty. The poor bastards didn't do well in the cold, their home country being hot as hell. Plus they wore heavy chains and were going on half-rations. Them being put at the forefront during battles had also played a part in Ben revising his opinion. Black sure was the wrong color to be with the empire out there. But here in Gravelroy, among so many different ethnicities, they were left alone. And so you would see their priests walking around, speaking gibberish at you. It probably was about prayers and weird laws, like with the white ones, but gibberish was a difficult language. Ben had tried prayers since Mae had gotten sick but without success, he must have been doing it wrong. What could be so complicated about kneeling, joining hands and muttering to yourself, he couldn't figure it out. He shook his head and glanced around him.

    Passersbys were looking at him all kinds of weird, he noticed. Well, that was the whole point of the plan. Still, it irked him. It was not the people who were laughing at him that bothered him. Those were fine as long as you didn't get angry at them. Others were giving him wide-eyed looks, between surprise and bewilderment. Ben wasn't much upset about these either. Even the ones staring like idiots with their mouths open, he could bear. It was the fact that every damn person, on every damn street he walked on, had their eyes on him. Ben felt exposed. Then again, it was all part of Mae's idea.

    It had sounded straight mad when she had explained the plan to him earlier in the morning. But it had made sense, in a weird kind of way. Well, the disguise worked, Ben tried to console himself. Trouble was, it worked too well. Surely the whole thing was strange enough, he didn't need the bloody hat. Mae was probably at home, laughing at him since he left. He should have known. She had kept a straight face the whole time while dressing him up. Ben considered at the crowd around him. Nobody could keep a straight face here, he sighed. She had maintained her composure back then, only to see if he would wear something so ridiculous. The skirt was definitely enough, he concluded, the thing on his head was just Mae having her fun.

    The man Ben was following took a different street and glanced quickly behind him as he turned the corner. He was looking a bit jumpy. He had noticed something was wrong and he was checking if Ben was tailing him. The big idea was to look as noticeable as possible. After a theft, if people went chasing say, the big girl wearing a large hat for example, nobody would stop a frail and bald elderly. As usual with Mae's schemes it was sound thinking, so Ben had agreed. What an idiot he had been. That devious woman had sold him the plan before showing him the outfit she had been preparing.

    Now here Ben was, walking on the street half naked, and wearing a goddamn skirt. His legs were covered with a weird mix of straw and big green leaves, while his torso was painted with uncanny marks. Everyone was wearing plants for pants, on some island somewhere far down south, Mae had told him. Some kind of barbarian tribes, they were. She had traveled a lot more than him so what did he know? But the hat was too much, Ben had known the moment he saw it. What man in his right mind wore fucking flowers on his head? And fruits. Bloody weird and colorful things. He looked like a damn flower pot with arms and legs. Mae was definitively laughing her ass off right now.

    He put his attention back to his prey. The lad was walking a good dozen paces ahead, holding a bundle of wheat. Only Ben knew what was inside. Smart, the boy was. Nobody would try to steal wheat, would they? Or maybe a few deranged and very hungry men. It was way better than a bag anyway. A bag made you wonder what was inside. It made you guess, then imagine or even dream about its secrets. Next thing you knew folks took it from you. The same ones then ended up hitting you. Well of course they did, disappointed and angry when not finding jewels or gold inside. Bags were dangerous, Ben had concluded, so he usually wore his under his shirt.

    The target was carrying drugs hidden in his inconspicuous load. Ben had spent the last day observing weed deliveries coming out from the middle guy's place, the one he had spotted before. He had been searching for a new quarry. Going back to the loonie bin right after his burglary would sure have been a bad idea. Even if he wanted to, now that Ben knew there was no ghost there. Plus he felt kind of bad for running out on the girl, screaming. It had not been a nice thing to do. How would he feel if people did the same when they saw him? Probably confused the first once. After a dozen people yelling at his face before scrambling off, Ben might get a bit pissed off.

    Focus, he told himself, pulling his gaze back to his quarry. The fellow was anxious, and with good reason. He was holding expensive stuff for dangerous folks. He was also followed by a giant frigging bouquet. The lad had spotted Ben, obviously, but he wasn't looking in his direction anymore. That was the other clever aspect of Mae's plan. One of the most basic tactics in thieving was the use of misdirection.

    One had to attract the attention of the mark some way, while an accomplice would come from the other and empty its pockets. At the moment, Ben was probably the most obvious decoy in the whole city. He'd be upset if he wasn't. And so his target was growing the jitters. The man took another unconventional turn, to make sure the weird barbarian herbalist was tailing him. Ben considered waving his hand at the guy. Perhaps a bad idea he thought, grinning. So now, having spotted the diversion, his prey was looking everywhere for an incoming attack. Everywhere but at Ben. Mae, you damn genius.

    Ben was now speeding his pace to catch up. Stealing the stuff should be easy, it was the next part that worried him a bit. He would have to run away and then change out of his disguise as soon as he turned a corner. He was wearing large pants, rolled up under the weird leaf skirt, and there was a wool shirt hidden under his hat. They had practiced all morning, him and Mae. He had Ripped off the dress and then the breeches would unrol themselves down. The next step was throwing off the hat and putting on the shirt. In the end, he could do it all in a few seconds. He had been amazed at Mae's ingenuity with a needle. Ben just had to be careful of not leaving any bits of straw or flowers on him, and the job should be done. She would have her weeds and he'd have a few drinks. He'd damn well have earned them. Only a few more steps and it would be time for action. But then, the bastard turned his head back and stared right at Ben. Dammit.

    The fellow was a few paces away and scared, ready to bounce. There was no time to think, Ben didn't stop walking as their eyes met. He smiled, before glancing quickly away from the guy and back to him. It shouldn't have worked, Ben thought as he punched him, nobody fell for that. But the drug courier had been nervous, and who would expect someone wearing flowers and leaves to hit them, really? They should though, else they would en up on the ground rubbing their nose like this one. The rest happened in a blur, Ben pulled out the package from the bundle of wheat and ran away in a side alley. He found a porch, rapidly changed under it, and concealed the drugs in his pants. Then he came out walking leisurely, wearing the new outfit. The thief had to resist whistling. His victim ran past him in a hurry, turning his head everywhere around him in confusion. The poor lad began shouting to passerbys for help.

    "Anyone seen some fellow with flowers on his head?" They gave him incredulous stares while Ben kept walking away.

    "He had leaves on his skirt!" He continued, now further behind.

    "Did ya hit yer head some boy?" Someone shouted. Ben had to stifle a laugh.





    ****





    The sun was setting as Ben paused in front of Mae's door. He couldn't help but grin like an idiot. Well, he had been a bit of one, agreeing to wear the damn hat. Now that the adrenaline was down and happy with the day's work, the whole thing was kind of funny. But it didn't mean he had to give her cause for more teasing. She had sure been waiting all afternoon for this moment, giggling all the while. Stay calm and brush it off like it was nothing, or you won't hear the end of it, he told himself.

    "Are you coming in or not, flower boy?" Her voice shouted from inside.

    "Dammit Mae!" He cried. He finally went in, defeated but smiling from ear to ear.

    She was wearing her wildest grin, like a child who got away with a prank. He threw her the package containing the drugs, but she put it aside without sparing a glance at it. They stared at each other for a while, waiting to see who would give in first. Then they both dissolved into laughter.

    "Ya been waitin', watchin' outside through one of 'em holes weren't ya?" Ben asked her, when he had caught his breath.

    "You bet I was! Spent the whole day sitting here with my head against the wall." She exclaimed. The bitch wasn't even bothering to sound embarrassed, Ben sighed.

    "Ya could at least pretend ya didn't." Ben pouted playfully.

    "I wouldn't miss your coming back for a silver! Good thing you didn't take much longer though, I was about to burst. I really need to take a piss." She added.

    Ben rolled his eyes as she stepped outside. He wondered if she was faking her illness just so she could have him do stupid shit like today. It was wrong of course, Mae was tough but she wasn't cruel. However, as he heard her cough violently outside the shack, he wished it was all a joke. The thief shook his head, bad thoughts. It has been a great day. The plan had worked, Mae had got her weeds and they had a good laugh. Life was as good as it was going to get, and Ben felt like celebrating.

    "Ya got any ale?" He asked when the whore came back inside.

    "Sorry lad, as much as I'd like toasting to my genius, I have some work lined up tonight. Soon, in fact." She gave him a wan smile.

    Ben winced in disappointment. Mae should stop working now that she was sick, but he didn't feel like arguing about it again. She was too proud to let him take care of her. 'I ain't too old to work dammit! Still got plenty charm' she had told him half-jokingly. And it wasn't like they didn't need the money. What was he going to do this evening, Ben wondered. As much as he wanted to, it didn't seem right to start drinking without the woman. It had been mostly her success after all.

    "A'right. Keep us a drink or two, fer when I come back." He winked before heading back to the door.

    "I will. It would feel wrong not to toast to my proudest achievement." Mae said with her signature smug grin. Ben stopped and tilted his head back to her.

    "Come on now, plan wasn't that amazing. Ya done way better more than once."

    "The hat Ben. I'm talkin' about the friggin' hat." She chuckled.

    "Get lost, ya hold hag." He exclaimed, waving her off as he reached for the door.

    "Oh and Ben?" He paused. "Thanks." She added before putting a kiss on his cheek.

    The young man grunted as he stepped outside, and began wandering aimlessly. It was too early to sleep on the roofs as he usually did at times like these. Plus he often to woke up surrounded by bloody pigeons these days. Damn, walking alone was boring. He hoped Mae was going to get better soon. Best avoid this topic he told himself, and think about something else. He realized he didn't know anyone in Gravelroy. Back in the army, on nights when Mae was working, there had always been men to share a drink or a song around a fire. Now in one of the biggest cities in the world, surrounded by folks at all times, it was sort of lonely. She would argue that he'd spend days, weeks even, alone in the Wilds. Alone with his 'friggin furries' as she called them, but it was different. Back there Ben felt alive, always on edge and aware of his surroundings, focused. Animals were simple to understand and the same went for soldiers. You were either hunter or prey. When your life was on the line at all times, you didn't have much left for idle thought.

    Not that the free city wasn't a dangerous place, but most folks here didn't trying to kill you. They'd rob you or swindle you most likely. It was all about money, and if you had none, they left you alone often enough. All the thieving he was currently doing seemed a game compared to his previous ways. Hell, he'd had fun earlier today, he realized. This damn city was making him stupid, he'd been enjoying himself while on the job. He had met plenty of soldiers who were like this. Big mouths with lots of stories and songs, they were. Spent a ton on women and even more on wine, even before a battle. These sorts sure made a lot of noise, but they didn't last long. Not that Ben was against having fun mind you, he just didn't want to die for it. You had to drink with people you trusted and never before a fight, those were his rules. Trouble was, here he only trusted Mae.

    The young man was thinking too much these days. It usually was about the cursed sickness and that was depressing, so he had tried different topics. Now his mind was going in all sorts of directions and weird thoughts popped in his head all the time. Ben probably needed folks to speak with. But most folks talked about more or less the same things. Namely: How shitty their work was, how shitty their Lord was or how shitty the weather was. During such conversations you were supposed to nod in agreement, raise your mug and say something along the lines of: 'You're damn right!'. Afterward, you added your own entry to the shit-list and so the night went on. That didn't sound like something wich would take Ben mind off his worries, so he was on his own. Thinking on your own was like talking to yourself, and he knew were people who talked to themselves ended. He had recently visited the place. Not a good location to end up, he concluded. He took a sip of wine from his gourd and kept walking randomly.

    His musings went to the strange scribbler. He remembered what Mae had told him, the whole thing was like a tale for children. A ghost, a dead girl, nobles and even a famous hero, one he knew himself. It was mostly rumors, Mae had said, but at least it didn't sound boring. When he had shared his doubts about the artist's sanity, she had answered there should be a way to make some coin there. Noble folks sure had some to spare and the two of them could maybe work out something then. Mae would have to think on it for some time. Going back too soon to a place Ben had recently broken into was a good way to get caught anyway. The young thief hesitated. Too much stuff to reflect on, it wasn't good. Providing weeds to Mae as he watched her whittle down slowly would only work for so long. He had to do something. They hadn't tried every doctor in the city yet, far from it. They hadn't tried the ones from the upper town.

    Ben had asked Mae more than once, why he couldn't just rob some rich folks to pay these fancy healers. The first problem, she had responded, was that robbing nobles was dangerous. She then had gone on with an explanation about how difficult retailing the stolen goods would be. But Ben wouldn't drop the matter. The last issue, she had continued, was that these doctors didn't leave the nicer parts of the city. Especially not to visit the slums, you had to bring the patient over to them. A poor man -namely Ben-, coming up there with enough coin to pay for treatment was shady at least. It happening shortly after someone important had been burgled was sure to arouse suspicion. There would be a high chance of Mae being kept as a hostage until an investigation was done. You needed more than mere money to afford the same healing as the nobles did, you needed status, Mae had concluded.

    Ben clenched his fists, his destination settled. He had to do something, maybe it was a long shot but it was still one, the only thing he could think of. And he knew where to find a noble. It would beat worrying about Mae, talking about shit or sleeping with damn pigeons anyway.
     
  7. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.5 Girl meets bumpkin.

    The girl woke up with a start. Her whole world seemed... unusual, a bit colder. The ground was feeling different, not the familiar straw bed. That explained the coolness, or was it freshness? She felt the wind! She almost shouted it out loud. Calm down silly girl, you have been drugged, you are probably dreaming again. Her body was not hurting so much for one thing, and the strange hunger was gone. Surely a delusion then, she concluded. But the girl remembered. She did! She opened her eyes and screamed.

    "I HAVE A BROTHER!"

    She sat up in excitement, and almost lost her mind at the view. Or maybe she already had. It was a town, no a whole city! It was night time but she could make out the shape of houses and also lights. So many lights! Where was she, the girl wondered, and how...

    "I know, ya told me 'bout it a hundred times already!" A voice startled her. "Damn if 'tis not borin', been sayin' the same thing over and over for an hour! Then ya fell asleep, and now ya wake up and ya start this shit again..." It was a male voice, coming from her side and close, quite improperly so. She recoiled and scrambled to her feet in a scare. Something stopped her short, pulling her from the waist. She cried out in surprise before falling back.

    "Would ya please calm the heck down?" The man snapped, as he grabbed a rope that was coiled around her belly.

    She assessed her current situation. She had somehow gotten out of her cursed room and was tied up in an unknown location. The girl felt excited. She should not be, really, but it was an improvement over her previous condition. Perhaps it was, she amended. She looked at her benefactor, or captor, it was still to be determined. But she could not see much in the dark, only his shape. He was sitting down a few paces away, glaring at her.

    "Who are you?" She had so many questions but one had to start somewhere, this one seemed appropriate.

    "Ya talk?" He asked, sounding surprised.

    The girl rolled her eyes. It was going to be a painful, long conversation if the man was this slow-witted.

    "Yes, as you can hear, I am capable of speech." She said, very slowly, with the tone normally used to speak yo small children.

    His response startled her, for he decided to burst out laughing. The man must not be very bright, she concluded. She sighed. Well, communication was off the table then. So she put herself back to analyzing her situation. The most unsettling thing, -appart from her being captive by an idiotic man- was how she felt. There was no pain nor strange hunger anymore, and she could remember the last couple of days quite distinctly. She felt relieved and began to look around.

    She was sitting high up, on a tiled roof. The city felt familiar but it was difficult to tell in the middle of the night. Not much else to see but lights and shapes, those were houses and streets. The girl could make out a group of lights that seemed higher than the rest. There was also a dark, vast and completely flat area surrounding the town from all directions. Then she recognized it all, the uphill district, the sea and the swamps. This should be Gravelroy, the free city. Metropolis full of various merchants, cultures, and criminals. She vaguely recalled visiting it on a few occasions.

    "Sorry fer that, 'is jus' ya been actin' all cracked for an hour or so. And now ya wake up, and ya talk to me like I'm the crazy one." The man said once he had finished laughing.

    Perhaps she had been too quick to judge him. He was certainly capable of speech, however limited it was. The girl turned her gaze to him, she could see better now. The man had short, dark blond hair. There was not enough light to make out the color of his eyes nor that of his clothes. God, his garments were dirty! He was covered in filth from shoulder to toe. Did he bathe in a pool of mud earlier this day? How was she to know in wich ways commoners spent their time anyway? She shrugged and went back to her inspection. His age was hard to guess, she estimated him to be in his mid-twenties, though the scars on his face made him look older. The smile was not going to fool her, he certainly was a shady individual. No one respectable would be standing on a roof at such late hour. His questionable habit of abducting young women was not raising her opinion of him.

    "Lookin' down at me while covered in your own filth, ya sure are somethin'." He said, catching her stare. Did the man read her mind she wondered, frowning. No, that would be unlikely. The girl should be more careful with her facial expressions, she scolded herself. The irritating laughter came back when her face twisted again in frustration.

    "You should take a look at yourself before being so rude. I do not believe you are much better off than myself on the matter of cleanness." She shot back. She was not going to let him bully her without a fight. The scoundrel looked down at himself and winced in agreement.

    "You have yet to answer my previous question." She remarked, using his discomfort as an opportunity.

    "Oh, right. I'm Ben."

    She sighed again. It was going to be an ordeal, conversation was not his forte. He had said his name as if it explained everything. Only a first name, she noted, no family name. Either the man did not want to disclose it or he was an unwanted child. Orphans and bastards did not get one. As if their status was not low enough, she remarked. The both of them were now staring at each other, waiting. The girl was not going to lose at this, she thought smugly. She had been practicing against walls for quite some time.

    "That's where ya give me yer name, y'know." He finally added. -Oh, right. I really am out of practice with social interactions.-

    "I... " She paused. "I do not know in fact, it appears I cannot recall my identity." She answered, shocked by her own ignorance.

    How could one not remember their own name? The girl sorted through her few memories. She recollected being called 'sister' mostly, with a few occurrences of 'daughter' and 'my lady'. Her family name was there as well, for it had always been important. She thought back on all the writings in her chamber, the answer could be in them. The miscreant was now giving her a strange expression, concern? She must be wrong. He should really consider a change in career, the girl observed. Kidnapping people only to feel sorry for them afterward did not seem very efficient. But then again, what was making sense these past few days?

    "Ya don't seem to recall me either." He broke the silence.

    "Ben, right? Am I supposed to know you, Ben?" She asked, surprised. "My apologies but I cannot remember much, it seems." The girl was doubtful, she could not be acquainted with such a suspicious person, could she not? And if they knew each other, how to explain the rope then?

    "No worries now, jus' saw each other the once. Plus was enough damn smoke in yer room to make half the city go mad. Heck, I'm surprised ya can talk at all." He waved off her apology.

    "It might be because there has not been any of the medicine left available for a few days." She explained. "There was a case of theft or so I heard."

    "Well, that'd be my fault." He said with a mischievous grin. She perked up in realization.

    He was the thief, the one who the white priests have been looking for. The scoundrel that framed her, she thought angrily. On the other hand, she would not have gotten her mind back without his intervention, however criminal it had been. She could not decide if she had to thank him or resent him. The abduction was a little irritating though. The girl has been locked up in the same room for God knows how long, and now she was only a length of rope away from freedom. She tried moving a bit and discovered how weak her body was. Ben perked up and tightened his grip on the rope as soon as she did. His smile did not fool her, he was watchful.

    "What d'ya remember?" He asked. Well, nothing in there was worth hiding so she answered:

    "Only a few bits and pieces, my childhood mostly."

    "M'ybe I can help ya with that." He said after thinking a little. Surely a noteworthy occurrence, she noted, but she kept the remark to herself.

    This Ben had offered her help recalling her past, she paused, startled. It was her most immediate concern, even before freedom. Escaping only to wander aimlessly afterward was meaningless. But what would he ask for such help? This ruffian was holding everything she wanted in his hands, the price should surely be steep. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she considered the kind of payment would interest his like.

    "Don't remember yer full name, it's kinda long 'n complicated. Starts with Clept or somethin'. Let's call you Cleo for now a'right?"

    She froze. A name, even just a part of it, sounded astonishing. It made her feel a bit more human. And he was handing it to her for free?

    "What? Ya don't like it? I think it's nice. M'ybe Chloe then? Sound about the same. Can't go too much different from yer real name though, can't we?"

    "No, please, Cleo is fine. No, not fine, It's wonderful. Thank you. Ben. Thank you." She blurted. She was babbling like an idiot, she scolded herself. Tryly embarrassing.

    " 'Is jus' a name." He shrugged.

    "By what means do you know about me? What else is there? What do you want from me?" Heavens, she was doing it again. She acted the part of the excited young maiden before her first dance. The girl really had to control herself. Next thing she knew, she would be swooning. How distasteful. Heavens, the thief was laughing at her now. She was feeling the heat coming to her cheeks. Oh god. Please do not blush.

    "Mae said it's kinda famous story in these parts. Don't remember the whole thing, and I sure as hell can't tell it good the way she does. L'me see..." He appeared thoughtful for a while.

    The expectation was killing her. What was it about storytellers and their infuriating habit to pause for effect?

    "Tis' mostly rumors and folks talkin', so take it with a grain of salt a'right? Anyway they say, since the accident, the first one I mean, ya spent 'bout four years in the loonie bin. Other folks say ya died that day." He paused when he saw her expression. "The house for crazies." He explained as he pointed at the tiles under his feet. Oh. So she hadn't escaped, she was only on the roof, she thought, disappointed. But four years in this horrible place? And she only remembered a few days of it? It was horrifying, she had wasted most of her youth drugged and scribbling madly on walls.

    "Mae says ya got wed as soon as ya were of age, the big commotion happened a year later. Reckon' it would make you twenty-one or twenty-two? Though I hones' coudn't tell with the way you look and all. That would be the accident, the second one. Been rumors of you bein' a ghost after." He continued. She was a woman, not a girl anymore, she noted. But this was far from the most concerning point.

    "Hold on for a moment, please, I am married? And you mentioned an accident, what happened?" She almost screamed at him.

    "Ya got married off to some lord. Don't ask me his name, 'tis another of those long-ass ones ya nobles got. Then the war started because of it, or thanks to it, depends on whose side yer on I guess. Yer brother has been doing real well during the whole thing, by the way. Famous general I hear, conquered a whole kingdom. Polkiad I think its called, and some other bits. I met him actually. Tall lad, looks at ya like yer not good enough to lick the mud on his shoes. Got nothin' personal against him though, most of 'em Lords look at ya this way. Funny thing is, with him you actually believe you're shit when he stares. There's somethin' special about him. I guess that's why folks in the empire say he's a hero. Folks on the other side call him different kinds of names though. Not names I should say in front of a lady. Shit, I just remembered yer a lady. Shoudn't probably say shit either." He stopped in his ramblings.

    God this Ben was an execrable storyteller. There was no method, he just mixed facts and random thoughts together, before blurting everything out at once. She had to sort everything out now. She held her hand out, signaling him to stop. She took a deep breath. First, the marriage issue. Well, she could not remember the man's face. Surely her husband should not be of much relevance then, should he not? It did not give her much hope about his character though. Probably nothing noteworthy, she concluded. She realized with bitterness that her precious household name was not hers anymore. Cleo shook her head, she should focus on the truly important topic.

    "Is my brother alive then?" She asked, holding her breath for the answer.

    "Dunno fer sure, but I haven't heard of him getin' put in the ground." He shrugged.

    She felt relieved. He had apparently become a renowned general, and such personalities passing usually made quite a commotion.

    "You said you knew him, do you work for him?" She asked hopefully. He was busy with some war, so obviously he could not come to her rescue. She remembered him always putting duty above everything. But of course, a man of his status could send someone to rescue his sister.

    "Ah, sorry. Don't know him much. Was jus' the guy shoutin' orders at our arses. When I was a soldier with'em Empire folks, that was. Jus' saw him a few times is all."

    She was disappointed, but not so much. Brother was doing well and the news alone was cheering her up. She turned her attention to the other pieces of information. She was noble, according. The girl had not wondered about her station before, but she was glad for it to be important.

    "You said you were a soldier with the empire. For what reason did you abduct one of your own countrymen then?" She asked. She had to address the matter at some point, and her captor was being helpful at the moment. It seemed as good a time as any to try.

    "Damn! Ya think I frigin' kidnaped you?" He exclaimed. But he didn't make any move to free her.

    "It would be a valid assumption under the circumstances, do you not think?" She shot back

    "Made sense at the time." He shrugged. She raised an eyebrow.

    "Found ya lyin' down, yer head held in both hands and mutterin' 'I have a brother', ' I have a brother'." He said, imitating her. "Figured I should take ya out for fresh air, the place bein' filled up with smoke and all. Then I thought: maybe bringin' a crazy girl up on a roof is a bad idea. So I tied up yer ass." He concluded. The explanation made sense, if you ignored the rudeness.

    "This means you would untie me if you determine that I am sane?" She asked. How would she prove her sanity to him though? She was far from convinced herself.

    "Well, I ain't goin' to spend my life walkin' around with a cracked girl on a leash ain't I?" He said before laughing.

    The man was infuriating. She could not make any sense of his demeanor. He was suspicious and either lying or hiding things. If he was a drug thief then what did he free her for? But if he was a soldier from her country, why did he steal weeds and not her self the first time he came by? What were they still doing on the roof of her prison? And now the scoundrel was throwing jokes at her. The most frustrating part was that she felt a measure of gratitude towards her captor. She shook her head. She was exhausted, and there was still so many things left to figure out.

    "I do not know if I am sound of mind. I probably am not, not after spending four years breathing drugs in a cell. But the definition of sanity always depends on who judges it. With that I mean, there are people who believe the whole world was created by a god in less than a week. How is this not completely absurd? Others believe in as many as twelve gods, one for thunder, war, wine and so on. Does it not sound mad? God, most people out there even think the earth to be flat!" She exclaimed, getting worked up. She stopped herself short when seeing Ben's face. Heavens, why did she let herself get carried away? Now he was looking at her as if she had grown even crazier.

    "Are ya sayin' god don't exist? Damn, but everyone say he do! Did I pray to wind the whole time? Would explain some things though. Wait, I jus' heard you swear his name. I can see why they say you're mad." He rambled.

    "Well, swearing might be one of the very few topics in wich you are more educated than I am." She said. Ben snorted in response. "If I may add, 'Oh god.' might the only bit of swearing a lady can get away with."

    "Careful 'bout what ya say though, 'seen what they do to them heretics and it ain't pretty. Plus ya live in a goddamn church!" Ben exclaimed. She nodded in agreement, questioning faith was perhaps not a safe thing to do out loud then.

    "And what was that 'bout the world? Seems pretty flat to me." He frowned, before looking around as if testing the idea.

