The east gate was already shut for the night before Lucas got there, so he decided to try the Red Gate instead. If they’d closed that one, he’d have to try the main gate next. It was usually open all day and night, but it would have been even more out of the way. As it was, this was more northeast than east, which made it more than a little out of the way, but it was the next closest choice.
The Red Gate was named for the ubiquitous tile roofs that all of the large villas had in this part of town. It was a smaller entrance that wasn’t really meant for merchant traffic, but thanks to some of his trips out of town to gather materials in recent months, he happened to know that they often kept it open for nobles who were on their way to or from their nightly indiscretions.
Just like now, most of the times Lucas had gone through this neighborhood, it was too dark to appreciate its beauty, but he had been here at sunrise more than once, and he knew that behind the vine-veiled walls and wrought iron gates, there were some really gorgeous estates. It was pretty much the opposite of Greybottom, which was the part of Lordanin just downwind from the metalworks and the foundries that he called home right now.
The guards at the gate tried to stop the two of them, of course. “Halt in the name of the king and identify—” the one that looked to be in charge yelled, but Lucas ignored him and spurred his borrowed mount to go that much faster as they approached the threshold.
Lucas wasn’t exactly traveling in a gilded carriage, but these men were lazy and more used to accepting a few silvers to look the other way, especially this time of night. They ran toward Lucas, but they didn’t get their spears up in time, and his horse charged right past all three of the assembled men while he held on for dear life.
That was hardly the end of his struggle, though. He was free of the city, but he had no idea where he was going. So, after a time, he let his horse slow to a trot while he tried to wake up his passenger.
“Come on, asshole,” Lucas said, slapping the guy without much success. “I can’t save your life if I don't know where I’m taking you!”
It was no good, though. Though Lord Parin still had a weak pulse, he was out like a light.
Lucas knew his way around a first aid kit, and in a pinch, he could probably deliver CPR with some effectiveness. Beyond that, the only medical procedure he really knew was how to dial 911, and that wasn’t really an option these days. Once upon a time, he’d been pretty good with needles, of course, but that wasn’t really a thing either, though he had wondered if maybe it could be.
After all, needles were just sharp metal. Surely, that was something that could be invented in a fantasy world with the right dwarf, right? With all the time he’d spent making various potions, Lucas had often wondered if it would make them act faster or stronger if he just mainlined one. Sadly, he’d never had the chance to try it out, which was too bad because the nobleman bleeding out on his horse really could have used 50ccs of high-quality healing elixir right about now.
In the end, Lucas couldn’t get any answers out of the Viscount, so he did the next best thing and stole the man’s ring. For once, he wasn’t just rolling him, though. He was getting a good look at the house crest on the chunky gold ring since it was the best clue he was likely to have.
Every one of these rich bastards out this way had their house seal mounted on a plaque on the wall or just above their gate, so if he got to the east road and then checked every manor in his path, he should find what he was looking for, right? Even he was skeptical of his half-assed plan, for lack of better options, he still rode forward.
The Parin household was apparently represented by two goats dancing or charging or whatever it was they were doing against the background of a checked shield. It wasn’t exactly the most regal sort of pose, but at least it was distinctive. He had to give them that.
Lucas scrutinized 6 manor gates and the largest houses in two villages over the next half hour before he finally found what he was looking for. The building was a sprawling brick affair almost two miles due east of the city, just past the outlying village of Thornberry. The main building was three stories tall, and the outbuildings were in decent repair, even if the fence wasn’t as fancy as some of the noble houses he’d passed earlier in the evening.
He wasn’t sure that this was the place, but at the same time, he wasn’t exactly going to circle around and check to see if there were any better candidates. He doubted that Lord Parin had another hour of life left in him, and there were two goats on the gates, so he wasn’t going to leave until he got the man a potion or a healer.
Lucas disentangled himself from the body of his unwilling partner in crime and managed to dismount from the horse without dropping the other man on the floor. Then he looped the reigns over the porch’s handrail. Then, taking the steps two at a time, he pounded on the front door.
He did so more than once, actually, before a sleepy old man finally opened it a crack. He was just about to slam it in Lucas’s face, but he shoved his boot in the gap to prevent that. “Hey, before you tell me to fuck off, is this the Parin residence?”
“It is,” the man said cagily, “but unless you have urgent business, I’m going to have to ask you to come back after breakfast. We don’t accept—”
“I need to speak to the lady of the house,” Lucas blurted out. “Lord Parin’s sister. I don’t know her name.”
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“Do you have any idea what time it is?” the old man hissed. Lucas was quite sure that only his need for decorum kept his volume so low, and that made him smile grimly despite the dire circumstances.
“Yeah, and I assure you, I’ve had a much shittier night than you,” Lucas complained, pressing something into the manservant’s hand. “But that doesn’t change anything, does it. She’s going to want to see me.”
The man looked down at the gleaming object, but in the dim light, it took a few seconds for him to identify what it was: Lord Parin’s bloody signet ring.
