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Summary: Twenty years have past since the Earl's death...and things have not been well for Erik.
The Mask and the Slipper
Nighttime Travelers
20 years later…
A black carriage slowly came to a stop, just outside a seedy looking tavern, at the heart of Eastergard's only port city. Overhead, the night sky grumbled with thunder, as lightning danced from cloud to cloud. There was a chill in the autumn air, as the promise of a storm was carried upon the wind.
The driver of the carriage leapt down to his feet, and he quickly opened the door, allowing the carriage's occupant to climb down. The passenger was wearing a black hooded cloak, pulled up tight so none could see their face. Without a word to the carriage driver, the passenger entered the tavern, ignoring the drunken laughter of its customers and prostitutes, moving past the card tables, until it reached a small door, hidden in the back. The hooded figure glanced at a nearby barmaid, who simply nodded her head, before the figure disappeared through the door.
Voices could be heard within the shadows, just beyond the small door. Several men were sitting in a small, dark room, each drinking a tankard of ale, while a bald-headed man, with one large, gold earring, sat at a table, writing down the information they were giving him.
"How much did last month's shipment make?" he asked.
"Twelve percent more than this month's," muttered one of the men.
"It's the damn king's laws!" muttered another, slamming his tankard down onto the table. "It's bad enough that our country has only one seaport; now he's making it near impossible to trade! Just this past week, I had to deal with several of his soldiers, who wanted to see our ship's inventory."
"It's not really the King's fault," hiccupped a different man. "It's that son of his, Prince Fredrick; he's taken it upon himself to keep close watch on all that comes in and out on Eastergard's ships."
"It doesn't matter who's to blame," the bald-headed man grumbled. "The point is we can't depend on sea trade to be the only thing that brings in money."
"Maybe we should 'up the stakes' with The Monster?"
"Exactly! I know some men who are willing to put one of their own fighters against—"
The bald-headed man's hand clutched at the other man's shoulder, which quickly silenced him. The other men lifted their heads in the direction the bald-headed man was looking…and realized, much to their surprise, that they were no longer alone.
"Here now!" one of the men growled, rising to his feet, despite his drunken state. "Who are you and what are you—"
"LEAVE US!" the bald-headed man roared, his eyes glaring into those of all the men who were surrounding him.
"But Conrad—"
"I said," the bald-headed man growled in a voice so deep, the ground beneath their feet seemed to shake. "Leave us."
"Alright, alright, we're leaving!" one of the men muttered, as they all filed out, leaving the hooded figure, and the bald-headed man in peace.
Only when the last of them had left, and the door was shut, did the figure push back her hood.
"Countess Montero," the bald-headed man greeted with the hint of an evil smile.
"Captain Conrad," the Countess replied, her voice and features as cold as ice. "And please, it's Delahoussaye," she reminded him. "I am, after all, a widow."
Black Widow is more like it, Captain Conrad thought, but he chose to keep his comments to himself. "I received your letter only yesterday; had I known that you would be arriving this evening, I would have made sure my…business meetings…were finished well beforehand."
The Countess glanced over her shoulder at the door the other men had just gone through. "From the sound of things, it does not appear that business is going very well…"
Captain Conrad took a long swig from his stein, before answering her question. "Apparently Prince Fredrick shares the same views as my former partner, and your late husband, when it comes to issues of slavery," he grumbled, however an evil smile lifted at the corners of his mouth. "But we get by."
"I'm sure you do," the Countess muttered.
Captain Conrad gazed at the woman before him, his eyes running over her approvingly. She had aged well; her strawberry-blonde hair was light enough that one could not see the gray that was developing. Her skin still looked young and smooth, although he assumed that was mainly brought on by the heavy use of creams, perfumes, and other cosmetics. Her figure was still appealing, with a small waist, lush hips, and full breasts. Indeed, Captain Conrad had admired the Countess for many years…and he never stopped hoping that the two of them could come to a more…personal…business arrangement.
"I beg your pardon," he murmured at last, finally lifting his eyes back to hers. "I seem to have forgotten my manners; would you care for a drink?"
The Countess rolled her eyes; as far as she was concerned, Captain Conrad had no manners. "I do not have time to drink—"
"Everyone has time for a drink," he went on, ignoring her words and pouring her a pint of ale from one of the tavern's large barrels, just behind him, before refilling his own stein.
