Four years had passed since she had been taken from the orphanage and yet the specter of Matron Stenouse haunted her nightmares. She dreamed uneasily of the wretched woman chasing her down the hallways, throwing giant spiders at her again and again. Every time she was able to fling one of the eight legged monstrosities off of her, another replaced it. They bit at her flesh and injected their deadly venom into her blood. The webbing covered her body and soon they’d wrap her inside an inescapable cocoon to feast upon her forevermore.
Danica shot out of bed, drenched in a cold sweat. “Damn her…” she whispered quietly to herself.
She looked outside and guessed it to be a little after noon, judging from the pitch of the shadows on the ground. Too early still for her to be awake, but she wasn’t in the mood to try and go back to sleep after that horrible nightmare. There were any number of things that she could do at the moment instead. One of which was preparing for the harvest celebration, but the rumbling in her stomach indicated a more important priority.
A group of soldiers ran through the courtyard while being yelled at by their squad leader. She recognized them as military men, though they were wearing the colors of the city guard. Lord Rowan bolstered the ranks with army recruits, some severely lacking discipline. He described it as a restructuring and then cut available funds to the guard, forcing Landon to deal with the fallout of dismissing many of his best men. She understood why he hated politics so much. Dealing with such ridiculously bad decisions every day would make anyone feel that way.
She got dressed and headed to the kitchen where Mistress Angela was busy preparing the food for the soldiers. It wasn’t exactly a celebratory feast, but there’d be different and more savory dishes than the usual fare the men and women were used to. The air was filled with the scent of pies and cakes, spiced treats and puddings. Danica was thankful they hadn’t cut back on staffing as much and there would be plenty of good cooks ready to work for days like this.
“You’re up early,” she said while kneading out some dough. “There’s some sausages and bread over by the ovens, Should still be warm.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” She said, walking over to inspect the food. Lamb sausage and rye bread wasn’t her favorite, but she’s never turned down a free meal and saw no reason to start doing so now.
Danica deftly moved through the kitchen with her plate, avoiding the other working women, while biting down on the sausage. They had gotten used to having the girl around by now, though old prejudices seemed to linger. They weren’t outwardly hostile towards her, but they certainly weren’t extending offers of friendships either. They simply treated her as if she were just another servant in the barracks working as they do and nothing more.
“Manners girl,” Angela yelled to her. “Have I taught you nothing?”
Danica took a bite of the sausage and waved it at her before heading out, smiling ear to ear. “You tried!”
She walked by Captain Landons office, his door wide open as usual, and looked in on him. He stood staring out the window overlooking NorPort, obviously deep in concentration. His desk, once neat and tidy, lay covered with bound books and random scattered papers. He had been forced to deal with more paperwork over the last few years, keeping him from more active roles within the guard. His hands, more often than not, were stained with the black ink these days.
She was about to walk away and leave him to his thoughts when he suddenly spoke. “I find it both fascinating and strange that we have some of the largest tables in the city, and yet some people still can’t seem to find them.”
“Sowwy sor,” she mumbled, trying to swallow a mouthful of bread.
He waved a hand half dismissively, and turned back towards the window. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was clearly becoming more disturbed by something as time went on, but he never told her the complete truth of what it was. It seemed as if he’d always deflect off to another topic if her questions started getting too invasive. He was like that though, always aloof but down to earth in a way. She’d grown quite used to it by now, and even accepted his mysteriousness as just who he was.
“Look at them down there,” he said, focusing on a group of young men doing calisthenics in the courtyard. “Men, barely older than yourself, and they expect me to make miracles with them.”
She walked over to the window, watching them move to the commands of the squad leader. The same men she’d seen earlier, though more sluggish and worn now from exhaustion. “I could run circles around them if they’d let me.”
“Perhaps, you could. My hands are tied on that matter, unfortunately.” He turned to his desk, and poured out a small glass of spiced wine. “Tell Angela I gave you this, and you’ll be digging field latrines with a wooden spoon.”
She took a drink of the warm beverage, savoring the kick of cloves and cinnamon. It was one of her absolute favorites and a rare pleasure to have. He would occasionally give her some on holidays or when he was feeling a particular sort of way, and it seemed today involved both.
“They’ve been sending me reports of soldiers abusing their authority.” He tapped on a particular paper on the desk. “This one committed assault against a,” he paused, remembering what the matron used to say to Danica. “Well a woman who provided him a service. He had apparently beat and robbed her afterwards while in uniform.”
