A couple of days had passed since Reginald’s death. Rose had been struck with indecision for a few days but when summons came from Duke Manchere to stand trial against the Noble Court, Rose knew that she couldn’t delay. If she didn’t act now, the one chance she had could slip away.
Rose left her room still in nightclothes. Her hair unkempt and disheveled. The guards by the door quickly turned their heads away while the female attendees quickly dragged her back in. Moments later, a much more social presentable exited, her maids now watching her like a hawk.
Frankly, Rose couldn’t care less. She was still grieving, but it wasn’t enough to be debilitating. She wasn’t over her father’s death, but it's not like she didn’t expect it. If there was one lesson that her father taught her, it was to get used to death. She just… never expected her strong and invincible father to have died.
As Rose reached the Grand Hall, she could hear the whispers of succession die down. She didn’t blame them. Even if they had been with her all her life, ultimately, the one who pays them is also the one who owns the estate. June was obviously less pleased with their attitude. Rose could see him frantically running around the castle in these past few days, trying to keep the servants loyal to Rose. It was reassuring to know that no matter what, there would still be someone on her side. Loyalty was hard to come by after all.
June climbed the steps and knelt before Rose. “Greetings My Lady.” Rose tapped him on the shoulder, and he sprung back up to his feet. She spoke without turning to face him. “We depart today. I can’t delay any longer.”
June could still hear the hints of sadness that trailed in her voice, but action was always better than inaction, and June was never the type to curse a good thing for not being better. June readied the horses as quickly as he could while Rose ate breakfast.
When the Coachman approached and asked when they would be leaving, June only chuckled and said that a coach wasn’t necessary. Confused, the Coachman opened his mouth to ask “No coach? Do you know how dangerous the road to De Manches is? The marshes themselves are enough to bog down even the mi-” June cut him off there, smiling.
June: “Do I know De Manches? No, but do you know our lady?” Without another word June walked away, leaving the Coachman in stunned belief… at how he never realised how arrogant June was. The Coachman would need to reconsider getting June a gift for Wintersfeast.
Soon, the party departed. Rose, the Captain of the Guards, Bran and June, her personal guard. Behind them, the inhabitants of the estate prayed for their success, but Rose couldn’t help but think that their words were hollow. Their destination was Duke Manchere’s territory, De Manches. As they traveled, Rose overheard the guards chatting about the Duke.
Guard 1: “I heard he hosts the most extravagant parties. I can’t imagine having the amount of wealth you’d need to hold a feast every month!” The guard laughed to himself. Another guard spoke up.
Guard 2: “His wealth? They say it’s wider than the sea and deeper than Edmund’s chasm!” The men looked at each other before chuckling again at the absurdity of the statement.
Guard 3: “I also heard he’s as ugly as a donkey.” The grins on the guards faces grew wider. Finally, a younger guard spoke up, chiming into the conversation.
Guard 4: “You haven’t heard the rhyme?” The guards, now thoroughly intrigued looked to the youngest of them. He cleared his throat before putting speaking with his deepest voice.
“In all of life,
There is only one wife
Who weeps at the sight,
At her only plight,
The one Duke Manchere,
Could not repair,
His biggest disgrace,
His very own face!”
The two guards burst out laughing. Their tumultuous laughter roared far into the forest, alerting Bran and June to their tomfoolery. “Be careful what you say,” June hissed, riding alongside them. His face, veiny and red. “We are in his territory now,” he added, his eyes darting around. “If word reaches him, Rose could be the one to suffer for your mistake.”
The guards fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances. The statement wasn’t wrong. If there was someone with enough influence within the nobility to challenge Mander, it would be Duke Manchere. Still, they couldn’t help but think that June was being a massive stick in the mud.
The air grew colder as they ascended into the mountainous region. The trees became denser, their leaves rustling in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The forest was a mix of towering oaks and firs, their branches intertwining to form a canopy that filtered the late afternoon sun. The sounds of distant wildlife echoed through the woods.
Bram noticed the setting sun and decided to start setting up camp. His expression was one of careful calculation, eyes scanning the surroundings for a suitable spot.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Bram announced, his voice steady and authoritative. “It’s getting dark.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Rose dismounted and walked towards a nearby stream to wash her face. The cold water was refreshing, a brief respite from the journey's stress. She stared at her reflection, the once vibrant red hair now dulled, her skin pale and sickly, dark circles marring her eyes. The forest around her was serene, the sounds of nature providing a stark contrast to the turmoil within her.
Suddenly, she heard a noise and instinctively drew her sword. A girl burst from the bushes, her appearance was shocking. She was malnourished, wearing rags for clothes, badly injured, and clearly fleeing from something. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked with Rose’s. Her breaths were shallow and rapid.
“What’s going on?” Rose demanded, her sword still raised, its silver glowing in the sunset.
The girl cowered, trembling but before she could answer, two heavily armored men burst from the bushes. Their eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Rose, but they quickly composed themselves, their expressions turning cold and calculating.