    "It is actually a sphere or a ball if you prefer." She explained and instantly regretted it. She recalled having the conversation dozens of times, as well as the headaches that ensued.

    "Wouldn't it go rollin' around then? We'd end up crushed against the floor. Wait, is there a floor? There has to be one right? What about the people at the bottom, they can't get rain on them now can't they? ..." He blurted out and kept going. She sighed and stopped listening. She should have known better, Ben seemed to be the worst person to explain astronomy to.

    "Let us change topics, shall we? You mentioned an accident. Could you tell me about it?" She asked and thanked her non-existing god when Ben stopped in his ramblings.

    "Damn! Ya don't know? How's it even possible? I mean, whole thing is... well, take a good half yer head. Some folks say ya died that day, others speak of yer ghost hauntin' the loonie bin." He said, growing uncomfortable.

    The girl touched her face with her hand. She had noticed some parts of its skin were feeling rough or strange, but she had overlooked it. She was filthy, bruised, and she had not been thinking clearly at the time. Now, as she was examining it more thoroughly, she was growing anxious. She looked around her, but she could not find anything in wich to see her reflexion. So she glanced at Ben in askance, fearing what she would hear.

    "Hm..." He cleared his throat. "It's burnt skin. Black and all, takes the whole right side of yer face. I've seen it a few times durin' the war, though it was on corpses. Oh, err... sorry."

    Not only her sanity had been damaged, but her appearance as well. She had half a mind to match with the half of her face, she remarked the sad irony. What had happened to her? She had so many memories as a happy child, how could her life have come to that point? God, she was crying now, truly disgraceful. A strange observation. She was crazy, filthy, she apparently looked like a corpse, and she was worried about the propriety of tears. She felt Ben's hand resting on her shoulder in an attempt of comfort. What was the saying? 'Once you hit rock bottom, there is only a one way : upwards.' What an absurd proverb. One could obviously keep digging, even through rock.

    They sat in silence, each purposely avoiding to look at the other. She must have stopped crying at some point. She surprised herself finding the presence of Ben, sitting a few paces away, somehow comforting.

    "Ya know, ya can tie yer hair and put it all on one side. Is' long enough, shoud cover the whole thing." He said after a while. She considered the idea. That would work, but it did not make her feel better.

    "And if folks are botherin' ya, jus' switch it the other side to scare them off." He proposed. She gave him a dubious look.

    "Worked on me the first once. Ran away, scared shitless. Thought yer some kind of ghost." He gave a small, encouraging chuckle. She ignored it.

    "Gotta use what ya got right?" She shrugged at his proposal. He grew quiet in defeat.

    The dark of the night was beginning to disperse. With it came the question she felt too tired to address: what was she to do now?

    "Dawn is coming, folks willl sure check yer cell soon." He observed. She nodded absent-mindedly.

    "Could help ya get away." He said and it startled her.

    "And lead me around on a leash?" She shot back with more venom than she wanted.

    "Sorry, jus' thought wasn't safe to untie the thing. On the count of yer cryin' and all."

    "I would not jump off in despair. I am not such a pitiful..." She stopped short when he gave her his end of the rope, just like that.

    "D'ya know anyone who could take you in? Guess not with yer memory problems." The girl shook her head as she untied her bonds.

    "I'd offer but Mae's place pretty cramped and ya'd have to go outside when she got customers. Also, ain't a proper place for a lady I'd say." He continued.

    Who was that person named Mae? Ben had already mentioned her earlier. Well, the girl had more pressing concerns. She was tempted by the offer, but then anything sppealed to her more than going back to the cursed room. What was she going to do afterwards? Would the white robes search the city for her? She had just discovered she had one of the most notable faces from miles away. Though returning to her cell would mean more drugs and the risk of forgetting everything she had learned. Not to mention she could revert to drooling at all times. She was at loss. The girl needed more time to process everything and get better.

    "Your offer is tempting but there are things I need to remember, things I hope to find on the walls of my cell."

    "But if they bring ya more drugs, ya'd go back to full cracked right?" He objected. She gave a worried nod.

    "I have to return soon, or they will take notice of my absence." The girl said as she stood up shakily.

    "I'll lock the door right behind ya then. L'me lead the way." He commanded and she followed in silence.

    The walk to her room felt eerie. It was a new scenery after all, everything that was not her cell was refreshing. As they went down the bell tower's stairs she realized she did not dread going back as much as she would have thought. Perhaps the familiarity of a room she spent four years in was comforting after an overwhelming night. They paused at the bottom and Ben made a rude shushing gesture before going through a door. She trailed behind and they resumed their way, into a dusty attic this time. She watched curiously how he proceeded. She had never seen anything like the way he walked. But then she was a Lady, and Ladies certainly did not know many thieves.

    The young man was treading through the darkness in a strange fashion. He was bending down, sometimes stopping to shift his weight suddenly, before making an uncanny step in a different direction. As if he was probing the wooden floor with his feet, discovering wich planks would squeak, and then planning his route accordingly. Her own feet were bare she found as she tried following his weird ways, not wanting to make noise either. It proved to be a difficult endeavor.

    The moves reminded her of dancing and she recalled hating it. Not very Lady-like but she had deemed the whole business tedious at best, and she had never seen the point in it. Her body's current condition was not helping. Apparently, imprisoning her and drugging her was not enough. The white-robbed people had to starve her as well. Not the most pious of conducts, she remarked acidly.

    After a short flight of stairs, they went down to the inmates' floor. Ben put a scarf over his face and the girl imitated him as best as she could, pulling up her robe to cover both nose and mouth. She was showing too much leg, she noted, but who was looking, really? She watched wide-eyed, as she discovered her comrades in insanity for the first time. Or they could have met before but she could not remember.

    They were wearing the same gray dirty robes, and their demeanor was making her shudder. Some of the human forms were shaking or having violent spasms. Others were hurting their own selves in disturbing ways. She could not make out their faces but she was too afraid to have a closer look. Did she used to have such a ghastly appearance? She felt sick thinking about it. Ben urged her forward, pulling her out of her morbid fascination. He pushed open her cell's door before stepping aside. She was glad to notice the contraption hanging from the ceiling had ran out of drugs. She went in, turned back to bid Ben farewell and then paused, wondering wich words to use. What did one say to someone -no matter how irritating- who saved them twice from insanity?

    "You have my utmost gratitude, Ben. I cannot begin to contemplate what state I would find myself in if you had not rescued me tonight." She bowed slightly.

    It was a lie, she just saw said state in the cells right next to hers, it had been terrifying. Ben nodded, accepting her thanks. The girl was beginning to regret coming back here. Was she being foolish, throwing away her only chance at escape in four years? Why was Brother not here, and a criminal was the one to offer her freedom? Why could she not accept it? Surely life in poverty could not be much worse than all this. She did not know much ways to earn a living, but if tens of thousands of commoners could do it, why should she not?

    She did not trust Ben, though he had not done her real wrong. He actually has been the only person of any help and she had turned it away. What a stupid, silly girl she was. God, she was shaking again, the tears were returning now. She glanced at her walls. Was there anything amongst these mad scribblings worth the agony she faced? How many times had she managed to remember bits and pieces of her past and then written them down, only to forget? How many times had she done so, before starting the cycle anew? Ben coughed, shaking her out from her stupor.

    "Is it proper fer ya ladies to accept visits from us criminal types? Say tomorrow evenin'." He asked with a grin. Did he read her thoughts? Heavens, she wanted to hug him. She wanted to throw propriety out the window and do it, but she controlled herself. Who would want to be embraced by a corpse? Not a very smart move if she ever wanted him to come back.

    "It would definitely not be proper. One Should have to keep it a secret or face a rather unseemly reputation." The girl could not ward off her smile as she answered. There was hope, if only for a single more day of sanity.

    "See ya then, same time, and not too crazy if ya woud." He winked before throwing her his scarf and closing the door.

    It was a long way from rock bottom to the surface, she thought as she caught it, but she was beginning to look up. She tightened her grip on the piece cloth with resolve.
     
  8. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.6 Birth of a teacher

    The girl -or young woman, she had discovered- was growing distressed. She has ben feeling upset all day and now, as only little light was coming through her dark window, her nerves were getting worse. The usual disgusting brown sloth brought by the usual old sister had marked her morning call. She had almost made a mistake then, opening her mouth to greet her visitor. The woman was not supposed to talk, she had thought, her mouth wide-opened before deciding not to speak. Her newfound 'sanity' was not to be noticed so she had settled for drooling. Luckily she was still quite proficient in that particular skill. Acting insane should not prove to be too difficult in the future, she had concluded smugly.

    Once she has been left alone again, she took out the worn out scarf Ben had given her. Her mind went to the young thief as she stared at it. Cleo, that was her name now was it? Well, Cleo was overwhelmed by questions about the young man, and those soon turned into doubts. She could not figure out his motives so it was difficult believing his promise to come back. Placing her hopes on a filthy burglar seemed a foolish thing to do, but it was all she had at the moment.

    She then gladly threw herself into the study of her walls, trying to decipher their secrets. Heavens she had been mad during these four years, Cleo mused. Most of the etchings were indistinguishable while the rest was merely pure madness. The young woman had been using a few different languages apparently, and she could understand them. Looking at her writings was like staring at a distorted mirror into her own mind, it was disturbing. Frightening, even. Not that Cleo would enjoy what she would see in a regular mirror though.

    She was disfigured, and quite nastily so, judging by Ben's reaction. The skin was burnt, and she could not help but look at the blackened corner of her room. There must have been a fire there, Ben had spoken about an accident. It seemed a fair assumption, but pondering the question would not bring her face back.

    Cleo was now pacing in circles through her room. It felt awkward since the place was maddeningly small, but it helped calming her down. She was waiting, alone with only her scribblings and thoughts for companions. Wondering if Ben was coming to save her from insanity was getting on her nerves. It was like that game children played, when they held each other's hands and twirled as fast as they could before letting go. She stopped short, for her head was spinning. The twirling made the scribblings around her seem even crazier. An entire day looking at them had brought up more questions than answers. She reviewed the phrases that stood out the most.

    YOU KILLED HIM.

    This one was disturbing. She did not consider herself a violent person, surely it was only her madness speaking. The matter of the victim was also intriguing. Was it the reason for her incarceration? It made sense but the prospect was frightening, she wanted to drop the topic.

    DO NOT TRUST THEM. DONT TRUST ANYONE.

    Who were 'them'? It most likely referred to her captors and evidently, they were suspicious. Everyone was in fact, but everyone did not include Brother did it not? The Lady should not trust the writings too far. Perhaps she should not even trust her own self. What about the strange thief then, was he included in 'them'? Or did Ben show up only recently, after she wrote the warning down, as he had told?

    YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF YOU SILLY GIRL. DO NOT ANGER THE WHITES.

    Was Cleo the one to blame for her current predicament, or was this line referring to another event? Of course, she was not going to provoke the priests, they scared her. Especially brother Gregory, though she was not sure why.

    HE DID THIS TO YOU.

    Who was 'he'? Ben, her husband, her sibling, or someone else entirely? The offense in question was also a mystery, since so many things had been done to her.

    MONSTER.

    This word had been repeated the most. However, it could refer to many different entities, even herself. Cleo was disfigured, insane and perhaps a murdered. Her spine ran cold at the possibility.

    BEWARE THE FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH. YOU ARE CRAZY.

    What happened on that day? Cleo did not even know the current date, she hoped that she would have enough time and answers to get ready before the next month. Remembering that she was crazy should easily be done, though the reason for such need intrigued her. Was it about acting the part in front of her hosts?

    The woman sighed. The day had not been very productive. It had not been worth turning down an offer of freedom, however untrustworthy it had seemed.

    Cleo looked at the dreaded contraption hanging from her ceiling. It was taunting her from up there, too high for her reach. She considered standing on her chamber pot, after turning it over of course. She could then jump and take a hold of it, but the height seemed too much. The weakened state of her body did not give Cleo much hope to succeed either. Her ennemies were coming to fill the item with 'medicine'. If Ben was not coming she would spend the night breathing its fumes, before regressing back to an empty, drooling shell. She shuddered in anticipation. The carvings might appear the ramblings of a paranoid mind, but they convinced her the cure was not one. She thought about her deranged neighbours, they were being drugged as well. Cleo wondered if she was so far gone out of her mind that conspiracies appeared everywhere. The constant questioning of her own sanity was maddening, would a truly crazy person wonder about it though? Cleo could ask the other inmates if she ever got out of this cursed room. She would have to get over her fear the sight of them had brought.

    The Lady understood something in that particular recollection. The cells were different. Their gates consisted of iron bars, wich meant aeration, something absent from her room. Only a small gap between the floor and the bottom of the thick, oaken door allowed the air to circulate. The young woman had a different regimen from the other residents, she concluded. She was inhaling a considerably higher amount of smoke, the question being why. Was Cleo so crazed she needed more of the treatment? Or was she originally sane and someone wanted to prevent her wits from returning? There were always more questions, when did she begin to hate those?

    As a student, she used to love questions. There were always more answers to look for, new things to discover, possibilities seemed endless at the time. Cleo recalled being a nightmare to her tutors, she used to debate everything they taught her. She would not just sit and listen obediently like the other dull children. The ones who accepted blindly everything they heard from teachers as truth. She despised scholars who seemed satisfied to only read books and stock their contents in their brains. Intelligence was so much more than mere memory.

    Authors were people, and as such they were unreliable. They could write false truths, whether on purpose or by mistake. They could be complete idiots even, and if you were not careful, you could find yourself believing their rantings. History was different from one country to the other, the same event ending up with a dozen different versions. Science evolved with each discovery. Theories accepted as truths for hundreds of years could be then discarded as erroneous one day. One had to question everything they learned if they wanted knowledge, real knowledge.

    Cleo snapped out of her reverie as she heard the sound of footsteps. It was time and she had to decide something, interrogations were getting her nowhere at the moment. She was not a student anymore. Let us apply logical thinking, she told herself. It was simple really, Cleo was either demented or she was not. There was not much she could do about the first. And If she was not, it meant there was an entity plotting against her. Cleo would fight this enemy, she decided, be it imaginary or not. She would play the part of the harmless, drugged girl and fool 'them'. She sat down on the bed and steeled herself for battle. Enemies were at the gates, she had to ready her weapons.

    Cleo stared at the blackened ceiling, opened her mouth and she began drooling.





    ****





    Cleo woke up in a haze and it worried her. She had inhaled fumes, despite tying the gifted cloth over her face as soon as the whites had left. Her memories were a mess and she grew more anxious. The young woman opened her eyes to the view of the city by night, and it eased her a bit. The fact that she remembered it as well as today events calmed her. A quick glance around revealed the shape of a man, probably Ben. She squinted her eyes to confirm it.

    "What in god's name do you think you are doing?" She exclaimed, before gasping in shock and turning her head away.

    "Hey, Cleo! Yer awake. Didn't take long this once. Good thing, was starvin'." Ben responded behind her.

    Cleo had forgotten his irritating habit of ignoring her questions to go on about other matters. She heard him rummaging through his things and moving around, making her the more uncomfortable. The man was drawing close now, and that was definitely not a proper thing do, not in the current situation.

    "Could you please put some clothes on!" She almost shouted. He laughed in response, what an infuriating scoundrel.

    "But I jus' put 'em out to dry. Hate smellin', 'specially of 'em damn sewers." He protested. "Damn, what's with'em civilized folks, they prefer ya stink than see ya nakid. What's wrong with nakid?" He grumbled.

    "I cannot begin to contemplate what would happen if everyone had the same views as you." She protested against his absurd statement.

    "Guess folks woud spend more time humpin' and less killin'. Woud be great actually." He chuckled. Cleo had no arguments at the moment, despite how ludicrous the idea sounded. But she was certainly not going to argue about decency with a naked man.

    "Reckon 'em godfolks sure woud lose their marbles though." He laughed again. What a daunting scene that would be. She felt her mouth curve up a little picturing the scene.

    "Get dressed Ben, now." She commanded him after regaining her complexion.

    "Aye, Aye." He sighed and made more rummaging sounds. "Ya can turn yer head now, m'lady."

    Cleo sighed in relief and went back to face the young man. He was wearing the same outfit as before, only drenched in water this time. The deep, dark circles around his eyes combined with the stench made for a pitiful picture. The woman was not going to comment on the odor though, she had just seen the alternative. Ben held out a small bag to her and she took it curiously. The contents revealed themselves to be a loaf of bread and some cheese. Cleo almost squealed in delight, but she held herself and shot Ben a glance.

    "Go on girl, eat. Yer too much skinny to be shy 'bout it." He grinned.

    It was food, food that was not brown sloth nor brown soup, she marveled. And she could eat it without a wrinkled old nun shoving a spoon down her throat. Cleo had suffered the process for four years, and she was glad she could only remember a few days of it. She muttered her thanks to Ben for such an amazing present, before forgetting propierty and wolfing it down.

    The Lady was thankful for the meal, but even more for getting out of the room and its promise of madness. She did not enjoy owing such debt to someone though, let alone a thief. What about the next day? Would she have to spend it waiting anxiously for rescue as well?

    "I would be most grateful if you could consider teaching me about picking my cell's lock." Cleo asked. She could not rely on Ben forever.

    "Sure. Jus' wait for the smoke to be gone." He said. She looked at him, he was staring at her with an undecipherable expression. The young woman swallowed and paused in realization. Where had her manners gone to? Ben was exhausted, filthy and obviously not wealthy. She split her meal in two and gave him half, he grunted in appreciation. God, the thief was almost as starved as she was, Cleo observed as he went on eating with gluttony.

    "How's yer head?" He said between bites.

    "I believe to be doing rather well, thank you. Though I admit some concern since I breathed enough drugs to fall asleep." She pointed.

    " 'Is fine, better than quittin' all of a sudden. Happened to Mae once and wasn't a pretty sight I tell ya." He reassured her. That explained the strange hunger but she did not enjoy the idea of being an addict. She had to free herself from her madness, her cell and now there was a third prison.

    "Sure ya recall everythin'? Didn't fix yer hair." He observed.

    "I decided against it. I presumed taking care of my hair might look peculiar or worse, suspicious, to my jailers."

    "Learn anychin new wich yer chribbin?" Ben asked with his mouth full. It took her a few moments to translate, between the thick accent, the butchering of grammar and the food in the way.

    "I could not make sense of my own writings, if you could believe it." She sighed before throwing herself back on her meal.

    "Take yer time lass, got a'plenty before yer lesson. Here, drink some or yer gonna choke." He held out a small gourd to her. Cleo grabbed it gladly for her throat was dry, and its content revealed to be wine. She took a few careful sips before giving it back.

    Once done with their supper, they sat in silence for a while, digesting. The Lady was taking in the sight. Anything was a better spectacle than her room's walls, even blurry house shapes and distant lights. Ben lied down, resting on his back, hands beneath his neck.

    "Gravelroy, the free city. Center of world trade and crime. Perhaps the richest, most populated metropolis of the continent" Cleo mused out loud, recalling some of her teachings.

    "Folks here don't look rich much to me. More like starvin' " Ben objected.

    "Here, as everywhere else really, wealth is divided between only a handful of individuals."

    "Why's 'tis so rich? The town I mean." He asked.

    "Because of trade, mostly done by sea. The harbor connects the empire, the eastern kingdoms as well as the overseas continent and its islands. A number of countries do not commerce with one another because of wars between them. Those can legally exchange goods they otherwise could not, through this very place. Gravelroy makes an impressive profit on such trades, through its harbour." She recited, and congratulated her memory inwardly.

    "Call 'emselves the kingdoms union now. The ones in the east that is." Ben corrected her.

    "Oh. I imagine I am not entirely up to date on the topic of politics." She remarked bitterly. She wondered what else she had missed, the world had probably changed quite a bit during four years.

    "But if Gravelroy got so much gold, why no king takes it? 'Is only one town, and the walls are shit I tell ya." He said.

    "Because Ben, any army foolish enough to attack this city would incur the wrath of every other country around the sea. They all need it but they cannot steal it, amazing, really." She marveled.

    "Oh. Makes sense. Like when ya see a pile of stuff and ya want the one at the bottom. Can't grab it else the whole lot falls on yer feet." He said. She nodded awkwardly at his simplistic comparison.

    "Thought it was the smell." He added. She raised an eyebrow. "Thought no king would go near the damn place 'cause it stinks so much." He chuckled.

    "Quite the surprising remark, coming from someone covered in filth himself." She pointed.

    "I hear ya, gotta find 'other way in if I come visit ya again. Hate goin' through water in this damn city." He grunted. Cleo felt foolish, cursed tongue! The man went through an ordeal to help her and she berated him. She tried changing the subject.

    "I assume from the way you talk that you are not local originally. You used to be a soldier, as you mentioned yesterday. How does one go from member of the imperial army to burglar in Gravelroy, if I may ask?."

    "I'm from the Wilds. Not much chance to avoid war back there. If ya want to be 'round people, that is. Ya can if yer lucky and know yer shit, but was too small then, been in it since I was ten."

    "Surely the Emperor's forces would not recruit boys so young?" She interrupted, shocked.

    "Dunno 'bout yer empire, wasn't with 'em at the time. Mercenaries though, they take boys for camp duties till they old enough to hold a spear." Ben shrugged.

    "How did you come into his Majesty's service then?"

    "Did a lot of fighting. Then..." He paused as if recalling something painful. "Then didn't care much 'bout who I fought for. Figured, might as well fight for the ones that win. Fought for many different lords, don't recall all their names. Till yer brother came with the new empire. Say one thing for the lad, say he wins a lot."

    It seemed a foreign way of life to Cleo. How could one trust someone whose loyalty went along with the wind? She remembered people she had known, Brother among them, talking about honor, duty and loyalty. She did not care much for war, -she thought it an incredible waste of ressources- but those were the reason the men invoked. She had a recollection of arguing about the point of warfare against her father's knights. The Lady could not possibly understand they said, she was after all, only a woman. The fools had chestnuts for brains and they had the nerve to look down on her!

    Young Cleo had lost her temper at the time, berating the men and yelling at them. She did not see the honor in sending thousands to die, only so a few others could fill their coffers and draw new lines on a map. The outburst had been severely punished. The soldiers had gone on avoiding her like the plague afterward, but the worst had been Brother's reaction. She had criticized the way of life he was aspiring to, in public, and quite harshly so. Could it have been, Cleo asked herself, that day she had thought of? The day things went wrong between the both of them? No she corrected, as the first incident came back to her. It had taken her months to patch up their relationship after the scene, but it had still been a good one. Cursed sharp tongue, her father used to call it.

    "Does the change in station not bother you? Why would one go from soldier in a prestigious army, to... common thief?" She asked. Brother's army, she could not help but feel some pride despite her conflicting opinions.

    "Why woud it? Reckon robbin' folks is better than killin' 'em." Ben shrugged. His explanation gave her pause.

    " 'Course I know folks respect soldiers and spit on thieves, but 'tis jus' them bein' stupid. Like 'em folks look down at Mae 'cause she's a whore. Her job is making men feel good. How's that worse than stealin' or stickin' a sword through 'em? World' be better with more harlots 'n less warriors I reckon." He continued. She found herself agreeing on the idea that making a living out of death was not worthy of praise. But his piece about the status of prostitutes, soldiers, and petty criminals was something new.

    "That was an interesting piece of wisdom Ben, I thank you." She said, impressed. She would never have imagined listening to a thought-provoking statement made by a criminal. Much less this particular one.

    "Stop pullin' my leg. Been called lots of things, but wise ain't one of them." He frowned.

    They stayed silent for a bit afterward. Ben seemed to be tired so Cleo let him rest and she set out to stretch her legs around the roof. It was old and not very well maintained so she treaded carefully, enjoying her tiny little freedom. She felt overjoyed. She was walking in a space ten times bigger than she was used to. She had had a meal, amazingly different from her routine one. She also had a conversation, a rather peculiar one, but it had been better than those she had with her walls. Ben would not stop to startle her. It was quite difficult to form an opinion about the man. One moment she viewed the him as an uneducated ruffian, the next one he surprised her with kindness. He had not even asked anything in return so far, and now he had made her reconsider some of her social conceptions.

    The strangest part was his plain lack of pride or self-consciousness, it was an alien trait to Cleo. Pride and propriety were everything among nobles, in her old world. Pride she understood, for if someone had none, they obviously were going at life the wrong way. She had always considered propriety to be quite silly however, but brother had required it from her, so she had complied. It seemed even sillier in her current situation, but it was all she had left of her previous life.

    "Right, I remember some of what Mae said!" He exclaimed, pulling her away from her considerations. She tilted her head at him.

    "Said I shoud ask if ya know stuff 'bout rich folk houses 'round here. Ya bein' a lady and all." He continued. Oh, she thought, there it is. She sighed. Well, he was a thief after all.

    "I owe you a great debt Ben, and I will do everything in my power to repay it when I can, but for the moment not much comes to mind." She said coldly. Criminal activities were against her morals while repaying kindness was not. Her being in a desperate situation was dangerously close to tilting the scales though.

    "Know is not very noble and shit, but Mae is sick and them doctors are damn expensive. Figured ya coul find a few lords that deserve some robin', plus ya'd get yer share." He said, trying to persuade her.

    Cleo scowled at him. He had the nerve to try bribing her. Right when she had begun to trust Ben a little, he had shattered it by revealing his motives. Considering to rely on a thief was naive at best, and being disappointed when he proved well... criminal even more so. He had come to her with information, meaning he had done some research beforehand. He then had offered help and comfort to gain her trust. And now he was asking her, nonchalantly, to help him enrich himself. How manipulative. Ben rolled his eyes at her.

    "Come on lass, yer not in a spot to frown at some thievin'." He said.

    "You are right. I will do what I can to reimburse you but that does not signify I approve of the means." She answered acidly.

    "Don't like it myself, it was up to me I'd be in the deep Wilds huntin' and leavin' folks alone. But Mae's sick, we need the money. Can find weeds but they jus' ease pain. Won't cure her with no doctor and 'em assholes cost a damn lot." He sounded a bit desperate now.

    She relaxed a little. He was doing it for someone else, someone in need apparently. It did not change the nature of his deeds but that was a somewhat laudable reason. If she was going to believe it, she amended.

    "Reckon it should be 'bout time. Come on, stop with the damn frownin', ya got a lesson to take. Can't come free ya every night, man's gotta eat."
     
  9. RTS

    RTS ☀┩ îИϑîℂ✞υƧ ɛӼքʊɢռǟȶօʀ┡☀

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    Man here I thought it would be a short prologue but here you are telling us to read this!!??And even correct your mistakes!
     
  10. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    Any sort of feedback would be welcome.
     
