Chapter Four-
After several hours of painful head bobbing from the tease of sleep, Borus decided he had enough. This night had not provided him with much besides the ominous images of blazing flames and desperate screams. Sleep was not going to be an option tonight.
She cast him a sideways glance from the stray strands of her loosening bun. The Zexen Knight commander was now seated beside her, as if he could be an old friend.
"Difficult night's sleep, Lord Borus?" She questioned politely.
He chuckled. "You could say that. I prefer a bed."
She relaxed her uptight prose, and settled the book on the opposite side from where he sat.
"Is this your first time to Brass Castle?"
"Yes."
He leaned back slightly on his elbows, allowing his legs to stretch out. Though his position was oddly casual for his typical uptight behavior, it was the one position that relieved the tension of his lower back when it flared up with the cramps that resulted from constant use of heavy armor.
"It's a decent place to be, in my opinion. Home for me, I suppose," He glanced up at her. "Not my real home, of course."
Emma nodded. "Vinay Del Zexay."
"You seem so sure."
She shrugged, crossing her hands in her lap.
"Everyone knows the Redrum family. And I remember Abigail."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know my sister?"
"We had the same arithmetic tutor. We had conference sessions together sometimes."
Familiarity enriched his memory. That was right. Abigail had never taken well to criticism for her work, even if she were the only people. She tended to benefit from group sessions.
"Ah." He responded, "I see."
They sat silent, quietly taking in the odd uncomfortably that they emanated from one other.
Borus stretched his back further. The position wasn't doing it. He slowly relaxed again. In spite of his pain he hadn't realized how rude he was acting in the presence of this lady he hardly knew.
"So you intend to become a physician?"
She shrugged. "I'm not sure what my intentions are. Only they don't consist of the way I live now. But I do love my father's work." She stopped her thought short. It wouldn't do her any good to open up to this man.
"That sounds reasonable."
She couldn't resist. "Lord Borus, I want to ask a fairly bold question."
His eyes flashed at her again, temporarily stealing her train of thought.
"What's that?"
"Becoming one of the Six Mighty Knights at such a relatively young age seems like quite the feat." She paused, carefully plotting how to word her next sentence, "How did you know you wanted to become a knight?"
"I didn't. I wanted to be better than my brothers."
She blinked. This certainly wasn't the answer she had anticipated.
"It became something I wanted as soon as I tried it. The more I learned, the more I craved, and the better I became.".
She pondered his answer for a moment. She had heard of his skill; swordsmanship unrivaled by the entire Zexen Army. She had observed the team during their few encounters with the wild creature population throughout the day, and couldn't help but lock her eyes on him despite the obvious skill of his subordinates. He seemed so graceful, so effortless and quick in his movements, yet his menacing manner and seductive rage intrigued her.
"You make it sound so simple."
He laughed softly. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure how to say it. I suppose I'm a bit envious."
He inhaled sharply, as if unsure of what to say, or how to say what he knew she needed to hear.
"Of what, if I may ask?"
"I don't know."
He dropped the topic.
Later that night, Emma finally slipped into the depths of her own unconscious, as the raging swordsman idley prodded at the embers in front of her. She felt oddly secure in the midst of the unknown, knowing she was capable of achieving some sort of connection with such a man, even if it was evident they wouldn't have much to say to one another after tonight.
"I'm not going to ask you again."
The man was bound at his wrists, ankles and knees. He croaked slightly, due to dehydration. His interrogator was an awfully brawny man, no doubt one of those ruffians that had been rumored to roam the very roads his caravan had been traveling earlier that day.
"Y-Yes." He finished in defeat.
A smaller man approached, fidgeting absentmindedly with the tight knots along his spine. "Got anything?"
The bigger man grinned, never losing the gaze of his fearful captive. "'course I do. This guy's a servant for Councilman Reed."
His companion clicked his tongue. "Bingo."
Abigail huffed as her carriage driver took his sweet time unlatching the door. Good help was certainly hard to find. She leaned out into the night and held out her hand expectantly and he obliged, allowing his mistress a safe and secure release to the Delmore estate.
"Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, madam?" The elderly man offered, bowing before her.
"No." She snapped, not bothering to acknowledge the disappointment as she hastily scurried to her front door.
She twisted the black iron key in it's lock. The familiar clicking noises ensued, proceeded by the faint wining of heavy oak as she was granted access to her home. She shut the door behind her softly. The house was awfully eerie this time of night.
A single oil lamp remained illuminated at the top of the grand marble staircase. So, that no good husband of hers was still awake. She lifted her crimson ball gown so that the ends no longer threatened to betray her as she ascended the stairs.
How humiliating tonight had been, she thought to herself. The dense soles of her elegant shoes clicked, echoing throughout the hall. It was the one thing she asked of Patrick- to simply accompany her to their good friend Eleanor's engagement party to a Councilman. The politician did have a name- but that didn't matter right now.
