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The moon was bright and full; it cast shards of silvery moonlight that shifted across the stone ground of the courtyard. A hooded figure, slight in comparison to the hulking palace before it, slid from the velvety shadows behind the barbed gate that wrapped around the castle. It prowled about for a brief moment before locating the weak spot it was looking for, and then it slipped beneath the sagging patch of wire on its belly, rendering the defense useless. Once clear of the no longer threatening barbs, still bathed in enough darkness to make its approach stealthy, it rose into a careful crouch and observed its surroundings.
Guards, heavily armored and hefting thick swords, stood at the end of the yard, in front of the castle's magnificent main doors. There were seven of them, an oddly paranoid number even for the king, all of them likely scarcely-trained men just out of boyhood. None of the guards- if they could truly be given the title- appeared to be particularly dedicated to their duty; instead they seemed bored, tired, even arrogant in their assumption that nobody would dare to breach the castle, the stronghold of their leader.
Having decided that a quiet method of entry was impossible (there was no possible means of walking right past the guards, unobservant as they were, and all other entrances were more securely guarded), the figure straightened slowly and took a step into the light. As it did, its hood fell back, revealing the face of a young woman. Said woman waited, her fists balled tightly, her blue-green eyes hard with anticipation. The seconds trickled by, and she gave a huff of exasperation, as the guards, stupid in their sleepiness, took no notice of her. The sound, quiet as it was, cut through the frigid air, and it was followed by a loud shout of alarm from the man closest to her.
Gathering together with surprising speed, the guards began to rush her, uttering fierce war cries that no doubt sent village children running and supplied the soldiers with the confidence they required to continue. Julia- for that was her name- couldn't suppress a taut smile as she widened her stance, allowing them to fan out around her, weapons held incorrectly and chests heaving with ill-conceived panic. Obviously, they recognized her. Julia couldn't decide whether that was good or bad- one the one hand, it was flattering that she was well-known and feared among the heart of such an oppressive government, but on the second hand, she was considered important and thus a target.
She hadn't any weapon save a dagger, which in hindsight seemed rather foolish. However, her bow had been terribly damaged in recent combat, much to her irritation, and none of her fellow rebels had been able to supply her with a sufficient replacement weapon in time for the mission (supplies were scarce as it was, and the movement could not risk any more of its members for a blacksmith's raid). Julia, unwilling to delay, had simply resolved to collect a weapon at her destination. As she breathed in and out evenly, in stark contrast to the guards, she locked gazes with a burly, unshaven man. Her eyebrows lifted in an unspoken challenge.
That was what did it. The seven men surged forward, converging upon her all at once; it was evident that they didn't much care about fairness. Julia kicked and spun and punched, not paying attention to whom she struck individually. There was no elegance in her movements; there never was, when it came to this sort of fighting. Her strategy was to incapacitate them with several, well aimed blows; she would not kill unless it was absolutely necessary. Of course, blows to the head always had the potential to be fatal- Julia, the daughter of a doctor, knew this well-; she could only do her best.
The guards proved, as she had suspected, to have little skill. She easily surpassed their weak defenses, and leveled stunning punches to as many foreheads as possible, ducking swinging swords and angry fists. They all were sprawled haphazardly upon the ground with a swiftness that would insult their pride later, Julia noted with a hint of amusement. She liked the idea of going through their weapons belts and pockets- the gods knew her people were in dire need of necessities- but there was no time to waste, as she didn't know whether or not the rest of the soldiers had heard the commotion. Besides, if she managed to pull off what she had come here for, they wouldn't be in need of things like daggers and scraps of dried meat (for the underpaid guards couldn't have anything of more value than that). She scooped up a glittering sword with a clear, mountain-spring gem set in the pommel- likely a fake-, and ascended the palace steps.
Julia had studied maps of the castle extensively in preparation for her assignment, and she had consulted several defectors who had worked directly within the castle and knew the guard arrangements and routines. They had informed her that there are no immediate guards inside the main entrance, due to the plethora of them securing the outside, but she still found herself relieved when she wasn't greeted by a small army or an arrow to the throat. After all, guard arrangements changed, and her informants hadn't worked for the king in months. Reminding herself that she shouldn't be lost in fear or relief, Julia turned left and began to follow a plain, undecorated passageway.
