Dragon 9:26, Summer
The carriage rocked as it went over the familiar bump on its way to town, startled birds flapping away from the neighing horses. Adriani leaned forward toward the front seats. "So, I was thinking we could stop by Daggner's first, see if he has anything suitable on offer. What do you think?"
Nireen, Adriani's lady's maid, looked over her shoulder. "Sir Daggner's does sound promising, my Lady. Perhaps he will have stocked some new books fitting for His Lordship?"
Adriani furrowed her brows. "I hope so, although he is gifted books so often. I wonder if I should try something else this year, but what? Oh, I should have brought Cateline along. She's so much better at these things." Rubbing her brow, she turned to the man sitting beside her servant. "What do you think, Ser Gareth?"
The knight perked up at the sound of his name, turning back quickly. "Orlesians are indeed known for their extravagance, my Lady."
Adriani suppressed a giggle, her mouth curving into a smile. "No, no. Not about that. I was wondering if you had any ideas to offer regarding His Lordship's present. You know, the whole reason we're going into town today?"
"Forgive me," Ser Gareth said quickly. "I'm afraid I couldn't say. I am not very good with gifts myself."
Adriani sighed. "Darn." She leaned back into her seat, bathing in the rays of the scorching sun. "How is little Penny, by the way? Is she getting along fine?"
"She turns five this year." Ser Gareth grinned. "Not a care in the world. Turning into a bit of a feisty one, though. I think she gets it from her mother."
"Oh, girls need a little fight in them," Nireen said. "Can't get much done without any fight."
Something whizzed by and one of the horses neighed loudly. "Easy!" the carriage driver shouted, whipping the reins. The carriage rocked with violence, abruptly coming to a stop and almost flinging Adriani out of her seat.
Ser Gareth stood up quickly, looking over to the horses. His eyes widened, hand instinctively going down to the hilt of his weapon. "Get down, Lady Adriani!" The blade was only halfway out of its scabbard when an arrow struck him in the neck, covering the horses in his blood. He stood still for a moment, spluttering and grabbing at his throat before collapsing with a heavy thud. Another arrow whizzed by and Adriani caught a glimpse of the carriage driver collapsing off his seat as she braced as low as she could.
Heavy footsteps. Men. Four, five. No, six or seven of them.
Adriani calmed herself, clasping her shaking hands together. For the first time in years, she prayed to the Maker in earnest. A hand reached down and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her up to face him.
"You're coming with me, princess." The man spat, his contorted face and crooked teeth filling her vision, while the pungent stench of his breath filled her sinuses. He turned to his fellow bandits. "Grab her too," he ordered, pointing to Nireen, licking his broken lips. "And get rid of those damn bodies!"
The man from earlier walked inside the dark tent, his face illuminated by the setting sun on the horizon. "I could tell you were a spoiled brat from how shiny your carriage was, but to think you were the daughter of the Teyrn himself." The man cackled, almost wheezing, his skin cracked and dirty. "We certainly hit the mark today, didn't we?" he asked the bound and gagged Adriani. He leered, bearing his yellow teeth. "Name's Dredger, and don't worry, love. You'll be fine. Want you to fetch us a good price, you know? Can't say the same for your friend, though." He scratched his groin absent-mindedly. "Cheer up. It'll all be over soon. We've delivered a note to your father already."
"So, what do we do?" Oriana asked.
They were in the main hall, all standing around a table in front of the fireplace; small, wooden and passed down through the generations as everything else was in the castle. Atop it was a rough piece of parchment with a messily scribbled message. It was obvious that the writer was poorly educated, if at all.
"We give them what they want, of course," Eleanor blurted. "What else is there to do?"
"I'm afraid it is not that simple, my dear," Bryce said.
Taken aback, the Teyrna clenched her fists. "What part are you having difficulty understanding? They have our child, our daughter."
Aedan grabbed a nearby chair and slumped into it, slamming his eyes shut. "You already know very well, mother." Eleanor scowled at him, before she turned away, eyes moist.
"Well I don't," declared Fergus. "Just go to the meeting place in town and give them the money they're asking for."
Aedan pinched his brow, exhaling deeply. He was not in the mood for his brother's idiocy. "We give them the ransom, and then what?"
"And then we get our sister back! They won't push their luck if they know what's good for them."
"But then after that? If it happens again, and I assure you, if we give in tonight it will happen again, we pay them then as well? It'll be like painting a huge target on each and every one of us, not to mention the people we govern and protect, people who rely on us to defend them."
Fergus looked to his parents. His father nodded sombrely. "We can just improve our defences, be more cautious than we have been until now."
"We don't negotiate with criminals, brother. We cut them down and skewer their heads onto sticks."
"But this is Adriani!"
"She's my sister too!" Aedan jumped up out of his seat, jaws tightened. "But this is more than just about us. We cannot show our enemies any weakness, any mercy."
Fergus slammed his fist on the table. "No! I won't let you do this. I won't let you risk-"
Bryce raised his hand, silencing his son instantly as if the young man had choked on his words. "Enough." The Teyrn looked to the knights who were standing by only a few metres away from them. "Ser Warrick, gather a platoon of men and hounds and hunt these bastards down, discreetly. Make sure they do not see us coming. Fergus and I will accompany you." The knight gave a cross armed salute, bowing deeply. The Teyrn nodded to his eldest.
