A ding resonated in the entrance of the White Palace. Veximarl walked out of the elevator alone. He had Alessia’s clothes folded up and tucked underneath his arm. Calmly and quietly, he approached the guard’s desk and returned the key had borrowed earlier.
Gwyn was still present, sitting patiently at a chair near the entrance door. Patterfall had taken a seat next to her. Both were silently contemplating the fact that neither would be seeing Sybil today. There had been some news that the investigation was ongoing. All they could do was wait and see if Sybil would be receiving a trial.
“Tall. Bright blue hair,” repeated Shaw. “Incapable of keeping her damn mouth shut or focusing on a single task.” He was on the verge of having a panic attack. “How is it that none of you remember the sight of such a woman?!”
Problems upon problems. “Paladin Shaw,” called out Veximarl.
Shaw’s attention was immediately grabbed. His intimidating pose melted into a puddle of worry as he hastened to Veximarl’s side. “How is Zaniyah? Are they treating her well?”
A flash of concern crossed Veximarl’s brow. “I’m currently unaware-”
“Where is she?!” Shaw grasped onto his shoulders.
Veximarl hesitated. “... There is far more pressing-”
“Nothing is more important than her safety!” Cried Shaw.
Veximarl grabbed Shaw’s wrist and twisted it off of him. “Duxton is in critical medical condition. If you rush to his side, he will survive. Save your concern for your sister until after you have saved your employer.”
Shaw’s face went pale. He studied Veximarl’s eyes for a moment before rushing to the guard’s desk. Patterfall had overhead Veximarl and was already heading to the elevator. The door was opened with the press of the button and he held it open as he waited for Shaw to come over.
Gwyn hesitated to follow. She glanced over to Veximarl, who purposely had his back turned towards her. Her fingertips graced a pouch at her hip. There were seeds inside. Even if her casting was dampened by this place, she still might be able to restrain Veximarl and question him further.
“Do you have a first aid kit?!” Shaw cried out.
If she was able to muster a bit of magic, it was best used to save Duxton’s life. She lifted up the edges of her skirt and ran towards the elevator, reaching it at the same time as Shaw did. They both shifted inside as Patterfall let go of the door.
Not wanting to get in their way, Patterfall shuffled to the back of the elevator. “This is a potential crime scene. We should evaluate what we can and minimize what we touch.”
Shaw slammed the side of his fist against the wall. “We already know who the culprit is.”
Gwyn remained silent. An attack on Duxton’s life didn’t make sense. Veximarl could be reckless, but not like this. Any attack must have been done in self-defense. Prioritize Duxton’s health first and uncover the truth later.
The doors opened and revealed the sore sight of Duxton’s crumpled body. A wide trail of blood was left behind him as he struggled to pull himself to the elevator door. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the strength left to press the button. Shaw grabbed one arm while Patterfall grabbed the other. Both dragged him in and directed the elevator back to the front lobby.
While Shaw held his hand to the wound, Gwyn opened the medical kit and began to make bundles of gauze. The worst of Duxton’s injuries came from two large puncture wounds in his back. His eyes snapped open and he let out a pained wheeze as Gwyn began to stuff the wounds with gauze.
“Don’t say anything,” whispered Shaw.
“He should say something,” quickly retorted Patterfall. “His last words could be used as evidence in a…” His voice trailed off as Shaw shot him a death glare.
The elevator door opened, revealing a set of guards and a cleric. Shaw lifted up Duxton by himself and placed him on the stretcher. He could already tell there were several broken ribs and one of the wounds was gurgling air, implying a punctured lung. They needed to remove him from the prison immediately and began medical treatment.
“Stabilize him. I will be escorting him to the Arbutus Fortress for surgery,” commanded Shaw.
“My lord,” replied the cleric. “My hospital is far closer than-”
“Apologies, I do not mean to insult your institution, but his security is just as important as his health. It is clear to me that I cannot trust this nation’s best to keep him safe. I will handle the task myself.”