"Captain Conrad," the Countess growled through clipped lips. "Word has reached me that you still have my stepson."
The bald-headed captain didn't bother looking up at her to answer her question. "Is that a problem, milady?"
"You know it is!" she snarled, her hands forming into fists and crashing down upon the table before him, her green eyes blazing with anger. "The last time I saw Erik he was nearly the size of a tree! And just as thick as its trunk!"
Captain Conrad couldn't help but chuckle. "You should see him now…he's twice that."
"My point exactly," the Countess groaned. "I haven't forgotten the insolence that boy left in my household; I know how strong he can be, and he has enough rage to fuel him!"
"Now whose fault is that?" Captain Conrad sighed, before sitting back in his chair and propping his legs up onto the table. "I certainly didn't plant that rage within him."
"You certainly haven't done anything to quell it, either!" the Countess snapped. "We had a deal, Conrad! You promised me he would be shipped to the colonies with all your other slaves before he turned 30! But if memory serves…his 30th birthday was six months ago!"
"Eight, actually," the captain corrected, a lazy smile falling across his face. "Have you so little faith in me, milady? I keep him chained when he is not working, and when he works, I have my best men keep watch over him; they have swords, clubs, and whips. What does he have? Just his fists," he laughed.
The Countess, however, was not so easily soothed by Captain Conrad's confidence. "You were not there when he tried to kill my son, Captain," she growled.
Captain Conrad let out a bark of laughter. "Kill? Oh come now, Countess, the boy was simply…roughhousing."
"He had his hands around Thomas' neck!" the Countess hissed, her eyes like daggers as they glared into the captain's. "He was trying to strangle my son! And I sold him to you, believing that you would take care of him for me!"
"And that's what I have been doing all these years, milady," Captain Conrad defended, putting on an innocent look. "I took dear Erik off your hands 15 years ago, and put him to work in my shipping yard."
The Countess only sneered. "That wasn't exactly the 'care' I had in mind when I sold him to you."
"Perhaps not," Captain Conrad sighed, before taking another drink from his stein. "But I also saw potential in the boy; and he is built for hard labor, surely you can understand that? Besides…" Captain Conrad murmured, his eyes never leaving those of the Countess, as he gazed at her over the rim of his stein. "I would be a fool to get rid of him now, especially when he still serves my purpose…"
The Countess eyed the bald-headed man suspiciously. "Was that what your 'business partners' were referring to just now?"
Captain Conrad only chuckled before finishing his drink. "I told you that despite the Prince's enforcement of the King's law…we get by."
The Countess lifted a haughty brow at the man's words, before lifting the hood of her cloak once more over her head. "I want to see him."
It was now the captain's turn to be thrown off guard. "See him?" he practically choked on the last of his ale. "Whatever for?"
"I want you to prove to me that he is no longer a threat, that his spirit has indeed been broken, just as you promised you would do, when you took him all those years ago."
Captain Conrad eyed the woman before him, before slowly rising to his feet. "Slavery always breaks a man's spirit…and that is what he is; a slave, or more specifically, my slave, with whom I can use for whatever I wish."
"True," the Countess murmured in a mocking sweet tone. "But he is still my stepson…and my dear Victor would want me to check in on him, now and again."
The captain folded his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving the cold gaze of the Countess…before finally nodding his head in agreement. "Very well, I will take you to him, if that is your wish."
"It is," the Countess snapped. "As well as to see him far from Eastergard's shores."
"One promise at a time, milady," Captain Conrad smiled, before opening the door for her.
It was Hell. Anyone would think that, upon seeing the place.
Captain Conrad's shipping yard was one of the largest in the entire port, and yet despite it's size, it kept its distance from the other shipping yards. Captain Conrad preferred this, as he did not want any stranger poking their head around, and the villagers did not mind, for they were extremely wary of the bald-headed captain. It was no secret, how Captain Conrad made his money, but all of them knew that if they dared to say anything about it…he would unleash his "weapon" upon them. And for those few who had seen the beast, they claimed they would rather face the King's entire army, than have to spend one night with the creature in his pit.
The "pit" was a deep, underground level, just inside the captain's storehouse. The upper level was filled with crates upon crates of goods that Captain Conrad's ships used to trade, as well as goods they had brought back. Yet ironically, the storehouse was not intended for this purpose. For in a far corner of the storehouse, was a hidden door, in the floorboards. And upon opening that door, and descending down the ladder within…one would soon realize that they had found an entrance into Hell.