The hall seemed bare of pursuers or more soldiers, but Julia hastened along. Even if they hadn't heard their comrades' rallying cries, eventually a rotating patrol would find them and hazard a guess exactly as to where she was going and what she was after. Still, she was optimistic. She wagered that the king had left his treasure largely unguarded, displaying the same egotism as his workmen. Riches and power did not make a man immortal; every lord and king and noble had a chink in their armor, be it a lack of intelligence, compassion, or plain common sense. Julia was most adept at finding and exploiting the weaknesses within the cruel men who ruled the land.
She lifted her sword, just slightly, as she came to an unmarked wooden door. If her spies and maps were to be relied on, this was where it rested… the diamond worth the kingdom doubled. The diamond that would supply her rebellion with the means to seriously oppose the king.
Her gaze searched the door, and the wall surrounding it; no traps appeared placed, and nor had she been informed of any such things. Distrust and doubt rose in her throat, but Julia swallowed it down. Her informants had never failed her before now; hard as it was, she would have to wage war with her instincts, all of which screamed at her that something was terribly wrong. Ignoring the nasty diminutive voice in the back of her mind, Julia pulled the door open and stepped inside the unimpressive little room.
It was strangely simple, to be in such a grand and glorious castle; there was a wood-framed bed, a tall, arching window, and a round table placed conspicuously in the center of the room. On that table was what Julia had come for.
The gem glittered, even in the gloom, its every facet and curve radiating a sparkling brilliance that turned every precious stone in the world to but a mere dull rock. Its sheer beauty only added to its overall value, and with effort, Julia tore her eyes away and took a step in its direction, hand stretching, reaching.
"I wouldn't," cautioned a voice, from the very corner of the room, and Julia jumped back violently. A gasp very nearly ripped its way from her throat, and her sword instinctively pointed in the voice's direction.
"Surely you didn't think that something of this value was left entirely unprotected?" asked the same voice, its owner stepping into view; Julia was both affronted and impressed that he had managed to escape her notice. "Has our ruler's paranoia escaped you?"
The man was very handsome, Julia thought with an almost clinical interest. His brown eyes were soft, but in spite of that, there was a certain air of controlled danger and intelligence about the man that warned her not to underestimate him. He too held a sword, and unlike her, also had a shield to boast of. She didn't fear him; out-weaponed or not, she had defeated many talented swordsmen… but reason told her to not attack yet. In his arrogance- the arrogance that all the king's men possessed- she thought that he might inadvertently let information slip.
He continued to speak, not moving, stock-still. "There is a trap set. The moment you touch that jewel, said trap will spring forth. A net made of spears will encase you, and you will die a bloody and gruesome death. I have…" and here he paused, his eyes seemingly troubled. "…I have seen it happen too many times for my liking."
Julia was not fooled by this apparent show of compassion. "Why tell me this?" she asked, challengingly, tracing a circle in the air with the tip of her blade. "Now I know. I will find another way to take the diamond, and you will have to report your mistake to the king. If I know Giles, he will not be merciful."
The man shrugged neutrally, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps I am confident enough to believe that I can disarm you and bring you to His Majesty himself."
Julia laughed aloud, more harshly than she was used to. "I will not allow you to bring me to your beloved master."
His tone sharpened. "I have no love for the king." A hint of anger was now showing through his otherwise impassive features. Julia was well pleased; angry opponents were far more lax in their defense and far more reckless in their attacks, though he looked rather balanced overall in terms of temperament.
She looked past him, to the glimmering gemstone, wondering how she might spring the trap. The opposing soldier- she assumed that he was a soldier, though his movements seemed more refined than the typical- took advantage of the lapse in her attention. He sprung forward with the grace of a wildcat, cleaving his weapon toward her head; she easily countered and sprung her own attack. Her blade held the advantage of weight, while his had length. Julia kept this in mind as they parried, circling each other warily, his skill with a sword becoming more evident with every slash, strike, and block. Though Julia knew that eventually, she would gain the upper hand, she could not spare the time. For all she knew, an army of guards and King Giles himself were on their way. No, she'd have to resort to different tactics. With a deep breath, she thrust the sword to his left, feinting with a lightning-quick strike. Her intent had been to pierce his shoulder, and while he was stunned with pain, knock him out.
To her astonishment, he caught her blade against his own with a speed that matched hers; as a result, Julia could only gape. He took the opportunity to disarm her with a neat flick of the wrist. Her sword clattered to the floor, and his own weapon flicked up to her throat. What Julia felt now was a disbelieving sort of fury, fury that she had been bested. Her lips parted, and as even they did, determination coursed through her. She could not be caught. She would not be caught. She would die first.
