Clang clang.

"Would you stop already!?"

"What else am I to do?"

"Something other than ring that blasted bell!"

"The gate is locked, and I don't see anyone here. Perhaps Mr. Fidochi didn't find anything and moved on."

"To what? You said this was his last lead."

"I don't know!"

The bickering faded as Benold began to wander along the perimeter of the iron gate. It was tall and imposing for a supposed holy place. Every time he touched the bars, he felt a tightness in his chest. Visions echoed in his mind, of Trosyn alone and hurt. He needed to free her from that torment. And inexplicably, he had a strong feeling that she was close by.

"Where did Benold go?"

There was a pause in the arguing between the two researchers, but Benold paid it no heed. He stood between two sturdy trees, one on the outside of the gate, one on the inside, but their branches mingled. It was the perfect point of entry.

"There he is! What is he doing!?"

"What we should have been doing instead of yammering - finding a way in."

Benold grunted as he pulled himself onto the sturdiest looking branch, and once his feet were secure upon it, he reached for the next.

"But that's trespassing! On sacred ground!" came Volente's scandalised voice. Benold didn't care to try and understand what the man was saying - his tone said enough. But the old man's disapproval meant nothing to him.

"I thought you were Lucidian."

Volente's already airy voice went higher. "Sacred is sacred! I have enough respect for the Orthodox not to abuse their outdated interpretations."

Crack.

Benold froze. Struggling to maintain his balance he hedged back to the trunk, leaning against it before letting go of the breaking branch. His stomach did a few flips and he made the mistake of looking down. The two other men stood below, staring up at him. Benold hugged the sturdy trunk and took in some shaky breaths, celebrating his ability to avoid a close call.

"I hope you realise neither of us are going up there after you. So if you do fall, please be so kind as to do it on this side so we can at least drag you off to be mended."

Benold huffed, only half understanding what the infuriating plump one was saying. He continued to hold tight, considering his options. He could come down and avoid breaking his neck. Or he could try to find a different branch big enough to support him that led towards the tree on the other side. If only he had rope.

"I do hope he isn't stuck. I'm no good at climbing," Volente remarked from down below.

"Should we start assembling a stretcher, just in case? There's enough good branches for one."

"I wish Colto was here."

"Bah." Baldovo put his hand on the tree trunk as if testing its strength before peering up again at Benold. Benold stared down at the two men, trying to think how to convey what he needed.

"Are you okay, Benold?" Volente asked in a louder voice. He then repeated himself more slowly. "Benold, okay?"

"YES!" Benold snapped as he continued to hold tight. The world was starting to spin just a little, and yet he felt a tugging sensation in his chest, as if some invisible force were trying to pull him off the tree. "Now shut up and let me think!"

"What do you suppose he was trying to say?"

"Nothing good, Volente, nothing good." Baldovo, making good on his word, began assembling the straightest and strongest sticks he could find.

"A rope or a strap... something..." Benold muttered as he looked around. The trees' branches lacked flexibility. He stared down at the men collecting branches. "Oh. Good thinking. A ladder. That's..." he squinted as he stared at them more closely. "...That's not a ladder, is it?" Still holding on to the tree with one arm, he waved at the two researchers. "Hey! What that?"

Volente looked up, seeing Benold pointing at the two parallel rows of sticks they were lashing together, using ribbons and a handkerchief. He looked down for a moment, then back up. "Stretcher. Aaaah, um, take you..." Volente pointed up at Benold,''...if you fall..." he then reached up, then swiftly brought his hand down into the palm of the other, "...and hurt yourself."

Benold scowled down at their lack of faith in him. He then peered at the method of attaching branches together. It was insufficient - he was certain their litter would fall apart once bearing any appreciable weight. Baldovo knelt down, getting a small knife from his belt.

His belt!

Fingers fumbling with the speed at which they moved, Benold eventually unfastened his own belt. The style of trousers these men wore were high-waisted with excessive buttons, leaving the belt more ornamental than functional. Looping it, it gave him just the little extra reach he was looking for. One arm anchored the base of a strong branch, he stretched out, snagging a sturdy higher bough from the nearby tree with the belt, hooked it on attached branches, and pulled it closer until he could grab it with his hand. Moving slowly and carefully, he pulled himself along the sturdy bough closer to the fence, and crawled over the imposing spikes at the top.