If not for the torches that lined the underground walls, the pit would have been pitch black. Empty shackles hung from the walls, and old bloodstains spattered the ground beneath them. In the distance, tortured screams could be heard echoing throughout the twisting tunnels as Captain Conrad's men "disciplined" several unruly servants. The air was pungent with the stench of blood and urine, and in several dark corners, where the torches failed to illuminate, the odor of rotting flesh perfumed the air. Rats, mice, and every kind of creeping insect one could imagine, scampered and crawled across the stone floor, some gnawing on old bones that littered the ground, here and there.
Yes, few people would argue that this place was Hell itself, and many in the village believed that the giant, dark, disfigured creature that lived there, was none other than The Beast.
Captain Conrad held his torch high, as he illuminated the pathway for the Countess. He could not help but confess his amazement with the woman; one minute she would be swooning at something shocking, pretending to be a delicate flower, and the next…she would enter a place like this, willingly, and march through the muck and grime as if she had always done so. Perhaps that explained his attraction for the woman? She was a complete mystery. It also explained his extreme distrust of her; she was obviously more than what she seemed.
He finally came to a stop, and simply pointed ahead of him, towards a dark corner. The Countess said nothing; she simply took the torch out of Captain Conrad's hands, and quietly approached the dark abyss.
Slowly, the light from the torch began to reveal that there was something in the corner, something hunched over, something breathing…and something quite large.
The creature wore nothing, save for a tattered pair of breeches, made out of burlap. His feet were bare and dirty, and there were signs of rat bites upon the toes. His broad, muscular back was also bare, and in the way he was hunched over, one could see all the lash marks that had been inflicted, throughout the years. His powerful arms were shackled and chained to the walls behind him, as were his legs. There also seemed to be a shackle about his neck, which no doubt was the cause for his raspy breathing. The only thing that the Countess could not see…was his face. His head was covered by a burlap sack, which contained two slits for his eyes, as well as one for his mouth. There were also two "horn-like" spikes, sticking out of the sack; Captain Conrad obviously had a twisted sense of humor.
The huddled creature did turn his head slightly when the light fell upon him, and the rasping way he breathed began to deepen, until it was a dangerous growl. The Countess gazed down at the creature, before placing the torch in an empty sconce, and kneeling down, until she was at eye-level with the beast.
"Hello, Erik."
Another growl escaped the burlap sack. "Dominique…"
Without warning, the Countess took hold of the burlap sack and lifted it away, until Erik's head was freed for her viewing. His black hair was long and shaggy, and limply hung about his face, curtaining his disfigured features from her view. Few would be brave enough to do what she did next, which was cup her hand beneath his chin, and lift his head until his eyes were at level with hers. "It's been some time, has it not?"
Erik said nothing, he simply snarled at her and attempted to lash out, however the shackles kept him in place.
The Countess didn't even flinch. "I see you still have your temper," she muttered, removing her hand.
"These shackles are the only thing that's keeping me from killing you," he growled, his dark eyes burning gold in the firelight.
The Countess clucked her tongue. "My, my, it's hard to believe that once upon a time, you rushed towards me, covered in mud and holding a fistful of flowers, welcoming me into your home and fully prepared to call me 'mother'. Whatever happened to that sweet, obedient, kind-hearted boy?"
"He died," Erik growled. "He died alongside my father…or perhaps he died when you entered my father's house?" he tested the bonds of his shackles, paying no heed to the blood that was dripping down his arms.
The Countess rolled her eyes. "I see; you still blame me for your father's death?"
"I KNOW YOU TRICKED HIM!" he roared, attempting to lash out once again, but the shackles still held him firmly in place. A dark, satisfied smile lifted at the corners of Erik's mouth; he had managed to catch the Countess off guard. "You tricked him somehow into marrying you. If my father had lived, he would have seen you for what you truly are…"
The Countess glared at her stepson, before rising once more to her feet and smoothing her hands about her dress, trying once more to regain her composure. "And what am I, Erik?"
"The Devil's handmaiden," he growled, his eyes never leaving hers. "The serpent who slithered out of the Garden of Eden, and who managed to poison my father with your pretty smiles and cold caresses. Had he lived, he would have spotted you for the vile witch that you are…and seen to it that you and that pig you call a son, were left rotting by the side of the road."