Gwyn remained kneeling on the floor of the elevator. She kept staring at her hands and the skirt of her dress, which were covered in blood. It seemed like Patterfall said something to her, but she was so distracted that his voice only sounded like muffled tones.
“Yes, I’ll get going,” she muttered as she stood up.
She then paused and tilted her head. The faint sound of metal hitting stone had caught her attention. A small, metallic object had fallen from the side of the stretcher. Gwyn followed behind the group and picked it up. The object was a damaged ring. Gold, but blackened and empty where a gem should’ve been placed.
Was it from Duxton or the cleric who was hovering over him? She recognized the coat of arms on his jacket and the hospital he was from. It was located relatively close to here. Her thoughts went to Zaniyah. Something may have happened when they brought her here and they may have chosen to move her to that hospital.
“Incoming for transport!” Shaw called ahead. He then helped load Duxton into a wagon. Without waiting for either Patterfall or Gwyn, he yelled at the driver to take them back to the fort.
A loud siren pierced the air as the wagon took off. Patterfall watched for a moment as well before he moved to Gwyn’s side. Her face had gone a little pale. She was staring at her hands again. He mistakenly thought it was her stained fingertips and not the ring that was partially hidden within them.
“We should get you a change of clothes,” said Patterfall softly.
She didn’t want to go back to the dorms. Gwyn had tried last night, only to be bombarded with questions by her fellow students. Members of the royal guard had shown up and had ransacked the room of anything relating to Margret Miller. They were still there when Gwyn left for the night.
“I brought a change of clothes with me,” replied Gwyn. “I’ll see if they have a room for me to use.”
Zaniyah had vanished while wearing that massive disguise dress. Gwyn had brought a change of clothes for her and Sybil, in the off chance that they were able to argue for either’s escape. She was taller than Gwyn, and she liked her clothes looser fitting and shorter around the legs. That was fine because Gwyn was a little curvier than Zaniyah. It was better than Sybil’s clothes, which were much too short for her.
Gwyn examined the ring one last time before placing it in her pocket. The attack on Duxton wasn’t premeditated. This ring was likely… She shook her head with frustration. Sybil had promised to tell her everything. That was part of the deal when Gwyn came to Fogbloom. Not once had she bothered to mention that Duxton still had a slave control ring with him.
She couldn’t ask Patterfall for advice. The law was clear. They needed evidence that Sybil was being possessed at the time of Pennyrile’s murder. If the priestess was in control, the guilty party would be Pennyrile herself. The Madam was the one who provided the blood iron and ordered for it to be used to control Sybil.
Sybil, or rather, the priestess, had a clear motivation to kill Pennyrile. That fact alone could be enough to save her from imprisonment. Duxton, being the fool that he was, possessed the ring that could control Sybil. Now there was no definitive proof whether it was the priestess who murdered Pennyrile or if Sybil had done it on Duxton’s command.
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That wasn’t Sybil’s problem, it was Duxton’s. The Duxton situation was better for her, because they could then claim that he was the one who ordered Sybil to attack Laurent. Gwyn’s orders came from Lady Till, not the prince. She had no loyalty to a man who would soon meet his downfall.
“Miss Gwyn? Are you done?” Patterfall called from the other side of the door.
Gwyn tightened the ribbon on the jacket. Why did Shaw have to get Zaniyah something from Carapace? She didn’t know how these were supposed to tie on. “Yes, apologies!” She stepped out of the room and closed it behind her. “You needn’t escort me. Were you going to go ahead and wait for the results of Duxton’s surgery?”
Patterfall couldn’t. There was a price when it came to dealing with family. Following Duxton now would only be ostracizing his brother. “I should travel to the palace and inquire about Paladin Zaniyah directly. They will likely not give me a straight answer, but it may do Paladin Shaw some good to hear news of her whereabouts.”
“I’ll be heading to a laundering service to get my dress washed.” Answering questions about blood wasn’t something that Gwyn was looking forward to. It was still better than going back to the dorms and dealing with the women there. “May I stay as a guest in your mansion for a few days?”
“... Uh.” Patterfall hesitated. Helping her shouldn’t be an issue. “Right, uh, yes. I will let the workers there know that you would be staying and tell them to prepare you a room.”
