[EDWARD’S POV]
August 9, 1338
In a thundering voice that sliced through the tension, I demanded, "Lead us back to the inn, Colonel Elmer!"
Colonel Elmer, acknowledging my urgency with a bow, promptly set off toward the north. As I hastened to follow him, Osbert interjected, his voice carrying a note of practicality amidst the urgency, "We should retrieve our horses first. Elmer seems to be doing the same."
I nodded in agreement and swiftly directed Alwin to guide us back to where our horses were leashed. Within moments, we were back at the starting point. Mounting our steeds, Osbert and I swiftly returned to the spot where the unsettling trail of blood had been discovered. There, waiting for us, was Colonel Elmer, mounted on his horse, his gaze steely with determination. Without wasting a second, he resumed his stride toward the inn, and we fell in step behind him, our horses matching his purposeful pace.
Upon horseback, the journey to the inn proved a mere five-minute ride. Along the way, I couldn't help but note the faintness of the bloodstains. It was evident that someone had attempted to erase or wash them away, yet remnants lingered, stark enough for a discerning eye to catch, revealing the recent disturbance.
As the inn came into view, its construction drew my attention. Crafted entirely from wood, likely sourced from the nearby trees, it boasted a rustic charm. A wooden board adorned with a crescent moon and a symbol of a bottle of beer hung proudly above the entrance, a beacon signaling weary travelers that they had arrived at an establishment of respite. While not towering in size, its dimensions suggested it could comfortably accommodate a contingent of thirty men for a night's rest. In the heart of the forest, such an inn was a beacon of solace, far preferable to the gloom and uncertainty of the woods.
With a creak, the inn's door swung open, revealing a slender young man in his mid-twenties. His hair, resembling mine in shade, framed a face with eyes slightly lighter in hue than the darkness of his locks. He bore the air of someone tied to this establishment—possibly the innkeeper's son or perhaps even the innkeeper himself, should his father have passed.
Observing the man closely, I noted the subtle draining of color from his face upon catching sight of the distinctive golden and red hues associated with the House Plantagenet. His approach was tentative, marked by measured and deliberate steps. As he neared, the hesitation in his movements became palpable, culminating in a complete and deferential kneel upon reaching our vicinity—a gesture of absolute submission.
"Rise," I commanded, a tinge of curiosity mixing with the unfamiliarity of a man kneeling before me.
He complied, yet remnants of dirt adorned his forehead, evidence of his disregard for appearances. Keeping his gaze lowered, he spoke, a tremor betraying his voice, "W-what brings my esteemed lord to my humble doorstep?"
His voice quivered, an unmistakable sign of unease. I chose to maintain a certain ambiguity in my response, opting for a vague yet pointed remark, "I trust you're aware of the reason behind our visit."
The man's eyes widened, an involuntary reaction he hastily attempted to mask by a swift blink and a contrived look of confusion. "What do you mean, milord?" he feigned innocence, trying to deflect attention from the momentary lapse in composure.
I dismounted from my steed, setting the example for the hundred soldiers who accompanied me to the inn. The clatter of armor filled the air, a stark reminder of its cumbersome weight and hindrance in swift movement—something I resolved to address at a later time.
Addressing the innkeeper with a steely resolve, I spoke in a tone that brooked no disobedience, "We will conduct our investigation, and you will cooperate. Or else…" I left the threat hanging, allowing his imagination to conjure the potential consequences. Sometimes, the unspoken held more power than explicit words.
With purposeful strides, I moved past the innkeeper, my contingent of nearly eighty men trailing behind. The remaining soldiers stayed behind to tend to the horses at the connected stable.
Upon entering the inn, I found half a dozen men seated at the tables, their fists clenched in anticipation. Evidently, the sound of approaching horses had put them on alert. Their readiness for confrontation was apparent, yet I sought to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.
"Leave this establishment immediately if you wish to avoid trouble," I declared firmly, ensuring my tone conveyed unwavering confidence.
In response to my directive, all of them swiftly rose from their seats and hastily made their way out through the door, preferring to retreat rather than challenge the presence of the royal force any further.
Striding forward with purpose, I seized a jug of beer from one of the tables, taking deep swigs before shattering it against the ground with all my strength. The resounding crash echoed through the inn, a visual cue emphasizing the urgency and gravity of the situation.
"CHECK THE ROOMS!" My command reverberated through the space, a thunderous directive that set dozens of men into immediate action. Soldiers dispersed swiftly, fanning out to scour the ground floor rooms for any shred of evidence.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
While they worked, I seized a chair, hoisting it effortlessly with a single arm and placing it strategically to afford me an unobstructed view of the inn. Every corner, every movement, every piece of information they brought would be within my line of sight. These traitors, whoever they were, would find no leniency from me, especially if they had dared to harm one of my kin. Betrayal against the realm or my own was a crime I would not abide by, and I was determined to uncover the truth.
Time stretched agonizingly slow as I waited, every passing moment an eternity. Finally, an officer approached, reporting the absence of evidence on the ground floor.