The Countess arched a painted brow at her stepson's words. "You call me a serpent? With that venomous tongue?" she sighed and shook her head before once more, kneeling before him. "And I had come all this way to make peace with you."
Erik glared at her, his hatred for the woman rising with every passing second. "I'm not interested in peace…and certainly not with you," he snarled.
The Countess, however, smiled coldly at him. "That is a shame," she sighed. "I mean, don't you find all this blind fury and hatred exhausting?"
Erik tested his bonds once more. "Sometimes it's the only thing that fuels me."
"Yes, I gathered that," she grumbled. "I mean, really Erik. To think this all began with a simple misunderstanding! Thomas was not going to hurt your little friend—"
Rage flooded Erik then. "He tried to RAPE Julia!" he roared. The nightmarish image of seeing Thomas, pinning poor Julia down upon his bed, as he attempted to loosen his trousers while she screamed for mercy, before being slapped several times by her attacker, made Erik's blood turn to ice. He was fifteen at the time, and had been reduced to working as a slave, alongside the other servants. He didn't know who he hated more, Dominique or Thomas? They were both vile and cruel, and the only reason he did not lash out at them before was because he feared for the safety of his friends, especially Julia, who Thomas leered at from afar. However, that day when he heard Julia's screams, Erik could not hold back his rage any longer. He attacked Thomas with a furious passion that even shocked him. One minute he had his hands around Thomas' neck and was squeezing the life out of him…the next, he felt a heavy pain strike the back of his head, and he was knocked unconscious. He would later awake to find himself inside this hellhole, and learn that Dominique had sold him to Captain Conrad, the only other person Erik despised as much as the Countess and her son.
The Countess rolled her eyes at Erik's accusation. "Do not flatter your friend," she spat. "Thomas was simply having a bit of fun, that's all."
"Fine," Erik growled, his voice deeper than ever. "Then I was only having a bit of fun…with trying to kill him."
The Countess' anger was beginning to show. "For someone who failed at his original intentions, you sound awfully proud of yourself," she growled back.
It was Erik's turn to smile. "I may have failed then…but that doesn't mean I'll fail the next time—"
"There won't BE a next time!" the Countess shouted, surging to her feet, her voice filling the tunnels far beyond. "And you can wipe that smile off your face," she spat with disgust. "Captain Conrad and I have come to a new arrangement," she snarled. "You are to be shipped on the next boat to the colonies, and all your hopes of ever seeing your precious friends, or Ravenskeep, will be a distant memory!"
Despite the Countess' threat, Erik only squared his shoulders and glared right back at her. Captain Conrad was an evil, cruel taskmaster, but the man was not an idiot. And Erik knew that the captain depended upon him to make money, when trading could not.
"Is that why you traveled all this way?" he asked, glaring up at her. "To take joy in telling me that I will join Conrad's slaves in the New World?"
The Countess eyed him, before reaching inside her cloak and withdrawing a black object. "Actually…no," she murmured. "I do take joy in being rid of you, once and for all, that I cannot deny, but I actually came…well, how can I put this? I came to wish you a happy birthday, my dear stepson," she purred sweetly.
Erik stared up at her, his dark eyes lit with confusion. The Countess did make it a habit to come and visit him on his birthday, or as he thought of it, the anniversary of when his life had gone to hell.
His tenth birthday had been the day his father had died, and it had been the day the Countess revealed her true colors. Several days after his father's death, the Countess made it clear that the sight of his disfigured face disgusted her, and she ordered him to eat all his meals with the servants. Erik had been more hurt by her words, than angered by them. Truth be told, he preferred sharing his meals with Duncan, Celeste, and Julia; they treated him more like family than his own stepmother and stepbrother did. However, that was just the beginning. Dominique and Thomas soon took over the entire house, changing things to suit them, including Thomas taking Erik's bedroom, and forcing Erik to sleep in the servant's quarters. Erik attempted to protest, but he was severely beaten for his insolence, as the Countess had called it, and soon after, he became one of the servants.