Despite carrying a heavy dress, Gwyn curtsied gracefully. “Thank you, Lord Patterfall.”
She excused herself and chose to go directly to the hospital. Blood was better left off being washed out herself. Taking that thing to a laundering service would only result in a call to the city guard. Gwyn wished to locate Zaniyah first before adding herself to the list of those who have been arrested.
After locating an information desk, Gwyn retrieved her Braytons’ identification plaque. “My name is Gwyndolyn Hewitt. I’m a knight acting as an ambassador for Braytons Barracks.”
The nurse put on a large, fake grin. “My! Certainly employing them young during these trying times!”
“I assure you that my skincare routine is quite good,” swiftly replied Gwyn. “I came to inquire about one of our squires who may have come through here recently.”
“Yes, yes,” said the nurse as she gave a knowing nod. “They said that someone would be by to pick this up.”
She reached underneath the desk and retrieved a short sword. The item was placed on the desk so Gwyn could pick it up. Despite its simple scabbard, Gwyn knew this weapon well. The braided black leather charm with the turquoise emblem gave it away. This was Vincent’s blade.
Wherever Zaniyah went, Vincent was sure to follow. Gwyn was becoming convinced that this was his lot in life. “Thank you. I will see to it that the blade is returned safely. May I ask where Squire Highland is now?”
“I’d have to check. Wasn’t working at the desk then.” Her chair swiveled around and she began to methodically pluck through a filing cabinet. “Highland, was it?” She pulled out a slip of paper. “It says that he was checked in late last night and later transferred to the palace infirmary. I don’t understand why they would just leave that death clever with us and hope that someone would pick it up later! Seems careless!”
Modified or otherwise unique weaponry wasn’t allowed into the palace without a permit. “Was he transferred there with anyone else? A woman with tan skin and blue hair?”
“Very loud?” Asked the nurse.
“Yes,” replied Gwyn without a hint of surprise.
The nurse held a finger to her lips and gave a small nod. “Not quite sure what you mean,” she said loudly. “He was transferred alone.” She then winked.
“Thank you.” Gwyn curtsied. “For both the information and for keeping Squire’s weapon safe.”
“You can thank me by telling me what your skincare routine is,” hastily replied the nurse.
Gwyn faked a smile. “Yes. I’ll write down the ingredients list for you. It’s important to use fresh witch hazel if you can get it.”
Something must have happened to Zaniyah on the way to the White Palace. Vincent managed to track her down, but the nurse didn’t mention an angry little elementalist. She waited until after she left the hospital before sending Chickadee a message via letter.
A reply hit her letter before she flagged down a carriage. “Hiding. Am safe.”
She had sent a message to Vincent as well, but she doubted that she would get a reply anytime soon. At least she had somewhat of a time table as to what happened to Zaniyah last night. Gwyn waited as a carriage rolled to a stop and climbed inside.
For the briefest of moments, she debated sending a message to Veximarl as well. There were so many questions bouncing around in her head. She desperately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but… No, she told herself as she put her letter away. If he wanted to contact her, he would have to settle for doing it first.
Times like this made Gwyn miss her life before Braytons. The only people she ever had to worry about the Nox family. Her world was so small back then… There were times that they struggled as a middle-class family, but Gwyn didn’t hate her life there. Everything seemed simpler back then.
But it also reminded Gwyn of Ivy’s words. The ones spoken right after they had passed Braytons’ entrance exams. “... Let’s never go back to Fogbloom.” Ivy then smiled, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Because Fogbloom was a terrible place for women.
While Gwyn always had trouble relating to Zaniyah, she had thought herself to have grown close to Sybil over the past few weeks. Fogbloom was a city that she would never wish upon her friends. Instead of aligning herself on either Duxton or Veximarl’s side, Gwyn felt like it was her obligation to get Sybil and Zaniyah out of the palace.
The carriage pulled up to the Arbutus fort. Since Shaw had no letter, she needed to tell him in person that Zaniyah was at the palace. She’d go to the mansion afterward. Patterfall was the safest gambit. He would help Gwyn out.