  11. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    1.7 Partners in crime

    *Scratch, scratch, scratch...* The sound went on, regular as clockwork amidst the eerie cries of the inmates.

    Ben was kneeling on the wooden floor, working with a newly 'found' knife. There was scant light to go by and so his hands were guiding him, while his mind drifted. Last night's lesson had gone wrong. He had tried teaching Cleo about opening her own door during a few long, frustrating hours. The girl's temper had been growing worse at each failure. She had chided him as she tried repeatedly, using her frail hands and arms, to beat the lock. The lady had known a lot of tutors in her life, and Ben had been the worst, she had said. He didn't understand what was so complicated. You just used the tension wrench as if it was the key while you wiggled a thin pick with the other hand. You went wiggle-wiggle-click, he had told her. And wiggle-wiggle-clonk, then you twisted the wrench and that was it. 'How does any of it makes any sort of sense?' she had screamed, lifting her hands up in despair. 'Don't know 'bout 'em teachers much, but I'm pretty sure they the ones supposed to do the yelling though. Not the other way 'round.' Ben had shot back, wich had only made her grow the more furious.

    *Clonk!* A noise came from behind him, followed by a small cry of victory. He didn't turn back.

    "Again." He said, over the cloth covering his face, before resuming his own work.

    *Scratch, scratch, scratch...* He heard Cleo curse behind him, her voice muffled by her own scarf.

    The girl was doing better tonight, her idea must have succeeded. She needed to comprehend the contraption's workings, she had told him. Ben didn't get how seeing the inside of it would help. It was just about wiggling and listening, then twisting at the right time. But she had to understand the whole damn thing. Smart folks sure were complicated, he sighed.

    What had followed must have been the dumbest burglary of history, he recalled. Cleo had needed an entire lock to dismantle and study. So Ben had gone looking for one right after they had parted, a couple hours before dawn the previous day. The devices being made of metal meant they were too precious to throw away. There was no chance to find a discarded one then, and he had no coin to spare and buy it. Some poor merchant was probably still staring stupidly at the gaping hole in his own door. Wondering since morning why someone had cut the wood all around the lock and pulled it out, without taking anything else in the house. Ben chuckled picturing the scene. He would have loved to check what he could find in a trader's home though. But daylight had begun to show itself, and the thief had chosen to leave with his piece of a door. Mae had looked at him real funny when he had come back carrying the weird bounty.

    *Clonk!* Another success.

    "Again." He said absent-mindedly.

    *Scratch, scratch, scratch...*

    "How many times do I have to repeat the whole process?" She asked, frustrated. Ben paused and turned to face the girl.

    "Many as it takes. Gotta know to do it real quick, less ya want to be found sleepin' with yer door open. Smoke's nastiest when weeds are fresh. Ya don't got much time before it fils yer room and knock ya out." He explained. They both went back to their respective tasks.

    Last day's tutoring having proved itself a failure, Ben had come back the following night. He had forced open Cleo's cell once more, only to find her awake. The young man wondered about the reason for it. She couldn't be getting a lot more used to the smokes after four years. Maybe the scarf she was wearing had helped a bit. Or maybe Ben arriving earlier, not having taken a detour for food beforehand this time, had something to do with it. They had spent the first part of the evening waiting on the roof for the fumes to disperse, while breaking apart the stolen lock. Cleo had talked of levers, springs and other things, nodding to herself in understanding as she manipulated them. 'It is quite the simple mechanism in fact.' She had said and Ben had almost shot back that of course, it was damn simple. You just wiggled and twisted. But then she had explained the functioning of the object to him. He might not be able to retell everything the way she had, but the whole thing had made sense. He marveled -girl might be half mad, but the other half is all kinds of smart and more-.

    *Clonk!*

    *Scratch, scratch, scratch...*

    "Again."

    "Is it necessary for you to make this much noise? It does not help me concentrate, really. What could you be working on that would require such mess anyway? I assume you plan on putting my bedding back together afterward." Cleo's voice came, more irritated now. Ben ignored her.

    She had grown sullen since last night, he observed. Since he had asked her about nobles houses. The lady sure didn't like thieving. Where did she think the bread she had eaten so eagerly came from? Ben had kept the comment to himself though, Cleo was pissed enough as it was. Why she didn't like the idea of helping him robbing upper own houses, he couldn't figure it out. It was better than stealing from the poor ones anyway. Rich folks probably wouldn't miss a bit of silver, plus they didn't starve afterward. The more he knew about rich folks... he sighed.

    *Clonk!* She was getting faster, Ben noted has he finished his own work.

    "How quick does the whole process have to be? I am not confident that I can do much faster." She sounded less angry than despaired now.

    "How long did ya say ya waited for me tonight?" He demanded, turning his head towards her.

    "I counted to a thousand and seventy-five seconds, though I believe I could be off by a dozen or so." The girl told him. Ben gave her a blank stare in response.

    "Seventeen minutes and fifty-five seconds." She clarified, looking as if remembering some people wouldn't do the conversion in their heads. Ben reflected on the timing, roughly eighteen minutes assuming she couldn't stay awake longer.

    "Yer sure them left right after they came to yer room?" The thief said as he considered the logistics.

    "As far as my hearing could tell, my chambers are the last one the priests visited, yes."

    "Gotta give'em a good five minutes to leave, jus' to be sure. Then pick yer door, walk to the other one and open it as well..." He mused out loud, doubtful.

    "You were not even measuring time as I practiced, let alone sparing a glance in my direction! You were only toying with your knife, doing god knows what to my floor!" She protested. The girl sure liked to yell, Ben remarked.

    The timing was too damn close. A lot of different things could go wrong, and Cleo needed more time just in case. If she failed, she would go back to full-cracked, and everything would have been for naught. She was only half-crazy now, Ben reflected, and the lass was trouble enough already. The scene she would make if he told her to have another go at the door might be entertaining though. He almost smirked at the idea, but changed his mind noticing her staring hard at him. Ben still couldn't make out the color of her eyes, they had only been meeting in the dark after all. He did see the scars and burnt skin though, these were creeping him out a bit. Poor thing was all kinds of ugly, weird and scary, but he couldn't help feeling bad for her. He sighed.

    "A'right, good job Cleo." Her shoulders dropped with relief and she let out the breath she was holding. Ben stood up from where he was kneeling. He wiped his hands on his breeches before motioning her to draw close and inspect his own job.

    "Made a hiding spot for ya. Can't have them godfolks findin' yer tools now can't we?" He smiled proudly. Cleo knelt beside the hole.

    "See, ya jus' move this piece here, put stuff under 'n put it back. Then make the bed on top and yer all good." Ben showed her, moving the lid he had carved in the wooden floor.

    "Your work shall prove useful indeed, you have my thanks, Ben." Cleo said, satisfied after she had practiced opening the cache and closing it back a couple times.

    "A'right, gotta see with the other door now." He told her cheerfully.

    The girl gave him her worst glare of the night when she realized the training was far from over.





    ****





    "You might want to admit your teaching was lacking whereas my idea worked rather nicely." Cleo spoke smugly, as perhaps the hundredth *clonk* of the night relented. She must feel good about her success, for she immediately set out to lock it back.

    "Never said I was much a teacher." He spoke back a bit loudly, to be heard amidst the ambient cries of inmates. In Ben's experience, teachers made you do the same stuff over and over until you got it right. He had failed with Cleo though, and he couldn't really see where. "But I daresay yer prob'ly not the best of student." He added, a little vexed.

    "How dare you make such a comment? I would not be exaggerating if I told you Ben, that I was the most learned pupil my tutors ever had." Cleo sounded upset, but didn't spare him a glance, focused as she was on the door in front her.

    "Didn't say yer not good at learnin'. Said yer a bad student. How many of 'em teachers ya drove mad, talkin' shit and all?" Ben was now teasing her.

    "I am beginning to miss them, actually. They might have been complete idiots but at least their explanations made some kind of sense." She observed wistfully.

    " 'Is a'right, girl. Yer smart with yer head, jus' not with yer' hands. There's all different kinds of smart, Mae says." He quoted.

    Ben was keeping his gaze on her, for he didn't want to contemplate his surroundings. The crazies' voices coming from the corridor were creepy enough, there was no need to make it worse by looking at them. Another clicking noise, she had won one more battle.

    " 'Tis the twenty-first." He told her. She tilted her face to raise an eyebrow at him. "The date I mean. I reckon' ya asked 'bout it last night. Twenty-first of Applin that it is."

    "Oh. Thank you, Ben." The lady must be worrying about some stuff, he thought, since she hadn't made one of them long-ass phrases.

    "Perhaps you should be standing guard in case someone comes. I believe the risk was minimal while we stayed inside my cell, but now we are in the open, and I fear to be discovered. Far from me the idea of lecturing you on criminal behavior though." She pointed out with sarcasm.

    "Ain't much chance. Pretty sure none of 'em godfolks live here." Ben saw her eyes flicker back to him in doubt so he clarified: "Ya spoke 'bout four folks in white, three men and an old woman ya said. Saw them leavin' the place soon after dark a few times. There's only one dumb guard left, standin' outside and he ain't moving, I tell ya." She gave him a satisfied nod.

    A dozen more practice runs later Ben decided to call it a night. Cleo followed him in direction of the roof, most likely to enjoy some fresh air. She might want to get away from her neighbours for a bit, he assumed. They began crossing the old attic. The young man noticed with the corner of his eye that she was trying to imitate his 'sneaky walk', as he called it. The food he had brought her must have done some good, the lady has been going at it for hours and she still had energy to spare.

    Ben was finding her copying him to be weird, coming from a girl who looked down on thieving. But then what parts of her were not weird? Maybe Cleo liked learning so much she tried everything, or she was preparing for her escape. The man considered giving her some advice but decided against it. She would probably criticize him again. Then the girl would demand he cut open his own foot so she could have a look inside and study its workings. The idea made him chuckle.

    "I believe teaching me how to do it properly should be more productive than laughing at my expense." Ben heard her remark acidly from behind him.

    "Enough teachin' for tonight, I reckon. Another night if ya want." He kept walking as he said so.

    "I am not really sure how much time is left for me..." She answered, her tone softened.

    "I'd help ya get out if ya want. Offer still stands." He proposed while wondering what she meant. It didn't sound so good.

    "I need to get a better grasp on my situation before I consider it. I am confident that at least some people would search the city, were I to escape. But I need to determine for how long and how hard they would look. Knowing who and where to run to could help, if I might add." She explained.

    The thief stopped short and looked at her. He recognized the feeling. Cleo didn't say nor show it, but she was scared to leave. In a way Ben used to be himself, before he met his own savior. As awful as Cleo's situation was, it was familiar to her, outside could be worse.

    "Ain't most of it easier to do outside though? Hide som'where and look fer answers. And less risk to go all cracked in the head again." He tried as they went up the bell tower's stairs.

    "I have a very recognizable face Ben, and no means nor skills to provide for myself. Let's assume I could manage such a feat, on top of avoiding the priests looking for me. What if instead of a few white robes, I find myself hunted by a lot more people? If someone announces my description to the general public and offers a reward for my capture, I doubt my chances would be so good." She developed.

    Her present mindset was different from Ben's past one after all, for she seriously considered escape. Cleo was strong, he concluded. She had also made some valid points, the lass had given her situation a lot of thought. What else could she do with her days but think though? They both sat on the very same spots they had the nights before on the roof, and enjoyed the silence for a while. Not having to listen to the loons screaming felt to Ben as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wondered if the constant noise, more than the drugs, was what had driven Cleo crazy.

    He glanced at his strange companion. She had scared him shitless at first, and the second night they had met Cleo had still been disturbing to look at. He hadn't had much hope for her at the time, finding her talking to herself and staring blankly at walls. But then once he had taken her outside, the girl had talked. She talked like a book. Ben couldn't read but the things must sound the way she did. Cleo used a good dozen of words to say something Ben did with only a few. The young man didn't see the point, apart from making conversation last a whole lot longer. It was so different from regular folks' talk that he was fascinated. She could even call him a stupid cunt, but with her fancy words it would sound nice. Maybe she'd teach this to him some day. Mae would throw one hell of a fit if he dropped the country bumpkin accent, and went on to speak same as Cleo.

    "Did you hear any clarification on the matter of my so-called accidents?" She broke the silence.

    "Not much, folks say all kinds of different things about it. Don't make sense."

    "Any talk of... murder?" The girl asked. Ben paused, she seemed scared to hear the answer.

    "None I heard. Some say ya died up north, others think ya died in the loonie bin. Lost of talk of ghosts. Why? Ya think someone tried to kill you?" He asked, but she didn't give him any sign of answer. There was no point thinking about it then, if she didn't know herself. After a long silence, Ben went back to his considerations.

    There was the way CLeo looked at him, like she had woken up and found a big nasty bug in her bed. Ladies sure were something he mused. It reminded him of the brother, another one from a whole different world, that one was. Ben would be the first to admit he wasn't the sharpest sword in the rack, but the pair of siblings managed to make him feel so incredibly stupid. And what stuff she had said! He marveled. She had spoken of some things all folks knew to be true, saying they were not. The lass had sounded certain, the world wasn't flat, god didn't exist and everyone got it wrong but her. If folks could be wrong about those things, then they could be wrong regarding all the rest too. The possibilities made his head hurt. He missed the Wilds, everything was simple back there. Folks either tried to kill you, or they probably would, only later.

    "I have been pondering the request you made last night." She stated, stopping Ben in his musings.

    "I have recollected though unreliably, visiting a few rich houses, nobles and merchants alike. I should ask you for some clarifications, however, since I don not know what kind of information you are asking for." She continued. She appeared to be calm about it, at least more than yesterday.

    "Mae said it's complicated. Ya see, trouble with expensive stuff, the kind with gold 'n jewels on 'em, there ain't nobody's gonna buy it other than rich folks." He told her.

    "So it means that you need... some sort of intermediary or retailer then? I do not think I can help you on this particular matter."

    "Nah, real problem is, only rich folks woud buy the stuff, and they all know each other. Imagine someone try to sell ya shit coming from his cousin's home or such. Worse, ya go 'n visit yer friend and then ya see yer own damn gold vase in his house, staring at ya." Ben explained.

    "I understand the issue, but surely you could find some money." Cleo remarked.

    "There'd be gold coins, and they're a pain in the ass I tell ya. Nobody's got enough change for 'em on the street. Ya gotta go to a special place, a bank I think it's called. But folks there woud give ya problems. Askin' where ya got it 'n all. Even if ya bullshit yer way out of it, there's trouble waitin' outside. Shady types, wait for folks leavin' the buildin' with a bag of coin, and they follow 'em. A hundred silver ya can believe it? Guess ya can, bein' a lady and all. Many in low town woud kill ya fer some silver coin, imagine what they'd do fer a hundred." He explained her. She seemed horrified.

    "In this case I don't see how I could be of any assistance."

    Ben recalled everything Mae had told him. She had scolded him the morning before for going to see Cleo without notice. Telling the lady about the plan, before it was even done preparing hadn't helped his case. Forgetting most of it and blurting out the rest to Cleo had made things even worse. The middle-aged woman had then proceeded to mercilessly drill her project in Ben's head during most of the day.

    "We need some noble, one with a status Mae said, to see a doctor from uptown."

    "I don't know if my current station could aid the two of you in any capacity. As you told me, my 'incarceration' is a public affair, wich means I am officially insane. I do not forsee anyone listening to my requests." She sighed.

    "Aye, but if ya know some folk ya trust, ya coud go see 'em and they'd guarantee your sanity she told." Cleo nodded.

    "Then why ask me for help in stealing from rich houses? I must admit, the plan you just mentioned appears to be a lot more honorable, not to mention safer." She asked, looking perplexed.

    "Well, got another option. There's someone in the underworld who coud help gettin' a good doctor. Someone who coud pay a lot fer robbin' nobles, only he'd be wantin' special stuff."

    "Oh, I see. You are referring to the Parkhat."

    So she knew the guy, Ben thought. The real king of Gravelroy, Mae had said, even if he didn't wear a crown and nobody saw him. He apparently had a hand in everything criminal wich took place in the city, but he also dealt in politics. Ben had been surprised to learn of the fact that, even if there were nobles ruling through a city council, nothing of note happened without the Parkhat's say so. How did it all work out, Ben couldn't quite figure it out, but it was the way of things around these parts. If they could do jobs for him, finding a proper healer would be possible. The problems were managing to meet a man nobody saw, and figuring out a way to get his interest. Not to mention that working for the crime king was incredibly dangerous, and leaving his employ was unheard of, if you listened to Mae.

    "I have a proposition, I believe it should meet both of our interests." Cleo said after pondering the topic for a while.

    "I'm listenin'." Ben responded, full of hope. If anyone could find this invisible guy, find him and get his attention, it would be Cleo. The girl sure was all kinds of clever, if you overlooked the crazy parts.

    "I could tell you everything I remember about the most influential houses. Then, with your skills as a thief, you might be able to break into their residences. You could find informationthere, missives and ledgers for example."

    "And those woud help how?" He asked, incredulous. He had imagined stealing a sort of special items, not letters. At least something precious. Maybe they were written with gold powder on some kind of expensive parchment then?

    "Well, in politics Ben, information is everything. It is more important than money, even. Getting your hands on the right correspondences between the right people will certainly get you the Parkhat's attention." She explained.

    "So I jus' gotta swipe a bunch of scrolls? But how'd I know wich ones to get? I can't read ya know." Ben exclaimed.

    "I believe I should be able to help you with this part. If you were to bring the notes to me, I would tell you wich ones are of interest. Not to mention I could decipher most encrypted letters." She offered.

    "A'right, let's do that, lass!" Ben exclaimed. Things were looking up. There was now hope in his heart, the beginnings of a plan for Mae to get better once and for all. He felt like hugging Cleo, but held himself back when meeting her eyes. She really needed to stop looking at folks that way, it sure was scary.

    "Ya got an idea 'bout how to meet the guy?" He asked. Mae didn't have a plan yet, only the mountings of one.

    "There are no official channels to contact with the man. Going through the criminal world would be the course of choice. I do not need to remind you, but it should supposedly be your area of expertise."

    "Don't really know how to do it. But as ya said, woud be the job of us criminals. Thought I ask is all." He shrugged. Mae would find something, she usually did.

    "If you could find a way to go through one of the council's members, you could use such means to get word to the Parkhat. He is believed to control them in the way of a master puppetist. He stays hidden behind shadows, only showing his strings. And obviously, strings go two ways." She suggested.

    "Reckon' blackmail woud work. I'll leave planin' to Mae though." He grinned.

    "I will tell you everything I can recall then, at least until dawn. Most of it might be out of date however, as the balance of power must have shifted quite a bit during the past four years. Any news you have on the matter might help me reassess the situation."

    And so the two newfound partners in crime spent the rest of the night talking. Speaking of noble houses, politics and the current war between Emperor and kings.
     
  12. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.1 The moon's prowl.

    Cleo dreamt about her sibling. Brother as she called him, was tall with long dark hair and crisp blue eyes. He was handsome, amazingly so. He was glowing as a candle in the night and people flew around him like moths. Little Cleo was imitating him in every way she could. Clutching to the neck of her pony as she followed his horse. Hiding behind bushes and mimicking his moves with a stick while he practiced the sword. Sticking her ear to the door and listening in during his war and history lessons, for those were not proper topics for small Ladies either. Brother seemed amused by his persistent little shade, unlike Mother and Father. But the scoldings and beatings they bestowed upon her would not stop the child's pursuit. Cleo had always been in his shadow, but she did not care, for in the shadow of a flame so bright one felt incredibly warm.

    She had then grown bigger and smarter, and his interest as well. News of Cleo berating her teachers had come to Brother's ears and his curiosity had been piqued. He shared books with his sister, a few tentative ones at first, before opening his whole collection to her. She devoured them all voraciously. They proved far more interesting than her own, the ones about courtly etiquette, dance, and poetry. She discovered the astounding worlds of politics and history. There were also a lot of stories about war, for history was filled with them. Those were Brother's favorites, but she could not bring herself to like them. Still she read them all, since it was his main topic of conversation. It was not her place to judge.

    It was now the happiest of times, for her parents had stopped their attempts to control her interests. Why, Brother had spoken up on the girl's behalf. They had complied obviously, everybody listened to the golden child. She did not feel any jealousy towards him however, how could she? Other children avoided or mocked Cleo for her strange ways, but she did not care. They appeared dull in comparison with Brother. Her own sun was blinding her to the rest of the world and Cleo she comfortable in her own little spot, lost in its shadow.

    Their relationship grew even better as she went into early teenagehood. She could argue with him about all sorts of topics now, and the conversations delighted her. She was envying the knights Brother trained under. She was not allowed to join in herself, but the siblings had their very own sparrings, only with words. It delighted her while it amused him, to have his little sister taking a stand against his smarts. They also played games together and checkers soon proving dull, he decided to introduce her to chess. The matches rapidly went from educational to challenging. It was the highest point in her life, so close to the light. She was trading opinions and game pieces with the center of her universe. The exchanges improved steadily, growing fiercer by the month. And then it happened.

    Her life went back to the way it used to be afterward. Tiresome tutors returned with their boring lessons. Hordes of empty-headed maidens were introduced to Cleo, following the girl around and spewing nonsense at her. Her books were replaced. History was switched for religion while politics became embroidery. She was back in the deepest of the night, watching her star from afar. But she would not give up. Cleo began plotting and lying, evading parents and tutors alike, just so she could spend a few moments with Brother. He was still bright and familiar, but something had been lost forever.

    It had been her own fault, she had destroyed it all. She spent every single moment, every spare thought, to find ways to mend things back together. All her energy went to crawl back closer to him and away from the dark, but she could not succeed for all her efforts. She had done the unthinkable. All living things looked up to the brightness. The moon, most of them all, stayed in its shade. The moon should never eclipse the sun.

    But she had beaten him. Cleo remembered the look Brother had given her, when she had made the cursed move on the chessboard, exhilarated at the time by her own cleverness. She recalled the hard, cold stare. It had dissipated her victorious smile in an instant, leaving the girl shocked and lost. Her proudest achievement turning sour in the blink of an eye. Tears had dripped down her cheeks while the echo of his boots grew fainter. She should have known.

    It had never been her place.



    ****



    Cleo woke up with a start, and sweat dripping from her forehead. The sound of keys clicking outside made her put thoughts about her dream away for now. She focused her eyes on the ceiling and tried to set her mouth to work. Drooling right after waking up was no easy feat, but she had years of experience. As the door opened, Cleo repeated in her mind the actions she would have to perform after her jailers left.

    As soon as she heard the metallic noise of the catch, Cleo sprang to her feet. She could see the fumes floating in the darkness, coming out from the ceiling and adding to her stress. The lady took out and tied up the scarf over her nose. She scattered the straw bed and opened the cache under it. After grabbing the tools Ben had given her, she steeled herself for the worst part, the waiting. Standing would mean absorbing more smokes so she sat, and began counting down five minutes.

    It has been four days since her first lesson and Cleo had improved a lot, but she was still anxious. She had succeeded forcing her way out the night before. But she had known Ben to be waiting outside at the time, in case something went awry. After some more practice runs, he had told her she would have to manage on her own the next once. He had a job of his own at this very hour. Now all that stood against a plunge back into madness were the thin metal rods in her hands.

    The appropriate time having elapsed, she stood up weapons at the ready, and set out to battle the dreaded lock. The smokes were heavier now, fogging her vision worryingly. She was shaking so hard that the clicking of pick and wrench against iron was deafening. After long, excruciating minutes, Cleo realized that she had not heard the expected *clonk* in the middle of her frenzy. She cursed, before opening the door and shutting it behind her, then she rushed towards the second one. She wiped her brow as she reached it, trying to calm herself down. Taking deep breaths would not help to stand against the fumes. Lock picking was quite simple in fact, but it involved a lot of listening. She tried to ignore the moans of her comrades and concentrated on her new foe.

    Cleo's head was lighter now, she had lost too much time in her chambers. The fear was maddening, her fingers were hurting from gripping too hard on the instruments. 'Jus' wiggle and twist, girl.' Ben had repeated over and over. Useless ruffian. Her sight was blurry now, did she just hear her favorite sound? She tensed and tried her luck. Sending a prayer to no one that really existed, she opened the door and took the following stairs in a flight.

    Cooling off from the ordeal on the roof required the better part of an hour. Where was that idiot of a thief when she needed him? Cleo had not been ready to do all this alone. Heavens, she had almost passed out. His absence however, was indicating their plan had progressed. He had provided her with a new batch of information the night before, coming from that woman named Mae. She was a whore, Ben had said. Cleo was consorting with burglars and prostitutes nowadays. The corner of her mouth twisted up at the irony.

    -It is the price you paid for reaching to the sun-. She recalled her dream, or were those memories? They had felt incredibly vivid and true, but she could not trust them. Her wonderful sibling would not care so much about a mere game. Her own shock was only the one of a young girl realizing everyone, even her worshiped brother, was not perfect. Cleo had been about twelve years old at the time, she noted. He had looked like a young adult right then, and pride was quite the family sin... She shook her head. He had definitely been too old for holding petty grudges, and she needed someone to believe in. Brother was leagues above Ben in all aspects, he was obviously a better choice.

    It had been a strange experience to see her old self in her reverie. She seemed a different girl and felt distant. Perhaps four years of drugs and hardships, together with memory loss, would do that to a person. But the little girl was happy and her thinking was sharp, whereas the Cleo of now was the opposite. Her mind was a fog, many different strange memories and thoughts pierced it randomly, like strikes of lightning during a storm. Her mood also was easily swayed, fear could change to anger or childish joy in a matter of seconds. Her little self had only seemed blissfully happy with the few occasional outbursts. That girl was gone now, she reflected bitterly, but who killed her?

    As time passed, she pondered how to spend her time. The sight of Gravelroy in the dark was growing dull after a few nights staring at it. Cleo realized she missed her shady companion. He might only be spouting random dribble most of the time, but after a while, silence was severely overrated. A bright light somewhere in the distance attracted her attention. The Lady felt a pang of fear as she saw it was a fire, quite a big one. It could be a considerable hazard in a city where most of the houses were built using wood. Cleo let out a sigh of relief when she realized it was happening the high district. Its brick residences and stone streets would surely prevent the flames from spreading. Still, the size of it was dreadful.

    She was waiting for her own smokes to disperse now. Leaving her room open could speed the process yes, but it was a risk she was not willing to take. The young woman was also waiting for her associate to bring new information so she could figure out her situation. Cleo had improved noticeably from the open-mouthed, mute and drooling shell she used to be not long ago. But she still felt powerless. The first of the month, her own writing had warned her, was less than a week away. She was done waiting, it was time to take matters into her own hands.