Once he transferred all of his weight onto the other tree, he felt another shift, which caused him to cling to the bough like a hog tied to a spit. The limb continued to bow under his weight, and again he felt the trickling sensation association with impending doom.

"Oh dear..."

The urge to freeze fell off and Benold quickly crawled towards the inner tree's trunk, where the bough widened. He could see it bending, and splinters forming as the bark peeled away. Sweat beaded his brow as he looked above him to a sturdy branch. Hooking his legs around the sinking branch he quickly reached up with his belt again, looping it. Not a moment too late.

SNAP!

Legs dangling, it took all of the memory of Benold's youthful strength to hoist himself up and shimmy closer to the trunk. He wrapped his legs around the trunk as he let go of one end of the belt and then the other. Wrapping it about the girth of the tree, he slowly made his way down, trying to ignore the applause that sprang up from the other side of the fence.

"I hope he doesn't expect us to do the same," Volente remarked nervously.

Baldovo kicked the unfinished stretcher. "I guess we won't be needing this after all."

Benold refastened his belt and fixed his ruffled attire before striding over to the bars, grasping them in his hands. He peered through the gaps at the other two men who remained collected around the tree. He tilted his head towards the gate. The other two men caught his gaze and immediately headed for the entry.

Upon reaching the gate, Benold was immediately stumped in his plan. There was no mechanism by which he could discover to unlock and open the gate without keys. He glanced at the still, quiet structure at the end of the dirt driveway.

Baldovo's voice interrupted Benold's thoughts. "Well? Open the gate!"

Benold spun around, lips taut, and he pointed to the gate. "No open." He took hold of the bars and shook the large double gate. "It needs a key to open from both sides." Alas, he had not learned the Lomanian word for key. So he pantomimed sticking in a key and turning it, then shook his head.

The two men on the other side looked at each other. Volente's shoulders shrugged, while Baldovo placed his hands on his waist. "You need a key? A key? Key?" Baldovo made the same pantomime gesture.

Benold nodded, turning his wrist again. "Key." He held his hands open, palmed out, fingers splayed. "No key."

Baldovo threw out his arm impatiently. "Well go find one and let us in! Find key!"

Benold lifted his chin and rolled his shoulder back, sticking out his chin. One held lay behind his back, while the other he held out through the bars, open and expectant. "I refuse to go in there unarmed. Pass me your pistol if you please." With his other hand he pointed at where the pistol hung at Baldovo's side. "Gun."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Baldovo raised his eyebrows, then over at Volente. "He's rather persistent, isn't he?"

With a unilateral shrug and a stooping demeanour, the older of the two men said in a weak and uncertain voice, "he did come all this way just after, well, a slave."

"Concubine."

Volente cringed mildly at the word. "I really don't feel good about him going in alone. But I also don't know how I feel about bringing weapons into a monastery."

Impatiently, Benold clenched his fist then held it open again. "Gun!"

"Tsk. Do not the Custodians still keep ceremonial blades on their person at all times?" Baldovo's hand hovered over his pistol as he seemed to consider it. Benold's eyes focused on the weapon, willing it into his own hand. What a comfort it would be. He'd feel otherwise naked staging a rescue without proper equipment.

"Do they?"

Baldovo hesitated before he folded his arms, leaving Benold's hand as empty as ever. The displaced Governor furrowed his eyebrows and glared at the portly researcher, stretching his fingers out until they were stiff. Baldovo shook his head and made a sweeping gesture to the outstretched hand. "No, Benold. You might be safer without a weapon. They only draw their blades in self defense." His voice grew louder. "No weapon, no danger. Go. Go on!" Baldovo drew in a sigh then glanced at Volente, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "That's assuming they actually follow their own tenets, which I doubt. But better him than me."

With an indignant huff, Benold finally withdrew his hand. Hands behind his back he inspected the two men with increased scrutiny. Are they trying to throw me in harm's way? Cowards. With a shake of his head he pivoted on his heel and lifted his nose in the air. I'll show them. With a high step, he stormed across the yard to the great double doors of the imposing building.

"And this one will probably be locked too..." Benold muttered as he took hold of the large brass handle. He tried pulling on it, to no avail. He experimented with pushing, putting his shoulder to the thick wooden door, but it did not budge.