Gwyn paid the driver and set off to give Shaw the news. She could hear shouting echoing off the stones of the fort. Shaw wasn’t one to raise his voice, but clearly, his father brought out that side of him. Anger aside, it did make it easy for her to locate them.
“And the time for action is now!” Shaw’s voice bellowed.
“Patience!” His father cried back. Nicolas then lowered his voice. “We must take care when evaluating the situation.”
There was a light knock on the door of Nicolas’ office.
Shaw ignored it. “They’re already a step ahead of us! Patience is no longer a solution for us. We have wasted weeks plotting, and where did that get us? Our prince nearly made his deathbed in what should have been the safest place in all of Fogbloom! Our foes continue to take action against us while we do nothing but suckle our thumbs.”
Gwyn knocked again.
“We must be prepared to build momentum,” argued Nicolas. “We will ensure that we have the ability to outlast and endure anything the palace throws at us.”
Neither were keen on being interrupted. Gwyn went ahead and opened the door. They were going to argue in circles unless she chose to intervene.
Shaw gave her a brief glance over his shoulder. “I won’t hear of it.” He was already feeling bitter and seeing her face was only adding to his rage.
He didn’t even know why she was here. Gwyn frowned. “I only wanted-”
“I don’t care what you want!” Shaw tensed his jaw. “You have no valid opinion. Tuton-”
“Lord Fogbloom,” corrected Nicolas.
Shaw shot a quick glare at his father before addressing Gwyn again. “Whatever he chooses to call himself, he has picked his side in this war. If you wish to defend him any further, then leave my home immediately!”
Gwyn’s frown softened. A proper Fogbloom woman wouldn’t talk back. She would bow her head and whisper a soft apology. “...” She slipped her hand into the pocket and tossed the ring at Shaw’s feet. “You’re a fool of a man.”
She left before he could start an argument with her. Gwyn was done with the men of this city. The sooner she could leave, the better. A moment of pause was given to herself the moment she left the office. It wasn’t just Zaniyah, there were others at the fort as well. They needed to be given a chance to escape as well.
Fairy had been idling at the forge. She blankly stared as an enraged Gwyn showed up at the entrance. Gwyn stared back at her, questioning her resolve. Everything had become a mess so quickly that she was having trouble keeping it up with it all.
“Zaniyah’s mother is here as well, isn’t she?” She asked. “I would like the two of you to come with me. As long as the fools here side with Prince Duxton, it won’t be safe for you.”
Something similar was said by Chickadee, but Fairy wasn’t worried. That was a problem for all of them. All she needed to do was go to her classes and live her best life. Once she got her glass shop open, she’ll be one of the high elite of this town.
“I doubt anything ill will happen to me,” replied Fairy as she lightly put her hand against her chest. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to Miss Zoe either. We’re perfectly safe where we are.”
“Duxton is having an operation done after barely surviving an assassination attempt,” spat back Gwyn. “I was born in the Clay Region, Miss Fairy, and my earliest memories of exactly what war does to people. You are not safe as long as someone is targeting the prince.”
The confidence on Fairy’s face wavered for a moment. “We’ll be alright. I’ll just… Go to the palace myself. Everything can be settled after one conversation and I’m sure they’ll want to call the whole thing off.”
A fourteen-year-old child could simply walk into the palace and easily convince a group of men to give up on the plans for throne domination. Gwyn shook her head with disappointment. She was a fool and she was going to get herself and Zaniyah’s mother killed.
“I am going to make the arrangements to leave this city,” replied Gwyn. “Please put more care into your planning and speak with Miss Zoe first before you do anything dangerous. I’ll send a messenger to you when I am ready to leave.”
“It won’t be necessary,” chirped Fairy.
All she needed to do was put on a brave face and do some explaining. She had plenty of experience in dealing with family arguments and this wasn’t all that different. Not like Caitlin hasn’t tried to kill Chickadee before. They just needed to set aside their differences and then this whole fight will be under the table.