When she went to meditate after her prayers, Vero sat on her knees in the center of the magic circle. If she was right that the arcane geometry around the dark side of the room reflected the mural, then she should be able to find the same gods in it.
She had been working to trace the outlines of the emanations drawn forth through the wyrd orientation of space during her afternoon studies. She felt Luna’s light first, and used it as her anchor. With that, everything else could be held in place, and she could explore the hidden angles from a point of stability.
It was a welcome thought that, even in this distant and desolate place, Mother Luna still shined over her.
There was wisdom there, beyond the space which she could see. As Vero pondered the occluded dimensions, she found that by shifting her perception of Luna’s light through her mind’s eye, she was able to ‘revolve’ the fourth dimensional figure through the three dimensions which she could perceive visually. In that way she started forming a more complete notion of the whole.
She still could not yet fully understand that which she beheld. Though the implications of what she had already come to know left her disturbed.
Vero believed that tremendous dark magical power was moving all around the fortress. Perhaps this was normal for a mountain with such a powerful daemon – she did not believe it was genuinely the Fiend – beneath it.
She planned to stay alert regardless.
Vero eventually stood up and left the chapel. She had much to consider as she levered open the hatch onto the top of the wall. The wind was blowing fiercely, and she kept a tight hold on her lifeline when she returned to her room.
Despite the dreadful chill, she paused just a moment to look at the night outside the fortress. The clouds were thick and dropping flurries of fat snowflakes. Luna was hidden from view, and the darkness moved in strange ways, hidden behind the falling snow.
She went inside. It felt claustrophobic without any natural light, but also rather cozy. The room was warm and the bed was soft, so it was much nicer than she had the right to expect, given where she was. She stoked up the hearth before undressing.
There was a knock at the door.
She had only taken off her cloak, gloves, and boots, so Vero supposed she was decent enough. It was just a matter of letting them inside quickly enough to keep the cold out. She expected Pentarch, or maybe Diana, but it was Richard.
Before she could say a word, he had a massive hand around her neck. In the other hand he held a knife. He forced them back into the room and closed the door behind him with a kick.
“If you resist, I’ll kill you.”
Vero did not have the breath to respond.
Instinctively she tried to pry his fingers loose, but froze when he placed the blade of his knife just under her chin. She tried to kick him between the legs, but – evidently expecting such an attack – he kept his body horizontal to her. He held her like a doll and forced her into the corner.
Trapped there, Richard bore down on her with his greater weight and left no room to move. He let go of her neck at last, allowing her to gasp for air. With his crotch pressed right up against her she could feel what his intentions were, if she had any doubt.
Try as she might, she could not squeeze free. At the same time, Richard could not undress her without risking her escaping his grasp. After several minutes of grappling, he tossed her onto the bed and feverishly worked to remove his trousers while she was still stunned.
Stolen story; please report.
Vero took the pouch of glass dust she had prepared from her belt, and waited for him to approach. He did so with legs and phallus exposed, too intent on removing her own pants to notice the bag of crushed glass- until she forced it into his eyes.
Screaming, he blindly backed away and fumbled for the door.
Vero was not prepared to let him escape and retrieved the knife from the ground. She took a swipe at the offending organ, but Richard opened the door and stumbled out just in time. She only cut him along the back of his leg.
He ran forward, still shouting and unseeing, until he collided with a soldier on guard duty. Vero could see more men being drawn by the commotion, so she grabbed her cloak and other things.
When she came back out, a crowd had already gathered. Several figures eyed her with suspicion, Isolde was among them.
Only Conner broke away from the others to approach her directly. “Are you hurt, my Lady?”
“No.”
Pentarch also came near, and Vero showed him the knife she had taken from Richard. He looked at it and motioned for her to put it away without comment.
More and more people continued to arrive, and it seemed the entire fortress was coming out in the middle of the night. Diana and Lothair assisted Pentarch in keeping order.
Some of the slayers evidently knew something of the healing arts, and they took Richard aside to examine his eyes. The patient wailed, and the healers eventually led him away.
After a few seconds of shock, he began to resist and rant. “She blinded me! That bitch tried to murder me!”
Conner left their side and followed Richard, shouting back at him. “You tried to rape her, you bastard!”
Richard, who had been turning in a directionless circle, oriented to the sound of Conner’s voice. “She tried to kill me!”
“With your own knife, which you allowed an unarmed woman to take from you.” Pentarch was speaking softly, but when he spoke, everyone else was so silent that he could be heard more clearly than the shouting. “You’re relieved of garrison duties immediately, with further disciplinary action to follow. When you’ve recovered, we’ll find you a role on the serving staff appropriate to your… handicap.”
The healers regained a hold on their charge and took him away. With the excitement over, the freezing night cold quickly dispersed the crowd.
Pentarch took Vero back inside her room. She sat on the edge of the bed, but he remained standing.
“It seems you were right not to trust your own men,” she said. “I want my sword back.”
“You know I am not the one who will make that decision. I’m sorry this happened, but I did warn you.”
“I didn’t expect to be assaulted in my own room. So much for the Curia not moving against me brazenly.”
“There’s no evidence he was ordered to assassinate you. Everything appears as though a man had too much drink, then tried to force himself on a woman who has no legal recourse against him. It’s laws that force us to be civilized, and without that force everyone just does as he pleases; gods be damned. Integrity exists only at the end of a master’s switch. I’m sure no one told him to kill you, they merely provoked a situation and hoped for the desired outcome to occur. No matter the result, they could then wash their hands of it.”
“Why such lax discipline then. Surely a guest is protected by the Laws of Hospitality, if naught else.”
“Rumor- damned rumor. Word has spread that no one will be punished for taking advantage of you, no matter how they choose to go about it. I’ve done what I can to dispel them, but the fact that immediate disciplinary action against Richard is going to be stymied by the Curia will only seem to confirm it. Fortunately, you managed to administer some of your own punishment, but they may respond with greater force.”
“So, I should expect a whole gang of his mates to come after me together next time? Who’s spreading these rumors?”
“The Toad, I’m sure. I don’t even know the names of most of the Curia, let alone which camp each individual falls into. They've been locked up in the tower and treating all the rest of us like children for as long as I've served the Order, they never communicate with any of us except as a group. But I’m certain the Toad is a servant of the enemy.”
Which enemy is that then? Vero did not say that aloud, only nodded. The only person she trusted at the moment was herself. And – gods help her – that drunkard she met on road, Ramiro. But only because she had no other choice left except to trust him.
Pentarch opened the door to leave. Conner was still standing on the other side.
“Report, apprentice!” Pentarch barked.
The lad was flustered and tripped over his words. “I was- someone should keep watch on the Lady Veronique. I was guarding the door, Ser.”
Vero could not help but laugh. “You’ll have frostbite in less than an hour standing in one place. Go to sleep Conner. I can defend myself; I promise you.”
“My Lady, I-”
“Go!” Pentarch repeated the order, and the boy obeyed at once. When the lad was gone, he turned back to her. “Keep the door locked at night. If it’s me, or someone I’ve sent, we’ll knock twice fast, twice slow, and then twice fast again. Understood?”
Vero nodded.
“Pleasant dreams.”