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.

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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.