She knew that he was referring to one of the women of ill repute, whores as the more vulgar people referred to them. It was something he did trying to ease the burden of what she had endured most of her life. It was endearing in a way, if a little unnecessary. She was closer to being a woman than a child now, with some estimates saying she was probably around fourteen to fifteen years.
Danica looked at the paper detailing the incident and then her eyes quickly noticed the one beside it. An official dismissal of charges from the Judiciary Council, a group of five judges that oversaw all courts in the city. They usually only handled the most egregious of crimes or met to dictate policies of the lower courts. The council members all wielded great influence and they really only answered to Lord Rowan himself.
She looked to Landon “You arrested him and then they let him go?” She understood why he was so moody now. He always expected discipline in his ranks, and was fighting a losing battle to keep it these days.
He nodded towards the group. “Jorin Corwell. A bastard son of Elnar Orrin, one of the council members. Not really surprising, considering the man's record for infidelity and shamelessness. Elnar and Rowan are rather close friends too, so I hear.”
She got a sinking feeling when she looked back out at the group. The man yelling out orders sounded raw and was only commanding them, not doing the activities as a respected leader usually would with his men. “They promoted him, didn’t they?”
He nodded his head, indicating that her assumption was correct. “Another log added to the fireplace of a burning house.”
She knew what he meant. The people had spoken of change in hushed tones and there were rumors of the outer areas planning open rebellion. Landon was trying to keep a tide of chaos from flooding over the city, and day by day, the rulers chipped away at him while he was actively trying to save them. They couldn’t see the potential danger from their gilded mansions and their own egos wouldn’t let them change, even if they could see it.
He turned away from the window and sat back down to his desk, leafing through some of the other forms and documents. “It seems as if Dannig has a package down in the armory. If you wouldn’t mind, head down there and fetch that. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy as it is.”
She bid him farewell and made her way towards the quartermaster’s office. Along the way she finished her food and set the plate down upon a cabinet. She made a mental note to retrieve it later and deal with it properly on the way back. It was bad manners in her opinion to burden the other women with extra work when she could just as easily pick up after herself.
She walked into the guard armory and immediately smelled thick thick oils and a mix of many other scents that were difficult to describe, but not completely unpleasant. The room was bathed in a bright light from the open window, illuminating flecks of dust flitting through the air. Sitting on a chair, running an oiled rag over one of many swords spread out on the table before him, was an older man with a large thick mustache.
Stolen story; please report.
Dannig had been a higher ranking member of the guard for many years, and then one night he went to break up a bar fight and ended up taking a heavy club to the kneecap. With arthritic pains already setting in, Landon retired him from active duty and promoted him to the new quartermaster. He had a bit of a temper and was rather grumpy, but Landon said it was because he wanted to be out on the streets instead of working supplyside. Angela told her that he was actually just a big dwarf without the ability to grow a decent beard.
He looked up at her and grunted. “When am I going to get clean sheets?”
“I have the day off today.” she said, with a wave of greeting.
“You weren’t off yesterday. Didn’t get my sheets then either.” He raised his hand, pointing to a shelf. “Your package is over there.”
Danica walked over to the shelf and found what she was looking for, but it wasn’t what she expected. It was a mysterious bundle, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. Written in bold letters on top was her name.
She looked over at Dannig curiously. “What’s this?”
“Damnation girl! It’s a gift. Go back to your room and open it.” He snapped.
She grabbed the package up and started out the door. “Thanks Dannig.”
“If you really want to thank me, get me some new bedding. Some ale wouldn’t be bad either,” he yelled out to her.
She ran back to her room, curious at what was inside. She completely forgot about the plate as she passed by the cabinet in the hallway, distracted as she was by the mysterious parcel in her hands. It didn’t rattle or make a noise when she shook it. Harvest Festival wasn’t that special of an occasion to give gifts like they would at Year's End. “What in the world could this be?”
Once she arrived in her private chambers, Danica tore the paper off the package and pulled out a large bundle of dark purple cloth. It was a sturdy dyed wool, so very soft to the touch. She held it to her face, feeling the gentle touch against her cheek when it unfurled nearly to the floor. She discovered that what she held wasn't just a skein of cloth but was a full length dress in just the right size for her slender frame.