He took a step back, staring at the high windows. None of them were on the ground level of the central port of the building. But the wings on either side had a few. Just as he took a few steps to go look for an alternate way in, there was a scraping sound followed by a metallic clunk. A creak could be heard. Benold held his breath.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Benold turned, seeing the door opened just enough to admit a tall man in black garb. he glanced back towards the gate, seeking assistance from the two researchers, but they were nowhere to be seen. Blasted cowards! He licked his lips and looked back at the man, who crossed his arms and canted his head to the side expectantly.

"Why, I am a Governor looking for my lost property. But of course, you can't understand a word I am saying. Will that be evidence enough for you that I'm some bumbling tramp? Not that I am a bumbling tramp, but it's what you are thinking, isn't it?" Benold likewise crossed his arms, tilting his head back as he surveyed the other man more closely.

The man's eyebrows furrowed, creating well worn creases on his olive brow. His salt and pepper hair was clipped short, showing some balding at the very top. His long nose was pinched, and gaunt face had strong cheekbones in sharp relief to his sunken eyes. He wore very simple black clothes, a sort of tunic style top over fitted long sleeves and pantaloons tucked into his black boots with very pointed toes. He wore some sort of silver medallion over his chest.

"You are on sacred ground. Be off with you!" The man waved towards the exit.

Benold glanced at the gate, and then back to the darkly attired man. "I can not get out. I am stuck." He pointed to the trees. "I fell." He held his hand high until the man's eyes followed it, then in a swift motion brought it down, clapping it with his other hand loudly. "No key. No go."

Small eyes shrunk further as they squinted at Benold. He remained perfectly still, locking gazes. It seemed the two were at an impasse before the man in black gave a quick tilt of his head to the gate. Jingling roused Benold's interest as the man reached into a small suede pouch that hung at his side. He took out a key ring and pointed again for Benold o move, clearly disinterested in turning his back to the trespasser.

Grumbling, Benold marched over to the gate, frequently looking over his shoulder at the slim man who glided in his wake. He stood beside the gate, gesturing to the very solid lock on it, his eyebrows raised.

The man arched an eyebrow, a slight sneer on his face as he slid the key into the lock. Benold glanced towards the building. No one else could be seen at the door on on the grounds. "Do not return uninvited. We are a clo-"

Not another breath escaped the man's lips, as Benold's arm barred across his throat, choking him. The frailer man struggled, but Benold was certain of his greater vitality seeing him through. However, he did not anticipate the sharp pain in his thigh. Letting out a grunt and a hiss, he tightened the choke hold, even as the knife in his thigh twisted. It took all of his willpower not to scream as the pain amplified, sending shocks through his leg and spurring his heart into a frantic rhythm.

His heart.

It hurt.

The pain in his chest, tugging him. Vision blurred. I am not this weak! The only thing keeping his sight clear and his body upright was biting his lip and squeezing ever tighter. Eventually, he felt the man in his grasp become dead weight, tumbling down with his victim.

"Benold! Oh my! Benold! What have you done!?"

Ragged breaths erupted from Benold as he fought to preserve clarity. Sweat beaded along his brow as his hand went to the knife would in his thigh, applying as much pressure as he could.

There was a clanging of metal, and Benold looked up. Volente's knuckles were white as he peered through the bars. Baldovo stood beside him, hands on his belt. "Might need that stretcher after all. Well now, we can't help you from here. Finish unlocking the gate!" With the searing pain and heart throbbing in his ears, not a single word of the two men made any sense. But he could se a hand pointing at the lock, which still had a key sticking out of it. He stood up, placing all of his weight on his uninjured leg and grasped the key. Hands slippery from blood, it took him a few tries to get a proper grip and turn it. The lock squealed in protext, but a heavy click was met with a sigh of relief.

The gate swung open and Volente rushed over to Benold, a handkerchief ready to press on his wound. He then glanced over at Baldovo who had knelt down by the fallen Caelist, holding a small looking glass by his mouth.

"Is he...?"

"Still breathing."

Volente sighed with relief.