He relinquished the invitation last minute, saying he wasn't feeling well. The clicking continued. It had been a night of awkward questions. Sympathetic smiles, her own friends whispering as she approached with no arm to cling to. And the dress- it was tailored specifically for this event. And he decided last minute he didn't feel up to it.
But now she had him caught for sure. The help would not leave a lamp in the hall lit when Patrick was in bed. She reached the top of the stairs, and stormily directed herself to the east wing. He was going to get it. Her footfalls muffled by the plush carpet, imported from Dunan. That didn't matter now either, although it usually did.
A light slid through the crack of the double doors of the master bedroom. She didn't slow her fiery pace a bit as she raised her gloved arms and pushed them open simultaneously.
Abigail halted. The doors slammed shut from her provided momentum behind her. She gasped.
There aboard her own white silk sheets, beneath her grand velvet canopy, Patrick moved his gaze from the green eyed naked beauty beneath him to the dumbfounded fully clothed wife before him.
In that moment, the women simultaneously released a wail. One out of sheer pleasure, and the other gathered in the depths of Redrum's fury.
When their eyes met the following morning, Chris's typically stone features softened lightly. He waved in her direction from across the road, glanced up and down the street briefly for the occasional carriages, and jogged over to his former captain.
She smiled, unknowingly noting the golden glimmer of sun bleached highlights that crowned his unkempt scalp.
"Good morning, milady. It figures you'd be up this early when the city sleeps off it's hangover."
She chuckled. In Percival's universe, everyone was entitled to night of drinking regardless of age, gender, or the day of the week.
"I have business to attend to, Percival." She gaze wandered to the various Iksay men behind him, productively packing their wagons with yesterday's profit. "Leaving so soon?"
He nodded. "I'm afraid so. There's still much to be done."
His dark eyes studied her tactfully before he moved to reach into his leather coat pocket, revealing a small cloth bag tied with a brown leather thong. "I'm glad I was able to see you before I left.
She eyed the bag suspiciously before accepting it from his outreached hand. "What's this?"
"Tomato seeds. I find gardening far more enjoyable when you get to taste your own produce." He grinned. "They're not difficult to harvest, especially a newbie such as yourself, milady."
She nodded. "Thank you."
Someone whistled in his direction. He waved to the caller briefly before turning back towards her.
"I'd best be leaving now. I hope to see you again soon, milady."
She nodded indignantly. "Yourself also."
"Why did you have to end things right then!" The silver haired girl exclaimed furiously. "She had no right!"
Dark almond eyes squinted in amusement, as if struggling to suppress laughter.
"Lilly Pendragon isn't worth what rank you have."
The girl exhaled sharply. "You're right I suppose."
A long moment passed. The string music streamed bravely into the back hall from the grand room where the encounter of Lilly Pendragon and Chris Lightfellow had taken place just moments before.
"I-I can't believe I lost my bearing like that so quickly."
Percival shrugged. "It happens."
She winced as she spotted a small scrape on thumb of her left finger, limbs still shaking. Apparently the broken wine bottles had taken their toll.
"I'm so embarrassed." She nervously raised the digit to her lips, soothing it with her tongue.
Her current companion chuckled. "Don't be. It'll be the talk of every dinner table for the next several years, at least. But what is it more than that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" The tiny laceration had a slight metallic taste as she rolled her tongue over it again.
"Perhaps. It always does the trick for me."
She stared. Of course. She was talking to the master of controversy. The man who single-handedly upturned the noble tradition of knighthood and obtained a surname that he clearly was not born with.
"Sir Percival?" A high soprano voice sounded in the hall.
He nodded to her and greeted the voice's petite owner. Such a feminine and small build enhanced by soft brown curls and brilliant grey eyes. Percival was constantly in the company of such dolls. In a single act, she unknowingly discovered a way to separate him from his admirers.
She sighed, and eventually relieved her shaking body. She would amiably approach Lilly. She would apologize sincerely. She would reclaim her dignity if it took all night and another humiliating experience to do so.
Due to the lack of sleep, Emma constantly found herself unintentionally dosing here and there through the remainder of the journey. Her heart fluttered excitedly as she felt the impact of her steed's hoof upon hardened cobblestone.
"Are you feeling well, Miss Vance?" Bradley questioned gently. He had been assigned the task of assuring her primary comfort and safety throughout the trip. His assistance had been gentle, which she appreciated; she disliked being patronized.
"I am." She smiled sweetly at the vast fortress before them.
The atmosphere around them had quickly transformed on the bridge. Merchants were fast at work, haggling with passerby. They passed a musician silently tuning his single string instrument in preparation for his daily performance. Distant huffs and squeals from assorted livestock filled the air, mingling with the scent of food, steel, and leather.
"Welcome to Brass Castle, Miss Vance." Borus leaned toward her slightly, acknowledging her existence for the fist time since the night before, "I hope you find what you're looking for here."
"Thank you, Lord Borus." The blonde knight nodded toward Bradley. "See to it that she is taken care off."
"Yes, milord."