It was also when Captain Conrad returned to Ravenskeep, for the first time since the Earl's death. According to the bald-headed villain, Erik's father had left many large debts, and the captain insisted that he be paid. The Countess then released a large number of the servants, using their wages to pay off the Earl's so-called debt, leaving only Duncan, Celeste, and Julia behind. Erik was grateful that they had at least been spared, but he soon came to realize that the Countess knew how much it meant to him, to have them there; she often threatened to throw his adopted family out onto the streets, or sell them off to Captain Conrad himself, if he did not do as she ordered. And so, he became a slave for his stepmother and stepbrother, doing impossible chores, working in the hot, searing summer sun, and the cold, bitter winter snows, working when it rained, working when it stormed, and when he did not work as quickly as he had been ordered, or as quickly as they believed he should be working…then he was beaten. And sadly, that was all too often.
After the incident with Julia, Erik was taken off the Countess' hands, and to this day, he did not know what was worse; working for the Countess and her greedy son, or working for Captain Conrad and his goons. Both were cruel taskmasters with a taste for blood, and both he longed to see dead.
"My birthday was eight months ago," Erik growled, his eyes narrowing at her and the object she held in her hands. What was she up to?
"I know," the Countess sighed. "But you did turn 30, which is a significant age in any man's life, so I felt it important that I come, and that I bring you a special gift," she murmured, indicating the object she was holding in her hands. "No doubt you were wondering what had happened to me?"
"I had rather hoped you were dead," he grunted.
The Countess continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "These past fifteen years I have not missed one birthday…but…recently, I've had my hands tied," she explained, a smile lifting at the corners of her mouth.
Erik felt his blood run cold at the way she smiled. She was definitely up to something…
"Princess Christine is going to marry soon," the Countess sighed. "And I have been quite busy with helping Thomas win her hand."
Erik knew very little about Eastergard's royal family, but he couldn't help but laugh at the Countess' words. "So that's it, is it? Marrying an earl and becoming a countess has now lost its appeal? You're hoping to see your own son near the throne…if not on it," he spat. "Well you have your work cut out for you; it will take a great deal, to have the Princess accept a talking pig as her husband, let alone look at one—"
"INSOLENT BEAST!" the Countess screeched, before backhanding Erik across the face. The slap stung, but it by no means broke his spirit.
"Just you wait," she hissed. "Thomas will be a prince! And if you thought your life was hell before—"
"Ah, but I thought I was going to be shipped to the colonies?"
The Countess was fuming. "IT WILL BE HELL WHEREVER YOU GO!" she shouted, before reaching out and grabbing Erik by his hair and forcing his head back, as she leaned down and spat in his face. "I'll see to that, personally," she growled, with venomous promise.
She released his head, and Erik growled back at her, before once more testing the bonds of his chains, yearning to wrap his fingers around her own head, and break her neck as if it were a twig.
"CONRAD!" she shouted, glaring down at her stepson with pure disgust and hatred. The captain appeared at her side then, from the shadows just behind her. "I'm leaving," she hissed, before fixing the hood on her cloak. Her eyes narrowed, and she reached down, grabbed a hold of the burlap sack, and forced it once more over his head. "Cover your hideous face, it disgusts me!" she spat, before throwing the object she had been holding, down upon the moldy pile of straw that made for Erik's bed. "Happy birthday," she snarled, before turning on her heel and leaving, Captain Conrad taking the torch she had been holding earlier, and leading her out.
Erik watched with narrow eyes as the woman he hated disappeared around the corner, the light going with her. However, before the light was completely gone, he had been able to make out the dark object that she had thrown down beside him.
A mask.
King Leonard V of Eastergard was pacing the parlor of his chambers, his arms clasped firmly behind his back, his blue robe swishing about his feet, as he walked up and down the parlor, muttering to himself. Instead of a crown, he wore a nightcap.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, and the King lifted his head, before thundering a loud, "ENTER!"
A guard opened the door, revealing a tall, dark-haired man, with handsome features and striking blue eyes, also wearing a robe similar to that of the King's, save that his was a deep shade of purple. The man took a deep breath, before fully entering the parlor, his eyes looking tired and his brown hair somewhat disheveled. "Father…it must be 2 or 3 in the morning, why on earth are you awake, and more importantly, why have you summoned me?"
The King looked up at his son and his eyes narrowed into two dark blue slits. "We need to talk about your sister," he growled.
The younger man rolled his eyes. "Now, Father? Is this really necessary—"
"This is serious, Fredrick! Wars have started over things like this!"