"And where were you two hiding? Why didn't you shoot him!?" Benold demanded between deep breaths, forgetting the language barrier for a moment. The two men glanced at each other, then split their focus. Baldovo began to drag the fallen man and lay him out in a different position. Volente grabbed a small silver flask from his belt and poured it over Benold's wound. "What are you doing!? What is that?" Benold pointed at the flask, and went to slap the older man's hand away.

"Calm down, Benold." Volente moved his hand out of immediate danger, then fixed Benold with a half stern expression. "I'm trying to help."

Baldovo picked up the bloody knife. The bright red caught Benold's attention, and he stared at the blade that the man surprised him with. It was fairly small, tapered to a vicious point. The crossbar was silver as was the handle, except where leather thongs wove around to give it a better grip. "It's not going to end well for us if he wakes up and sees our faces."

"Benold. We go. This... this is bad." One hand still applying pressure as the handkerchief turned red, Volente used his other to gesture to the man in black who lay on the grass.

The mere talk of leaving sent another icy pain into Benold's chest. "NO!" He grit his teeth and pushed Volente away. The frailer man moved with little provocation. Benold placed his own hand on the wound and slid back away from the ruffled gentleman. Volente adjusted his glasses reflexively, smearing them with blood. "No. Find Trosyn."

"You've been stabbed, you git!" Baldovo boomed.

Once again, Benold undid his belt, and then cinched it tightly around his thigh, above the wound. As he staggered to his feet, Volente reached out to try and dissuade him, only to be shoved away. Once standing, Benold looked at the man who had stabbed him and limped over. He held his hand out to Baldovo.

"We really must go! The Church has a lot of power in Floratti! We were only supposed to be asking around! Not breaking and entering, and certainly not assaulting holy men!" Volente stood up and straightened his cravat then looked at Baldovo, who was keeping the poignard away from Benold. "How do we get him to understand he can't just... just... do these things?"

"Nay! Back! You've proven too impulsive to give weapons to!" Baldovo stepped away from Benold who was reaching for the Caelian weapon. The besieged researcher gave a quick side glance to Volente. "Maybe we should just let him blunder his way through and wash our hands of this. No one can understand him, so how will it come back to us?"

A strangled noise erupted from behind Benold as he reached again for the blade, only to have it yanked out of reach. "Give!"

A strangled noise erupted from Benold, drowning out his demand. Volente's voice could be heard speaking in a most scandalised tone. "He could be killed!"

"Oh come now, Volente, you stingless jelly! You'd benefit from his demise."

Benold growled in frustration and balled his free hand in a fist, giving Baldovo a baleful look. "Now see here! I need a way to defend myself and you are making it very difficult!" Benold dramatically pointed to the monastery. "Trosyn is in there! I can feel it!" On cue, he felt another sharp pain in his chest which caused him to recoil.

Volente walked over to Baldovo's side, and placed a hand on his raised arm which was used to keep the poignard out of Benold's staggered reach. To everyone's surprise, Volente looked quite fierce as he adjusted his glasses and frowned deeply, eyes seeming to have found the edge his personality often lacked. "I would not. I do not care for your insinuations, Baldovo." Volente gestured to Benold. "I don't think we can persuade him to stop his search. We might as well try to mitigate the damage he could cause, to himself and others. Now, give me the dagger."

"No! Give me... dagger?" Benold was unsure if he said the right word, but from the looks of the two men, he felt more confident. "Dagger."

"Do what you will. I'm not going to jeopardise my chance at the next excursion by getting on the wrong side of the Custodians. They may be superstitious fools, but they have connections." Ignoring Benold's demands, Baldovo wiped the dagger off and handed it to Volente.

Seeing Benold lunge to intercept the dagger, Volente took a few retreating steps back. Chest and leg pain caused Benold to falter and he stumbled, barely catching himself from collapsing to the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes, loose strands of his wavy hair falling into his face. "I... can't... go... back."

Volente tucked the poignard behind his back, but looked upon Benold with something he could only interpret as pity. It made Benold's blood boil. All the same, he listened to the withered man as he waited for the latest surge of pain to subside.

"Worry not, Benold. We will find Trosyn." A scathing glance was given to Baldovo as he headed for the gate. He took the key out of the lock and tossed the ring to Volente, who scrambled to catch it with his free hand.

"Good luck, you two. If you survive, I'll buy you dinner."