“They just picked ‘im up an’ dropped ‘im! And they was feastin’ on ‘is innards by the time the Hunter arrived!”
Niklas shuddered slightly as he recalled the words and gut-wrenching sobs let out by a mourning mother as she was helped back to her village. It was a rare public outburst of emotion, unlike anything Niklas had witnessed in his short time in Petrice, but he supposed the loss of a young babe would cause any loving mother to fall into such a state.
To sate Niklas’ curiosity, Thomas had approached the locals and shared some words with them in his stead, since the Petricians still eyed their small Count warily and viewed him as an outsider. Upon his return, Thomas reported to him that winged Monsters such as these in particular slipped past the Hunters at the Old Fort, or those who patrolled the wastelands, all too often. The ever-present, low-hanging clouds of Petrice could mask their infiltration from even the keenest of marksman’s eye until they were deeper in and could descend upon prey. Most often they’d carry off cattle, pigs or other drought animals, which was bad enough for those people who depended on them for food in the winter. Worse still, to hungry beasts such as these a small boy playing alone out in the fields might look just as tempting a prey as some old cow.
After hearing their tale, Niklas and Thomas quickly took their leave from those grieving folk. Even the few small inquiries they had already made were well past their welcome. However, as these two continued along their journey, this time it was Niklas who was hushed and troubled. The image of that horrible, man-like beast remained freshly burned into his mind’s eye. Besides that, the thought that such a tragedy as this was not an uncommon occurrence filled him with a sickly regret that he could neither do more to immediately help alleviate the burden borne by these already dour and downtrodden people, nor easily hasten his plans to do so in the future.
“How many Hunters dwell at the Old Fort?” Niklas inquired, at last breaking the silence that had hung over their long walk.
Thomas looked up at the distant clouds in contemplation. “I… You know, I can’t rightly name a figure, milord. I don’t know that anyone’s ever counted them.”
Niklas sighed deeply and clapped one hand upon his forehead. “Surely there is someone in charge of such a force–some officer who the Hunters report to for orders?”
Thomas smiled again, but this one was small and apologetic. “Truthfully sir, I believe the Countess holds the title of the Grand-Hunter, but it's more of an honorary position since she never actually visits the Old Fort.”
Hearing this, an annoyed furrow appeared on the small man’s forehead. Does that woman oversee anything in her County..?
“I suppose,” Thomas continued, oblivious of Niklas’ growing frustration. “The last time I was there, I witnessed an older Hunter dealing out orders to the younger and fresher men. Without an official hierarchy, I’d wager age and experience would naturally create one instead.”
Every new revelation only makes the matter more tedious… Niklas bemoaned internally.
Despite his misgivings, Niklas did his best to gather his resolve and increase his pace. “Let us make for the Castle posthaste, then. There is much to be done!”
Yet as they trudged onward, he groaned and rubbed at his throbbing temple, entirely absorbed in his mental review of the ever-growing list of tasks he would need to see to upon his return.
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As he crested the steep hill and stood at its peak, the weaselly-looking man named Hemsley turned back with an excited look while pointing his finger straight ahead.
“There it is, your royalness! I sees it!”
Uldred trudged along behind him, still making her way up the side of the grassy incline. The moment the man had seen the spire of the tower peeking up past the top of the hill he had practically sprinted in his eagerness as he scrambled up to the top. She did not understand his excitement at the sight of her gloomy and dusty abode, but she also had not lived a life on the streets, ever exposed to the cold and the damp, as he had.
As she joined the man in standing at the top, she looked with surprise out upon a quite rare sight. This tall hill descended into a sheer and rocky crevice for a long ways, giving it something of the appearance of a valley, as the Castle and the low countryside surrounding it could be made out for miles in every direction. The cover of the fog had also broken, briefly, as had the clouds beyond, which allowed the low, red light of the setting sun to shine in blinding brilliance upon the Castle.
“What a beautiful sight! Eh, milady?” Hemsley called up to her in excitement and awe.
Uldred did not reply, but stared in wide-eyed silence at that picturesque scenery for a good long time. At her sides, she gripped her hands into fists tight enough that the leather of her gloves began to squeak under the pressure, causing Hemsley to eye her her nervously. However, it was not to last, and just as quickly as it had appeared, the sun was banished back behind the gray wall of Petrician clouds, and the fog of the day settled over their surroundings once again. Uldred audibly exhaled, as if she had been holding her breath, and her posture relaxed.
