Jenny removed the petticoat, hoopskirt, and corset and donned the trousers and shirt over her underclothing. Before wearing the leather armor, she walked to the chest from which Thaddeus had taken the items.

Inside, there was a variety of other pieces of gear. Jenny studied their construction and quality. For her untrained eyes, it looked expensive and well-kept. If this was a nobleman's escape stash, it made sense that the quality was higher than what ordinary people could afford. The chest had other pieces of armor: Vambraces, greaves, and a quilt. She took it out and placed it by the leather armor.

Jenny put the greaves over the boots and tied the quilt around her waist. Afterward, she donned the chest piece and placed the vambrace on her arms. The room had no mirror, but she felt ridiculous wearing the oversized protection. The armor was crafted for Baldwin, and while the flexible material — wasn’t leather like she first thought — adjusted to her body, it wasn’t a perfect fit. In the end, it didn’t matter; any protection was welcome.

Inspecting the chest again, Jenny didn’t find anything else interesting, even if she took another pair of trousers and shirts from there. She saw no reason not to take another set of clothes. She turned to the other chest. She picked bolts for the crossbow, a waterskin, a knife, flint and tinder, a lantern, and five oil flasks. She didn’t find any cooking utensils or any other tool she could use. They never expected the noble to cook for himself, even if he was fleeing for his life.

Jenny returned to the bed and picked up the coin pouch. Inside, three small, shining gold coins and an assortment of copper and silver. That was enough money to keep her for months if she didn’t waste it. A private room at a cheap inn was two silver pieces. An inexpensive meal added one more. She counted the coins. Three gold, thirty-seven silver, and twelve copper. A hundred copper per silver, a hundred silver per gold. That was enough for more than a hundred days at a cheap inn.

Jenny sighed. It wasn’t that much money; she had saved a lot more in the past ten years — she hoped no one would find her stash — but it was still a considerable amount. She’d need to find a way to thank Thaddeus. She packed everything in bag, folded the bed blanket, and stuffed it inside. It would serve as a bedroll in a pinch.

With everything packed, Jenny sat on the bed. Questions about the last night kept vying for her attention. Why did Ferdinand do what he did? How had he known about Gregory? She didn’t find it strange then but she never said anything about the lord’s son to the man. He was the one who brought up the matter of staying in the guest room. Why had Gregory immediately blamed Jenny for his father’s murder? She hadn’t seen the boy and was nowhere near the lord's bedroom. Could she escape the accusations of being a witch? How would she face Gizelda now?

Jenny couldn’t stay still; she got up and explored the room. She opened the drawers and read all the notes on the table. Some were accounts of Baldwin’s indiscretions. He and one of the servant girls often came here for some alone time. Jenny should have seen that; she even knew which servant girl it was. The woman was arrogant and frequently behaved like she owned the house. Jenny opened one of the wine bottles and took a sip. Bitter and strong. Not to her taste. She moved the chests and inspected the places behind it for any secret compartment. She spent minutes, maybe hours, examining every corner but found nothing. Lastly, she came to the bed and looked beneath the mattress.

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A puff of dust blew on her face. Jenny held in a sneeze. Under it, she saw a torn sheet of paper. She picked it up and read it.

… I’ve sent Gregory to the Capital Academy and impressed him with the importance of Legacy. If the boy isn’t as stupid as he looks, he’ll know I want him to research the family medallion. It’s been passed from father to son for millennia, and I suspect it is one of the cursed artifacts the church preaches against. We cannot afford to…

The note ended there, leaving more questions than answers. The handwriting was the lord’s own. Jenny had read enough messages to the guild to recognize it, but she didn’t know anything about a medallion. Jenny took the crumbled piece of parchment and placed it in the bag.

At one point, hours dragged on. Jenny fell asleep. She woke up in the darkness. Panic was her first reaction, but then she relaxed. She was in the secret room. The candle burned out. That was enough time already. She picked up the bag and weapon and, in the darkness, found the trapdoor.

With some difficulty, she opened it and then climbed down. She walked for minutes, using the wall as a guide until she found another trapdoor. Jenny opened it slowly and peeked outside.

She stared at the bony, freckled girl, who stared back wide-eyed. The girl yelped and fell or her behind. Voices called from outside.

“Bee? Are you alright?”

Isabella sprang up and approached the trapdoor. She looked inside and around and urgently whispered, “Hide, they’re here!!” The girl stepped on the wood, forcing Jenny into the darkness again.

Jenny stood quiet, hands gripping the crossbow. She put a bolt on the weapon and armed it, and aimed it in the trapdoor's general direction. From above, she heard heavy footsteps and voices.

“Bee? What’s wrong?” An older woman's voice asked. Jenny heard a slap, then a cry of pain.

Isabella yelled. “Stop it! Nan did nothing wrong!”

A gruff voice sounded in return. “She’ll learn her place. Now, what is this fuss about?” The voice demanded.

“I saw a mouse, and it scared me.”

The steps approached, and there was another slap. Something fell, and Bee started crying.

“Lord Gregory won’t tolerate his servant's laziness as his father did. Get back to work if you don’t want to be punished again.”

Bee kept crying; her steps moved away from the trapdoor.

“Now!” The gruff voice yelled.

Jenny waited, anger burning in her mind. She wanted to kill the bastard; most of all, she wanted to kill Gregory. Why was he doing this? Ideas bubble in her mind—terrible, terrible ways to get what she wanted. Forbidden magic knowledge told her precisely what she could do. She could dominate him and order him to gouge his own eyes out. She could invoke magic bolts to burn away his soul. She could regenerate his injuries, only to do it all over again.

A gasp escaped Jenny, and she took a step back. She lost her balance and fell. The crossbow clattered to the ground, the bolt released and hit the wall with a loud twang.

What in the Gloom’s darkness was that?