Fergus returned the gesture, the anger in his eyes all but dissipated, determination taking its place in equal ferocity.
"I'm coming too," Aedan declared.
"You will stay put." Bryce replied with his palm once more as his son tried to retort.
Aedan sighed resignedly. It made sense, of course. It would be foolish to risk the lives of all the potential heirs to Highever at once. He would have to remain within the confines of the castle, safe and hidden away from danger, out of the line of duty. He fell into his chair once more.
Cateline placed a careful hand on her betrothed's shoulder.
Bryce and Fergus spoke to their wives and then they were off.
"Make sure no one outside the castle hears about this," Aedan ordered, grimacing. "Not yet, anyway. Father can decide what to do when he returns." With Eleanor gone off to pray with Mother Mallol, the young lord was left in effective charge of the castle. It was uncharacteristic of his mother, to break down powerlessly the way she had, but he couldn't fault her. Adriani was her only daughter, after all.
Blair, the balding steward of Castle Cousland, dressed in elegant clothing and only a step down from actual nobility himself, nodded. "Of course, my Lord. And what of the servants? Shall they be notified about the situation?"
"No," Aedan replied quickly. "Just make something up about valuable jewels being lost or something. A hunt, even. Continue to operate the castle as usual. It's time like these when a sense of normalcy is at its most valuable."
"As you wish, my Lord." Blair bowed deeply, stepping away and out of the main hall.
Soon after, Aedan left the room himself, together with his betrothed.
"It's almost time for dinner," Cateline said absent-mindedly, staring up toward the darkening sky, "although I'm afraid I do not have much of an appetite."
Aedan sighed tiredly, his figure deflating. "Neither do I." He furrowed his brow, head sunk and trying to push away thoughts of his sister, bound and helpless. "But I must carry on. It is my duty."
Cateline took Aedan's hand, kindly, gently. "It's our duty," she corrected. Her warmth coursed into him. "Now, let us change," she said, smiling brightly. "Teldrin will have our heads otherwise."
"What? Why? Is Her Ladyship feeling unwell?" Teldrin asked, eyes bewildered.
Blair stared down at the elf, lesser in both stature and rank. "A little. No need to panic, Teldrin. It's only dinner."
"Yes, exactly," Teldrin replied with exasperation, trying his best to stand his ground. "It's dinner. And what about the rest of the family? His Lordship and Lord Fergus on a night time hunt?"
"And who are you to question their desires, knife ears?"
Teldrin ignored the slur. "But Lord Fergus never misses dinner. Not ever."
"Enough. No more questions. You will do as you are told, or I will be speaking to His Lordship about a possible replacement for the position of castle butler. Meals are your domain. Do not overstep it."
Teldrin scowled. "Very well," he said coldly. One last glare and he left the steward's office, slamming the door shut behind him. He made his way to the dining chamber at a fast pace, compensating for his short strides.
The servants, finished with the dinner preparations, were just about to leave when Teldrin finally arrived. "Wait!" He blocked their paths with authority, puffing out his chest and taking up as much space as possible and yet still smaller than even the housemaids. He motioned to the manservants. "Tonight's dinner will be for three. Lord Aedan, Lady Cateline and Lady Oriana. Take away the extra chairs and rearrange the table."
To his relief, the servants complied, no questions asked. He watched over them carefully, making sure that everything was in order, that every little piece was in the right place. An eagle, scanning over its domain in search of prey. It wasn't long until he spotted a fork not in parallel with its accompanying handcloth, left carelessly behind by Mathian, the new manservant. Teldrin swooped in quickly, aligning the fork and the handcloth together, erasing the evil that the younger servant had inflicted upon the table. He let out a sigh of relief, giving nothing but a glare to the offender. Mathian nodded sheepishly and scampered out of the room, along with the rest of the servants once they were finished, all except for the footmen, who were dressed in their deep green uniforms, reserved only for those that served the family their meals.
Teldrin soon left the chamber himself, heading toward the sturdy rope just beside the door. He took a moment, straightening his robe and posture, before giving the rope a two-handed tug, effecting the bell suspended several metres above to ring loudly throughout the castle. Pleased, he moved to his position, just to the left of the entrance to the drawing room on the opposite wall, and stood at attention.
"Paazuh's sense of smell has always been top notch, even among his kind," Aedan said. "I can only pray that he will serve us well tonight."
"They couldn't have taken her far if the note instructs for the money to be brought to town." Oswick straightened out the pearls embedded into the shoulders of Aedan's coat. The young lord replied only with his expression, full of doubt and worry. "I am sure they will all be fine, my Lord."
"Are you the Maker?" Aedan asked harshly. "Are you? No, you are not, which means you cannot be sure of anything, just like the rest of us." His servant continued in silence. He composed himself quickly. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. I know you only mean well."
The sky was pitch black, only the candles spread about illuminating the room.