    She headed back inside the bell tower, treading carefully on uneven steps. Cleo then crossed the old attic as silently as possible. Perhaps it was useless she mused, hearing the clamor of the other residents underneath her. But it should prove useful practice for what she had in mind. Ben had told her the building should be empty, yet nothing was certain. The ladyS could not imitate his quiet ways so well, so she worked mostly on memory. She had taken this path on quite a few occasions after all. Cleo congratulated herself when she reached the end of the room without having made the wood cry once.

    Their disparate little group was trying to find the Parkhat. The most mysterious man she had ever heard of, controlling the city through crime. As much as his methods were despicable, Cleo could not deny her fascination for the creature. He was ruling without most of the usual inconveniences! He did not need to be concerned with nobles conspiring to usurp his place nor fear a popular uprising. 'When the body fails, the head must fall.' she quoted. Only in this case the head was someone else's. The Parkhat governed in any fashion he wanted, while lords fought each other and the common people blamed them for their troubles. The man was a genius, she marveled. Maybe he had to deal with his own plots and feuds in the underworld though. But surely these kinds could be dealt without care for propriety nor public opinion. -Only mercilessly- she shivered.

    Cleo had rushed through the cell level as she was reflecting on the topic. The smoke might have receded a little, but the risks were too great for her to linger. She took down the following stairs while listening attentively to every sound. The church's ground floor revealed nothing surprising. She found the customary altar standing in front of an alley between wooden benches. Stained glass windows shone moonlight into the middle section, while statues of Saints loomed in the shadows from the sides. Cleo waited long minutes for any sign of life before leaving the stairwell and stepping in the hall. She hugged the walls at first, staying among the shades, her heart beating fast at her own audacity.

    She wondered if that was how Ben felt while traveling in the dark. Cleo jumped at a sharp noise and stood still with fear, until she realized it had only been the wooden beams cracking. That should teach her not to think about him. That scoundrel would not be so tense while practicing his trade. Still, it was a daunting sentiment, exploring the night this way. Looking at doors as she was now, and knowing you could open them to unravel their secrets if you so wished. And so she did. Cleo felt as if she could do whatever she wanted, as if rules did not apply in the darkness.

    The lock gave way a few minutes later, revealing some sort of cellar. She could make out the shapes of barrels in the shadows. This must be how those other children had felt, Cleo reflected, as they explored their world while she was lost in her books. She inspected the containers, finding various kinds of grain and liquids as expected. This is where that disgusting brown sloth is made, she noted, before turning to the shelves lining the walls. She had to give up sight and turned instead to her sense of touch for the search. Some rough feeling jugs and amphorae, then a few iron pans and cooking utensils, her hands told her. She set away some square-shaped items for further inspection and found a small, cold vial next to something soft -a feather-. She gathered her findings before heading out of the room, with a spring in her step.

    Using the scant light in the chapel, she went through her bounty. As she had guessed there was a glass recipient containing ink together with a quill. These looked familiar somehow. Cleo then proceeded to open the wooden boxes in a quest for the writings -perhaps ledgers- she surmised would be there. A fair number of candles, some more of the dreaded weeds and there it was: a scroll. She unrolled it eagerly, the inside showed a long list of names and dates. She recognized a good number of them, nobles for the most part. The dates were regular, every first day of every month. Visitations, the lady gasped. 'Beware the first of the month, remember you are crazy' her scribblings told. Cleo would have to play the part of the drug-crazed girl on each occasion. The conclusion was a shock: she must have tried to convince her visitor of being sane at some point, and it had been for naught. No, there should be no call for caution then, the consequences must have been dire. It was confirmation of her previous suspicion: someone wanted Cleo to stay imprisoned and mad. And now her visitor was an accomplice.

    It meant she was a problem to that individual -a group of people, even-. But as much trouble as she was, she was apparently not worth killing. It was insulting, actually. It would also be easier than conducting this whole conspiracy to keep her locked up and insane. Thinking logically, there should be two reasons to go to such lengths. First, she would be inconvenient alive, but even the more so as dead. The only value she had alive without being anywhere relevant was in her title. She paused. The northern duchy, she realized. Kenmard, she recollected its name, was of considerable strategic value. Her husband then? A shame she couldn't remember him, for it was hard resenting a faceless man. Cleo wondered if she had driven him so mad he had decided to get rid of his spouse. She might not have the most agreeable temper, but surely it did not warrant her current predicament?

    She remembered the ominous phrase on her wall: 'YOU KILLED HIM'. Cleo shivered, was she a murderer then? Why exiling her in the free city then, outside of the Empire's reach? If she had been such a terrible wife, why care about her life? The Duke should not fear his domain being cut off from the empire, it was too important. The imperial court would definitely send a dozen new proposals to him the very moment she should die. Her consort was not innocented yet, but Cleo's suspicions against him were growing thinner. It worried her, it signified she had to consider the second possible reason for her situation. She was a nuisance alive and had to be stranded for good, but her enemy did not want her death. The explanation being that her foe either still needed something from her, or cared about Cleo. The young woman could not see what use she could be to anyone in her current state. As for caring, it only meant a handful of suspects: her family. She felt her throat tightening at the prospect.

    A sharp noise snapped her out of these considerations. Cleo jumped in fright, then swiped the room with a glance but she was still alone. The Lady let out a sigh of relief. She was glad for the distraction however, doubts about your own blood were definitely not pleasant to entertain. Once again, the same sound came to her ears, and she stifled a scream. Cleo gathered everything she had borrowed in a hurry and hid behind one of the alley's benches.


    *TAP, TAP, TAP*

    Someone was coming down the stairs from the upper floor. Cleo looked around her in search of an exit, then froze. She had left the door to the cellar opened. You stupid, silly girl! She chided herself. The Lady had been acting like one of the very maidens she despised. Getting excited and frivolous, while forgetting important things, but it was no time for self-reproach. Cleo only saw two options, either try to close it as soon as she could or hiding and praying. She wondered with dread how near the intruder was now. Would she have enough time to repair her mistake? Fear was creeping upon her body, locking it in place.

    *TAP, TAP, TAP*

    It was louder now, hitting against the stone floor and resonating through the hall. Cleo swallowed a lump in her throat. It was too late for doing anything, it only left faith as an option. She was in a church so the idea only seemed appropriate. But how was one to pray to something they did not believe in? God, her body was beginning to tremble now. Would she ever learn to control it?

    *TAP, TAP, TAP.*

    The trespasser was worryingly close, and Cleo pondered his identity. She wished with all her heart for it to be Ben. As much as the young man grated on her nerves, she would give anything at this moment for him to be there. She considered her hiding spot. Surely, one should not be looking in the shadows between benches at this late hour? It must be Ben, she thought. Nobody else could have been coming from upstairs without passing her earlier. The Lady sighed before taking a peek.

    She saw a man's shape, one wearing a long robe. Cleo's blood ran cold in her veins when she saw his face. Even with the scarce moonlight she recognized it, it was brother Gregory. The sight of him shook her, visions flashed through her mind, painful recollections. She wanted to scream but her throat was dry. Cleo held her head between both hands, then her entire body began shaking as she realized the reason. She knew why the sight of this monster had made her skin crawl before.
     
  13. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.2 Smoking out the fox.

    Earlier the same night, Ben took out a piece of parchment from his bag. The thief squinted his eyes as he held it out in the scarce moonlight. He had 'found' some writing utensils for Cleo, while doing some scouting for the job the past two days. She had drawn for him the layout of the house, going by her souvenirs. The lass had even inscribed the names of the rooms she had recalled, though he wondered why. Either she forgot he couldn't read or the the girl was mocking him. The lady has a damn good memory, Ben thought, at least for the bits she recalls. She had visited the place more than six years ago and the map was detailed enough. The bitch was laughing at him, he concluded. The whole thing was not helping much anyway, so he shifted his gaze to consider his objective.

    It was a damn big house, two stories high covered by a red tiled roof. Walls made of bricks and covered in white lime stood proud, the signs of rich folks' houses. Wooden shutters were adorning the windows and a high stone enclave protected the courtyard. It made the whole lot seem even fancier, if the size wasn't enough. Heck, there was even a shed for horses, one bigger than Maes shack. The owner must shit gold for a job, Ben commented. He probably did, for here lived more than a mere noble.

    Lord Chaffaud was known for his views against the Parkhat, and was the city council's most influential member. Cleo had told Ben so, after considering information Mae had procured. The thief had been surprised to learn the whore had contacts in the high society. He knew she had had a better life before leaving Gravelroy years back, but it still amazed him. Ben had asked why she wouldn't go to them for help then, but he knew the answer already. 'I ain't begging for friggin' help from these assholes. I can take care of myself, thank you.'

    Damn pride. Some folks would die before they got rid of it. He thought about Cleo, another hard case, that one was. In Ben's experience, proud people didn't last long, the idiots didn't know when to stand down and run. Running was usually the first choice to consider when facing trouble. Back in the Wilds, Mae's pride was the reason he had to fight, she wanted to provide for herself. 'Go in the deep forest alone if you want. Have fun humping rabbits, I'm staying here.' She had told him, as if he had a choice. He had decided to stay with the army then. Women were all kinds of headaches, he concluded.

    Ben was growing impatient. He took out his gourd and brought it to his lips, only to find it empty of wine -Damn-. He had spent two days watching the damn place from the roofs. Then there had been two nights with Cleo, so he was lacking sleep. Ben has been observing the comings and goings of Chaffaud's servants, and racking his brains for a way in. They were a long way from getting the Parkhat's attention, and Mae's sickness was not waiting for them to succeed. There was also the matter of Cleo being alone for the first time since they met, and he worried about it.

    Ben tried comparing the plan he held and the view in front of him for the tenth time. The cracked girl had shown him what room she believed to be holding the prize. There was a problem though: the target was upstairs. The map fitted, but it did so in two different ways. 'Symmetric', Cleo had called the problem. Ben could scale the building and go in through a window, only it meant one chance in two to be entering the wrong room. Passing the enclave while avoiding the sentinels would be tricky enough. Reaching the habitation before ascending unseen would be a feat. But having to climb back down and then up again afterward was plain mad. He growled in frustration.

    He could enter from the ground level, but that did not change the problem once upstairs. One of the two possible rooms would have people sleeping inside, even. Picking the door lock would be near impossible. He had asked both women for help. Mae was on her own job, busy finding a way to meet with the underworld king. 'What could I possibly know about robberies? As a burglar, you should be the expert on such matters, really' Cleo had said, with one of her sneers. Ben sighed. Everyone was calling him a thief nowadays, they soon forgot he had only been at it for a few months.

    Sure, he liked sneaking around in the dark, but outside, not in goddamn houses. It was a whole different business, inside. You couldn't see people coming from far enough and there were no easy hiding spots. Any asshole waking up could walk in on you in an instant, catching you with your pants down. He clicked his tongue in frustration and turned his eyes to his surroundings. Scarce people walked the streets at this hour, only a couple of lights moving along two corners away. Those were the regular pair of citywatch idiots doing their rounds with torches. Looking at the bastards wouldn't help his mood however. The only thing he liked less than city guards was... a flapping noise close by stopped him in his thoughts. He didn't need to glance in its direction to know what kind of damn bird it was.

    Now that was it! First Cleo's writings, then the citywatch and now frigging pigeons were teasing him. The whole goddamn city was taking a piss at him! Ben climbed down to the ground, grumbling the whole time. Since the girls let the planning to him, they damn better not complain if he did it his way. To the heck with civilization, he thought, back to the Wilds way.



    ****



    Ben was walking silently through the night, threading on a hard stone street. He was following a pair of lights a couple dozen paces away. He needed a uniform, plus punching an asshole in the face would soothe him. 'I though you hunters were supposed to be patient.' He recalled Mae telling him many times. He was patient dammit, just not for very long. He stopped short and hid near a corner when the expected moment came. There was a small bridge over a canal and one of his prey paused to fumble with his breeches. The second one did not want to stare obviously, so he turned the other way. Not towards Ben, he noted as he left hiding and drew closer, luck was on his side now.

    A kick in the watchman's bottom did the trick. Ben was rewarded by a short cry of surprise, followed by a splashing sound. That felt good. There was no time to enjoy the victory though, for the noise had alerted the other prick, and his shock would soon wear off. In a few quick strides, Ben was on the guy and his fist connected nicely. It felt even better, he observed with a grin, as his target hit the ground. Out in one strike, this lad was. The thief checked his first victim but found no immediate danger, the fellow was still down there. Folks in armor sank well, even in these waters.

    "Ah! That'll teach ya, puttin' honest folks in prison! Citywatch bastards." Ben exclaimed in satisfaction, as the man was desperately struggling towards the shore.

    Ben dragged the unconscious one to a dark alley, before stripping him off and disguising himself. Things were moving along faster when you gave up being subtle. He finished adjusting the leather armor and put the round helmet on. Ben abandoned the man with only his loincloth on, and left the shadows. Back to his crime's location, he picked up a lance as well as both torches. Satisfied, he was now heading towards the noble's domain once more. Ben extinguished the flames since he was not going to need them yet.

    The young man made good time, for he was not needing furtivity anymore. Folks in uniforms were never asked questions when they walked around in Gravelroy. It didn't work so well with soldiers in the Wilds, he recalled, you had to work harder to pass as one of them. The lack of supply routes, countless battles, and the forest itself made short work of armor, let alone clothing. Armor over there consisted of whatever you found. Most folks wore rags and attached pieces of leather or bronze on them. Everyone was dressed about the same and it made for confusing situations, especially the battles. It had changed four years ago though, Ben recalled, with the new holy empire. Now these guys had proper armor, some even made of steel. All the white cloth and shiny bits were stupid though, you could see them coming from miles away.

    After watching Lord Chaffaud's place for a dozen minutes or so, he decided it was time to scale the outer wall. He set down his weapon against it before climbing swiftly. Ben paused at the top to watch for guards and then satisfied, he grabbed the spear and let himself drop on the other side. A quick, silent run and he was hugging the house's wall. He moved a few paces in order to put the home between him and the gate's sentinels. The other ones were not doing any rounds at the moment, sharing a drink near the horses or manning the front door. -Perfect-

    Ben needed to act fast now, for the next part was sure to draw attention. -Time to smoke the fox out of his den.-. He opened the window's shutter to have a look inside for flammable materials. Finding some amidst the darkness didn't prove difficult, there were curtains and drapes aplenty. Ben began to set both torches alight using his flint. He smashed the glass with the butt of his spear before setting the blinds on fire and throwing one torch in. The arsonist then went around the house, launched the other one towards the stables, and came back to his corner.

    He did not wait long, for cries of alarm soon relented in the night. Ben took a peek into the main courtyard. The animals' shed had a straw roof, allowing the flames to spread nice and fast. Most of the guards were running around like headless chickens now. None had noticed the second fire in the house yet, though the shouting must have roused everyone inside. The servants should be sleeping on the first floor while the nobles did so upstairs, according to Cleo. Ben went back to the window he had broken and jumped in.

    Inside, the blaze was growing and fumes thickening. The thief walked, confident in his disguise, and headed towards the stairs while shouting: 'Fire!'. A few confused faces poked out from various entrances around him but Ben ignored them and went upstairs. The letters were supposed to be precious, so their owner should see to them before fleeing. That would make Ben's job a lot simpler. He reached the second floor and was greeted by a bunch of people. There was a fat scared woman in a blue silk dress, holding closely two sleepy kids. Next to them stood a lean and authoritarian looking fellow, wearing a gold-embroidered silk robe. He went straight for Ben.

    "What in god's name is going on? I demand an explanation! Who are you by the way, and what are you doing in my house?" He yelled. Damn rich folks and their long phrases, Ben had no time for that.

    "City Watch, m'lord. Here to evacuate your family. On the count of the fire." He responded, trying hard to sound less of a bumpkin. Lord Chaffaud glared at him, suspicious.

    "And why is the Nightwatch here, even before my household's retainers?" The councilman went on, grabbing Ben's arm.

    "Maybe busy at the other fire, the one in the stables." He shrugged. "Now can I get them little ones outside or do you have other questions?" Ben asked, meeting the man's stare. Beside them, the children were growing restless and the mother was beginning to panic.

    "I am not sure I want to entrust my family's safety to a shady character such as yourself. When did the watch start hiring cutthroats with scarred faces?" He questioned, still doubtful. Damn, the bastard would let the whole house burn down before he stopped his interrogation.

    "The scars come with the job, same as the armor." Ben said harshly. "Now excuse me, duty calls."He disengaged himself of the noble's grip. He then went for the children and grabbed both, throwing them on his shoulders like sacks of grain. "Please follow me, m'lady." He told the mother as he went for the stairs decisively. Some smoke was coming up from the first floor now, it must have convinced them since no one tried to stop Ben anymore.

    He rushed outside, stopping by a bewildered guard. The lad should have noticed the trouble inside and had come to check. Before he could open his mouth, Ben shoved the two kids into the guy's arms, and turned to lady Chaffaud.

    "This good man will escort you away from danger, m'lady. Now I must go back and search for others." She nodded in thanks as she left in haste, and Ben headed inside once more.

    The hall was dark with smoke, making his eyes water. He took the stairs in a flight, and discovered the narrow hallway empty. Ben recalled wich door the family had come out from and deduced where the study would be. He rushed towards the corridor's end. He heard loud, searching noises, someone was moving stuff around frantically. Ben rushed into the room. He had never seen so many books, he marvelled once inside, every wall had shelves covered with the things. A crashing sound snapped him out of his wonder. The Lord was throwing heavy looking boxes out the window. He noticed the intrusion and stopped in his task, their eyes locked for a moment. The thief didn't hesitate.

    "M'lord, please get out, the fire is growing fast!" Ben shouted in a commanding tone. But he could see the man was about to protest once more. "Your sons are safe, you are the last one, m'lord." He informed him.

    "I will escape shortly, I have to rescue one last coffer, the rest I can carry." Chaffaud waved off the concerns.

    Ben, wanting to speed up things, rushed for the box and lifted it up. He went to the aperture and let it fall down outside, on a pile of similar ones. Ben hoped the missives were not in those, for it would be hard to get to them. The one he had lifted was pretty heavy, it should be gold or silver then. The fancy man frowned.

    "Can we go now?" Ben asked impatiently. "M'lord." He corrected, seeing the man's glare.

    "One last thing and we are set." The councilman said, pulling out a key he had on a string around his neck. He turned to a drawer in his desk, and bent down to open it. Ben peeked inside, unnoticed from over the guy's shoulder. The young thief praised his luck. He'd be damned if those didn't look like scrolls. He took a step forward and elbowed his lordship in the temple.

    Ben stuffed all the letters he could grab into his bag. The drawer now empty, his attention went back to his victim while he hid the pouch under his armor and shirt. Ben was lacking the time and he did not bear much affection towards rich folks, but burning alive was a nasty way to go. As annoying as he had been, the man in silk sure did not deserve this. Plus it could save Ben quite a bit of trouble once outside. Having reached a decision, he knelt down and lifted the lord over his shoulder.

    Outside was a mayhem of flames, smokes, and shouts. As Ben traversed it, he realized someone must have gotten his shit together. The guards had given up on the horse shelter and turned their efforts to the house. A chain of buckets had been organized, he noted as his eyes cleared from the smokes. Folks were running here with them, and back to a small well at the end of the courtyard. Ignoring all the commotion, he headed for the rest of the rich folks.

    Cries of relief welcomed his arrival. The family was overjoyed and some newly arrived people cheered. Praises and promises of reward were thrown around as he set the unconscious man down at the gate. The big lady and the children ran to him. Weird folks, Ben mused, you robbed them and burned their house, in the end they thanked you for it. He held back a smirk. Now that the general attention was to the councilman, all he had to do was to walk away discreetly.



    ****



    Having completed his job faster -and better- than expected, Ben was now heading for the loonie bin. The thief had a good half of the night left in front of him and he wanted to check on Cleo. He would hand his bounty to her as well, and Mae probably needed some rest anyway. She had been going around the slums for two days, in preparation for her own part of the plan. 'Gone to find myself a son.' she had said, whatever it meant. A sick woman shouldn't be running around like this, he had objected. The whore had retorted that she was the only one who could do it.

    It was a sort of routine now, Ben thought, as he was climbing the wall using the steps he had carved a week ago.The young man was disappointed to find himself alone when he reached the top. Ben shrugged, she must be tired of the roof, he should check inside. The bell tower's stairs proved to be empty, and so did the attic. Was Cleo in her room? Now that would be straight cracked, she had spent four damn years in there. She sure couldn't be reading her weird doodling at night. But Ben crossed the corridor, ignored the crazies and threw her door open anyway.

    It was unlocked and no one was inside. The damn girl had gone downstairs to sniff around even if Ben had told her not to. It was dangerous since they were not sure if the ground floor was empty. But of course she had gone anyway, the lady had a head like a ton of rocks. Ben was growing anxious as he went down the last steps and entered the chapel. There was not single a soul around, and he began to inspect the hall closer. the thief stopped short as he something caught his attention. The door to the cellar was open. Ben sighed, the lass had been snooping inside, looking for things to understand as she liked to.

    Ben sneakily advanced closer to the entry. He was going to give her a good scare, to teach her not to worry him like that. The man grinned in anticipation as he risked a peek. He couldn't see anyone inside and a quick swipe of the room revealed nothing. Ben was beginning to panic. He went over to the altar to take a look behind it, without success. He then walked down the alley, checking between each and every bench, and paused. There was something on the ground.

    A lot of shit was scattered on the stone. Small and opened wood boxes, their contents lying around, a scroll and even more stuff. He frowned. Some of the items in front of him he recognized, since Ben had once gone through the cellar himself. The other doors all revealed to be locked up. She could have left and closed up behind her, but that didn't make any kind of sense. The thief's hand went to his bag and he recalled its contents. The lass had wanted those letters, she really had. Staying here and thinking about it wouldn't help though.

    He gathered everything that had been dropped on the floor before putting it all back in place. He also fastened the door behind him, as leaving it opened would sure make trouble for Cleo when she returned. If she returned, he corrected himself. Where the hell was she? There was still one place he had overlooked, he realized. He shuddered at the prospect.

    Ben took the stairs in a flight and emerged on the crazies floor. He had crossed it in a hurry before, only looking at Cleo's room. He ignored the screaming and went on to explore the corridor. He paused, startled. A cell was open, its door ajar. Ben drew closer and saw its occupant was crouching on the floor, his back to the entrance and moaning. He entered the chamber to verify that it wasn't the girl. Ben didn't know how to feel when he realized the cracked was a man, judging from his size. Ben felt a touch on his shoulder and reacted instantly.

    Damn, he had almost skewered a loon, Ben scolded himself. It could have been Cleo, you idiot. He hated when folks sneaked up on him though, they were not supposed to. It must have something to do with all the damn noise, he reassured himself, he had not lost his edge. The knife standing an inch from the lunatic's neck didn't seem to faze him. He was staring blankly in front of him. Ben sheathed his blade before going out, Cleo was a more pressing concern.

    The thief was staring at the hallway, startled, all the damn doors were opened. What the hell had happened here? Loons wandered everywhere now, talk about a mess. After a first one had gone out of his cell the rest must have followed, like sheep. He shouldered his way past two gray-robbed figures who were yelling gibberish at each other. He had to find Cleo, quick, and get her out of this shit. There she was! He saw the familiar tangle of black hair in a cell, she was standing still before another inmate. The inside was a lot worse than the lady's room, it only had a wooden bench and a piss bucket.

    Ben drew closer slowly, wondering what it was all about. Mad folks had been set loose and Cleo was the main suspect. She was not moving, staring intensely at another girl and shaking. The second lass was returning the look with open mouth and empty eyes. Maybe that was how crazies talked to each other, Ben mused, not knowing what to do. Cleo didn't seem to notice him as he joined them in the cell.

    After a while, the silent exchange annoyed him. he slowly, gently put his hand on Cleo's shoulder to attract her attention. The lady scrambled away in a scarce and stopped against the wall as if cornered. She looked terrified and lost. Ben was confused while the other lass didn't react. Damn, she was back to full cracked.

    "Wow girl, calm down." He held out his hands in a gesture of peace.

    "The monster... where is he? Is he returning?" She blurted frantically.

    " 'Tis Jus' me. Ben." He said in a gentle tone.

    "Who... Oh. The scoundrel." She seemed to calm down a little.

    "Right, the thief, ya remember me. Good." Ben let out a sigh. "Dont got no time to ask what the heck is going on. Gotta get out now, loons everywhere." He took a step closer.

    "NO!" She shouted. Ben stopped short, and questioned her sanity once more. She seemed to be frightened of him and he couldn't guess why.

    "A'right, ya got out alone. I jus' stand out and watch."Ben said as he took some steps back outside.

    Cleo stared at him for a while, showing no sign of trust. Then, deeming it safe, she advanced slowly to the corridor, without letting Ben out of her sight.

    "Not that way." He objected when she headed for her room. "Out. We're leavin', 'tis a damn mess here." He explained pointing at all the loons walking aimlessly in the hallway.

    "No. I must... the first of the month... I must know." She ranted.

    Ben frowned. She was not talking in her usual, fancy way. Plus she was not making any goddamn sense. He growled in frustration, the damn girl still had stuff to do here? What could be so interesting to do around these parts, he couldn't figure it out. Now he had to herd all the crazies back in their cells or Cleo would be in trouble. How was he to know wich one went where? They all looked the same in he dark, dirty and disheveled in their gray robes.

    "Right. Leave good ol' Ben to clean up yer shit. Took care of the one downstairs by the way, if yer interested." He complained. She nodded absent-mindedly and walked to her door.

    "I want to kill him... I have to. You do such things, do you?" She asked, pausing in front of her room. Ben frowned, not understanding. "Could you... teach me?" She pleaded.

    "Aye, aye. Now get some sleep. Might cure all the crazy ya got inside." He said. He was not going to put a weapon in a nutjob's hands. It was a stupid idea, even he could tell. But at the moment he needed Cleo to rest.

    The lady nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer, before going in. The thief closed and locked behind her. He turned to all the gray figures walking aimlessly around him. Ben had some work to do, he was a loon shepherd now. He sighed.
     
  14. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.3 The harlot's pup

    The same day, earlier in the late afternoon, Mae was looking at the boy as they walked through the slums. She could still not believe it, she had found her son at least. The kid looked to be about twelve years old, with chestnut hair and green eyes. One could glimpse at his rags and see he was too skinny for his age. Growing in the slums, what else could you expect, she thought. The amazing thing was his aura, he had a naive air about him, she still could not conceive it. Sebastian, that was his name now, had managed to keep a gullible look despite growing up in the hovels. Not the innocent face you would often see on street urchins, the one they used to lure you, genuine innocence. The fact that he resembled his father didn't hurt either.