Prince Fredrick sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying his hardest to wipe the sleep from his eyes. "Roanland is not going to start a war with us in the middle of the night, and besides, they have been our allies for the past fifty years; Mother was the King's cousin for heaven's sake!"
"Yes…and the King of Roanland is most displeased with the way your sister has been responding, or should I say, lack of responding, to Prince Raoul's letters!" King Leonard muttered, before thrusting the latest letter he had received from Roanland into his son's face.
Fredrick took the letter from his father and carefully read it, wincing now and then as he came across the King of Roanland's negative remarks on how ill-behaved the princess was being, and how shocked and appalled he was to see that the King of Eastergard could not control his own daughter, which led him to suspect how well he could control his own country? No, it was not a good letter at all.
"Where is she!?" the King demanded, his eyes flying to those of his son's.
Fredrick was taken aback by his father's bark. "Who?"
"CHRISTINE!" the King all but exploded, his face turning redder than a tomato.
"It's the middle of the night, Father, I would assume she's in bed."
The King nodded his head at this, and then moved to push past his son and throw open the parlor door.
"Wait!" Fredrick cried, getting between his father and the door.
"Out of my way, boy. You're not king yet!"
Fredrick ignored his father's comment. "What are you intending to do?"
"Pound some sense into her, if I must!" the King barked, attempting once more to move past his son.
"Father, can't this wait till morning?" the Prince tried to reason once more.
"Ha!" the King scoffed. "By then she'll have time to plan! Best to catch her off guard—"
"Father, she's not an enemy we're at war with! You speak of her as if she draws up battle plans and makes secret maneuvers—"
"She's your sister!" the King reminded him. "And she does do all those things! Now, if you don't move out of my way, I'll have the guards remove you for me!" he threatened.
Fredrick folded his arms across his chest and glared back at the old man before him. "What good will threatening do? What good will talking about this now, at all times, do?"
The King paused and seemed to consider his son's words. "It will make me feel much better," he grumbled, before attempting to push past his son once more.
However, before Fredrick could block his father, or before the King had the opportunity to wrestle his son away from the door, a loud, desperate-sounding knock, was heard against the chamber door. Both Fredrick and Leonard looked at one another with confusion, before saying at the same time, "Yes?"
"Fredrick? Your Majesty?"
Without waiting for the guards to open the door, Fredrick grabbed hold of the handle and threw it open, to see the pale and worried face of his wife. "Meg? What's wrong?" he took the Princess' hands in his and drew close to her side, his own face paling with worry. "It's not the baby, is it?" he looked down at his wife's swollen belly, his hand protectively resting upon it.
"No, no, I'm fine," Princess Marguerite reassured, touched by her husband's concern. However her eyes turned to those of the King, and Leonard's jaw clenched at the way she looked at him. "After you summoned Fredrick to your chamber, Your Majesty, I happened to glance out our bedchamber window, and noticed…" she bit her lip, glancing at Fredrick, before continuing. "Something rather…strange…"
"Strange?" Fredrick asked, his brow creasing with confusion. The King, however, was beginning to shake…
"Yes," the Princess continued. "And upon peering closer, I realized that…that it was several bed sheets…strung together…"
Without another word, the King grabbed a hold of the door and swung it open with a loud bang, before moving as quickly as his old legs would allow, along the corridor, up the steps, until he reached the south wing of the castle…and without even bothering to knock on her door, he burst into his daughter's bedchamber.
King Leonard surveyed the dark room, before noticing, just as his daughter-in-law had indicated, an open window, near Christine's bed…and a sheet, clearly tied to the railing of her balcony.
Fredrick stumbled into the chamber, just after his father, his wife close behind. He moved past the King, to peer over the side of balcony, his eyes growing wide as he realized just how long the rope of sheets was…and how far down his sister must have climbed!
"Oh dear," Meg murmured, her face creasing with worry as she surveyed the room. "Not again…"
The King straightened his shoulders, his face red and fuming, before turning on his heel and marching out of the chamber, roaring at the top of his lungs. "SOUND THE ALARM! CALL OUT THE GUARDS! BRING HER BACK AT ONCE!"
A loud, high-pitched bell was being rung throughout the palace, the sound so shrill it could be heard for miles around, even within the forest…where a lone rider dug her heels into the flanks of her horse, as she spurred the beast onward, heading south at all speed, towards Eastergard's single, lonely seaport.