She squealed with delight at the surprise and quickly stripped off her outer garments, slinging them carelessly across the room. She donned the dress, making sure everything was fit in place, then used her expert eyes to judge the fit with a small mirror hanging on the wall. Very modest, but a slight bit tight along the bust and perhaps a bit too loose along the waist and sleeves. Regardless though, it was the most beautiful dress she had ever worn and it seemed to be a gift just for her.
She donned her black boots and decided that it was good enough to complete the ensemble for the moment. Maybe one day, she could get some matching shoes, but that would be a day far off into the future most likely. Money was difficult to come by since she had been forbidden from receiving a salary in lieu of room and board.
She ran down the hall and back into Landons office where he was currently writing down notes onto a stack of papers. "How do I look?" She wore a massive smile, beaming with happiness and joy
He looked up from his work, dripping an ink splatter onto the paper. "Impressive color, though I would have chosen red."
She ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He disliked displays of affection, but she was completely overwhelmed with all the gratitude that this man had shown her over the years. He’d pulled her out of a living nightmare and gave her a real home. The man was the closest thing to a father she’s ever known.
He patted her arms. "At ease girl. Remember decorum. Go see Angela."
She eventually found Angela in the cellar taking a break from the heat of the kitchens. By the time she had gotten there, she found herself short of breath due to all the exertion of running. Upon seeing the woman however, Danica still made a decent attempt at performing a curtsy. "My lady," she said with a giggle.
Angela smiled at the girl upon seeing her. "Well look at you! Such a lovely color that. It fits well I take it?"
Danica nodded. "Landon said he thought red would have been a good choice."
Angela scoffed. "Men! That old goat especially doesn't understand a blasted thing about fashion. He wouldn't know burlap from silk if his life depended on it."
Danica let out a little laugh at the playful insult. She always enjoyed the wittiness of Angela when she talked about Landon. “Why don’t you go tonight Mistress Angela?”
“Oh, no. I’ve had my fun at those things before, back when I was a young lady.” Her eyes took on a wistful and glassy appearance as if she were remembering those times. “That’s where I first danced with Sabin. Well tried to, neither one of us knew a blasted thing about dancing and we just ended up stepping all over each other.”
Danica had prodded the woman enough about her past to know Sabin was her first husband and passed away during an orcish raid from the south. She never really liked talking about him and told Danica that the emotional wounds just never seemed to heal. She rarely mentioned him for more than a moment and tried to change the conversation after that. Danica felt sorry for the woman and wondered if she’d ever heal from it.
Angela pulled a small pouch off her belt and handed it to Danica. “Here. Someone, somewhere will probably have those little candied fruits for sale. Pick me up a handful if you don’t mind. Keep the rest of the money for yourself and be on your best behavior girl.”
Danica jumped up and hugged the woman tightly. If Landon was like her father, then this wonderful woman was like the mother she had never known. They were the best adoptive parents, even if they never officially held the title for it. She still struggled everyday to figure things out in a world that didn’t make sense, but having people that cared about you really seemed to make it easier.
****
The streets were filled with merriment everywhere she looked. Buildings hung strands of orange and brown leaves on their walls and pumpkins sat upon steps. Cool breezes announced to the world the end of summer, invigorating those that felt their gentle touch. The smells of fresh pastries and sweet spiced cider hung heavy in the air along with the sounds of bards plying their craft for onlookers.
Danica mingled among them, not exactly welcome in a sense, but not mistreated either. She saw a few occasional scowles from locals that mistrusted her for whatever misguided reasons they possessed. She also saw a few young men look her way, and she wondered what they thought. Perhaps the dress was what made the difference this day? She smiled with amusement at the thought and let her imagination run wild with those lines of questioning.
She watched with trepidation as a beautiful lady plunged a sword down her throat, pulling it back out with no sign of distress. Elsewhere a man dressed in bright reds and yellows danced with fire, twirling flaming balls around himself with expert precision. Jesters told jokes to the delight of the crowd, though she tended to avoid them. Their garish makeup was rather unsettling to her, though she couldn’t seem to understand why it bothered her so. There were plenty of places to go this day and more sights to see all over Norport.
It was soon well into the night and though a few people had left the great reverie, it seemed more had replaced them. Now was the time when the rowdier folks of the city started coming out to enjoy their ideas of fun. Strong drinks began to flow faster and some people started acting more like fools than the jesters on stage. She saw several guards marching down the road to bolster the security, but she knew well that they were the military men. They might be more apt to start trouble rather than prevent it. begrudgingly she decided that It was probably a good idea to head home, even if there was more fun to be had.