    "Are you my mummy for true?" He asked. She nodded. "Other boys say you a whore. That true as well?" She shrugged. "Then... you now how to do... things? Can you tell me?" She sighed.

    "Listen, boy, if you want to make a woman happy, take a bath before. Then finish your business quick, and don't you fucking snore when it's over." She said dryly.

    The boy looked confused by the explanation. "But... the other boys they say..." He blurted.

    "The other boys are cunts." She spat.

    By the twelve gods, the boy was naive! In a way wich made her recall Ben. Though the lad had never been innocent, even prior to the time of their encounter. He had been around seventeen years old back then, and already having survived more wars and hardships than most. Mae had never really been soft herself either. But if violent men sticking her was hard enough of a job, them wanting to do it with a sword was frigging ugly business. The bumpkin might complain all the time about 'damn cityfolks this and stinking that', Mae could see past it. He was a lot less tense now than back then.

    Gravelroy was changing him, she realized, it was making him think a little. She would never have thought it possible. Ben had always lived in the Wilds and he had his whole world figured out there. He was impressive back then though, in his own kind of way. When in his homeland he was always watchful, he could track anything, wiggle his way out of any situation. It must be the traveling that brought the change, she reflected, especially discovering the big city. It was one thing to hear the world is big, but it was a different one altogether to experience it firsthand. Travel did that to a person, she had experienced it herself, it made you reconsider a lot of things. The transformation had taken the complete opposite of Ben's native land to happen. Gravelroy, the free city, her beloved metropolis. -Or because he drank wine all the time now-.

    "Where are we going?" Sebastian asked.

    "How many times do I have to repeat myself?" She answered in exasperation. They resumed their walk, between colored merchant stalls and passersbys.

    A coughing fit shook her for a long, painful minute. Holy twat, dying was a nasty affair! She wiped her mouth using an old kerchief, glad Ben wasn't here to see the blood on it. Mae would have to keep him busy, or the lad would be annoying, fretting all the time and smothering her with concern.

    "Are you alright mom?" The kid asked, giving her a worried, sad look.

    It made her freeze. Again, it reminded her of Ben, at the beginning of their relationship. He had called her mom as a jest once, years ago. It had made painful memories come back. Lots of other prostitutes had kids but not Mae. She would not bring a baby into her ugly world, so she'd always taken the right herbs. The frigging things were nasty, and probably one of the many reasons her body was growing weak. Mae had told Ben at the time that she wasn't his damn mother. He'd answered that maybe she wasn't, but she was better. His own parents probably had abandoned him without care, he had explained. The boy hadn't realized how close he had hit from the truth, nor how many ghost babes had been haunting Mae. So she had lashed out at him in anger.

    It had always been hard to stay mad at young Ben though. He would follow her with puppy eyes from a distance afterward. Scrambling off each time she glared at him in annoyance, and then coming back with little presents. The kindness had been novel, for kindness without expecting any tumble in return was so. It had softened her hardened heart a bit, though she would not admit it. And because of frigging puppy eyes.

    "Don't you try them puppy eyes on me boy! I know this look and it won't work, I tell you." She scowled. "Keep it for later, we are going to need it." She reminded the boy of his coming part for the hundredth time.

    They took a detour. She was indulging herself, for the sickness didn't allow her to go out much these days. Her joints ached now, Mae was going to pay for it later, she knew it. The both of them were heading towards her favorite part of the city: the harbor. Ben often complained about the stench, but she loved it. It was the smell of people, of life. People from everywhere, who accepted everyone and everything. All but a king. Well there was the Parkhat of course, but the man had the decency to stay hidden, so he was alright. He didn't put a frigging crown on his head before going and ordering folks around. The mysterious figure had always been a fantasy, and now meeting him seemed within her grasp, she marveled. If their disparate little team succeeded, she would leave happy. She would die knowing she had met someone who tens of thousands thought to be a legend.

    She saw some boats entering the bay. They brought in silks, spices, and wines from the southern continent. It reminded Mae of her own voyage. More than a decade ago as her looks were fading, she had traveled overseas. It had not been so bad to be a whore there, she was 'exotic' on that side. But then the frigging crusades had started, and the locals began hating fair skinned people. Mae could not blame them, she had heard the stories, the atrocities still made her skin crawl. Rape, plunder and enslavement, so much for the benevolent god. She spat. So she had left for safer prospects and tried other countries, only to find white clerics everywhere by the time she had come back to the mainland. They hunted whores, witches and heretics. Lapidation had been introduced like some new kind of spring fair. She had not wanted to return home with her tail between her legs, so It only had left Mae a single option: the Wilds. There was always work for harlots out there since women were scarce. And then had began her harsh life as a camp follower.

    "Where are we going?" Again. The brat's voice interrupted her recollection. He seemed to understand they were in the wrong place.

    "We are going to the high district." She sighed, before switching back to the original course.

    She turned her head to give the port one last glance. A particular vessel caught her attention, it had vividly colored sails and was manned by dark tanned men. She recognized the flags and felt a pang of nostalgia. She had liked it on the other side of the sea, the climate was warmer and drier, the foods as novel as they were spicy. And the way the women dressed! They almost had shocked her, HER, frigging Mae-foul-mouth! The woman cursed worse than a dozen sailors altogether but she had been startled. Here on the main continent, the white priest would lose their marbles if you showed a bit of leg. No wonder they were going nuts about their crusades. Mae recalled fondly some of the scandalously clad girls she had befriended, they knew their business for sure. Well, it had never been too late to learn, even for an old prostitute. As much as Mae loved Gravelroy, she must have been born in the wrong country.

    "Am I really going to meet him?" He asked, nervous in expectation. She grunted for an answer.

    As the pair was now climbing up the trader's streets, she considered her attire. Ben had scrounged a good enough dress for the job ahead of her. It was not a pretty one though, for the lad had no sense of fashion whatsoever. She had had a great deal of trouble, making him give up the creepy shaved head once they had arrived in town. But her demands about the disguise had been met, she observed with satisfaction. She had to look 'miserable'. Not in the usual slums way, mind you, it would have been easily done. She had to look like the idea noblemen had of a miserable woman. It meant a robe a lot more expensive than what she had become used to. It was plain, with only a few strategically placed holes and patches.

    Mae and Sebastian were strolling through the rich neighborhoods when he asked, right on cue: "What's he like, my daddy I mean?" She ignored him as she squinted her eyes, searching the surrounding houses.

    Not a single one was made of wood, this was a given. There were white walls and bright red roofs, colorful household flags flapping proudly over them. The all-around cleanness was the noble's way to show their wealth here in Gravelroy. The little ghost girl grew up in some place like this, though that hadn't worked out well for her, Mae remarked. The Lady sounded like the city and its Parkhat, an ugly sight maybe, but underneath resided a great mind. Perhaps she was another reason for Ben discovering he had a brain.

    It was strange, trying to picture a woman Mae had never seen, going only by Ben's descriptions. That idiot bumpkin. His storytelling was like scrapping off flour from a tabletop and throwing the lot at someone. He gathered the stuff, together with other tiny bits, before blurting it all out at once. You ended up in a puff of white smoke, coughing in confusion, and there were frigging bits everywhere.

    She turned to her companion and marveled at his ingenuousness. The weird kid had gobbled the whole story without question. He was the bastard of a noble councilman, and he was going to be given a home and a family. It should sound like a fairy tale to a street urchin. Gods, the sham could actually even work. She shook her head in disbelief. The credulous little brat would eat a decent meal at least. That would be better than what he'd usually get on a given day. She looked at his skinny form, he needed food and she had to blackmail someone, she convinced herself.

    "You'll see for yourself soon enough, boy." She said as she found the domain she was looking for. They began hiking its way.

    Lord Gilbet was a former patron, one from a completely different part of her life. She had been such a pretty thing back then, and her clientage an entirely different one. Fancy merchants and perfumed bluebloods. They brought silver or gold coins even, jewelry and silk. It had ben a whirlwind of dances, promises, and sweet words. She had lost herself in it completely while years had gone by in a flash, then the tragedy had hit her like a ton of brick. Age had caught up with her, frigging cunt that it was, before her thirties had even showed up. Presents had grown rarer and cheaper, rubies dimmer and fabrics rougher. She had begun glancing every day in angst towards the lower town. The slums, where a terrible future had been waiting for her all along. And so younger Mae had taken flight, a boat had spread his sails on the seas and she had ridden the winds with it.

    "Dad lives here? But it's so big and clean and shiny and..." He rambled, eyes wide in awe. Gods he was good, he could make a fortune begging using this face. She wanted to slap him.

    Here she was, back to where it all had started and none the better off now than then. She had chosen the aristocrat to deceive and was waiting nightfall to strike. There was no point in running into the wife now, wasn't it? It only mattered if Mae and the boy managed to pass the gates though. Lord Gilbet had been one of her favorite patrons once, gentle and generous, however dull he was. You could say what you wanted about nobles, once the clothes were off and the grunting over, they proved as dumb as the next man. She could ask him for help but it would be begging. Scamming felt better and that particular Lord was really gullible. She wondered if he would even keep Sebastian for good. Naiveness was useful in a mark but not as much as the wife being barren, or so the rumor said. In any event, she had not produced a single heir after ten years of marriage. The fact provided Mae with an opportunity.

    She sat, back against a stone wall and her legs thanked Mae for it. Sebastian had not stopped staring at his future home. A good thing this was, he would not be pestering her with idiotic questions for a while then. The whore sighed as she let her gaze swipe the street.

    Mae noticed a couple of holy men pass each other and she smirked. Black and white priests were giving each other a wide berth here. Ah! The bastards might kill each other everywhere else in the world, but here in Gravelroy, they had to be frigging civil. Gods, she loved this city. She thought about the colorless clerics. Righteous pricks those ones. They acted high-strung in daylight but it didn't stop them from seeing her kind once night fell. They were some of her worst clients. Why, that pent-up anger about heretics and having no wife had to go somewhere right? Her tumbles with mercenaries were not any less rough, but at least these didn't pretend to be anything more than brutes during the day.

    Gods, her companion was babbling again. She pulled out a bit of bread from her pouch and handed it to him without listening.

    Mae thought of Cleo, the bitch was thinking herself clever, manipulating Ben as she did. The Lady needed information so she had offered innocently to help. Though she had done so in a way that let her read everything before the Parkhat did. Ah! The girl was in for a treat if she believed she could lead him by the nose. Ben would only let you exploit him because he doesn't really care, don't let all the stupid fool you. He followed you around like a dog and you thought you could use him. Next thing you knew, you relied on the lad. Then one day you realized you needed him. But the girl could read, whereas Mae couldn't, so she had her uses. The whore never saw the need to learn, men didn't like educated women, it made their prick shrink.

    Cleo was going to hit a wall, the day Ben would not want to do something, Mae smirked. The lad could be a real stubborn bastard when he chose to. The Lady was already deep in it now. Mae had seen the way he had been talking about the 'cracked girl', with them sparkles in the eyes. Ah! He was never going to let the lass alone now. Ben had looked at Mae like that once upon a time. He had made a tired, aging whore feel special then. She was not jealous no, she was absolutely not. Somebody had to take care of the burden after she passed, is all.

    Something tugging on her sleeve snapped Mae out of her considerations. Right, it was night already. She signaled the kid to shut his trap and took him by the hand towards the gate. Two guards wearing the household's flashy livery stood there. They spared her a disdainful glance, before turning back to their conversation. She coughed politely.

    "What? Don't you see you are in the wrong part of town? Now scramble off, old crone." He said dryly. Well, that was expected, and so was the sneer. She'd heard worse.

    "Could you announce me to Lord Gilbet please?" Mae asked.

    "I would think about it if you offered some niceties, only I'm not so desperate." He smirked and the other one chuckled.

    That line must have taken him the whole afternoon to prepare. Why, standing still and waiting for folks to bully was a boring job after all. The other man seemed the type who would just sit back and watch unless he really had to jump in. Without looking at Sebastian, she gave him a slight, discreet nudge, praying he understood his part.

    "Do you have peas for a brain lad? Look at the friggin' situation again!" She scolded the man and pointed at the kid. The speaker was stunned now, not having expected the outburst. Then both guards turned their eyes in the boy's direction. There it was! His best showing of the day, with watery eyes and a running nose. The fumbling hands were a nice touch, she noted. Holy prick, he was good! It had taken her two frigging days but she had found quite the gem. It was time to push now.

    "Late hour, woman of little means, poor and innocent child?" Mae let the assumptions hang in the air, and waited. She just had to hope the two were not too dumb, and shove at the right moment.

    "Your Lord might be in a very generous mood at the news, him not being lucky in that department." She finished and held her breath.





    ****





    Mae was in the kitchens, looking at Lord Gilbet while the brat was eating beside them. They were sitting in silence around a table, alone at this late hour. The nobleman had changed in all those years, she remarked. His hair had grayed, deep lines were showing at the corner of his eyes and on his forehead. The fact that he was frowning, digesting the situation, didn't help the wrinkles. She had told the story, with the help of Sebastian's unique talent, and was now waiting for it to sink in.

    "My dear Maeva, I recall clearly what had transpired from my courting you, but I can't wrap my head around the timing. You had rejected further meetings after some time, while rumors spoke of you seeing Lord Guillaudin." He finally said.

    "I told you already, it was the summer we went on sailing. And you know the thing about rumors, that bastard probably started them himself to hurt you. As for avoiding you, well I had a friggin' pregnancy to hide." She spun the tale, adjusting it as things went. Well, it had been twelve years ago and a lot had happened.

    "Always the same 'creative' language I hear. I am glad some things are not affected by time." He gave her a half smile. She scowled.

    "I'm not here to listen to you spitting on my looks. I'm here for the boy. Your damn boy." she retorted sharply.

    "My apologies, I was not so much criticizing your looks as I was referring to my... fading condition." He pointed at his stomach. She rolled her eyes, the belly just showed how much the fool ate in Mae's opinion

    "About Guillaudin's slander against your character, I was only musing out loud. I never liked that scoundrel anyway. Once more, my apologies if there was any offense" He tried to soothe her.

    It was a good reaction, she thought. Gilbet had always been too nice, he had never liked conflict. If you yelled at him he would always try to apologize and make it go away, instead of yelling back like a smart person. Now he was folding, accepting Mae's shaky explanation to calm her down. Meanwhile, the boy was eating voraciously, oblivious to his fate being decided right under his nose. She sighed.

    "I just find it surprising to only hear about the child now. It has been twelve years, as you well know. Why not inform me sooner?"

    "Listen, I know what happens to bastards in your world." He stopped her in shock, putting both hands on the boy's ears. The brat smiled innocently. Mae rolled her eyes.

    "Same goes for their mothers. I didn't want to find damn poison in my supper." She continued. Gilbet's eyes went wide with horror. Gods, the man was naïve.

    "I would not even have told you, were I not sick myself." She appealed to his kindness. It shouldn't be very hard, she remarked, the idiot's character was softer than a basket full of kittens. His eyes went wide in concern.

    "Is there anything I can do to help? What do you need, tell me and I shall run to your aid!" He blurted out. Holy tit, he was too much. She didn't want to be lying on a sickbed when he discovered the sham though.

    "I ain't asking for help." She nearly spat the word. "I just want someone to care for Sebastian once I'm gone." Mae glanced at the kid as she said it. Now would be the perfect time to use your weapon, she thought -come on lad water your eyes-. But he just stared stupidly at his newfound daddy.

    "Of course, I..." He was interrupted by voices shouting outside.

    A messenger wearing another household's uniform burst in the room.

    "My lord! Oh, apologies... My lady, young man." The intruder saluted and composed himself.

    "There was an incident, a fire I believe. House Chaffaud burned down. All of it, in fact." He informed them. The Lord gasped while Sebastian's attention went back to his food. Mae, on the other hand, held herself from cursing out loud. What had Ben done? She should never have let him go without doing the planning for him, she scolded herself. Gods, he was burning frigging houses now!

    "How terrible! Please hurry and offer the family succor on my behalf. I believe I am the nearest among their acquaintances." Chaffaud proposed.

    "Thank you, my Lord. It was the reason for my coming, actually. Very generous. I will relay your offer immediately." The messenger said before he left in haste.

    Mae stood up and lifted the boy from his stool. The nobleman was still too shocked by the news to further speak, he shot her an asking glance.

    "You have trouble of your own, I will come back with Sebastian tomorrow. Give you time to sort the whole mess out." The whore said as she was heading for the door, the kid in tow.

    "You shouldn't, Maeva, we can find you somewhere to sleep. You don't have to leave right away, in any event." He protested, confused.

    "We have more things to discuss. Plus the commotion will wake up your wife and I don't want to run into her." Mae answered over her shoulder as she left.

    Holy frigging cunt! She was going to strangle Ben to death, after getting answers. Maybe before even, for she was right pissed. What had that idiot done this time?
     
  15. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.4 The girl, the monster and the knife.

    Cleo was having nightmares. She was in her cursed cell, but things were different then. The glass window was clear and brightened the room. She had furniture, a chair and a small table. A few parchments were sprayed on it, next to a quill and an ink vial. A lone used candle was standing over the scene. The walls and floor were clean, while her bed was made of feathers with proper sheets on top of it. She was not distressed though, Cleo felt like she deserved her imprisonment. She sat at her table and began writing, there was some time left before that man would arrive.

    A knock on her door made her jump in fright, but a glance at her window calmed the girl down. She still had some daylight ahead of her. An old woman dressed in white came in, she had her hands full. She put down a basin on the floor, before arraying foods on the desk. She left without a word, leaving the door opened behind her. Cleo did not even glance at it, where was she to go anyway? She set out to feed herself with ham and cheese, accompanied by some bread.

    The nun came back carrying a jug of warm water and dumped it into the pan, before going out for some more. Cleo was staring at the container with dread, she did not want to be clean. She brought her attention back to her food, for it was better than thinking about what would come. It had been all her fault, and this was her punishment. A small tap on her shoulder snapped the girl out of her considerations. The basin was full and she was offered a small towel and a bar of soap. She did not take them.

    It was time now she thought, trembling, as the last ray of sunlight had gone. She took a bronze mirror from the desk to have a look at herself. She was wearing a white robe, her hair was flowing down to the top of her shoulders, black and straight. She was clean, her whole body was. She had tried to resist but to no avail. The elderly woman had forced her to wash thoroughly. Cleo considered her face. Fair skin, sharp blue eyes, and pink colored lips. Was this girl beautiful? She did not want to be.

    A sound coming from behind made her blood run cold. The door opened but Cleo did not turn to face him, she shuddered in anticipation. She did not fight back. It lasted longer when she did, and there would be bruises too. She emptied her mind and tried to ignore the pain. She was guilty and this was her purgatory.

    The girl's hair was down to her shoulder blades now, and her robe was too large. Cleo was sitting at her desk, crying, she did not feel like writing. She glanced at the door, it was not locked but going outside was impossible. The man lurked out there, wearing a different face. The girl had seen him, looking calm and solemn as he prayed, but she had not been fooled. He turned into something else at night.

    Like clockwork, her caretaker arrived. Cleo was letting herself being fed and bathed, not feeling the need to participate. She stared at the door as the white robe left. The man was coming today, as regular as the cleaning ritual was. She did not want to be pretty for him. With a cry of despair, she stood up and ripped pieces off her dress. The emotion turning to anger, she tangled her black strands, disheveling her hair. That was not enough. She lashed out at her face using her fingernails, ignoring the pain.

    The man was here, and the change in appearance had not stopped him. The girl closed her eyes and held back tears, she was not going to give him the satisfaction. How long would she have to pay for her sins? The grunting was intensifying now, along with her agony. She did not look at him. Cleo sat down in a corner when he left, knees to her chin. She felt sick.

    The dark mane had lengthened, and the scars on her face were more numerous. The girl's attempts at rebuking her tormentor had been futile. How long had her penance gone for? She could not tell. Time was probably passing, she was not sure, for the days were the same. The only evidence she had was in her hair growing. Cleo deserved to be here, she told herself, but she could not accept the nightly visits. These were wrong. Inside of a church, under the very eyes of his god, a man dressed as his servant was committing the unspeakable. It had to stop.

    Cleo tore her bedding open and took out feathers. She piled them in a corner along with her sheets. Using her frail arms, she lifted her chair and smashed it. It felt good, all that destruction. The pile was raising, but she continued, breaking her desk's legs and throwing the lot together. She grabbed flint and candle, before adding arsonist to the list of her crimes. Perhaps she had overdone it a little, Cleo reflected while looking at the blaze. The girl did not care. She took a long piece of wood from the fire and held it, staring at the burning end closely. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

    She was not going to be pretty for the monster.



    ****



    Cleo awoke in a scare, sweating. It had all come back to her, she remembered most of her life in the church now. The conditions of her imprisonment used to be a lot better, before she lost her mind and face. That was of course, setting apart the matter of her former tormentor. She recalled trying to speak about it to the monthly visitor, not trusting her jailers. They had cleaned her and bathed her, before bringing her to the chapel for the meeting. As soon as she had begun to speak of the abuse, they had intervened, blaming her insanity for the accusations. She had burst out in outrage as they dragged her out, but it had just added weight to their claims.

    Then she had marred her face in a gesture of despaired madness, before fainting from the pain. The white robes had carried her out of the room shortly after, when noticing the fire. They had not understood her gesture, thinking it an attempt at suicide. Perhaps it had been, she was not sure. The priests had increased the amount of drugs afterward, and her cell's condition had worsened drastically.

    And now, that monster was still on the premises, only its prey had changed. It was the sole other girl incarcerated here, so identifying Brother Gregory's new victim had been simple. Cleo must have walked by him as he was abusing the girl the night before. She had not been paying attention to the cells around her at the time. He could have seen her! The idea made a cold shiver run down her spine. Cleo remembered with guilt the poor, empty-eyed woman she had found later then. She had wanted to take her into her arms and reassure her, telling her everything was going to be fine, even if it was a lie. But the Lady had not been able to. She could not bring herself to feel another person's body since the memories had returned.

    Those made her sick with disgust. She wanted to scrub no, rip her skin off to make the monster's touch go away. Younger Cleo had felt relieved after the arson, relieved and victorious when the nightly assaults had stopped. And while she had felt better, that other girl had taken on her former burden. The guilt was terrible.

    Cleo was currently back in her cell, recollecting only faintly how she had gotten back there. The lady had been incredibly disturbed after she had seen the horrible man's face. The rest of the night had gone by in a blur of painful memories and emotions. She had then spent the day sleeping, lost in vivid and sickening nightmares. Her younger self had thought she deserved her situation, it was punishment. But that girl was a victim whereas the Cleo of now was not, or rather she did not want to be one. She went through the labyrinth of her past, searching for the cause of her fate. She found none, nor was there a crime that would justify all this, if such one even existed.

    'MONSTER' The wall told her. It was not Cleo, she knew who it referred to now. She wished him dead, she wished it with all her might. The writings had also called her a murderer, perhaps they were right after all, when contemplating her current feelings. But there was the matter of the visitations, she had to know the identity of her caller. Was it worth letting Brother Gregory roam free for one more week though? Cleo wanted to kill him herself, and she vaguely recalled asking Ben to teach her. She considered the matter. Evidently, hiring the thief to perform the deed would be a safer, surer option. He could also do it outside of the church, another point in his favor. A death on her prison's grounds would definitely arouse suspicions.

    She could not afford the jailers to perform a closer inspection, fearing them discovering her returned wits. There was also the possibility of them searching her room, finding the cache beneath it. Last but not least, whatever her wall claimed, she did not know how to kill someone. She understood the general concept obviously, but theory and practice were different matters. All things considered, logical thinking required turning to Ben.

    Reason proved to be naught but a feather against the storm of her emotions. She wanted to do it herself. Cleo needed to, she owed it to herself, and to the other victim.



    ****



    She began counting down to five minutes as soon as the three ominous figures left. She had stared at the ceiling to avoid looking at Brother Gregory before they did. It had been near impossible to appear calm, to stop her body from shaking with anger and disgust. Cleo was growing scared, thinking the monster could be outside, she could run into him when leaving the room. She had not even reached a minute when clicking sounds stopped her short. Fear overtook her, was it him, Coming back already? But he had another girl to torment now, surely a half burned woman was not worth harming?

    The door opened, showing Ben crouching behind it, wrench and pick in hands. She let out a sigh of relief.

    "Cleo. How's yer head?" He asked. She could see he had a worried expression behind the scarf on his face.

    "My head is fine, or as much as possible, I appreciate your concern. Though an explanation for your early arrival might be the more welcome." She answered, voice muffled by her own piece of cloth. Ben's shoulders dropped in relief.

    "Guess yer all good If ya can make 'em long phrases. Don't got no time though, let's move." He said before gesturing her towards the roofs.

    The smoke was rising so she did not protest, and went out to follow the thief instead. Cleo paused in front of the girl's cell, whose name she did not even know. She was standing still, staring at her wall, unconcerned with the surrounding fumes. The lady stopped, knelt in front of the bars before taking out wrench and pick. Ben cursed from behind and came back her way. Cleo recoiled as he drew close, even her unconscious had been hurt by the monster, she realized.

    "Calm down, jus' wanna help. Step away, 'tis faster if I do it." She obliged his request. He knelt in front of the lock and began picking it.

    "What is it with ya and freein' them loons now? Got enough damn work as it is." He complained. She ignored him, focusing on her companion of misfortune.

    "I am helping, ain't I? Least ya can do is givin' bloody answers." Cleo was about to do so when her beloved *Clonk!* relented.

    She rushed inside and Ben stepped out of her way, startled. Cleo approached the girl but then her body froze on its own.

    "Would you be so kind as to take this young woman outside, Ben? I am having a few... issues." She pleaded.

    "Reckon' you have more than a few." Cleo glared at him. "A'right girl. Damn women ordering folks around like dogs." He grumbled as he went in and took the other girl by the hand.

    The girl not seeming responsive, Ben decided to lift her up atop his shoulder. He did so in quite a rude fashion, Cleo noted. They hurried to the stairwell then, for the drugs would not give them the courtesy to wait. Unlike every other night, Ben stopped in the attic, putting the sad shell of a girl down. Cleo raised an eyebrow in askance but he ignored her, in his usual infuriating way. Perhaps he did not see it in the darkness, she remarked, it was even worse here than on the floor bellow. He pulled out his bag and fumbled inside while Cleo went to sit by the other woman.

    "A'right!" Ben exclaimed as some light brightened her vision. She was glad for it, but he could have thought about it earlier, really.

    "Reckon there's not much smoke 'round here." He observed and took off his scarf, Cleo imitated him."What's that 'bout that lass then?" He asked, pointing at the still form beside her. Judging by the look on his face, Cleo had to give him an explanation. She did not know how to proceed however.