“Sh-shall we continue..?” The weaselly man asked with some apprehension.
Uldred simply grunted at him in reply. Then as they were about to continue their trek, something caught her eye. She peered down the rocky wall-face some fifty or so, her eyes trained on the area just beneath their hill where the dirt road veered off from the main highway and towards the Castle. A small group of silhouetted figures were steadily making their way towards her home along that path. She could just make out the shapes of two men and some kind of beast of burden, perhaps a donkey or a mule…
“Well, will you look at that? Travelers, your grace! Just there!” Hemsley exclaimed, catching sight of that distant group himself. He was distracted enough, then, that he did not see the large, leather-gloved hand reaching out towards him!
Without warning, Uldred scooped the small man up and tucked him under the crook of her arm, where he flailed his limbs in his sudden panic at such treatment.
“M-my Lady!? What are you doing? Put me down! My Lady?” He cried out, his voice increasing in pitch as she, ignoring him entirely, leaned over the side of the steep, craggy cliff, almost as if she meant to toss the man right off!
“--D-don’t do it, my Lady! P-please!” He wailed now, tears now dripping down from his eyes to disappear into the fog far below them.
But she neither replied to him nor even gave any sign that she had heard his desperate pleas. And though she did not drop him, what she did next was just as shocking, as she promptly stepped right off the side of the drop!
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After a long, dreary trek down the main highway, the trio of travelers finally came upon a familiar bend in the dirt road, one which led to the left around a small mountain and eventually ended down at the Castle. At first, Niklas hated the thought of entering that dark, musty Castle again just as much as the thought of having to continue down that dusty and foggy road, but the promise of a hot, steaming bath being drawn for him caused a small jolt of excitement in his chest, and he felt much more ready to end his tiresome journey.
He placed a hand upon the haunch of Missy the mule, who did not pay him any mind beyond sending a quick and lazy glance in his direction. Truly, the only time she seemed to show any sort of emotion was, whenever they camped each night, Thomas would strap a back of feed over her snout for her to enjoy at her leisure. Picturing his own meal of tasteless, gray porridge and watery tea, Niklas had the most alarming intrusive thought that Missy’s feed seemed, in comparison, most delectable. He shook his head fervently, attempting to rid himself of such a sinful and ridiculous thought.
Thomas looked over enthusiastically, providing a very welcome distraction. “We’re almost home, milord! It’s just a bit of a ways ahead, now!”
“Aye, I remember this path from my initial journey to the County.” Niklas replied. “Though I rode in a carriage at the time…”
Thomas chuckled. “Anything you’re looking forward to right away, upon your return?”
“I think a hot bath will do my aching body a world of good, for I’m afraid the cold has seeped into my very bones!”
At that Thomas wore a rare look of longing. “Ahh, a hot bath! I haven’t had the pleasure of one in many seasons!”
“I could have Belfort draw one up for you upon our return.” Niklas offered towards his companion with a teasing lilt in his voice.
Thomas pleadingly put up his two hands before him. “Oh no, I couldn’t dream of–”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
–BOOM!
Before he could finish speaking a great thundering sound and an eruption of dust from the road was cast up around them all at once! Missy reared back on her hind legs and cried out in a honking, panicked cry, and the two men beside her coughed harshly and peered urgently around through watering eyes.
“What in the Blue Hells-” Niklas called through the hanging cloud of dust. “T-Thomas? Are you alright?”
Suddenly a strong hand clasped upon his shoulder. Niklas attempted to make out his companion through his stinging tears, his face contorted in a grimace from the strain. He put out one hand out before him, and with what appeared to be a great effort, he then cast his hand away in a wide arc. As if following after his movement came a great gust of wind, as harsh enough to whistle some as it passed, and the lingering dusk was carried away in a moment!
Now the cause of the commotion was visible: a large, black-robed figure who now knelt in a small, shallow crater caused by their heavy impact with the ground. As they rose to their full height they towered over the two men, and also revealed a dull–and very familiar–mask of a silver face!
Immediately the serious, alert look fell from Thomas’ face, which again lit up in his usual sunny grin.
“Eully!” He called out jovially, waving his hand in greeting like an excited child.