Finished with being dressed, Aedan left his room, quickly making his way toward the drawing room for a much needed drink. Drink always made things better, if only by the tiniest margin. He nodded to Teldrin, who, prim and perfect as ever, bowed deeply in return and opened the door for him. Inside, Cateline and a very pregnant Oriana were sitting side by side on the three-seat couch in front of the fireplace. His betrothed already had a brandy in hand. He headed straight to the table of bottles and made his own glass, overcoming the temptation to pour himself a more ambitious amount. There was no knowing what could happen, and with mother trapping herself inside the chapel, he had to be prepared to act.
"That's definitely it," Fergus whispered to his father, both of them crouched low in the bushes.
The older Cousland narrowed his eyes, sharpening his vision. "Fools. Setting up so close to the river. Where did they think we would look first? They even have a fire too."
Out in the clearing in front of them stood eight large tents, all surrounding a small campfire, the smoke floating up into the air. Paazuh snorted.
"Good boy." Fergus petted the hound, who wagged his tail happily.
Bryce signalled Ser Warrick behind him, who nodded and turned to give orders to his platoon of thirty. The soldiers of Highever spread themselves in a circle around the bandit camp silently, despite being hunkered down by their heavy amour. The occasional clink and clank of metal was drowned out by the sound of the burning fire, or was too quiet for the drunkards' ears to catch. Eight tents, three per person. He estimated their forces to be about twenty-four or so. The numbers were in their favour, and clearly, so was the Maker, but he didn't thank Him yet.
"Looks like they're in position now." Fergus drew his weapon silently, gripping his two-handed battle axe with affection.
Bryce nodded, taking a deep breath before hitting the pommel of his short sword against the Cousland heraldry on the shield strapped to his offhand.
The two Couslands rushed in time with their men, swarming the pitiful camp in an instant. The bandits looked around in a panic, scrambling for their weapons. The two forces clashed, metal on metal, and soon the circular formation shrinking upon its prey broke into chaos.
Fergus roared, swinging with speed against the wooden shield of a lone bandit, crushing through it with ease. The bandit lost his footing, stumbling backwards, and the young Cousland planted a kick right into his sternum. Fergus swung his axe once more, but this time it took his enemies head clean off, the terrified expression flying into the air.
He looked around for signs of his father, when a blade came flying into his vision. He ducked the horizontal swipe, striking his foe with the blunt end of his axe under the chin. The bandit fell unconscious and the young lord disposed of him quickly.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a particularly filthy bandit scowl and whip out a knife, leaping inside one of the larger fur tents. There could have only been one thing, or person rather, inside. Fergus sprinted, as fast as he ever had in his life, past Ser Warrick, who was cleaning up one of the last remaining criminals still left standing.
He burst into the room, roaring, but the sight he was met with silenced him quickly. The filthy bandit, encased in a thin layer of ice, motionless, face full of fury and his knife pointed straight toward a bound and gagged Adriani. The girl's eyes were shut tightly, her hands raised and shaky.
A storm of emotions and thoughts rushed over him in an almost crippling wave. Joy at the safety of his sister, rage at the bandits for the pain they had inflicted upon her, confusion about the situation and, finally, realization. He acted quickly, knowing that his father and Ser Warrick were no doubt fast approaching the tent themselves. "It's alright, Adriani. It's me," he whispered, putting away his weapon, cradling her into his arms and lifting her off the ground. She opened her eyes widely, her eyelids quickly relaxing as she was carried out of the tent in the refuge of Fergus' arms.
He took her over to the approaching men, handing her over to the trembling arms of his father. The rest of the men circled around their master and his daughter, eager to see the young lady safe and sound.
Fergus thanked the Maker for their loyalty, picked up a large, abandoned jug of some poorly distilled spirit and a burning torch, before returning to the icy confines of the tent. He took a good look at the bandit, rapt by the man's complete stillness, but it was only upon close inspection that he noticed that his eyes were following him. It granted him a sick satisfaction. He kicked the bandit onto the ground, the ice at the man's feet breaking quietly, and he poured the spirit over the tent and body. With the jug emptied, he stepped outside, dropping the torch behind him.
He made his way to Bryce and Adriani, who was free of bindings by then and sitting on a log by the fire.
"You burned the tent down?" Ser Warrick asked.
Fergus grunted roughly. "I couldn't help myself," he lied, stealing a glance toward his father, concerned only with comforting his precious daughter and completely oblivious to their exchange.
Seemingly satisfied with the young lord's answer, Ser Warrick only took a final, brief glimpse at the burning pile of fur before Bryce asked him to gather the men and look for Adriani's maid. Not a single soldier's life had been lost, apparently.
Fergus took a seat beside his sister on the log, putting her between his father and himself. "Did they hurt you?"
Adriani shook her head weakly. "No, no. Not me. They didn't lay a finger on me, but Nireen. You have to find Nireen."
Bryce wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulder.
"Ser!" one of the soldiers called out to the knight, "we've found her."
Adriani almost leapt out of her seat, but her father kept her in place with his arm. Ser Warrick made his way to the tent and peeked inside, before turning back to the Teyrn. He shook his head, sombre.