    "She... is being hurt by a man and I..." God, she was back to babbling.

    "Same folk ya want dead? One made you all cracked up yesterday?" She nodded. "Damn, trouble never stops. Jus' when I think I got somethin' good." He sighed.

    Then Cleo's eyes went wide when he took out a scroll, then more, and handed them to her. Ben had gone and stolen them from Lord Chaffaud! Finally some positive news, something to take her mind off the recent horror. She eagerly wanted to open the parchments.

    "I see yer mouth waterin', lookin' at 'em scrolls. Ain't nothin' I want more than let ya have yer fun and take a nap myself. But seems to me, you have some explainin' to do." He told her, pointing at the other girl. Cleo steeled herself.

    "I would like to kill one of the priests, his name his brother Gregory..."



    ****



    Cleo had now finished her piece about the monster, and was holding her breath. She was staring at the floor, waiting, her emotions in turmoil. Then something appeared in front of her eyes. Ben was holding his knife out to her, handle first. The Lady glanced at him, she had told him everything about the beast. Everything except her own abuse. She could definitely not share that part, but something in his stare made her think he understood. Ben's face was hard and he was keeping silent. She took it and weighed it, the weapon was surprisingly light. The new nightly income of foods might have been doing her body some good. She stared at the blade, wondering if it would be a smart idea after all.

    "Not much to it. Jus' stab, is all." He pointed at a wooden rafter that went from the ground up to the roof. She looked at the other girl, lying on the floor unresponsive. Having found her resolve, Cleo stood up and planted the blade in.

    "Gotta do it the other way 'round. Good way to get stuck in 'em ribs, this is. Knife down and strike going up." The thief corrected her. Cleo had never considered anatomy in such manner. She reversed her grip before going at the target once more.

    "Now see, lots 'a folks stick some bastard in the gut the first time, they think it's done. On the count of him making a face, bleeding and all. Ain't false, gut wound sure kills ya, only slowly. Then the bastard got time to stick ya back." She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for further explanation.

    "Simple, really. Jus's like with them locks. Jus' wiggle a bit and 'tis over." He finished.

    "You make the whole affair sound simplistic. Surely you can teach me more about it." She asked, incredulous.

    "Ain't easy, 'cause ya don't know how to fight. Most of the job is planin' and thinkin'. Reckon' yer good at that.Nice thing ya got to wait til' next month. Got time to plan." Ben observed.

    "Evidently, I was not going to charge him while yelling atop my lungs." Cleo rolled her eyes.

    "Wasn't sure, seein' ya last night." Ben frowned. She averted her gaze.

    The young woman gave a dozen more wounds to her target, stabbing upwards and twisting the knife once stuck in. She has been picturing the ghastly man during the whole exercise. It helped with the fatigue. It felt right.

    "I believe everyone is entitled to have a bad moment." She answered after a while, pausing to catch her breath.

    "Jus' wonderin' if 'tis a good idea to give a knife to a cracked girl. Don't wanna find it in my belly afterward." He said, biting his lip.

    "You haven't given me cause to harm you." She paused between two strikes. "Yet." Another one. Cleo was sweating now. Her condition must be quite poor, she thought, it has only been minutes.

    "Did ya jus' make a joke?" His eyes went widened in surprise. God, did he take her for a court jester?

    "What if, for some reason, I cannot reach his stomach?" She questioned. Hitting a still target was not difficult, but there was no guaranty the white-clad horror would stand still and oblige her. Picturing him fight back made the Lady feel sick.

    "Throat works too. But ya gotta slice, not stab." He gestured as he explained.

    Cleo tried imitating him but the weapon almost dropped down from her hand as she hit the beam.

    "Grip the other way 'round for slicin', that or put yer thumb behind the blade." He explained. It did work better, at least it did on the wood.

    "What ya gonna do once he dead?" The thief demanded.

    "I am hoping to find a solution in the scrolls you procured." Cleo answered. She had no idea where to go if the information proved useless though.

    "A'right. I'm gonna sleep a bit. Been a while since I slept, and inside to boot. Wake me up before dawn will ya?" Ben told her as he lied down on the floor.

    "I cannot imagine how harsh resting outdoors must be, it sounds horrible." She said as she stopped practicing. It made her reconsider the quality of her room a little. Commoners really had a harsh life.

    "Damn right. Always wake up with 'em pigeons."

    She ignored the absurd remark and set out to study the scrolls.
     
  16. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.5 The elusive man.

    Ben had been following his prey for an hour. His pursuit didn't last much longer, for the courier just went into a dark alley, before taking the backdoor to a stone building. What was wrong with them nobles, employing fools like that? Going straight to your destination when carrying important letters was damn stupid. Especially if these were addressed to the underworld king. The lad had not glanced behind him a single time since he had left Gilbet's house. Ben shook his head in disbelief.

    The next part of the job was to sit and watch the place, so he went in search for a proper spot. One would think the work to be done, now that Ben had found the Parkhat's den. But according to Mae, and she was right more often than not on these matters, this place would not be the one. He could not be such a mysterious man if he was this easy to find, couldn't he? And councilmen would not let themselves be controlled if they knew his address. Considering how simple it had been to find, Ben couldn't help but agree. So the letter had gone to what was probably some kind of criminal drop-off or hideout. Mae's assumption was that a different courier should be connecting it to the underworld king's office.

    Ben climbed atop a wooden fence and used it to lift himself up towards a roof. He had found one that would give him a good view of his target. He reached the hard, flat top and examined his surroundings. Stone buildings and streets, warehouses, and fishmongers stalls. He didn't like the harbor much. Maybe it was not all mud and wood shacks like the slums, but it was nearly as dirty and the smell was worse. The only good point was the seagulls. It was their territory, so Ben wasn't expecting the usual bullying from the other kind of bird. The house next door was higher, its tiled roof a bit too large and covering the one he was standing on. Ben used it to hide under and began his watch.

    The thief worried about Cleo, the current job was too important to leave and check on her. She had asked for a weapon, Ben remembered, and he had given it to her. Arming a cracked girl was dumb, but after hearing her explanations he couldn't say no. The young man clenched his fists, he wanted to kill the asshole himself. She had only spoken about the second crazy lass, the one with the empty eyes. But Ben had recognized the situation. The look on Cleo's face and the way she scared every time he had drawn close to her. The lady needed to stick the knife herself. If she didn't, it would mean spending the rest of her life jumping at shadows and sleeping with one eye open.

    Ben's head perked up when some movement attracted his attention. He could discern a man's form wearing a long coat, going out the building through the back. The thief quickly estimated the guy's route, before abandoning his perch and climbing back down. The target was going towards the docks at a leisurely pace, not showing any signs of caution but his hood. Ben followed from the shadows for now. The waterfront was busy, even this late into the night boats loaded or unloaded various cargos. He had to leave the shades and enter the crowd, keeping a safe distance from his quarry. Folks carrying wooden crates, barrels, and amphorae began to obstruct his path. He struggled to keep his quarry in sight, before jogging a little and catching up. It had been close, he sighed and resumed his chase.

    Mae had gone back to Gilbet's earlier and asked him to send a letter to underworld king. It was mainly to start a chain of messages for Ben to track, leading him to his current location. But it never hurt to have a backup plan. News of someone in his city burning noble houses might have pissed off the Parkhat though. The guy could decide that getting himself rid of the arsonist was more important than the stolen scrolls. The meeting could easily be a trap. It shouldn't be difficult, considering the man's resources, to kill Ben and take Chaffaud's scrolls from him. Ben had to avoid this by finding the invisible man's hideout himself.

    Long coat was even worse at his job than the previous messenger. At least that one didn't walk at a snail's pace. Ben sighed, it would be a lot less boring to just wait for the Parkhat to answer Mae's letter. He brought his eyes back to the hooded figure. The both of them have been walking for a good hour now. Where the heck was his destination?



    ****



    Ben woke up in a panic, suffocating. He caught his breath frantically, before opening his eyes, confused. The day was well on its way, it was almost the evening. He was on the same roof near the harbor. A sound attracted his attention, someone was chuckling next to him.

    "Mae? What the heck... " He started.

    "That was for waking me up like an asshole last time." She smirked. RIght, Ben thought, the bitch would sometimes pinch his nose when he slept.

    "What are ya doin' here. Wait, how d'ya find me?" Ben asked, frowning.

    "I thought I'll check on you, see how you're doing. As for finding you well, I just searched the roofs around here. You could find somewhere else to hide, it's a pain in the ass to climb. I'm not friggin' twenty anymore, lad..." She went on.

    "How the hell did ya know it was here? The hideout, I mean. Thought I was supposed to find the damn place?" He interrupted.

    Mae paused. She was holding back a smile, Ben noted, she was enjoying herself. He was obviously not going to like it.

    "I asked Gilbet for the address." She said, struggling to keep a straight face.

    "What was the damn point of me following the bloody message then?" Ben almost shouted. Of course, the woman burst out laughing.

    "And how was I to know he would give it to me, just like that? The Parkhat is rumored to be dangerous and mysterious." She said after catching her breath.

    "Don't tell me the guy has a goddamn address?" Ben's eyes widened in disbelief.

    "Of course not, you bumpkin. Here is only where the nobles drop their letters for him." She explained.

    Ben wanted to complain some more, when he noticed her outfit. She was still wearing the simple, long wool dress he had gotten her. The apron and the basket were new though. She noticed his stare and sat down next to him. She took out and showed him an impressive array of foods. Fresh bread, ham, cream and more. Ben's eyes widened.

    "Ya got water? Goddamn fresh water?" He exclaimed. She nodded. How did she find this treasure, he wondered.

    "Eat some lad, we have a lot to discuss." She told him. Ben nodded before jumping on the goods and she soon imitated him.

    "What's will all this then?" He asked, pointing at the amazing meal.

    "I got myself a job, I'm a maid at Gilbet's place now." She said.

    "How?" He raised his eyebrows.

    "You should have seen Sebastian, the boy is a frigging miracle walking! The house was a mess you see, with all the chaos you brought on. Nobles running around, gossiping about the fire, and trying to find a place for Chaffaud's whole household to stay at. Then the brat comes in, and does his damn puppy eyes. And now everyone stops worrying about the rest and fawns all over him. They stuff him with a week's worth of food, bathe him, clothe him and such. I even heard talk of frigging adoption, can you believe it?" She marveled.

    The explanation irritated him a little. The damn brat had stolen Ben's spot in the house two days ago, forcing him to sleep in the church's attic. And now he had grabbed everyone attention at the nobles' place. They were all doting on the kid apparently. Ben knew for sure at last one person was. Mae had taken a job over there to care for the boy. The little shit was trying to steal her away now!

    "Ya shouldn't work anyway, yer sick dammit." Ben protested. He was not jealous no, he was concerned about Mae's health.

    "Come on lad, I cough a little is all. Beats lying around in a friggin' damp shack." She tried to wave off his concern.

    "Damn stubborn old mule." Ben grunted.

    "Anyhow, since everyone is in love with Sebastian, asking to send a letter was easy enough. Gilbet wrote it without lifting his eyes from his 'son'. I even got a job, and the frigging address, just like this!" She snapped her fingers as she said so, proud of herself.

    "So what yer tellin' me, is that I've been bustin' my nut for nothin'?" He complained.

    "Don't you go sobbing on me, Ben. You had your own messages to follow anyway." She shrugged.

    "Why the apron?" He shot back.

    "Let me explain. I asked Gilbet to pen me a letter for the Parkhat, as you know. It says Lord Chaffaud's mysterious savior wants a meeting."

    "Wait a bit now, I'm what?" Ben startled at the news.

    "I would have said the most famous arsonist in town, but I wasn't the one writing. It's not entirely false, you know." She smirked. "I'm betting on the crime lord to understand the meaning, though that idiot Gilbet sure didn't. The official version only speaks of the fire and some unknown hero saving the councilman from it. No mention about stolen scrolls, so I'm guessing some of them were friggin' sensitive. Makes sense, Chaffaud was right nervous when I saw him, probably scared someone had read them." She grinned at him.

    Ben swallowed down a piece of bread, he didn't know how to feel about the whole thing, but Mae's scheme was clever.

    "It also means the Parkhat is sure to be interested in them. I guess we're lucky your little ghost has the letters, no one will think to look for those in the loonie bin." She continued.

    "Then why the heck am I doin' all this shit?" Ben raised both hands in annoyance.

    "Well, to avoid a trap of course. Finding the man ourselves means we could do things on our terms then. It would also earn his respect. I know the type, he'd be more inclined to work with us, instead of killing us." She explained.

    "Us?" Ben frowned, she was only supposed to go to the doctor and get better. Now she wanted to deal with big name criminals?

    "Anyway, I asked for a meeting a week from now, leaving the choice of time and place to him." She went on, ignoring his objection.

    "Sounds generous, stupid though." Ben remarked.

    "Of course it is, dumb boy. I just want to bait out a reply. That's why I'm working as a maid, see? When the answer comes, we have another shot at finding the crime king." She explained.

    "Oh." Damn, Mae was a genius. "But now ya got a job fer him, so can't ya ask Gilbet fer a doctor?" He tried, hoping for a safer resolution.

    "I ain't going to beg. We are going to meet the firggin' Parkhat, whether you like it or not." She scowled. She sure seemed interested in the man, Ben noted. "Now, I think you have a story for me too." She crossed her arms expectantly.

    Ben told her how he had followed the hooded guy for two long hours. He was pissed about the whole adventure, he had been made a fool. His prey had taken him on a tour of Gravelroy and nothing had happened. The quarry had walked around town at a snail's pace, before coming back right where he had started. Then, because it was the original plan, Ben had waited for other runners exiting of the dock's hideout. He had tailed half a dozen messengers before returning here and taking a nap, exhausted. He told Mae of all the locations they stopped at.

    "Hm. I don't think any of these spots is the right one. Let me see, the first is a tavern, a well-known one. You can find cutthroats for hire in there. Another is a thug's lair, then... " Mae mused out loud.

    So he really had been working for naught, Ben concluded in disappointment. After finishing his meal, he stood up and sat closer to the roof's edge, resuming his watch. Mae was still racking her brains behind him. Ben's mind went to Cleo and the scrolls she now possessed. He had seen the way she had looked at them, like Mae with her pastries. The thief wondered what she could find in those. Cleo had asked him if he could bring more, but Ben had work to do at the moment. She had other worries right now anyway, he recalled the knife. He hoped she would not confront the monster with it, that'd be dangerous and stupid. He had given it to her just in case, so she could defend herself. The lass had said she'd wait until next month. Ben planned to be there when she would kill the priest, to make sure things went right. Something caught his eyes down the street, a man's shape exiting the criminal's den from the back.

    "Oh, 'tis the lad. The slow one, that is." He remarked flatly. Mae raised an eyebrow.

    "Follow him." She answered quickly. Ben frowned.

    "Just go, bumpkin!" She commanded.

    Ben didn't lose time and scrambled on his feet. He then climbed down from the roof, to land on the paved stones. He hastened towards the docks, caught up with the prey and slowed down a dozen paces behind. The guy was of average height and in the daylight, Ben could see his worn-out coat was brown. Like yesterday his hood was up and well, he walked through the crowd damn slow. Not much else to remark on, Ben didn't understand what Mae was thinking, sending him on such an errand. He thought it was going to be useless again, but she had obviously figured something out.

    "Hey, cute boy!" A sensual, female voice spoke from beside him.

    Ben tried to ignore it, until he felt an insisting tug on his sleeve. He paused and turned to shake off the intruder. A young and very, very attractive lass. She had sunny hair, full lips and deep blue eyes. Ben could see a lot of womanly bits, she had a revealing outfit. She was close, really close and her bits sure were interesting... -where's the prey?-.Ben reluctantly pushed the woman away and took off in a hurry.

    Where had the damn brown coat gone to? Damn, there were a lot of folks on the docks at this time of the day. There he was! Ben sighed in relief. The man couldn't have gone far walking at that speed anyway. Ben could have stayed longer with the nice woman, she had seemed cold, wearing so few garments. He resumed his tailing, disappointed.



    ****



    A little later in the evening, Mae was back at Gilbet's residence. She was scrubbing the floor in front of his study, her back hurting with the effort. How shiny did the frigging thing need to be anyway, she wondered. The woman was feeling weak and tired, despite eating better than she had for months. Her sickness had grown worse, it was getting hard hiding it. Just a little more, Mae told herself, and she would complete her plan. Maybe it was wishful thinking though, since Ben's job had brought up nothing so far. The whore had told him to follow the brown coat, having seen the man in this very house before. Mae had spotted him among Chaffaud's household last night, when she had brought back Sebastian. The residence was still busy with all the new lords and servants. The homeless Lord has been pacing up and down the hallways since, growing distressed by the day. She paused in her work, hearing footsteps coming down the corridor, and moved out of the way.

    It was the frigging guy, the one Ben was tailing! She stilled her expression, hiding her surprise, and bowed. She felt a bit disappointed, for his features were plain. Chestnut, short hair and dark eyes, no beard and a blank look on his face. The man passed by her and went into Gilbet's office without knocking, closing behind him. Mae did not lose a second and rushed into the adjacent room, the library. The whore knew the house intimately, she had been its owner's lover after all. When court gossip and intrigue were your daily bread, you had to know where you put your bed. And so here she was, pulling books off a shelf, revealing a small hole in the wall behind. Good old Gilbet wouldn't use such means, but Mae had always been handy. She had never been against a little eavesdropping either.

    "My employer had recently received an interesting letter. One brought by a courier of yours, I believe." Mae smirked, her plan had worked and the Parkhat had reacted.

    "Let me see if I can recall... I think I might have a list of my correspondences somewhere." She would praise Gilbet for trying to defend her, if only he were more convincing. You sent the frigging thing yesterday you idiot, she rolled her eyes.

    "I see. Our common friend will be sad to hear about your refusal to cooperate." He had a way to say 'friend' wich gave Mae goosebumps.

    "I can assure you I am trying my hardest to recall. It is... my old age, you see..." The councilman's voice shook so much she felt sorry for him.

    "In any case, I came to deliver a response. I trust that you will give it to that mysterious individual once your memory returns."

    Mae almost cried out her joy. She for the sound of a door closing before hurrying to see the Lord. Once inside, she could see the poor man was white as nun's pants, and sweating profusely to boot.

    "Ah, Maeva. I should have known for you to be here. Old habits do not die easily, as I can see." Gilbet said without mirth.

    "I just happened to be in the mood for some reading. Coincidences and all." She grinned.

    "I am afraid I cannot stall that person's requests for very long." He apologized.

    "It was very brave of you, Gilbet." She bowed slightly. Late in his life as it had been, the man growing a spine was noteworthy.

    "Then you could perhaps get rid of this missive for me." He said as he handed it to her. Mae considered asking him to read it to her but, seeing his face, gave up the idea.

    "Don't worry, I will be out of your hair now. Thank you for everything, my lord." She curtsied her goodbye, and headed for the door.

    "That was the least I could do, I finally have a son, thanks to you."

    His voice came from behind her, and she waved a hand at him as she left. Mae had to hasten and leave now, the Parkhat was going to investigate the matter. She went to her small room in the servant's aisle and grabbed her things, before hurrying out. The woman was glad the brown coat had not pushed to know her identity, though it had surprised her. Gilbet would have folded under some more pressure. She shook her head, now was not the time. Mae had to pass the underworld king's reply on to Cleo if she wanted to know its contents. There were still a few days left before the meet, it might not be necessary, Ben was already following the right guy. Things were going well, even Sebastian's life was better now, she marveled. The woman realized she had missed her previous life, with all its intrigue and plots.

    She crossed the courtyard, seeing many more guards than usual. Most were wearing chaffaud's livery, did he think someone was going to burn down this house as well? The letters in the lady's possession must be very important, judging by the lord's reaction. Mae passed the gate and headed towards the docks. There was something tugging at her mind, worrying her. It had been too easy, she realized. Brown coat had given up on her identity too quickly. She hurried forward, opening ears and eyes for pursuers. A faint, almost silent ruffling noise confirmed her suspicions. The whore was being followed, she was sure of it. The adversary had turned her plan on its head, using the response to bait her out. Ah! The guy was smart, though he wouldn't be such a legend if it was not the case. Mae was old and tired, but she'll make him sweat if he wanted to catch her. The middle-aged woman was not in the ground yet, she thought, and turned at a corner suddenly to begin her escape.
     
  17. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.6 Murderess.

    That night, Cleo was sitting in the church's attic, squinting her eyes in the light of a lone candle. She was trying not to think about what would be lurking on the floor below. She had to try focusing on the task in front of her. But how could she? The young woman was alone in the dark, listening to the distant screams of her comrades. Every time she heard a cry, Cleo wondered with dread if it was the other girl. She could not bring herself to give her a name, it would make her feel real. There was still a chance all this was a ghastly, twisted fantasy of her mind.

    The nameless girl was staying in her cell, waiting for the monster to come while Cleo was upstairs and knowing. All that so the selfish Lady could plan her escape better. It was eating at her, she was torn by guilt and shame. She had to meet the mysterious visitor and perhaps get more clues. Only a few days until the next month, Cleo told herself, and then she would slay the monster and save the girl. She did not feel like a hero from such a song though.

    It had been two days. Each sunset, when the three white-clad figures had come to her room, Cleo had clutched her knife in fear. She had not been able to store it in the cache among the rest of her belongings. Hidden under her garb, the blade had been the only thing stopping her from screaming when brother Gregory had entered the room. She would not let him attack her without putting up a fight. Both times afterward, she had picked her lock with dread, worrying about the predator waiting on the other side.

    Now for the second night in a row, there had been no sign of the scoundrel. Did Ben just decide it was not worth coming anymore, now that she could pick her own lock? Cleo had thought him to understand the ordeal, but he had only handed a weapon over, leaving her alone to face it. Where was he when she needed him? But there was no certainty the beast would be coming nightly, she tried to reassure herself. She remembered her own abuse, it had come with every bath, there had been 'safe' nights in between. The jailers had long since given up on her hygiene, so she could not predict the next occurrence. Cleo shook her head. She had to focus on other matters, or her sanity would be gone, if it had not already.

    Unrolled before her on the dusty floor, were fifteen of Chaffaud's scrolls. Some were seemingly irrelevant, while others had been very informative. She had compiled everything with what Ben had told her about the current state of the world.

    It had all started five years ago, when Cleo had wed the Lord of Kenmard, thus securing his Duchy for the Emperor. It was situated at the northern frontier of the Wilds, as Ben called them. The land was bordered by the kingdom of Polkiad from the east and at its west resided the Empire. North to it were nothing but snows and frozen seas. Further south stretched the Wilds, deep and vast forest with few towns, mostly hamlets. They were incredibly hard to access, surrounded by high mountain ranges on both sides. Leaving only two entries: Kenmard as mentioned and the coast of Gravelroy at the south. The few high trails meandering through the mountains and into the Wilds only allowed hardened men, let alone horses or carriages.

    The Eastern Kingdoms and the Empire had always been in various states of conflict, alliances shifting every so often. But the giant forests and rocky ranges prevented the war from spreading elsewhere. They all wanted to conquer the wilderness, but none could afford the cost. Still, because no ruler could afford the others to control the Wilds, they have been pouring forces in them for years. Hundreds died during the crossing, so did thousands in the battles once on the other side. Ben was born and raised in that world, the idea stunned her with its harshness. The only real roads went from the Empire to Polkiad, passing through Kenmard. Her Duchy was the sole practical way into the Wilds for both countries. It had always been neutral before, thanks to the capital and its fortress: Kophendorst. It was reputed impregnable, but that was a thought for another day.

    A different event taking place five years ago had attracted Cleo's attention. A popular uprising in Polkiad. She had no information about the cause of it, but the timing was quite 'convenient', if not suspicious. Cleo did not believe in coincidences. Of course they existed, it was a law of nature -or mathematics, depending on your point of view-. But if you believed in them, you started looking for coincidences everywhere.

    In short, Kenmard had joined the Empire right after its neighbor, Polkiad, had been thrown into chaos. What ensued had been the reason for Brother's fame. Leading the Emperor's armies, he had done what former rulers had dreamt of for decades. He had crossed the Wilds and invaded the East, taking advantage of the disorder. The conclusion was troubling: Cleo had been sold off to a Duke so the Emperor could wage his war. She shook the idea away, as dreadful as it was, it was the way of life for nobles. She kept going in her studies.

    Through Polkiad the Empire was, and still is, in a position that threatens most of the Eastern lands. Their response had been the founding of the Kingdoms Union. The countries bordering Polkiad had created it, soon joined by those feeling too close to the Empire for comfort. Afterward, the combined might of five kingdoms had opposed her sibling and pushed him back for months.

    Then four years ago, a new change had shaken the continent. Cleo's homeland became the Holy Empire, officially accepting the white church as its only faith. The religious organization had brought slaves to the Emperor, from their crusades overseas. The new manpower, added to the church's funds, had tilted the scales again. Soon after the new Empire's foundation, Brother went on another series of conquests, though smaller ones this time. To this day the war was still going on, in two main theaters: the Wilds and Polkiad's borders.

    There had also been a second event of note around the same time, though one of personal scale. Cleo had been sent to her current prison, a few weeks before the white church took hold of her homeland. She did not see how it could be relevant, but the timing was suspicious once more. Then again, it could be a mere coincidence. Was she being paranoid?

    Still, considering the whole chain of events and going back to its source made her head spin. It was perhaps in a way, more dreadful than her current trouble. An entire continent has been ravaged by the flames of war, her own wedding the sparkle that had started it. She shivered. Cleo sighed and put thoughts of battles away. There were countless forests and mountains between Gravelroy and the war after all. Whereas there was only a floor separating her from the monster right now.

    The lady compiled everything else she had learned. Brother was currently overseas, taking part in a holy crusade. The information was dreadful, she feared for his safety and could not count on his coming back. There was also an intriguing letter marked the Emperor's seal on it, addressed to Lord Chaffaud. Its contents were incredibly mundane, insipid even. She could not conceive her Majesty having the time nor desire to exchange fickle gossip with a minor nobleman. Cleo knew the councilman to have ties to the Empire, though she did not recall precisely how. All good reasons to suspect a hidden message, so she had tried to decipher its secrets quite a few times.

    The young woman was confident in her ability solve puzzles, and her failure to do so was frustrating. It could be the sort of encryption requiring a specific book to translate. There were in fact a good amount of numbers hidden in the missive, among its inconspicuous phrases. Numbers that could refer to pages, lines and words. Was she seeing conspiracies everywhere? It could only be an exchange of dull politeness, but such message would prove itself extremely valuable if it proved otherwise.