"P-please…" she gasped, her voice ragged with fear, "don't hurt me. Don't take me to the king. He'll torture me; execute me. I don't want to die." Her expression was as plaintive as a child's, and she allowed a fine trembling to overcome her body. If the empathy that she had earlier observed was in fact true… perhaps… it was a slight chance, but…
The man hesitated, his sword dipping slightly. That was all that Julia needed. She swept her left hand around, and it collided with the hilt of his blade. As this took place, Julia kicked him squarely in the chest and, as he toppled, took possession of his weapon. The man lay on his back on the ground, bewildered and unarmed.
"I'm sorry that I had to stoop to that," she said, calmly, "but you proved to be a surprisingly worthy opponent." Her lips curved. "Usually I'd ask for a rematch, devoid of trickery, but I'm for wanting of time." With that, she knocked him out, very cleanly, and then returned to the object of her focus.
The net of spears, as the man had so very helpfully informed her of, would assuredly come from the slight hole in the domed ceiling directly above the table. Any movement of the diamond would bring it forth, which was a distinct problem; however, there only appeared to be one trap. If she could bring it down without harming her, and knock the diamond out of its grasp… she placed the sword flat upon her palm, observing the way it thirstily glittered, as if eager to hew and tear and kill.
She lifted it, and in the spur of the moment, hurled toward the table. It made solid contact with the valuable, knocking it far clear. There was a menacing low hum- Julia shivered involuntarily- and the trap came forth, encircling the table with wickedly sharp, dagger-like spears that drove downward with such force, they bit into the solid granite floor. Skirting around the deadly mesh, she picked up the treasure, placing it in the folds of her cloak, and then swallowed. Getting in was always the easy part- getting out, however, was somewhat trickier. Doubtless, the king and his men were on the way, or at the very least closely guarding all entrances and exits. They knew every nook and cranny of the castle; she did not. Julia knew that, in order to escape, she would have to do something unexpected, something hasty. The window…
She rushed over, smashing the frail glass easily, and leaned out, overlooking the dark and sweeping land. Overly high she was not, but she still risked breaking both of her legs, or at the very least twisting her ankles- Julia had endured worse pain, but those injuries would leave her incapacitated and vulnerable. This was, of course, assuming that she landed in a way that would not kill her instantly.
An idea began to form in the recesses of her mind, and she loathed it with everything in her, but she could not help her desperate thinking. Julia turned to look at the man's immobile body, biting her lip, willing herself to be strong enough to do it. Survival was key, and this she well knew, but she could not bring herself to kill the man, for reasons completely unknown.
Fate clearly willed otherwise, also, for the door flew open and a group of soldiers streamed in. Julia made a snap decision, and moved just as quickly. She hopped up onto the windowsill, aware of the risks, and leaned forward slightly. Immobilizing the first soldier with a strong blow to the back of the neck, Julia grabbed him in a sort of embrace, clutching him close. She turned, so that he was facing the outside, and then, with a wry smile upon her lips, she fell.
Landing jarred every bone in her body, but the soldier acted as a cushion, taking her weight and softening the impact. Julia scrambled to her feet, aching all over, and mouthed a silent apology. She turned and ran, stooping beneath the fence and disappearing into the everlasting, dark green forest that encompassed at least a quarter of the entire land. They would pursue her, as expected, but they would not catch her- as they knew the palace, she knew the forest.
Her feet thrummed upon the ground, and Julia allowed herself a sense of victory. Against all odds, she had done the impossible. She was still alive, and she had in her possession the most important thing to have ever crossed into the lands of King Giles. I hope that it is worth it, Julia thought, unhappily, as she withdrew the gem. She hoped that this was the key to the end of a long and cruel reign, and the beginning of a bright future.
Well, I'm back! Did you miss me? Of course not. :D
This is a oneshot, based off of a 'traditional kingdom/rebellion'-esque prompt. I won't be continuing it, but I might put up some more oneshots/drabbles from this universe, just because I have a few interesting ideas about it. Oh, and William's name wasn't mentioned in this fic- I tried to put it in, but I couldn't find decent context- but I assume you all figured it out. You're clever people, you Murdoch Mysteries fans. ;)
Anybody who can figure out where the title comes from gets metaphorical brownies. Of course, I can't stop you from cheating (Google is your friend!) but if you honestly figured it out yourself, kudos!
So, please drop a review if you liked this, per usual! Thank you! -Mel