"Check the rooms on the upper storey," I ordered without hesitation, my tone unwavering and resolute. There was no room for delay in unraveling this mystery.
Rising from my seat with a sense of urgency, I noticed the innkeeper’s profuse sweating as my men ascended to the upper floor. Sensing his apprehension, I approached him, intent on extracting information.
"When did my father, the Earl’s contingent, arrive here?" I inquired, expecting an immediate response. However, the shock seemed to render him speechless, prompting me to resort to a subtle yet pointed threat.
Drawing closer, I whispered in his ear, "I believe I spotted a woman here, of similar age to you, possibly with child." The information was purely speculative, but I knew how to elicit a reaction. Activating my keen observation skills, I discerned subtle debuffs indicating pregnancy on a woman who was peeking a while ago.
The veiled threat worked wonders, prompting the innkeeper to spill details in a torrent. "Five days past, a distinguished man, unmistakably from the royal family by his attire, graced us with his presence," he stammered, offering a deferential bow. Wiping his brow with a shaky arm, he continued, "I made sure they received the finest hospitality our inn could offer. They were provided a lavish meal and ample accommodations for their party of thirty."
Pausing to catch his breath, he added, "After resting through the night, they departed the following morning, bidding us farewell as they continued on their journey." The information flowed from him, spurred by the fear of my veiled threats.
In a menacing tone, I demanded, "Is that all you know?"
The innkeeper, trembling, pleaded for the safety of his family. "I've told you everything, milord. Please spare my wife and child," he implored, sinking to his knees and clasping his hands in supplication.
"I'll consider it," I retorted, without bothering to glance back at him. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our exchange as the officer returned from inspecting the upper storey.
"There's something you should see for yourself, milord," the officer informed me, maintaining eye contact while delivering his message.
I turned my attention back to the quivering innkeeper, who had descended into a fit of desperate mumbling while holding onto my legs. I swiftly dispatched him with a single kick, sending him crashing against the wall. Refocusing on the task at hand, I headed upstairs, resolving to address the officer by name to avoid continual use of his title, I used ‘Observation’ to check it out.
Ah, 'Reinald' it is.
"Reinald, which room?" I inquired, noting the corridor's layout reminiscent of a modern-day motel. He pointed to the final room at the end of the hallway, guarded by two soldiers. They opened the door, granting me entry.
What awaited inside was a scene beyond ordinary. The room bore telltale signs of a struggle—the wooden floor and ceiling were marred with scratches, concealed hastily with planks that failed to mask the evident turmoil. Peeling back a plank revealed distinct gashes, some stained with a trace of crimson. It was apparent that a fierce altercation had taken place here, a battle waged with weaponry, indicating a robust resistance put up by someone within these walls.
Moving towards the window, I peered down to gain a different vantage point. Positioned on the right side of the inn, closer to the stable than the entrance, it revealed an angle previously overlooked. This change in perspective made me notice something that might unveil crucial details missed from the ground level.
Directing the two guards to maintain their watch over the room, I swiftly made my way outside, enlisting an additional four men along the way to ensure thorough surveillance. Returning to the ground floor, I observed the palpable tension etched on Osbert's weathered face. His concern for my father was evident, a natural sentiment given their deep-rooted bond. Osbert's influence in his life extended beyond mere mentorship; it was akin to that of a father figure, surpassing the role my grandfather ever played.
Shifting my gaze to the innkeeper, I noticed a stark change in his demeanor. Once filled with trepidation and desperation, he now appeared drained of color, slumped in a defeated posture. His silent distress spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation, hinting at the hidden truths lying within the inn's walls.
"Arrest this man and everyone working in this inn. IMMEDIATELY!" I barked out the order, emphasizing my command with the skill 'Amplify' to ensure every visible or hidden individual's attention was fixed on my directive.
Taking Osbert and Reinald with me, I swiftly exited the inn, leading the way to the spot directly beneath the room's window, trailed closely by my men.
Upon reaching the location, my suspicions were affirmed. The ground bore a noticeable dent, a clear distortion that couldn't have occurred without significant pressure applied. This particular indentation aligned perfectly with the room above, where evidence of sword marks and blood spots pointed to a violent encounter. Closer inspection revealed faint traces of blood near the dent, compelling me to follow the trail, which led to the nearby stable.
Inside, a multitude of horses were housed, their number seeming unusually high. Fifteen men were stationed there, attending to the steeds while our attention remained inside the inn. Addressing one of the stable attendants, I queried, "Are all these horses part of our stock?"
"No, milord. Ten horses were already here when we arrived. They bear the same breed as those allotted to the knights at the capital. It’s just that…" the stable attendant responded. His words halted abruptly, hinting at an unspoken concern.
Curious, I pressed him further. "What is it?"
He hesitated before continuing, "They appear unwell, milord. Lethargic, as if they've only recently woken. One is still unconscious."
His revelation shed light on the situation, painting a clearer picture. It seemed evident that these horses had been through an ordeal, and it was imperative to delve deeper to uncover the truth. Even if it meant resorting to drastic measures, I was determined to unravel the entirety of this puzzling situation.