    It only left logs and ledgers about the Lord's various trading activities. Income and spendings from his holdings. Mostly boats transporting spices, silks, and wines from overseas. A sound, distinct amidst the inmate's chant, snapped her out of the investigation. A metallic shriek, like the one of an iron gate opening. She took hold of her knife in a scare. Gregory was back, Cleo was certain of it. The Lady swallowed a lump in her throat. She reached for the scrolls before stopping herself short. The young woman did not want to make any noise, as faint as it would be. Her entire body was frozen in fear. Was she to stay here without moving a single inch, while listening to what took place on the floor below? She shuddered.

    The nameless girl was downstairs and facing the beast at this very moment. She was so far out of her mind though, the lady told herself, she would not understand what was happening. Did it make the abuse less terrible, or more bearable? Did that make letting it happen less of a sin? Cleo wondered, disgusted with her passivity. She clutched the handle of her weapon to soothe her nerves. She had experienced firsthand her comrade's ordeal. Every moment, every detail, she painfully recalled. The Lady glanced at her work, wondering if it was all worth it.

    Someone else, someone defenseless, was shouldering her past burden. The guilt was overwhelming. But Cleo had not known about it before, had she not? How would she feel on the morrow, after having stood aside and gone to bed unharmed? The young woman became sick with the idea. She pulled herself up slowly, blade in hand, and headed towards the stairs.

    She could not let it happen again, no even a single once. Four years had been enough no, it had been too much. The Lady could not guess how it could be stopped, but she would try. Little Cleo, the victim, had died years ago. Her older self was insane perhaps, but she would fight back. But what was Cleo to do afterward, if she even managed to slay the monster? Where to go? Where in god's name was Ben? She shook the question away, it was not the time for doubts.

    Concentrating on the wood underneath her feet, she threaded carefully on the planks. She tried to block off the ambient noise from her ears, but without success. Was that voice a cry for help from the nameless girl? She had been mute however, on the night Ben had taught Cleo how to wield her knife. The knife, she recalled it and tightened her grip on it. It was maybe more a shield than a blade, she reflected, as it warded some of her fears away.

    She was now standing on top of the stairs, staring at the dark and dusty steps. These would lead her to the beast, and the thought made her freeze in anticipation. Cleo fought against her own body, using all her might to raise her left foot and putting it down, a little further. The right one followed, a bit easier this time. Sweat was dripping on her back with the effort.

    She paused before reaching the inmate's corridor, tied up her scarf and steeled herself. The Lady peeked anxiously behind the corner and, finding it empty, began her approach. The other girl's cell was only a dozen paces away but they seemed like miles. She kept her eyes down all the way, not wanting the vision of the animal to paralyze her. She braved a whirlwind of fumes, screams and fears, to face the monster at its end. Cleo reached the cell's door before gathering her strength. Then she forced herself to lift her gaze up.

    The scene in front of her triggered terrible flashes from the mind. Memories or nightmares, she did not know. Everything was thrown into mayhem, present and past twirled around in her head. She felt sick and scared, then angry and vengeful. Cleo must have screamed at some point, but she was not sure. Something warm flowing down her right hand shook her out of the madness. She looked at it and saw the blade was stuck into something. The monster's back, she realized, that scream had come from him. The weapon was planted in its body, blood was streaming from the wound and dripping on the nameless girl. Her empty eyes were fixed over its shoulders, onto the ceiling.

    Cleo's attention had drifted through the madness and to the victim, when a sudden shock pulled it back. The Lady felt a pair of hands on her throat, cried out in pain before gasping for air. The beast's nose was only inches away from hers and she could do nothing but stare. Its eyes were bloodshot and its face twisted in a hideous grimace. She could sense its foul breath through her scarf and hear its teeth grinding with the effort, squeezing the life out of her. She wanted to cry out for help, wishing for Ben to come and save her. leo's vision began to blur and her body went limp. She felt the knife sliding slowly from her hands.

    -Not much to it. Jus' stab, is all.-

    Ben's advice echoed through the fog, snapping Cleo out of her stupor. She used her last sparkle of life to grip the handle before the weapon fell. And she stabbed. The fiend's eyes bulged out in response, and its hold loosened. Air began coming back into her lungs, and strength together with it. Terror stepped aside, leaving room for rage to boil, and then explode into fury.

    -Jus' wiggle 'n twist girl.-

    She did just that, and again, and then some more. It was simple really, quite like lock-picking. You stuck your tool in, and then you wiggled it. When you heard the expect sound -or scream-, you twisted. But you had to practice a long time to get the job done right, and Cleo wanted this one to be so. She should probably not be screaming herself as well, but it felt appropriate.

    The Lady's mind cleared when brother Gregory fell atop of her, throwing her to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and away from It, scared and holding her weapon between them. The Lady stared at its body, lying on the floor and covered in blood. She should make sure it was dead, for Cleo did not want to go through that experience again. And so she did. The blade moved up and down, until her arm fell, its muscles not responding anymore. The nameless girl was staring at the scene all the while, expressionless. Perhaps she did not believe the monster to be gone, Cleo wondered, for she did not seem glad of its demise. The Lady wanted the poor girl to feel safe, as well as her own self. She had to prove it to the both. She grabbed the weapon once more, with her left hand this time.





    ****





    Cleo stared at the grim scene before her, she was finally thinking straight. Though she did not know how much time had passed since she had stopped stabbing to sit down. Stephanie, it was the second girl's name now, had not moved since the beast had been killed. Slaughter would be a better choice of word, Cleo remarked, considering the wounds. The Lady was a murderer now, or perhaps she had been one all along. There was no end counting the holes in the lifeless carcass, and her blade had broken during the butchering. Cleo had not even noticed that fact, so deep in her frenzy she had been.

    It all seemed like the work of a different person, an insane and violent one, she reflected. What was the point of mutilating a corpse? Cleo felt like throwing up at her own savagery. Or it could be because of all the blood. Perhaps she should feel some measure of remorse after such a deed though, it would be the proper emotion to display. But there was only shock and disgust at the moment. Her tormentor was gone, but she did not feel any less revulsed. The young woman wanted to scrub every inch of her body that Thing had touched. She wondered if the feeling would ever go away.

    Still, a part of her felt good, satisfied, to have risen and fought back. Powerful even, to have slain such frightening monster. Cleo was not anymore the pitiful drooling and mindless girl she had been. She was smart, she was strong. She was a murderer. The terrible act had not triggered visions of another murder though, maybe the accusations on her wall were wrong then. Or because it had been her first time using a blade. It was possible, she did not see her former self using a knife, something like poison sounded more like her taste.

    The smart part might be an overstatement though, now that she considered her situation. Cleo had let her emotions, the desire of retribution take over, and now everything was in upheaval. She had no plan, no shelter to run towards and no resources. Fear crept up upon her once more, but she pushed it back. There had been enough room for it tonight, she told herself. Now was time to use her brain.

    It was simple, really. The young woman could either leave or she could stay. Only the logistics were the problem. Going back to her room required playing the drooling idiot once more. It would also put Cleo at the mercy of her jailers' will. How would they react to the death of their... comrade, or friend? The thought made her pause, who could entertain any civil relationship with that monster? She looked at its corpse, laying in the middle of a thick red pool. Stephanie was sitting at its edge, strangely aware of the blood and avoiding it carefully. Cleo tried moving her arms, wondering if she could be able to move the Thing. It was probably above her current strength. The same would go for the next step of such plan: washing off the beast's ichor and scrubbing the floor.

    The fate of the other girl was also an issue. If Cleo were to leave now, the white-clad people would find Stephanie alone in her cell with a corpse. Even without a speck of blood on her, she could be blamed for the Lady's crime. Killing a man of the cloth was a serious offense, though one should be praised for this particular case, the Lady remarked. Perhaps she could escape and bring the girl outside with her? But where was Cleo going to shelter her, how could she provide to both of their needs? The Lady did not even know if she could sustain her owns, trying to care for one more person was foolish. It would be what one of those righteous fools in the songs would do. Saving the girl and fleeing together, without a spare thought about what was coming next.

    She went to her chamber, taking Stephanie by the hand. It felt wrong, but feelings were the reason she was in this mess originally. It was the sensible thing to do, and the accommodations in her cell were better in any case. Not that it would do Stephanie much good, Cleo remarked bitterly. Surely no one would suspect the poor, demented girl to have slain brother Gregory before breaking in another cell. At least it should raise some interrogations. How had she been able to do it? What had the priest been doing on the inmates' row this late in the night? She put the girl down on the straw bed, pushing the guilt away. Cleo pulled her things out of the cache and began wondering how she could leave Ben a message.

    The Lady carved one for him using the broken blade, in the place he would the most likely check. She considered switching her dress with Stephanie, her own showing spats of blood. Doing so would obviously frame the girl for her crime, so she decided against it. Cleo bid her farewells and as expected, no answer came back. The Lady sighed and left with her belongings, locking the door behind her. She crossed the hallway quickly, avoiding to glance at the crime's scene. She had seen enough blood for the day, for her whole life even. The prospect of freedom giving her wings, she took the next set of stairs on a flight.

    Once in the attic she paused by the candle, it was still burning near all the parchments. She put down everything and considered her problem. Cleo had nothing to help to transport the letters, though stuffing the lot in her robe could work. The potential damage was an issue, she remarked. She needed funds and if her guess was right, the communication between the Emperor and Chaffaud was invaluable. The Lady could not afford the risk so she racked her brains for a better solution. There had been various kinds of boxes in the cellar when she had gone through it, but their size was not practical. Cleo realized there was somewhere to find useful items, but she dreaded it.

    After a few minutes to steel herself, she grabbed the candle and went back downstairs to see her victim. In the light, the contrast between the white robe and the pond of blood was striking. It looked like a work of art, her very own twisted painting, done using a blade for a brush. Cleo knelt beside the 'monster's carcass', as she named it, and swallowed hard. Holding the flame on her left hand, she began the search. Her trembling fingers found a small leather pouch containing a few copper coins. Nothing else but a cord coiled around the beast's waist, with a ring of keys attached to it. She undid it and pulled, not without trouble.

    Once upstairs she hid the scrolls in her robe, stacking them flat against both belly and back. Cleo tied her new belt around her stomach, right under the letters so they would not fall nor fold. It was too long for her skinny form, so she cut off the extra length. The young woman took the whole of her hair and tied it, before putting it all over the burnt side of her face. -Like Ben had once advised.- Cleo then stuffed the pouch with everything else, kept the knife in her hand and headed for the roof.

    Cleo had thought of many different ways of escape during the past week. Who would not in her situation, with nothing but time on their hands? She reached the tower's top and set out to cut the bell's rope. It went all the way down to the bottom of the stairwell, perfect for what she had in mind. The task proved difficult and time-consuming, using only the inch of metal left on her broken blade. The deed completed, she hastened with it towards the chapel, giving up plan number four. She did not want to use Ben's route, risking her precious missives in the sewer canal. The filth and smell also played a part in her decision, she had seen the man's appearance after a crossing.

    The guilt about leaving Stephanie to her fate had not gone away. It came back stronger, when Cleo passed her cell on her way down. She did not question her decision to break free alone. But the poor girl possibly facing punishment in her stead made her chest tighten. Any investigator with half a brain would seriously doubt the empty-eyed girl's culpability. But then, she remarked, most people are complete idiots. The sound of the key ring clicking at her waist made Cleo stop short.

    It was simple really, she just had to increase the list of suspects. The Lady began to open all of her comrades' doors, wishing them to enjoy a bit of freedom. She recalled Ben complaining about how difficult 'herding the loons' had been. Cleo was now observing the disheveled gray forms running around her, drooling and yelling as they escaped. Let us see the priests and the citywatch trying to find clues in such mayhem then. She smirked and headed for her next objective.

    The young woman stopped at the cellar's door, attacking it with pick and wrench. Going through the room using light this time, she could inspect the barrels' contents. Nothing in there was edible immediately, just various grains, ale and mead. She had no time nor skill to transform them into something edible. Cleo settled for drinking some wine, not knowing what to expect outside. The main reason for her coming was her drug addiction. She did not want to go through withdrawal on top of everything else. The Lady gathered all the weeds she could find, picked up the visitor's list and candles before leaving.

    Once at the chapel's backdoor, she knelt in front of it and set herself at work. She did not bother to lock it back and headed towards the courtyard's enclave, careful to stay out of sight. The next part was a little complicated, Cleo was not physically fit, nor was she an expert in knots. But the rope finally caught on one of the spikes topping the wall, and she began her ascent. The iron stakes were probably more ornaments than defenses, Cleo reflected as she squeezed through them. She pulled up the cord and threw it on the other side, before slowly sliding down.

    She was free now, the realization hit her at the same time as the cobbles of the ground. The Lady was outside! But she did not lose time rejoicing, Cleo wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and her former prison. She began walking without a particular destination, reveling in the experience for now. The escapee was threading the very streets she had stared at every night for the past week. Cleo was turning corners into alleys she had hoped, longed to follow. There were so many possibilities in front of her!

    There was freedom ahead of her, but many dangers as well. The priests would surely go after the young woman, wanting to catch a fugitive, a murderer even. There could be hunger too, finding work despite her face did not sound simple. She would have to rely on her meager coin for food. Cleo had almost nothing to her name but her scarce belongings. The mysterious visitor, the only clue she could get about her situation, was gone with her. The Lady would have to go through the whole list of callers she had just stolen. The only person she could consider to rely on was a criminal, and Cleo did not exactly know where to find him either. She felt powerless. The young woman clutched the handle of her bladeless knife. She would survive, find the reason for her imprisonment, and the person behind for it.

    Then she would murder him.
     
  18. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.7 Pact with the devil.

    Earlier in the evening, Ben was bored out of his mind as he walked. He entered the blacksmith's street, the ambient noise and heat proved a welcome change of pace. Folks sure made a lot of weapons in Gravelroy. It was weird, he thought, in a city which had no real army and took no part in the wars. Maybe it was for all the criminals then? Looking closer to confirm his assumption, the thief could see a lot of swords and shields inside the shops. That made for a shitton of steel, he was surprised for the metal was a rarity back in the Wilds. Armor was also a common item here, not for cutthroats then, Ben concluded. Anyone carrying something bigger than a dagger would risk arrest in these parts. Plus all the stuff he saw was more expensive than what regular thugs and muggers could afford.

    The reason for his previous boredom was a couple dozen paces ahead of him. Brownie, that was how Ben called him now. Well, Brownie had been keeping a slow pace for an hour, following the same path as the night before. This whole business was not tracking, it was just damn walking. But Mae had told him to do it, so here Ben was, tailing the damn long coat. If only Brownie would do something or change his course, the thief complained. He needed sleep, wine, a distraction even... The young man sighed when he saw the docks ahead of him, signaling the end of the loop. A welcome sight brightened an otherwise dull night. Ben found Mae trying to climb up to his usual roof, cursing as she did.

    "Get down old hag, yer too weak fer this." He scolded her from bellow.

    "You little..." She paused, recognizing him. The woman was wearing her servant outfit and seemed tired to Ben, tired and... excited. Or was it scared?

    "What's the trouble?" He asked as he helped her descent to the back alley.

    "I had to leave Gilbet's place in haste. I gave that hood bastard the slip, I still friggin' got it, lad! We better hurry though, I think he knows you're tailing him." She blurted out in a frenzy.

    "A'right"

    Ben obviously needed an explanation for the whole ruckus, but Mae's safety came first. They went in direction of the slums, threading silently through the night, watchful of their surroundings. After a while and no sign of tailing, Ben shot an asking glance to his companion.

    "He answered back, he did! The Parkhat I mean, I got a response and all. Brown coat brought it." She whispered.

    "Now, how that's possible? ‘Been followin' him fer an hour, and I jus’ came back." He frowned.

    "Ah! I knew it! He's been fooling you all along. I suspected it when you told me, but now I'm sure." Her customary smirk accompanied the declaration. Ben sighed.

    "Let's hear it."

    "So the guy you followed, it's not him. He was at the residence at the same time." She began.

    "So yer sayin’... there's another brown coat? Or a whole bunch of ‘em?" Ben's eyes widened. He did not like the prospect of more of the bastards.

    "It's an explanation, but that doesn't explain sir walk-in-circles. I think there's a real one and a decoy. You told me about the distraction, the guys blocking you." She pointed.

    "There's been a nice lass as well, she had... Damn!" Ben cursed his own carelessness.

    "Best tracker in the Wilds, my arse!" She scolded him, but Mae seemed too happy about her conclusions to be really angry.

    "Damn. Guy's good though, gotta give him that. Only lost sight fer a second or two. Ya tellin' me he gave the coat to someone else no, he switches with another lad? He pays a lad to walk around town dressed as him?" Ben concluded, astonished.

    "Sounds like it, yes. Maybe he does it every time he goes out, or only when he spots a tail, I'm not sure." She mused out loud.

    They finally arrived at their shack and Mae let ou a breath of relief once inside. She lit up a candle and set out to brew some tea.

    The thief on the other hand, felt pissed. There were few things at which he was talented. He was good at killing, even if he didn't look the part, Mae had said. Ben wasn't so sure, he was alive and breathing, so you could say he never really lost. Though being good didn’t help much against a lucky blow or stray arrows. Some lads could spin swords and knives really fast, impressing folks into cheering or clapping. Those could be called good yes, but it was useless against plate armor anyway. Hunting and in this case, tracking, were different matters. Ben was the best at those, he would never let a prey get away. And so losing a prey not once, but twice, was an insult to his skill. Damn Brownie.

    "Here." She handed Ben a hot cup, he took it gratefully. "You have to give this to your little ghost, to read I mean." She said afterward, pulling the Parkhat's letter from under her dress.

    "Coudn't Gilbet have done it?"

    "I asked enough favors of him, I think I got the Lord into trouble. Plus, the smaller our circle the better." She explained.

    Ben wondered if she was a bit soft on the guy. He seemed nice enough, taking care of Mae and Sebastian, plus he gave her good food. He also got Ben rid of the brat, so he decided he liked this particular nobleman.

    "A'right. I need to check on her anyway." He nodded. At last, he would know if Cleo was fine or not.

    "Sure, get on with it. Ask her if she found anything in the scrolls. They seems important enough to make Chaffaud friggin' piss himself. And..."

    She was interrupted by someone pouding on their door. Ben drew his knife as soon as he heard it, and turned to face the noise, tensed.

    "Holy nut! I was sure we weren’t followed, you?" She whispered.

    "Aye, seen nothin', heard nothin'." He frowned.

    "Open up, or I break this shit hole down! We can see the light, we know you're in there!" Came a rough, male voice from outside. Ben glanced towards Mae in askance.

    "It's your kind of stuff, lad. You call it." She said, stepping aside.

    The thief signaled her to take a peek through the gaps on their walls, while he drew closer to the entrance. Mae complied, before shaking her head, seeing nothing through the dark. Ben waited for the caller to grow impatient and knock a second time. He didn't hesitate when it came. He kicked the door open with all his strength, and pounced. The newcomer was a huge man, wearing lots of scars and even more muscles. It didn't do him much good though, lying on his back stunned with the impact. A door to the face would do that to a person. Ben landed atop of him, knees on the big arms and knife to the thug's throat. His victim froze when he felt the blade draw a little blood, staring at Ben's face, inches away from his.

    "Everyone calm down, please." A man's voice, low and firm.

    It brought Ben's attention to his surroundings. Half a dozen men, shaped like the one he currently sat on, surrounded the house. They wore the traditional cutthroat black leathers, sleeveless to show off as much biceps as tattoos. Daggers, axes, and knives stood in their hands, reflecting moonlight ominously. Ben cursed at the sight, damn trouble those were. A hazel-colored shape behind them grabbed his stare. Brownie was here, his hand stretched out to steady his henchmen. Ben startled, the picture didn't fit with his image of the boring guy.

    "Now, if you would let go of my associate, please. I believe we could find a peaceful resolution then." He told Ben, who didn't comply. He was not going to abandon an hostage while in so much shit.

    "Damn. Looks like quite the pickle. One toppled with a friggin' load of shit." Mae commented behind him, confirming his opinion. "I'm just asking, but it seems like too much, right Ben?"

    "Them huge bastards? Only got a knife. Can gut one maybe, two if I'm real lucky." Ben answered, considering the situation. "Not counting this one, 'course." He amended, referring to his seat.

    "And I'm too old to run." She nodded. "So, what do you want gentlemen?" She spat the word. Ben admired her calm for he sure wasn't, he wanted to run or piss himself. Maybe both.

    "First I must congratulate you for losing my men during your escape from Gilbet's domain." Brown coat told. His face was hidden under the hood. Ben let Mae do the talking.

    "How did you find us?" Mae frowned.

    "I had to use a rather crude method, I'm afraid." Brownie said, pointing somewhere behind him. Ben glanced in that direction and noticed another guy holding a sleepy kid. It was the damn brat! He thought, recognizing Sebastian.

    "Now, how did you know it was me then?" The whore questioned.

    "Please. We received a request for a meeting. One coming out of Gilbet's house, right after a mysterious son appeared at the very same place. Not long afterward, I see a new maid working on the lord's domain. One can't go very far in our line of work by ignoring such coincidences." He explained.

    "Damn, I'm stupid, didn't think you'll figure it out that quick. Must be getting too old for this." She shook her head at her mistake. "So, what do you want? Apart from scaring little children and old ladies?" She said, now angry.

    "Nothing too complicated. Only a discussion, and perhaps some missing scrolls." He shrugged.

    "Now is when we say we don't have them, and your big lads growl a bit. Then Ben here growls, before blood starts spilling on my friggin' porch. Am I right?" Mae raised an eyebrow.

    "That would be the usual course of events, yes." The faceless man answered. Ben was sure he heard a grin in his voice.

    "So let's save everyone some time and have a chat, you and me. You can't be afraid of an old woman, can't you? Before you ask, I ain't letting one of those friggin' brutes pat me down." Mae said, with a commanding voice. Ben marveled, how did she do it in this situation?

    "It means the goods are some place else. That, or you're a remarkable bluff." He answered as he drew close, accepting the request.

    Both the speaker and Mae stretched their arms, palm open, signaling their respective men to stay back. They stopped in the middle of the standstill, two paces away from one another. They looked to Ben like two of those fancy generals before a battle, gauging each other while exchanging politenesses.

    "Is this the base of your whole operation?" Brownie asked. Dawn had come at some point, and he could now see the decrepit shack better. "You managed to upset my employer quite a bit from this... I don't know whether to be impressed, or insulted, really." He mused out loud.

    "Leave the boy be." The whore scowled, ignoring his comment.

    "I have no qualms against the child, he has proved himself useful, showing us the way here. Very well, as a show of good faith, so we can get negotiations on the way. Bring him back to Gilbet’s." He gestured to the henchman holding Sebastian, who nodded and left with his hostage.

    "What's your offer for the letters?" Mae asked, once the brat was out of sight.

    "Straight to the point, I see. Well, your lives would be my initial proposal." He said, matter-of-factly.

    "Ah! I'm dying, you tit! You'll have to do better than that." She shot back with a sneer.

    "Then what could be your price be, I wonder?" He seemed a bit taken aback by the insult.

    "Ya get Mae a doctor, Brownie, and a good one. No, the best one." Ben interrupted loudly. She gave him a nasty glare for it.

    "And I get to meet HIM." She added, turning back to the hood.

    "I must admit my surprise, I was expecting something very different. Gold, coin, or jewels are the common choice in these situations." The mysterious figure commented.

    "Well, if you have some to spare I wouldn't say no." Mae remarked with a grin.

    The man stayed silent, pondering the bargain for a long, tense minute. Ben went back to consider his enemies, evaluating his chances. Half a dozen thugs were staring at him, weapons at the ready. The poor bastard under him had calmed down a bit now, he would be ready to pounce at the first opportunity. Ben needed a spear or a sword if he wanted any kind of fighting chance. Damn, the situation was still shitty all around, he concluded.

    "I can provide the healer, there shouldn't be any problem. As for the second request, sadly, I cannot speak for my employer. I can only promise that I will bring the matter up to him." The hood offered, breaking the silence.

    "I want guarantees, I ain't throwing everything away on your word only. You are going to..." Mae protested.

    "Done." Ben interrupted.

    All eyes went to him in an instant. He stood up and sheathed his weapon, before stepping away from the thug on the ground, and raised both hands in surrender.

    "You little shit!" Mae shouted in outrage.

    "She get the best care money can buy. Startin' now. I go get them scrolls." Ben ignored her, addressing Brownie.

    "It seems a reasonable compromise, a hostage until the missives are delivered." He accepted

    "You friggin' traitor! How can you? After everything?" Mae screamed.

    "No followin' me, Brownie. If ya do, I burn the damn things. Ya know I will." Ben warned the thugs.

    "I understand that you have a famous penchant for arson, yes. My associates will leave you alone then." He nodded, and signaled his men.

    The thugs went on to grab the woman, who tried to fight back desperately, scratching and biting. She yelled at Ben all the while, enraged like a rabid dog. He averted his eyes and walked away unchallenged. The thief did not let Mae's reaction get to him, she could yell at him all she wanted after getting a doctor. Did she take him for a fool? He had seen her kerchief, and the blood on it. The coat was probably not going to wait for long, Ben had to find Cleo and the scrolls, and quick.



    ****



    The sun had risen and the morning fog was dispersing when he arrived at the church. Ben didn’t want to waste time sneaking through the back and the sewers again. So he headed straight for the entry gate. The thief was a bit disappointed to find it unattended, punching the statue guy would have felt nice. The young man rushed towards the large front door and found it slightly opened.

    "As I already told you, we don't know why brother Gregory was here. We all left together soon after dark." A white robed man spoke, irritated.

    "Maybe he came back for something, you should ask Albert, he's tending the gate at night." Another one proposed, his voice sounding heavy with grief.

    "And you have no idea where the girl has ran off to?" An armed man in flashy livery asked.

    "She couldn't have gone far… the lass was out of her mind, drooling at all times." An old woman said between tears.

    Ben recognized the godfolks, he had seen them leaving the place a few times. The three stood at the other end of the hall, in front of the altar. They were interrogated by a fellow dressed in flashy livery. Those were Chaffaud's colors, he recognized the uniform now. What was the lord's part in all this, Ben wondered, he didn't recall anything that connected the guy to Cleo. The thief was in no mood to wait for the enquiry to end, so he rushed in their direction and drew his weapon. The priests startled when seeing him, only too late to react.

    "Now, yer goin' to answer some questions yerself." He growled from behind the soldier, his blade at the man's throat.

    "Who..." The guy paused and nodded weakly. Good lad, obedient, Ben noted. The rest stood frozen in fear a few paces away.

    "What happened here?" The thief’s voice was firm.

    "There was a murder, name's Gregory. The girl's gone away and..."