Missy still looked on-edge and honked in fear and confusion. Hearing this, Thomas turned and wrapped his arm affectionately around her neck, and with the other he stroked the stripe of a mane that adorned her head. “Shush, Missy, hush now. Everything is alright!” He cooed, and at his comforting touch and relaxed tone she quickly calmed and settled once more.
Niklas did not recover quite as easily as either Thomas or Missy had. He still trembled from the force of his shock, and he was still hacking and coughing from the dust that had flown into his throat. As Niklas was struggling to recover, Uldred let another small man–one who she had apparently been carrying about like a sack of potatoes–fall to his knees upon the dirt, where he also began to retch awfully due to his terrifying fall.
“W-what in God’s name are you doing?!” Niklas shouted furiously towards Uldred.
She did not reply, but only cast her violet gaze down upon where he stood in a silence which felt more awkward than intimidating, and which was only punctuated by the sound of Helmsley retching up the remains of his mid-day meal.
Niklas then looked up towards the peak she must have fallen from, awed at the great height of it as well as at her own composure. “Did you- did you jump from up there?” He asked incredulously.
“It was fine.” She replied evenly, though beneath her cloak her legs quaked slightly and a sharp, throbbing ache ran through her joints. That hurt worse than I thought it would... She thought to herself, though she refused to outwardly show any evidence of her carelessness.
“Also, who is that?” Niklas gestured in bewilderment at her side towards the man who had collapsed upon the ground there and had only just finished being violently sick upon the grass.
“Eh?” Came a confused response, but from Hemsley rather than from Uldred. He staggered hurriedly to his feet then, wobbling like a newborn deer, saliva still streaked about the corner of his mouth. Once he had a good view of Niklas, his own gaze sharpened in suspicion. “Who am I? Who are you?” Hemsley demanded in a threatening tone. He marched over to Niklas then and looked at him eye-to-eye–a rare feat for both men, considering their similarly diminutive statures.
“That is the Count of Petrice.” Thomas called over his shoulder in answer, and immediately the ex-convict’s attempted mean-mugging transformed into a nervous admiration. “My Lord!” He exclaimed exaggeratedly, rubbing his hands together in a gesture that indicated either supplication or greed. While he did so, Uldred deigned to offer an explanation.
“He followed me, though I said not to. I don’t know what for–”
“--What she means to say,” Hemsley interrupted hurriedly, standing in front of her and putting his arms out as if to catch the very words she had spoken out of the air before they could reach the others. “Is that this oh-so-very-Noble Woman gallantly rescued me from the clutches of some violent brigands, and from the hangman’s noose to boot! And so, naturally I have sworn to serve her henceforth!”
For a long moment the three others could only stare incredulously at this audacious little man, and then up at Uldred, who remained inscrutable as ever under her coverings and mask. “...Sure.” She reluctantly huffed, turning her head away slightly to avoid all of the eyes that were currently trained upon her. At this, Hemsley beamed smugly in triumph before turning to Niklas and dropping into a clumsy, dramatic mockery of a bow.
“And there you have it, milord!”
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Together their motley group continued down the slightly winding road towards the Castle, which was once again partially obscured by heavy fog. Seeming completely oblivious to the dreary and chilly atmosphere, Hemsley spent the walk regaling his companions with the tale of the Countess’ battle against the mighty bandit Abor upon the Road of Benedict.
His account deviated wildly from the original event, and his exaggerations included tripling the number of thugs she had been forced to battle alone, a dramatic rescue of his damsel-like self from their clutches, and how all the other residents of the camp had been brutally butchered and cannibalized by their foes. The most obvious untruths he spun were his descriptions of the Countess’ heroic (and slightly long-winded) speeches in which she denounced Abor– along with, for some reason, the poor state of the economy in the surrounding local regions. Still, true or not, his storytelling made for good entertainment during the remainder of their journey, so he was allowed to speak his fill.
“...Then she ran him though with her mighty blade, and with one hand, held him aloft! And as his life-blood drenched her she declared: ‘This is the fate of evil before me!’ Just before a bolt of lightning struck the tip of her sword, and Abor’s body exploded in a fountain of gore!”
Thomas and Niklas eyed Uldred, who appeared quite clean besides the usual layer of dust and grime from the road. The two shared a short, skeptical glance, but did not move to question or correct Hemsley’s account.