She no sooner started down the street when a man stepped in front of her, blocking her way forward. He was wearing a brown leather vest covered in filthy stains. He held a small lantern in his hand with a flickering candle inside, up to her face. She’d seen him standing there in the dark just leaning against the wall doing nothing out of the ordinary, so she’d had no reason to be leery of him. Many such people were just loitering about that night, exhausted from the festival.
“Hello pretty. Where ya goin?” He asked. His breath reeked of ale and rotten teeth. She almost threw up on him.
She started to back away but stopped cold as a blade went against her throat. A voice whispered in her ear, “Shut up, and don’t be stupid.”
Slowly the two men backed her into the alleyway beside them. The man behind her grabbed the collar of her dress and slammed her hard against the back of a cart, knocking the air from her body. She struggled for a moment before finally regaining her breath, but she dared not scream with that knife so close to her neck. She was so scared and she didn’t even know if she could manage to utter a sound.
The other man, the one with the knife, now stood in front of her. He was completely bald with a horrific, jagged scar going across his face and part of his head. He wore an eye patch, most likely saving onlookers from the horrid sight of what lay beneath, His stained gray shirt, covered with all manner of filth, smelled almost as bad as the other man's breath. “I hate elves,” he snarled. “They think they’re better than everyone else.”
“Hey, Badger. Look at that dress,” said the first man. “Think she’s a princess, or a whore?”
Her eyes darted between the two men, trying to figure out what was about to happen. Was it a robbery, or was it about to get worse. She breathed heavily and fast, panicking at the possibilities. She didn’t want to die, not like this.
“Naw, Slade. She ain’t no whore.” The one called Badger began to smile cruelly. “Whores need makeup.” He pointed to the center of a wagon wheel, where large globs of black grease coated the shaft.
Both men laughed quietly as Slade coated his finger with the oily black substance and ran it over her face. She started to pull away at his touch, but Badger held her firm, that wicked blade pressing into her neck. He continued rubbing it around her eye sockets, and then he moved to coat her lips with the stuff. The taste was terrible and was like she imagined charred candles would be like if she’d ever licked the wicks.
Deed done, Slade pulled a small mirror from his pocket and held it up to her. Under the dim lantern light, she could see the grease paint spread across her face in a mockery of what a woman's makeup would actually be. It looked gaudy and amateurish, more suited to one of the clowns she had seen earlier. She wanted to close her eyes, to try and block out the image of that face staring back at her. She could see the fear in those deep blue eyes.
Another voice, gruff and authoritative, sounded from behind them.“What in damnation are you two idiots doing?”
A moment of hope flashed within her as she tried to focus on this new man approaching. Was he here to save her? He was decently tall and well muscled like a warrior in his prime. His strong jaw line and rugged good looks really stood out compared to the other men she had just met. He wore brown leather armor under a dark cloak, the handle of his sword easily visible underneath. She couldn’t imagine he would be aligned with these other two men.
That moment of hope she held onto was short lived as he came up to stand beside them. This man was no hero after all, just another villain it seemed. No one was coming to her rescue.
Badger looked up at the bigger man, a hint of worry on his face. “Lighten up Garwin, Me and Slade here was just funnin’ around is all.”
“Amateurs,” Garwin grumbled. He said it loud enough to make sure they heard. He got close to Danica and inspected her for a moment. “Did they hurt you girl?”
Danica felt the knife point slip away from her neck and debated on if she could run fast enough to escape. She already knew the answer to that dilemma unfortunately. All she could do at the moment is answer his questions and hope for the best. She looked at him and shook her head, indicating that they hadn't hurt her.
“Good. I’m not going to hurt you either. OK?”
She nodded her head nervously. Perhaps this would just be a robbery after all. They could have her money and everything else she carried. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t worth her life to try and fight back for such meager possessions.
He pulled a small vial from a pouch at his side. “Do you like roses girl?”
What an odd question. She nodded her head yes, that she did like roses.
He popped open the strange amber colored vial. “I just need you to answer one more question, and then we’ll leave. Tell me if this smells like roses to you.” He held the vial close to her face, waiting patiently for her to do as she was told.
She tentatively moved towards the small bottle and inhaled from it deeply. It did not smell like roses at all, but instead burned her nose and lungs as if she were breathing in fire. She began to cough, and could no longer catch her breath. The last image she saw while falling to the ground was of the three men standing over her, evil smiles upon their faces. All was darkness after that.