    The hostage's explanation was interrupted by a loud scream. The elderly nun was calling for help, having recovered from the shock. Everyone else was surprised by it for a moment. Shortly after, Ben heard metallic sounds, armors clicking as their owners came in a hurry down the stairs. Half a dozen soldiers rushed in the room and stopped, taking in the scene. They quickly recovered and held their spears in a threatening gesture. Another figure arrived moments later, and both he and Ben startled in recognition at the same time.

    "You!" Chaffaud roared. "Men, seize him! That miscreant is the one who stole my property, he probably burned down my domain as wel!" He ordered. Ben swallowed hard.

    "Now, everyone calm down, please." He tried Brownie's line. "No need fer blood."The thief added, making a showing with his blade and his prisoner's neck. The lord's troops paused at the gesture, their resolve shaking together with their lances.

    "Grab him! Ignore the hostage!" The councilman shouted. Ben cursed, it had worked better for the hooded guy.

    The lord's men advanced but carefully still, not wanting their comrade's death. Ben wanted desperately to find Cleo, but facing six spears using only a knife didn't sound good. He grunted in frustration and stepped back in the alley, using the benches to funnel his opponents. He kept his living shield in front of him, dragging the lad as he drew closer to the exit behind. The man was trembling as he stared at pikes inches away from his face. Maybe he was even more scared than Ben. Meanwhile, Chaffaud was enraged, yelling at his servants to charge. The thief had to act soon, the attackers were about to give up on their companion’s safety. Now a few paces away of the exit, Ben pushed his captive forward with all his strength. The man landed in a jumble of benches, lances, and cries of surprise. Ben used the resulting confusion to run away at full speed.

    He needed to find Cleo. He needed help. Ben looked at his knife and sighed, a goddamn weapon would be nice too.
     
  19. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    2.8 Lady beggar.

    Cleo was sitting on a stone pier, staring at her hand and feeling conflicted. She was holding her last coin and trying to fight the hunger, pushing back the time she would spend it. Paying for her sustenance was a new experience for her. She had probably not used her funds at their best capacity. But the Lady could not be expected to shop for food as well as commoners did, could she not?

    Since the chaotic night of her escape, she had walked the streets of Gravelroy in search of shelter. Cleo had put personal quests on hold, judging her basic needs more pressing matters. She had searched frantically through the slums, trying to find Ben's home. But the hundreds of rotten, wooden shacks had all appeared the same to her eyes. The Lady had pitied the people living in them at the time, only now she was not really in a better situation. She had wandered aimlessly in various parts of the city afterward, barefooted and pondering where to spend the night.

    Finally, bleeding feet and exhaustion getting the better of her, she had crashed under a porch. Nightmares had assaulted her during her sleep, twisted visions of brother Gregory in a crimson pool. The waking call had been welcome then, however rough it had proved. A kick to the ribs from an angry tenant and some yelling scared her away. The young woman had later gone to investigate the list, looking for her mysterious visitor. Most of the names were known to her, so she had spent the morning hovering in front of their houses. Cleo had hoped that seeing the man's face would trigger some recollection, it seemed to be the way her memory worked. Her past was like a great hall with many closed doors, each requiring the right key to unravel its secrets. Nothing had come out of those inquiries so far.

    Here she was now, tired, hungry and desperate. Like the day before, the Lady has been waiting for Ben since noon, spending her time trying to decipher Chaffaud's scroll. Its secrets were beginning to give her headaches, so she decided to hide it back under her robe. What was the cursed thief doing, she wondered. Cleo had left him the simplest note she could think of. The scoundrel could not read, so she had carved him a boat next to a sun crossed in the middle. Surely, even him could deduce that she would be waiting on the harbor at midday. Would he think of looking for the message in the right location though, under the lid of her cache? It had almost been two days now, soon would come the time to start hunting for a place to spend the night. She sighed and stood up.

    Cleo went to the docks, her eyes scanning the busy crowd for a quarry. She went through it difficulty, fighting her newfound aversion for human contact. Hoping as she struggled that no one would notice the dried blood on her robe. Trying to scrub it off with her broken knife had only managed to create more holes in her garment. Another worry she had, was her face. Hiding it under her mane had worked so far, but the trick would not stand against closer inspection. Cleo's body began to fail her, growing weak and frightened. She altered her course towards a less populated area, in order to avoid a panic attack. The Lady rested in a side street against a wall, gathering both nerves and wits.

    Cleo perked up and began her chase, she had found what she came for. A man, aiding his walk with a cane and wearing filthy rags. Her former adventure finding a shelter having proved itself a disaster, she had admitted her ignorance on the topic. Now she had decided to rely on professionals, thus the Lady was following a homeless person. She stopped short in a narrow alley when he turned to face her suddenly.

    "Oy! If you're looking to rob mi, you must've hit your head some. Ain't got a copper on miself." The beggar scowled.

    His appearance startled Cleo for a moment. She was not expecting a comely man but still, the view of him made her gasp. He was not old, he was ancient rather. His face was a tanned and leathered hide, sprinkled with pox marks. A few strands of white hair were standing alone and defiant on his scalp, imitated by the last two teeth in his mouth.

    "My apologies for disturbing you. I was only hoping you could indicate me a shelter for the night. I find myself in quite the desperate situation... as you can see, and I..." She blurted, and put out both hands in a show of harmlessness.

    "Oy. Jus' say you wanna sleep. No need to spin mi a tale. Come now, on with it." He cut her short.

    The old beggar went back on his previous path, gesturing for Cleo to trail behind. She hesitated, her idea was only to tail the unknown man, scouting for a refuge. But accepting his invitation could be dangerous, in many different ways.

    "I ain't gonna hurt you, lass. You prob'ly walk faster than I run miself." He said, sensing her hesitation and indicating his lame leg with his stick.

    For a lack of a better option, the ragged woman went on. Their destination had not been far, it took the pair of vagrants only a couple minutes to reach. The lady escapee was now standing before the entrance to a sewer tunnel, staring at an uncanny assembly. Its members were a sorry sight. They wore tattered, worn-out clothes and showed more filth than skin. Their respective ages were indiscernible for they all missed teeth, hair, or even limbs in some cases. Sitting under the stone archway, the mendicants talked with each other, unconcerned of her arrival.

    Cleo steeled herself and entered the tunnel, ignoring both foul smell and dampness. She did not have the strength to find another sanctuary for the night, and having a roof over her head was progress. The young woman considered the drugs in her bag, wondering how long she could last before consuming some. Ben had told her the weeds were valuable, so using them in front of her current company could be a dangerous idea. Instead, she sat away from the beggars in a corner. The elder gave a frown, before signaling her to come close to the rest of the group. Cleo shook her head and lit a candle. The Emperor's scrolls would keep her company.

    Later, having given up on piercing its cipher, the Lady fought the need to sleep. She was scared of her new neighbors of course, but she dreaded the dreams her slumber could bring even more. The air was getting colder now, and Cleo glanced with envy at the entangled mass of sleeping bodies. She grabbed her knees with her arms to rest her chin, watching the darkness thicken and resisting the chill. The young woman could not bring herself to join the others for warmth, feeling repulsed only at the idea. One of the many scars the monster left her, Cleo reflected, would she ever truly heal?

    An eerie chorus of snores and moans rose from the beggars an hour later, like a pauper's lullaby.



    ****



    "Heard some lord's house been burnt." A crackling voice rose her. It was dawn, she observed through sleepy eyes.

    "Folks said 'was Chaffaud's." Another wrinkled tone added.

    "Oy! That'll teach them bastards. Prob'ly the Parkhat got pissed at the cunt for speakin' up." The elder said. Various grunts and snorts agreed.

    It must be some sort of morning congregation, Cleo thought as she woke up, one the elder presided. Her comrades kept talking animatedly while she studied them. After a cold and putrid night, Cleo was beginning to feel a measure of respect towards the beggars. They have been enduring this for years, if not most of their lives, and still they showed more spirit than her after two days. The Lady found in them a strange sort of pride, as if resisting famine and roofless nights were their godly trial. The mendicants were spitting in the face of hardships, and at the one of nobles' too, for they hated her kind. Her poor comrades looked at the underworld king as their hero, fighting the rich in their stead. Cleo wanted to object that he was only another form of tyrant, however romantic and mysterious he sounded.

    "I hear the shiny lad is comin' back to the empire."

    "Who?"

    "The famous guy, you know, the big hero."

    "Right, them sailors say he was on a crusade with them Templars. In Pythis or somethin', I think it was. 'Tis on the other side of the sea." The ancient said. He appeared to be their leader, or at least the rest listened to him with reverence.

    The news stunned Cleo for a moment. Then, unable to restrain herself, she went outside. She flew to the other end of the narrow street and reached the docks, before staring at the bay expectantly. Perhaps Brother would sail these waters soon, she mused hopefully. She reviewed the possible sea routes of such a voyage in her mind. The most traveled ones should take her sibling dozens of miles away from Gravelroy's port, and sadly, away from her gaze. A thought hit her: the communication found in Chaffaud's study. A ciphered message sent by the Emperor, little time before his Majesty's army passed these very coasts. Nothing suspicious, merely boats carrying troops back to their homes. Until a small change of course, only a couple days before, could take the Empire's fleet right into the port. The surprise and destruction would both be immense. Cleo began pacing up and down the alley as she studied her hypothesis.

    Such a plan seemed possible to her, it was simple and relied mostly on surprise. But then, why risk writing about the scheme, if a rapid detour during an inconspicuous voyage was all it took? If taking Gravelroy only required a fleet and an army, there would be no need for plots. Cleo bit her lip as she was racking her brains. There should be something the Emperor had asked from Chaffaud, a deed necessary to the manoeuver's success. A deed such as opening the gates, or securing landing in the bay, she clapped her hands at her conclusion. Cleo would have to study the City's defenses to reach a conclusion. Her stomach growled loudly, snapping the Lady out of her conjectures.

    "Oy. That's the call for work mi just heard." She turned towards the voice. Cleo realized she had been walking from one end of the alley to the other as she was thinking. She had been ignoring her surroundings while frantically talking to herself. The elder had been watching her all the while, seemingly amused by the scene. The Lady coughed to hide her embarrassment.

    "Going to start on the job miself, wouldn't mind some company at mi old age." He beamed a disturbing array of missing teeth at her.

    "I am afraid I must decline your offer, sir. I have other obligations for the day." There were a few names left to cross on the church's list. She could also imagine more appealing proposals.

    "You're not going to obligate much on an empty stomach, lass. You could learn a thing or two about hunger from an old beggar like miself" He winked.

    Cleo grasped her last coin, pondering the offer. Refusing useful knowledge, however distasteful it was, only to protect her pride would be silly. As seemed to be his habit, the homeless man had begun walking ahead without her. The Lady had a few hours in front of her before attempting to see Ben once more, so she decided to follow.

    "Does your trade have to take place in a particular location?" Cleo asked as she caught up.

    "Some streets are better than others, why?" He answered.

    "There are a few addresses I desire to check. I would be obliged, were we to practice my begging near them."



    ****



    Cleo was standing on a pier at noon, staring at a sleeping figure, her emotions conflicted. She should feel relieved, but the sight lying in front of her was infuriating. The morning had only brought her a couple copper coins and names crossed off the list. A few rude observations from the elder as well. The Lady's patience now growing thin, she decided to kick the scoundrel.

    "Hey... What the heck... That hurt..." Ben sat up on the ground, drowsy.

    "I see some people can sleep without a care in the world, while others have to spend their time homeless and starving." She said acidly.

    "Cleo!" His eyes went wide in surprise.

    "How kind of you to present yourself at the meeting, however late you did. I suppose it took your tiny brains two days to figure out my message." She remarked dryly.

    " 'Tis dawn already?" He glanced around in confusion. "Waited fer ya all mornin', then I fell asleep... Hold on, yer drawin', it meant dawn right? Was like the sun when it shows up on the horizon..." He rambled.

    "A sun crossed in the center obviously meant half a day, hence noon... Please do not tell me the reason I waited two days is that you misunderstood it?" She refrained herself from screaming.

    "What? No, got it last night. Lots of folks lookin' fer ya by the way. There were soldiers at the church and I couldn't get in. Wait, them talked 'bout murder, ya a'right?" He stopped in his ramblings, looking concerned.

    "I killed the beast, yes." Cleo said defiantly.

    "Damn, it was dangerous, ya shoud've waited for me." He scolded her. She could not help but agree, she had almost died that night. But she kept her stare hard, trying to hide that fact. "Well, heck. It worked out." He finally said.

    Ben's reaction was not the one she expected. He seemed rather impressed despite his first objection. Cleo felt a little better. The deed had needed to be done, she was convinced, but The Lady had feared the consequences. Being a known murderer was no small thing. Perhaps as a soldier, Ben did not really care of such things.

    "I suppose it explains the city watch asking around at the church." She remarked.

    "Wasn't no damn watchmen. Chaffaud's soldiers, those were."

    "Why would the councilman be interested in my case?" She frowned.

    The young woman was taken aback. She did not see any direct connection between the Lord and her. He had ties with the empire yes, but what could he want to do with her? Was she to be a hostage against the incoming attack or protected from it? Her head felt heavy at the increasing number of mysteries she had to unravel.

    "Dunno. Bastards stayed at the madhouse the whole time. I had to ask Brownie for help to get in and find clues." He paused seeing Cleo raising an eyebrow. "He works for the Parkhat."

    "You asked the underworld king for help?" She almost shouted out loud in surprise. Surprise and a little fear.

    "Had no choice, wasn't gonna fight half a dozen soldiers alone. Dunno how the guy did it, but he got me inside without problem. Probably threw a handful of coin around, I hear the guy is loaded." Ben shrugged.

    Cleo was anxious at the news, the Parkhat was an intelligent man, he could deduce her identity from the situation. The crime king could want to use her for his own ends. Together with Chaffaud and the citywatch, it would mean that a third entity was after her. She felt overwhelmed and powerless. The young woman needed allies, ones powerful enough to help against such mighty forces. The thief in front of her seemed an unreliable choice, he was working for a potential enemy now.

    "Everythin' is a damn mess anyway. Chaffaud is pissin' his pants scared, got dozens of soldiers protectin' him and searchin' the city. Long coat is upset about the battle in the church, sayin' the councilman is goin' to respond recklessly. Mae thinks somethin' big is comin' up, somethin' real bad. Anyway what I'm sayin' is, I need them letters, and fast." Ben held out his hand after his frantic explanation.

    That made Cleo freeze. Her suspicions about the Emperor plotting to take the city were growing worryingly. It made the scrolls tugged in her robe feel heavier. Cleo hesitated to give it to Ben. The city was facing danger, plunder would be sure to follow an invasion. But warning someone about it would mean betraying her country, and her Brother most of all. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

    "I am keeping the scrolls on my person, I would need privacy to..."

    "Jus' pull them out, lost enough time, gotta go back quick, Mae is waitin'." Ben cut her off, impatient.

    From out of her garment, Cleo took the missives out and handed them to him. He frowned when seeing she has kept one.

    "I took it from the church, it is a list of visitors, nothing to do with Chaffaud.” She explained, and Ben frowned. “Were you to count them, you would find one too many." The thief verified her claim.

    "A'right I guess. I have to hurry up now, the damn hood is waitin'." He stood up. " Where you stay at?"

    She considered telling him about the sewers, but decided against it. A lot of people currently searched Gravelroy for her, and Ben could tell her address to its most dangerous resident.

    "Ya can sleep at Mae's if ya want. She's at Brownie's place on the docks for a while. 'Tis good, she's in bed with a doctor caring for her, even if there are thugs watchin' the door. Anyway, there's a bed and roof fer ya in the slums.” He proposed. “Might be a bit windy though, since the door broke when the Parkhat's men attacked us."

    "I thank you for the generous offer, but I will manage on my own." She did not fancy staying at a place known by the crime king.

    "What if I have to see ya? Ya got enough food? Reckon’ I got some left. Here take this, barely got any mold on it." He said, holding out a piece of bread to her.

    "You will find me here, at the same hour, if I am ever in need of your assistance."

    He nodded before leaving in haste, waving his goodbye. Cleo was alone now she thought, watching him leave, and a wanted fugitive. She needed to stay alive, gather more information, and all this without allies. Her hand tightened on the one scroll she was holding. She had to stay strong, soon Brother would arrive.
     
  20. eikichi

    eikichi Member

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    3.1 Loyalties.

    Ben was dreaming. Child Ben loved the woods, nobody bothered him in those. There were no mean kids in the forest, and animals didn't make fun of orphans. The little Boy was going to show them. He would bring a big, fat rabbit and everyone in the village would love him, even the nasty old crone with her stick. But all parents did that to bad children so it was fine, she was only trying to be his mom. Ben nodded to himself, confident in his bounty, meat would make everything alright. He resumed his way towards home, through thick bushes and big trees, smiling at his good fortune. The sound of people screaming in the distance startled him for a moment. Then he began running towards a small rise.

    Tiny Ben was now staring in horror at the view in front of him. Downhill and a hundred paces away, his hamlet was infested with men he had never seen before. Men dressed in metal and carrying ugly weapons, treating the villagers roughly. Thick smokes were rising from homes and the scent reached Ben's nostrils. There was something else in the smell, something scary the boy didn't recognize. A few kids were lying on the ground unmoving, a red liquid covering their bellies. Women had their clothes torn and the intruders made them scream. A few familiar faces were trying to run away frantically, chased by the mean foreigners. Ben didn't like the villagers much, but he felt bad for them all the same. Surely they didn't deserve this.

    It was night now, and the boy still stood in the same place. He has been there for hours, crying and scared, while all the bad things had happened. He had wanted to run to his home and help everyone, but his body had not listened. Little Ben felt terrible about his cowardice, and that didn't help with the tears. The dangerous men were gone now, so were the fire and the screams. Gathering his nerves, he took a few tentative steps towards the horrible scene.

    Through burnt down homes and an ominous silence, the little boy wandered slowly, fighting his fear. He jumped in fright when a loud crashing noise relented in the night. A house’s roof had come down, it was the carpenter's. There should be survivors, Ben told himself, they couldn't possibly be all gone. He wished to see someone, anyone, even the big kid who bullied him so often. There he was, Ben almost shouted in glee, recognizing a face in the rubble. He drew closer to the other boy, what was he doing lying on the ground? It was no time to be resting. He swallowed hard, took the tiny hands in his and pulled. Ben fell on his butt together with his load, before screaming in fear at the sight. Where had the big kid's legs gone to? Ben felt his stomach turn, and he vomited.

    The boy had now grown up a little, and he was angry, so very angry. It had been a couple years since his home was attacked, and rage had been his sole companion. There were a lot of men around him but those didn't count, he had seen what they could do. Ben regretted the mean old woman with her stick, she had never hurt him as much as his new companions did. They beat on him as well, but sometimes they did other things, things Ben didn't understand. He thought those were supposed to be done with a woman. The mercenaries he had joined might even be worse than the ones who came that terrible day. But they fought for the other side, so the boy gritted his teeth and endured the pain stoically. Soon, he would be old enough to hold a spear.

    Ben was a teenager. He was standing in the middle of chaos, mayhem like he would never have imagined before. From all directions, bodies pressed against him, screams of rage assaulted his ears, blood was splashing over his face. He had peed his pants his first time in such melee. The second once had not been much better, for he had stood frozen with fear. But now he knew what to do, if he ever wanted his home back and the pain to stop. It was hard to distinguish friends from foe amidst all the madness, but it didn't matter. He had no friends, not anymore. All the men around him were like the ones who came to his hamlet that horrible day, they were evil. So Ben grabbed his spear and stuck. Red was fogging his vision but he kept going. Again and again, ignoring the screams and the guts, he stuck his lance. It felt right.

    Climbing atop a tree was now an older boy, almost a man. He could see ahead the one thing that had kept him going, the reason he had endured years of abuse and violence. Ben's village stood proud in the middle of the forest. Houses had been rebuilt, and no signs of its dreadful past could be seen anymore. One more battle, just a single more, and he would be back. He wondered how many had survived, would he recognize the other kids? They had probably grown up now. For the first time in years, the angry boy smiled a little with the expectation. Soon his nightmare would end.

    Ben fought better than ever. Maybe his enemies were not the same ones from back then but they stood in his home, they needed to be gone. His spear was flying from one foe to another, Ben didn’t need to think, he just followed the bronze tip. His body was trying to tell him to stop, but he ignored it. Wounds would not matter later, when it would all be over. It was different than other battles, the rage was not a red haze this time, it grew a bright, intense white. It boiled from Ben's gut and spread everywhere. He pierced anything that came into view. His arms gave up after a while, but that didn’t stop the boy. He still had teeth. After a while, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him off a man’s throat.

    Sometime later, Ben was in the middle of his village, surrounded by a dozen corpses. This was when it happened all over again. He stared, wounded and powerless, as the mercenaries did what they always did after a battle. They killed, raped and plundered. For the second time in his life, Ben watched in horror as his home was ripped apart. And once more, the only things he could do were to scream and cry.

    The following year went in a whirlwind of agony and self-hate. How could he have not seen it coming? He had known what kind of men he had been following. He had not done anything to save his home the first time and hated himself for it. This time had been worse, he had even helped with the destruction. He was an aimless, empty shell now. Pointing his spear where he was told during battles, bearing the beatings silently the rest of the time. There was nothing to live for, only pain.

    But one day, the pain stopped. Ben didn't really pay it mind then, it didn't mean much, just a small respite. No abuse came on the morrow either, surprisingly. But after a third evening without suffering, Ben began to wonder why. Using his voice for the first time in a year, he asked questions around. There was a new camp follower they said, a whore. Women were scarce in the Wilds, the ones Ben usually saw were either dead or running away from soldiers. Curious, he started following her. She seemed annoyed by it, so he kept his distance. The mercenaries preferred to abuse her instead of boys, he realized. Ben felt grateful towards the whore, but it was her behavior that astonished him the most. She smiled, laughed and joked with the men. She cursed even worse than them. The woman did all that despite the bruises, cuts and broken teeth she received. She was his savior, an angel who came down to save him. Her name was Mae.



    ****



    Ben woke up from his dreams on the floor of a small, dusty room. A tiny window shone some morning light on the stone walls. He was in the criminal's hideout, the one brown coat used near the docks. The young man turned his eyes to the bed and found the whore there, scowling at him.

    "What? Ya still pissed?" He asked drowsily. Mae kept glaring. "Who cares about yer Parkhat anyway? We'll find him when yer not sick anymore." He yawned.

    "Don't you tell me what I care about! You cunt spawned little shit! Tree humper, bird-sucker..." Ben watched the show for a while, smiling like a child. "Ah! You must be happy now, to have imprisoned me here with a friggin’ doctor."

    "Don't like the bastard. Smells funny." Ben observed as he sat up on the floor.

    "That's how proper doctors smell, idiot bumpkin. Well, I like him at least, he has good drugs. So don't you go and friggin' stab him." Mae warned him.

    "Now Mae, why woud I do such thing?" He frowned.

    "Oh i don't know, why? Maybe one day you decide you can't stand him and he disappears. Like back in the Wilds, with some of my clients." She pointed.

    His younger-self had understood some time after they had met, that she was not as strong as she seemed. Ben had seen the look in her eyes sometimes, when she thought no one was looking. Evil men had been hurting his angel, she had needed help.

    "Folks die durin' the war, happens all the time." Ben shrugged.

    "Strange that, after I get a nasty bruise, they'd find the culprit lying in the forest. With friggin' bits chopped off." She raised an eyebrow at him.

    "Plenty of mean beasts in them woods. Do right nasty things to corpses, those sure do. " He nodded to himself as he said so.

    "It happened every friggin' time Ben. Don't play dumb with me." He gave her an innocent look, and she rolled her eyes.

    He had been surprised back then. Once finding his resolve, facing his former tormentors had not proved so difficult. Younger Ben saw them as terrifying giants, and the abuse as something inescapable. In the end, they reacted the same as everyone else when you stuck them.

    "I heard the hood and his thugs talking, they seem worried about Chaffaud. Something big is happening, it ain't good I can tell."

    "Aye, aye. Ya told me already." Ben shrugged.

    He couldn't see how the two of them could do anything about it. He had realized since a long time, that a lone man could not protect a whole village. A single woman was enough damn work. Cleo had apparently decided she didn't need his help and it was a load off his shoulders, he tried to convince himself. But how would the Lady provide for herself? Couldn't she at least tell him where she lived? Ben worried about the girl, she attracted problems like Gravelroy did with filth. Damn trouble, you found some at every corner these days. Ben wanted to go back to the Wilds, trouble was simpler to deal with over there.

    "Maybe the Lord wants to overthrow the Parkhat. I fear for Gravelroy if he does, he's a friggin' cunt, I tell you. I have to protect the city from him, Ben." Mae seemed really anxious about it.

    "What you have to do, is listen to the damn doctor and sleep! Damn stubborn woman! What is..."

    The door opened suddenly, interrupting them and revealing Brownie. A couple thugs followed behind, looking ready for a fight. Their boss was not wearing the hood inside, Ben noted, his face was as boring as tailing him had been. He was closely shaved, with dark eyes and chestnut hair. He also seemed furious.

    "You should knock, before entering a woman's room." Mae protested

    "Where are they?" He cut her off angrily. Ben was surprised, Brownie had seemed so calm before, even in a situation involving lots of knives.

    "Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout." He frowned.

    "I believe I have been more than generous with the two of you, so you should understand my displeasure. My employer had been through the scrolls you procured and he believes some are missing." Long coat said in a hard voice.

    "Gave ya all I got. I counted them, as many as I took from Chaffaud's." Ben shrugged.

    “Do not lie to me.” Brownie interrupted. “There is nothing in them which explains…”

    "That little cunt!" Mae exclaimed. Both men turned to her in surprise.

    "Ya mean she..."

    "Shut up Ben, you've messed up my plans enough as it is." She interrupted him, before composing herself and turning to Brownie. "It seems our associate has kept something from us, the most important letter, I assume. If your boss is willing to show himself then..."

    "Don't you try to negotiate again, whore! You will find the letters, right now. I don't have to describe the consequences if you fail." The coat shouted and the henchmen growled from his side.

    "Dunno where to find her, but we have a meetin'. I'll go and get the damn scrolls." Ben answered. "I need a sword. If more of Chaffaud's bastards show up, I don't wanna fight them with a knife."

    "Don't give him a weapon. He'll make an even bigger mess of things if you do." Mae objected.

    Ben ignored the rest of the conversation and left in a hurry. Cleo had betrayed him, but that was far beside the point. She had put Mae’s life in danger. The woman thanks to who he had stopped fighting like a rabid dog, the one who had taught him to care for his own life. He began running, anger boiling inside him.