Henric Aldrimar woke, sucking in a deep breath. He was soaked in sweat and tore the covers off his bed and the clothes off of himself in disgust and threw open the shutters of his bedroom window. The young man stood there staring out into the night as cold filled the room, trying to forget the nightmare that had woke him.
He remembered the cold pull of the current, around his ankles, the fog and the starless sky. He remembered the sound of the denizen’s voice, the way it terrified him to the bone, the serpentine way it moved and sprung after him. In his dream, his uncles were not there to save him, and the denizen had quickly gained on him as he ran.
No. He shook his head hard, as if it would shake away the fears. He took a deep breath, long and slow, and exhaled it quickly. His father had taught him that breath exercise years ago to help him keep his calm. Gareth Aldrimar had always stressed keeping a cool head. Though he did in fact feel calmer, the denizen’s Death-stench would not fade, no matter how much fresh air he let in. It made him want to hurl.
Henric’s room was high in the east tower, some two hundred feet above the city and offered a great view of below. It was still dark, many hours before dawn. He stood there for a few minutes, searching for any signs of movement on the rooftops below in the moonlight. He thought he saw something for just a moment, but soon decided it was nothing. From his view, he was able to see the second gate opening to allow a group of Watchmen and some captives in. Good. They’re here. He closed the shutters and stoked the embers in his fireplace back up to a small flame which added just enough light to the room. He quickly dressed himself , and lit a candle from the fireplace. With the light, he noticed he had left the Book lying open side down on his bed stand, bending the spine.
He was about to open the door when he heard two quick knocks on his door.
“Lord Henric, I am sorry to disturb you, but I have urgent news.” The voice was muffled through the wood. “Lord Henric?”
“Come in,” said Henric.
It was Watch Captain Lucan that entered, and with him a fresh whiff of Death-scent. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you my lord.”
Henric flippantly waved the apology away. “It’s alright Lucan, I was already awake. You have news? Is it about the men who disturbed my father’s procession?”
“Yes, my lord,” nodded the captain. He was almost twice Henric’s age with long, mousy hair, and his armor cut an imposing figure in the firelight. “Two of our men are dead.”
Two of our men are... “What? How?”
“It appears they had a suspect in custody, but he managed to grab one of their swords and cut them down, at the cost of his own life.”
“He’s dead? What about the others?”
“We’ve rounded up over a dozen men, including the swordsman.”
Henric clenched his fist. Two men are dead to capture twelve?
For a guest, navigating Castle Zaksburg by night could be treacherous even with a candle, but to Henric this place was home. Completed in three phases over five generations of Aldrimars, the castle was a network of interconnected buildings and towers, and it had taken Henric years of his childhood to learn his way around every part and shortcut. He occasionally stumbled on a new servant who managed to get themselves lost, and was always more than happy to help them find their way.
His uncle Zak’s rooms were in the south tower, only a few flights of stairs, a short walk through the library and a few more stairs. When he knocked on the door, he heard the surprised gasp of a woman through the wood. Zak said something to her, but Henric couldn’t quite tell what. He heard some commotion inside, and pressed his ear up against the door to hear clearer. Maybe I should come back later, he thought too late.
He heard someone on the other side grab at the door handle and jumped back. “What!” said a shirtless Zak Aldrimar, all muscles and hair with a few scars. It took him a moment to recognize his nephew, and while he softened his posture only slightly, he offered no apology for his tone.
“I need to speak with you,” said Henric. Zak was always telling him to sound like a lord. Inside the room, a woman leaned over on the bed trying to peek out the door, falling back the instant she saw Henric. All he saw of her was a flash of fiery red hair.
Zak shifted to block more any more of his view to the room. “What about?” Two weeks ago, his uncle would have just told him to shove off. Since the Rites though, Henric had yet to see just how much respect his new position held with his uncle.
“Get dressed. Our guests have arrived.”
"Guests? What gue... Can't that wait until morning?" Zak looked mournfully over his shoulder.
"Not until morning," Henric shook his head. "Lucan brought me an urgent report when he arrived. When you're done here, come down to the Pit."
The putrid Death-smell assaulted Henric as Captain Lucan opened the door. Inside the cell, deep in the rock beneath the castle, three corpses lay covered in bloody cloths. Two of them still in their armor, and the third dressed in a garish green tunic.
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"We found this on that one," said Lucan, nodding towards the man in green. He handed a small coin pouch to Henric, who undid the tie and upended the contents into the palm of his hand.
"Azrin coins," he said. Fifteen newly minted gold coins, each of them marked with the image of King Gundemaro. The inscriptions read ‘Rey Sestil DCCXXX’. Not King Erazi? “They were minted only two years ago.”
"I've seen enough," said Henric. One by one he slid the coins back into the purse, slid that purse into his pocket, and turned his back on the room. The gaoler closed the door behind them. "Who was he?"
"Allen," said Lucan. "The Watch has had trouble with him before, but he usually comes in peaceful enough. I guess he had a history with Theric."
Henric nodded. "And the rest of them are in the Pit?"
"They are, my lord."
Carved into the hard rock below Zaksburg, the hard stone walls of the Pit made the angry shouts of a dozen men sound like a hundred. Their wrists chained, the captives were allowed all the freedom sheer twenty foot walls offered. Henric stood near the edge and peered in. It was dark in the pit, their only light coming from the torch in his hand. "Fifteen," he strained to hear himself of the devil's choir below.