“Give us the girl,” one of the men said calmly. “She’s a serf. She’s not allowed to leave her estate.”
Rose looked at the girl, and saw the desperate pleading in her eyes. Serfdom… it was legal. As Rose placed a hand on the girls back to push her back to the men, the small girl quickly grabbed Rose’s hand. “Please!” It was only then when the girl’s sleeve fell off her harm did she notice the thick red bruising and chaffing around her wrist.
Looking the girl up and down, she saw the rest. Bruising around her neck, wrists, and ankles—clear indications of metal shackles. The girl’s eyes silently begging for help. Rose’s heart tightened. She sighed.
While serfdom was legal in certain territories in Aethelred… technically cruel confinement was not. Additionally, chains were almost exclusively used for slaves, a practice that was outlawed but widely practiced in dark circles.
“She’s not going back,” Rose stated firmly, her voice loud enough to carry to her nearby party. She could feel the tension in the air, the cold breeze brushing against her skin, the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders.
The men glanced at each other, their expressions darkening. They saw Rose’s guards and June in the distance and decided to cut their losses. They hastily retreated towards the nearby mountains, their threats lingering in the air. “Don’t follow us, or there will be worse consequences.”
Rose looked back at the girl, who was fiercely holding onto her. “It’s alright,” she said softly, sheathing her sword. “You’re safe now.” She guided the girl back to the camp, her mind racing with thoughts. She directed the party to continue setting up camp while she helped the girl clean up. It didn’t take long for sleep to come that night.
---
The next morning, the camp was abuzz with a sense of purpose. The smell of dew-laden earth and fresh pine filled the air. Rose felt a slight improvement in her complexion. June noticed too. “You look better,” he commented with a smile, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and curiosity.
Rose chuckled. “Seems that it was the girl who did me a favour, not the other way around.” The two friends shared a small moment of reprise beofre Rose’s duties came back to the forefront of her mind. “Where is she?”
June gestured to a nearby tree where the girl hid, her stomach growling as she saw Bram cook their breakfast for today. Rose gestured her over. It didn’t take long for the girl to go back to clinging to Rose. June could only smile at his kind-hearted master and the heart-warming scene in front of him.
The smell of roasted meat and fresh herbs filled the air, a comforting aroma that contrasted with their journey so far. Once they finished, Rose decided it was a good time to ask what happened to her. She turned to the girl and gestured for her to go ahead.
The girl spoke, her voice trembling. “My name is Elara. My family and I lived peacefully in the nearby village of Montclair until a group of men took over. They forced us to work in a salt mine in the De Manche Hills.”
Rose’s eyes widened. “A salt mine?”
Elara nodded. “Yes, we had to dig with our bare hands for white salty rocks. There were so many guards... I lost count.”
Captain Bram muttered, “An untaxed salt mine.”
Rose knew the implications. All salt mines needed to be reported to the Royal Family upon discovery. The selling and buying of salt, a vital resource, were heavily regulated. “How many people are in the mine?” she asked, her mind racing with the possibilities.
“Too many to count,” Elara replied. “The compound is massive.” Elara looked down sadly. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Elara looked back to Rose. “Please! I know you saved me, but I need one more favour! My family is still there, my father and my younger brother. Please! Their names are Georg and Santi.”
Elara begged Rose to help her free her family, but Rose remained silent. She thought for a while. June looked at her intently. A large untaxed salt mine, heavily armored guards—all within Duke Manchere’s territory. It didn’t seem like a coincidence. Either he was directly connected or unable to act due to unforeseen circumstances. Either way, taking action could put Rose on the bad side of Duke Manchere, whose favor she needed to win the debate.
Rose looked at the desperate girl, her voice slow and soft. “I will try to help, but going in now would be suicide. We need a larger force. For now, guide us to the nearest town where you can help by keeping tabs on movement around the Hills.”
Elara agreed, her eyes filled with a glimmer of hope. Elara easily helped them navigate to Villeclaire, shaving off hours from their journey. Their journey thus far, which was filled with cold air that bit at their skin and long paths that were winding and treacherous, was now a pleasant walk through the forest with Elara as their guide. Villeclaire was a busy city, Elara could easily find work and hide here for a while. They spent one last night in Villeclaire talking about their lives. Rose warned Elara of her circumstances. Elara, who was only two years younger than Rose herself, waived off her concerns. Rose chuckled.
Elara: “Good luck Madam. I wish you victory in your own tribunals!” Elara continued to wave them off until they were nothing but specks in the distance.
With Elara far out of earshot, June finally spoke up. “How will you send a message to Elara when your inheritance is in question? Do we have some spy network that I’m not aware of?”
Rose smiled. “No. Just us.”
June nodded sadly. He understood. “It seems it may be a while before we hear from her again…” The party continued in silence, continuing the slow Trek towards Duke Manchere and the Noble Council.