“Is that—” he asked.
“It is,” Lucas agreed impatiently. “And my ummm… my charge doesn’t have a lot of time, so if you could let me see her immediately, that would be great.”
“But my lady will need time to change and prepare herself…” the old man stammered. “There are things… forms that must be followed…”
“Listen, if you got a healing potion you can give me, she can sleep until noon for all I care, but otherwise, I’m going to need her to hook me up, like now,” Lucas insisted, pushing past the man.
“I-I… can’t give out such things without my mistress's approval,” the doorman protested.
“Not even for your master?” Lucas asked, gesturing to the body slumped over the horse.
“I mean…” the manservant said, waffling as if he was trying to justify something. “Even if he is the Viscount, he’s an escaped prisoner. I could be arrested just for—”
“I didn’t think so,” Lucas agreed, starting up the stairs. “So, let's go get one before he bleeds out on us.”
Adventurers might toss them around like candy, but at five or ten silver a pop, they were locked up tighter than good brandy in most households, even rich ones. Good health in a bottle had a way of disappearing if it wasn’t watched. That was why Lucas watered his shit down so much.
The manservant tried to stop Lucas, but he continued up the stairs and left the doorman sputtering in his wake as he pushed past him. It was rude, but Lucas made sure not to hurt the old guy. He was just doing what he thought was best, and right now, he happened to be completely wrong.
Even though he wasn’t quite sure where he was going, he was pretty sure he’d know it when he found it. Nice houses practically put it up in lights as far as he was concerned. After all, servants' quarters didn’t need gilded banisters or a string of portraits that were almost certainly their illustrious forebearers.
Hell, it was harder to see the servants' quarters than the various doors that belonged to the important people of the house because of just how well those entrances blended in with the wood-paneled walls, but there was no missing the door that belonged to the mistress. It didn’t quite have her name on it, but the rose pattern that was delicately carved into the lacquered door screamed spoiled rich girl more than anything else he’d seen in his time in this world.
The manservant tried to bar his way, but he just walked in and said, “Excuse me, miss - I… no, your brother needs your help?”
“My broth… huh? Who are you?” her sleepy voice came from the dark bed, but Lucas could barely see her outline as she slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing in my chambers?”
“I—” Lucas started to answer her question, but the butler talked right over him.
“Forgive me, mistress. I tried to keep him out, but I was overpowered. Would you have me send for the guards to deal with this ruffian?”
“No, wait, I want to hear him out,” she said softly. “Whats this about my brother? What happened? Was there a stay in his execution?”
This time, Lucas looked at the old man, and when he was satisfied that the man was actually going to let him speak, he finally continued. “Let’s just say this is a good news, bad news sort of situation. Your brother is not going to be executed, but he’s been hurt pretty bad by a crossbow in our little escape, and if you don’t tell this clown to give me a healing potion or two, he ain’t going to live long enough to see sunrise.”
“What? Escaped? How?” she said, rising to her feet and showing off her frilled and embroidered full-body nightgown. “How did he get shot?”
“Never mind all that,” Lucas said, pushing the issue aside. “Answers can come later. I need your help now. Potions, bandages, whatever else you’ve got, pronto.”
The noblewoman had finally gotten close enough that he could see her, and he was surprised to see that she wasn’t the stuck-up bitch he’d expected. She was just a nice, sweet girl.
“Of course,” she answered. “Gerwin, get this man whatever he needs. My brother… your master’s life is hanging in the balance!”
“But mistress, we’d be aiding and abetting escaped fugitives!” he pleaded. “You’re liable to wind up standing right next to him when the headsman takes his turn. You can’t—”
“Gerwin, I know perfectly well what’s at stake here, and I don‘t care!” she said, stomping her foot. “If you won’t help him, then I’ll go downstairs and…”
As the young woman spoke, she walked past them to the door of her bedroom, and the manservant cried out as loudly as he dared without waking up the whole house while his eyes were still averted, “Mistress, please, I beg of you, at least stay here and let me do it. Don’t go traipsing around the house in your underthings and compound our shame any further!”
The noblewoman looked down and noticed that all she was wearing was her nightgown. Suddenly she looked scandalized, and blushed hard enough that Lucas could see her skin redden even in this dim light. It was almost enough to make Lucas burst out laughing, but he managed to hold his mirth in and settle for a subtle smirk instead. She proceeded to cover herself like he’d walked in on her naked.
She wasn’t, of course. She was dressed from her throat to her wrists and ankles in cloth. Every inch of her was covered, but just because it was thought to be a nightgown instead of an actual gown, somehow was enough to make it indecent. She would have been truly scandalized if she ever learned of the existence of a bikini.
Her and half the whores in the red light district, Lucas thought sardonically. The world was scandalized by a hint of cleavage or a glimpse of calf, and some part of him found that charming.
“Quite right,” she said, embarrassed. “Please uhhhmmm… help our uninvited guest with whatever he needs, and I will wake my maid to get help changing into something more appropriate.”