"Yes, my lord, in total," said Lucan.
"And who are they?"
"Petty criminals, mostly. Not one of them hasn't made trouble before one way or another."
"Let's get started then." He used his hands to make a wide cone around his mouth and shouted down into the pit, "Enough!“
The men quieted for a moment, before silently and unanimously deciding to renew their raging. Shouts of "fuck you","I'll kill you", threats of ripping his cock off. Like caged animals...
"I said enough! I have only a few questions for each of you. If you can behave yourselves and you will be compensated for your trouble and returned to your homes by morning."
Henric signaled to a guard, and soon two other guardsmen stepped through the heavy iron gate. They pulled one of the captives out, and he was brought up to the top of the pit.
"Wait, you're jusht a kid!“ remarked the man. He was dirty, covered in grease and dressed in dirty rags. His black eye and missing teeth almost made Henric feel bad for him. Stop that! This man could have been trying to kill you!
Lucan's men had prepared a small cell in the upper levels for Henric's use. In turn, Henric had each one of the captives brought up and questioned. He had a cask brought down and offered each man a drink to loosen their tongues. Slowly a picture of the previous morning's events became clear.
Apparently, all of the men belonged to one rival gang or the other, and at their leader Allen’s urging men from the north side attacked the men from the south during the procession. "He thought it would be easier since they'd all be out in the open," said one of the northsiders. "We didn't know they'd have a sword though or I'd have brought my own."
"So I seen them coming at us. They grabbed Rand and started beatin' him," said the man who pulled the sword. “So I pulled out my sword, and then some bitch started screaming and people was all over the place. What’s any of that got to do with you?”
“You disturbed my father’s funeral.” said Henric. “And why did you have a sword? You know it is illegal to carry that in the city unless you are knight, a Watchman, or actively serving in my grandfather’s military. I will have to confiscate the weapon.” The man gulped at that, but he knew nothing of any plans on Henric’s life.
“Can you tell me what you were fighting about that yesterday?” Henric asked a vaguely rat-like man. He almost sighed at it. He had been asking questions of these men for almost an hour now, and he had hardly learned anything new.
“I don’t know, Allen said we should. Kept saying it was a great day for it. I don’t argue with Allen. You’ll have to ask him. Where is he anyway?” The rat-man looked around the room nervously, then sipped at the beer Henric had set before him.
“He’s dead.”
“No! How?”
“Resisting arrest. He killed two of my men who tried to bring him in.” Henric thought to himself for a moment, “Why was he so focused on yesterday?”
“I’m not surprised,” the rat-man said flatly. “Just like him. He’d been having meetings. None of us ever went, just him, but he had one of them tonight. At the Dancing Stone.”
“Meetings? With who?”
“I just said I never went. Can I go now?”
Henric dismissed him, and ordered the guards to release the men he had captured. As Lucan escorted the captive away, Zak slipped in.
"About time," said Henric. "What took you?"
"I was outside," said Zak. "Listening in. You did well. Letting them all drink... You know some of them are carolling down in the Pit right now?"
Henric laughed. "Really? They were screaming and raging earlier. This way seemed easier than hurting them."
"Indeed." Zak grabbed a flagon and poured himself a drink from the cask. "So what do we know now?"
Henric waited till he sat to begin. "Did you see the bodies?"
"I did.”
“How can you stand the smell?”
“You get used to it, in time. Damn shame about them though. I'd seen Mik fight a few times in the Ring, he was fierce. Didn't think a common thug would do him in."
"That's because he didn't. Someone else is involved here, someone who wanted Allen starting a fight this morning. Someone who would rather kill him than risk him talking."
"But who?"
"The same person who tried to kill me this morning, and my only lead on their identity is laying dead down the hall. How do I find someone when I have no way to know who I’m looking for?”
Zak smirked. “That’s an easy one, nephew. Let them come to you.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Henric couldn’t look his uncle in the eyes. He could feel tears welling up, and took a deep breath to stave them off. “The arrow only barely missed me last time.”
“You’ll be protected,” said Zak.
“I was protected yesterday.” Henric was looking down at his cup. “I almost died yesterday. I almost died a few weeks ago during my initiation. I’ve seen Death uncle, I don’t ever want to see it again. I wouldn’t even wish it on my enemies. I’d be better off if I never left the castle again.”
“Oh come on now, you don’t mean that.”
“I’m just not sure I can do it uncle.”
“Do what?”
“All of this! I haven’t slept a whole night through since my father died, and I’ve almost died twice. I get the feeling I’m not long for this world.”
“Henric, look at me.” He finally looked up from his cup. “I can’t tell you anything will get easier for you, but I promise I will do anything I can to help you in it.” Zak watched him for a moment, and sighed. “Sometimes I think you forget how young you are. What you’re going through would be hard for anyone. But you’re not giving up either. From now on you’re carrying your sword with you everywhere, and you show up at dawn for drill every morning.”
“You talk to me like I’m a child. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“You are still a child sometimes. I promised Gareth I’d always be looking out for you, no matter what. You know he’d say the same thing"
"You're right, uncle." He really was. Henric could almost hear his father’s voice telling him the wisdom of his uncle’s words. He sighed, and set his cup back down on the table. “You’re right. I’m going to sleep for a few hours. I’ll see you at the yard.”