Hemsley looked all-too ready to carry on with his bombastic tale, but with a quick glance about he realized they now stood only a few short paces away from the castle gates. “Oh!” He called out excitedly. “We’re here your grace--er, your graces!”
Making their ways through the gatehouse door and into the courtyard, Thomas led Missy off towards the empty stables to unload her packs, and Hemsley ran excitedly to the great wooden doors to knock upon them. After a short wait one of them creaked slowly open to reveal the old butler, Belfort.
“My Lords you’ve returned I-” He stopped in the middle of his welcome when he noticed the unfamiliar, scruffy little fellow standing before him. He blinked once in confusion, before asking “Who’re you?”
But Niklas called over before the newcomer had a chance to introduce himself. “Belfort, my good man! You are a sight for sore eyes. This is…” He startled, realizing he did not actually know the man’s name. “...well, this is a new servant, I suppose He will be in your employ from now on.”
Hearing this, the old man’s shoulders slouched and his arms fell to his sides, his mouth agape and his eyes as wide as saucers. “A n-n-new…” He stammered out. Suddenly, he reached out and took up both of the weaselly little man’s rough hands in his own, shaking them vigorously! “Oh this is most welcome indeed! There has not been a new servant in this place since the Countess was a babe!”
Hemsley recoiled as much as he could while caught in the old man’s oddly strong grasp. “Y-yes..?” Was all he could say in reply, so startled was he. But it hardly seemed to matter to the butler as he carried on excitedly.
“We must start your training right away! I--oh gosh, and we must get you fitted for your uniform… There isn’t a moment to spare! Right this way.” He said before turning at an alarming speed and bodily pulling Hemsley deep into the Castle along with him. Hemsley could do nothing but let out a short, alarmed yelp before the two had disappeared out of sight.
The remaining two members of their already small party were left alone in the courtyard. The Countess and Count of Petrice, wife and husband, stood side by side. The quiet that fell over this reunited couple was an awkward one, as per usual. Niklas peeked sheepishly up at Uldred, and she returned his short glances with her own piercing violet gaze. After a long, strained beat of silence, Uldred shrugged her broad shoulders, huffed quietly, and began to make her way up the short stone steps which led into the now-open doorway leading into the Castle.
But as she made to leave, she suddenly felt a grip upon her hand! It was not the strength of the hand that clasped hers that made her pause, for she could have broken it with but a thought if she had a mind to. It was the action itself, of another human being reaching out to grasp her hand in theirs, which had brought her to an abrupt halt. She slowly turned back to glance over her shoulder at the person who had taken such an unprecedented action– who of course, could be none other than Niklas.
The shorter man looked up at her then with a slightly surprised expression, as if his own spontaneous action had startled him just as much as it had her. Quickly he drew his hand away, freeing her from his grasp, and took a small step backwards, looking away and nervously scratching the back of his head. He was well aware that the two of them had not yet shared an interaction which had ended pleasantly, which did nothing to reduce his nerves or his sheepishness around her.
“S-so…” He started, drawing out the word in an attempt to buy himself more time to figure out what to say..
Uldred stood so still she seemed carved from stone, simply looking down upon him without showing any sign of reaction.
He took a deep breath, then, and did his best to paste a bright smile upon his face. He was so nervous that it was a weak and obviously forced thing, but Uldred was quite used to others wearing such expressions around her, and paid that little mind.
“...W-welcome home!” Niklas then stuttered out, with the most welcoming and pleasant smile that he could manage. He could feel the back of his neck heat up as he realized how awkward and stilted his attempted greeting must seem.
Another hushed pause stretched between the two of them. He remained where he was, resolutely smiling at her despite his nerves, though he lifted his eyebrow quizzically at her as the minutes stretched on and she failed to respond.
Finally she reached out, and gave Niklas a light shove. For her such an action was the gentlest tap she could exert, but for his smaller, lighter frame it was enough force to send him back reeling a few steps. “Hey!” He cried out, more in affronted surprise than anything else.
By the time he had recovered himself and looked back towards where she had stood looming over him, she was already gone, having speedily crested the steps and disappeared into the dark halls beyond the doors.
“What was that all about..?” He wondered aloud, once again rubbing at the back of his head. Because of her hood and mask which covered the whole of her head, there was no way for him to have noticed the beet-red flush that now entirely engulfed Uldred’s hidden face.