Fierce sunlight shocked her eyelids, forcing them open. Mid morning had arrived, and yet Abigail felt as if she had yet to sleep a single hour. She stirred occasionally throughout the morning, uncharacteristically silent as the servants shuffled about their day, whispering the fresh gossip of the night before.
At one point, Patrick's playful tenor voice rang from outside in the garden below the guest bedroom's open window. Speaking with another mistress perhaps? Another damned home wrecker? She knew who her husband was when he asked for her hand in marriage, yet it didn't seem to hurt quite so much at the time.
Her lithe joints seemed to creak as she lifted herself from the tawny covers of the bedspread's geometrical pattern. The grand mirror before her reflected an unfamiliar figure. An extraordinarily unusual Abigail Redrum-turned-Delmore.
She huffed at that thought, thoughtfully stepping forward to grip the ends of her lengthy blonde hair. She played with the strands a bit, raising them, lowering them, imagining a pin here or a clip there…
She would consider this a late morning. She would start with a refreshing bed with spearmint. She would wear yellow. She would go shopping and spend as much money as possible-what loss would it be to her?
And perhaps not today, but someday soon she would have her revenge. It would surpass it's crime. Surely his career path had taught him better than this. Especially a path as successful as his. One cannot take such risks or break such ties in a business without anticipation of some sort or retribution. She smirked evilly. He would pay double.
Salome sighed and rubbed his temples. "These men are awfully skilled for common bandits."
Chris settled the intricate stale blue cup onto the table between them. "There's nothing common about a man who chooses to reap from another's labor."
"I wish that were so."
She sighed. When Salome grew frustrated, he also became uncomfortably cryptic.
"Perhaps," He sighed. "We are looking in the wrong places?"
She eyed the tired looking man cautiously. "Where should we be looking then"
"Closer."
She blinked. "Closer?"
"Two perfectly coordinated attacks in the past three weeks. All wealthy poorly guarded caravans. No tracks to follow to any sort of hideout or safe place. There must be someone on the inside. Our side."
"This will be your living quarters."
Nurse Elenor carried herself with a stature of a somewhat stern, yet kind woman. Aside from the few wrinkles on her crisp white apron (which Emma had noticed immediately, and longed to correct) her appearance was clean and well kept. Long dark hair was pinned carefully in a pristine bun perfectly level with her ears.
The room before them was surprisingly larger than her room back in Zinay Del Zexay, though not by much. A single bed was nestled beneath one window, complete with a down blue pinstriped quilt and matching pillows. A simple nightstand and armoire were nearby. The other window was covered by neatly tied white shades, as a bathing area was located in front of it. The two aspects of the room were divided by a small series of bookshelves and a blue two-man sofa.
"I'll show you where to get fresh linens and such later. For now I'd like to think you desire a bath."
The older woman eyed her critically. Emma felt slightly embarrassed as she nodded and set down her bags on the sofa. Having herself in such disarray wasn't typical; she hoped Elenor didn't think so.
"I do."
Elenor chuckled. "Well then, the next part of the tour will be fetching bathwater then."
She nodded to the darkly stained wooden door and they progressed toward the stairs to being their descent back down towards the medical ward.
"So," Emma started as they passed the large room of various instruments and cots, "What do you typically do here?"
Elenor sighed. "Not much as of late, luckily since the war ended. An occasional training injury. Seasonal illnesses. Much of my staff left to find work elsewhere when the demand went down. You'll have much time to study I expect. I hear you aspire to be a physician like your father?"
Emma caught something in the dark haired woman's speech. A slightly slower drawl, a different pronunciation of certain vowels barely noticeable to those unused to caring. Working for a merchant desiring wealthy customers had taught her such things; this woman was commoner with an exceptionally contrite education.
"Perhaps." She answered the woman suddenly feeling polite, "I would be glad to be of help also."
Yuiri watched as her younger sister adoringly cooed over the child.
"She's going to be wonderful," The gentler woman breathed.
The baby hiccupped softly and secured her grip upon her caretaker's index finger.
"I wonder what it would be like to have a father."
Yuiri snorted. "Why? Have you seen some of the men we fought alongside?" She shuddered, remembering Ace's attempt to coerce her sister to disclose sacred information with alcohol.
Yumi smiled. She knew exactly what Yuiri was referring to. "That's is true. But there were many good men as well. Perhaps such balance with a good woman could be a powerful thing."
Yuiri shrugged. She forcefully continued to sharpen the knife in her hand. It was her own perfectly balanced companion, as far as she was concerned.
"Our sisterhood is more powerful than that of other races." She spoke tenderly, careful not to hurt her sister's feelings. "We are one. There is no possibility of betrayal, or broken homes, drunken mistakes, or violent criminals. An Alma Kinan child is a fortunate child.
Yumi smiled. Yuiri was right, of course. She looked into the abnormally deep eyes of her infant sister. A perfect balance between a man and a woman was not perfect at all, but it looked awfully lovely in her mind all the same.