It was with purpose that I strode towards the momentous gates making up the entrance to the baron’s estate. Towering, red goliaths they were, made of thin steel rods. It would be only detrimental for my cause to not make an appearance as their superior. For me to come without an entourage was generally unexpected, but the lesser was supposed to provide goods, shelter, food, and men to their better, were they not?
I patiently waited outside the entrance for a servant to come and escort me inwards, which one soon did, opening a heavy lock to allow for me to enter. The servant’s attire was nothing notable, just the usual drab cloaked over a malnourished man or woman who were unfortunate enough to be born into it. There was no use in trying to free such a person, not only because they would have no idea how to use their newfound freedom, but also for the reason of them serving my same cause. The man who walked ahead of me on the dull cobblestone pathway in this late hour was my servant as much as he was the baron’s.
I sidled into a dimly lit entryway, long but straight, continuing to follow the man wordlessly. The air was the opposite of fresh, and it reminded me of a different time, long ago. Eventually, we made it to a slim doorway, made of nothing other than a slab of wood. Through the other side, I heard loud chatter and banter, as well as some vibrant music and the clanking of drinks on a table. No handle was attached to the makeshift door, so I thought to push it inward. I must have applied too much force as the door creaked its way to be fully open, exposing me to the crowd in wait. Quiet fell quickly enough to leave me nervous despite my high status. I shivered a little, but drew myself up to my full height and perfect posture as I knew I must. The hush was forced, as those gathered around long wooden tables piled high with assorted meats and surrounded by half full flagons of mead observed me intently. I was hardly worried about their gazes tearing to my soul, but more worried at why I hadn’t received an enthusiastic greeting but instead…this. At least I could be relieved that none had stopped sipping slowly at their drinks, befuddling them enough so as to not be able to cause me harm.
“Identify yourself!” commanded the baron, who sat on a lofted, silver throne. He rested his chin on his fist, mirroring his vassal who sat on a second, slightly smaller thone, on the baron’s left. Wordlessly, I removed a plastic black full-face mask which I had forgotten I had donned.
The second I did so, the noise levels went through the roof, and many stood to greet me, before being shut down by the baron and told to allow him. Rising to his feet and carefully stepping down a short stairway that led to the main level of his manor’s current banquet, he approached me. I waited for his advance, although unbearably slow, and shook his hand gingerly.
“Earl Alaric, I am pleased to have you in my humble residence this evening. May I ask what you may have come for, or if you simply are travelling through? I can provide you with a caravan if so–Unless you already do?” The baron greeted, clearly shaken at my appearance here. He must have assumed I would be hiding in the heart of my land to avoid areas closer to the fighting.
“I came to make sure you would receive this.” I answered, extending a tightly sealed white envelope. The baron seemed only mildly surprised that I would just hand over such a valuable item, with the surge in paper pricing in recent years, but snatched it from my hands, tore it open, and began to read over it. I watched him do so, and I suppose that was my greatest mistake. I felt cold steel press into my wrists, similar to the feel of the bars outside. I thought nothing of it, perhaps I had just grown too careless, thinking I could get out of any situation I put myself in.
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My hands were shackled behind me; a knight had managed to creep up without drawing my notice—or so they thought. The truth was, I didn’t care enough to stop them. Their nonexistent threat wasn’t worth the effort. When I didn’t resist, they moved on to binding my legs with rope, tightening each knot methodically. Impressively, even clad in full plate mail, they weren’t especially loud.
Meanwhile, the baron had nonchalantly returned to his throne, his expression indifferent, as though the scene unfolding before him wasn’t worth his attention. His vassal, however, was far more engaged. A smug, shit-eating grin spread across his face as he locked eyes with me, his delight unmistakable.
"Unhand me," I said, my voice calm and measured. "You have no need to help them. Wouldn’t you do better working for me?" My words hung in the air, but the knight gave no reply. Instead, he backed away, his gauntleted hands releasing the rope after securing the final knot. Silence was the only answer I received.
“Now then, Alaric-” the vassal started, interrupted by me as I reprimanded, “Address me by my title.”
“No, I will not address you by your title, Alaric!” The vassal shouted merrily. The gathered guests still just stared. “Now then, you seem to be in a bit of a troublesome situation…How about…I don’t know, lowering some of those taxes you set? Your domain hasn’t been doing so well as of late, and you weren’t exactly stepping in to stop the money collection, now were you?”
“I don’t believe I will do that.” I countered, standing still with my bondings still restraining me.
“And what makes you believe you have the leverage here?” The vassal asked.
“What makes you believe I can’t escape at any moment?”
“The exits are blocked. You have no way out.”
“Well, I have no reason to lower your taxes. You know that they’re all going to the war effort.”
“Why should we have to spend our hard earned money on your stupid war? You know nothing will come out of it but death.” The vassal chuckled at his own statement. Nobody else reacted to our conversation, including the baron who continued to sit there neutrally. The silence was unnatural and our voices just echoed in the large stone hall. “In fact,” the vassal started, “can you even prove that the money is going to what you say it’s going to? Nobody has any idea of how you got here and you took your title by force…In addition to the taxes, while we have you here, why don’t you tell us of your origin?”
“That isn’t a problem at all…I have some journals with me which can help tell the tale. I like to have a diary where I note my experiences,” I answered, “but were I to comply, I would need to access them, and I can’t do that in this state.”
“Do you expect me to untie you? That would be foolish. You would take my head on a pike the second you were released. No, tell me now.” The vassal further commanded.
“I would beg to differ, but I will comply with your requests to know my story.” I stated, before my bonds exploded off of me in shreds. My audience would have no way of knowing how I did such a thing, and I cared not for their reactions. Surely they would all be shrinking in their seats, especially that useless vassal. I reached deep into my cloak and pulled out two journals that seemed in disrepair, with pages hanging out and the covers torn off.
“I’m so sorry-”
“You have no need to be. I would have done the same in your place.”
“But-”
“Quiet now. Just enjoy the tale you wished for so badly.”