A/N: Happy Easter everyone. Ok, so it's not Easter anyomore, but it's not that far back either. Sorry for the long wait. This one took a while to do, but most of these chapters do that. Hope you find it was worth it.
Everything you recognize belongs to someone else. Everything you don't belongs to me.
Chapter IV: Uncertainties
Alone, as she had done so day after day, Lucia sat in her quarters, uncertain of what she should do. For two days since the royal assembly, she had made effort upon effort to hide herself away from her queen, but she knew well that she could not. In what place could one hide from a ruler in her own house? That was the question the daughter of Delbray had asked of herself and found no answer. In many ways, she found it quite similar to the questions she asked of the faces in the gathered darkness that she saw with horror night after night. The swordswoman wondered why after seven months since the uprising of Felirae, the embers of the rebellion returned to burn her soul as they had burned her forearm.
The war with Begnion had not scarred her, though it had once wounded her in body. Why then, she wondered, did this minor skirmish do to her what the greatest of conflicts could not?
"If only I could finish that book," Lucia said aloud, grateful for the silence in the air about her, for the air told no secrets despite hearing many. "I am sure it could tell why this is happening to me now of all times."
She knew well that she spoke in folly, for the magician who penned the tome was regarded by many as a man of thoughts too deep for the use of the kingdom. Furthermore, the author had spent a great deal of his declining life in the writing of such a tome. She doubted that she could not have finished such a laborious volume this day or for many days. Why, she could not have even brought it to her room in secrecy.
The sister of the queen rose from her place and began to walk her floor with repeated steps back and forth. Her thoughts weighed heavily upon her mind, and she could not bear to remain still another moment. She counted herself as stronger than a mere dream, yet this was a dream unlike any she could recall or desired to recall. More than this, Lucia knew that she should stand elsewhere on this day. Earlier that morn, the queen herself had come to her, and the lady had not yet risen from her bed. Elincia spoke gently then of her place that coming midday.
The royal knights would soon arrive, this the lady knew, and with them one of the most perilous allies of the traitor of Felirae, though he was unquestionably not the worst of them. Such a title, Lucia and her countrymen reserved for Boldan alone. Still, the former count of Pinell was a fearful man. Lucia held few things in fear or alarm, yet this one man, this single master of the art of magic could rightly do so. For certain, the rebels would find an ample opportunity to free him and regain a mighty arm. As such, the call was given for the entire house to stand armed and ready at the side of the queen. As her milk-sister, the tireless protector of the house knew well that she must guard her.
"How can I do this?" Lucia asked in her relentless and fearful pacing. "How can I protect Elincia if I cannot even bring myself to stand in front of her? How can I watch over her if I cannot even keep those faces, faces that aren't even there, from appearing? Maybe I should have told her I was too ill to get up today." At once the thought pricked her mind, for she had said many such falsehoods these passed days. Yet, it was not entirely untrue to the azure-haired woman. Indeed she felt unwell.
On one set of restless steps, the lady caught a glimpse of her desk resting resolutely as it always had just to the right of her bed against the wall. From where she stood, Lucia could spy an open book. It was rather small when compared to the voluminous works in the royal archive. For a reason she could not discern, Lucia found herself drawing nearer to the desk.
When she reached it, the woman ran her hand over the surface. She smiled at the touch of the smooth and polished wood under her hardened and battle-worn palm, for a thousand sights, sounds, and smells trailed in the wake of her hand. Each one brought back some fond memories of her girlhood. She recalled the royal villa, and how her father had built this desk for her when she was yet an impish child. Despite the warnings of her father and her mother, she and her brother had played around it, letting their thoughts take them far away from Crimea. Oh, how she treasured the desk, for in it, she thought she might feel the warmth of her father's loving caress.
Upon the desk, Lucia looked upon the open book, though she needed not. She knew well what the small book, bound in simple brown, contained. It was another gift from her father when she had turned the age of thirteen for her to record her thoughts, hopes, and cares in its pages, and she had done so with gladness those nine years since.
The lady of Delbray idly let her eyes roam the open page, caring little for the words she had written upon it. She rather preferred losing all thought of time and duty and worry to recall those happier days, and she needed not to read in order to do so. Near the center of the book, she found a curious thing; at least many would find it so for a woman such as she. It was a rose, preserved within the pages of her diary. Lucia had hoped to read herself to sleep the previous night, and by chance she had left the journal open upon this place. She had not succeeded in her effort; if anything, she had wearied her eyes, but her thoughts continued their fearful races.
Lucia gently retrieved the flower from its resting place. Holding it to her nose, she thought the fragrance of the blossom still lingered among its hardened petals. Since the retaking of her homeland, she had made a point of taking one rose from a bush in order that she might preserve it as a keepsake for the year. As she inhaled, she recalled how she had loved the gardens of the castle. She enjoyed them as much as Elincia. At the royal villa, she had always found the occasion to venture outside, and so the garden seemed preferable to the lady. The swordswoman remembered how it looked just after the end of the Mad King's War, with the silver and black dead strewn here and there and the green grass and gray stones painted red by the blood of friend and foe alike. It was a sad sight to behold after that day, but the years had erased the ill vista.
The queen's sister placed the flower back in its bed, and as she closed the book, she found herself in the company of a rather comforting notion. She had seen men fall and die that day. She had lived for one year in hiding from the soldiers and riders in black, and through all of it, she had seen her homeland renewed. Lucia found herself reciting the verse that Crimea had seen fit to adopt.
"No matter how harsh the winter, spring will ever follow," she whispered to the air.
At once the tapping of a hand against her door caused Lucia to leap slightly. The knocking came again, and a voice, no doubt the voice of one of the queen's attendants, sounded on the other side.
"Lady Lucia," came the muffled voice of a man. It was surely a palace guard, the lady reasoned, for the attendants of Elincia were women. "Lady Lucia," he called again. "Are you well?"
"Well enough, sir," she called out.
"Are you decent?"
"No, I am not yet." In truth, she was, but she did not wish him to enter. She had only to retrieve her gloves from where she had laid them upon her bed, but otherwise she was indeed dressed. Once more, the lady hated the lie, yet she seemed to grow more and more accustomed to such deeds. Still, she wondered if this repeating game of distrust would continue as the old palace game of mock battle was known to do. "What is it that you want?" the lady asked.
"Her Majesty sent me to fetch you. The royal knights will soon arrive."
"What is the time?" Lucia asked, wondering how long she had idled in her quarters.
"Not yet midday, my lady," said the guard."What shall I tell the queen?"
"Tell her I will join her directly."
"If you are not well, I can station other guards at the front gate. I can also send for one of the healers." A soft moan resounded in the swordswoman's throat as she rolled her eyes. She knew not the name of the guard standing at her door, but enough she knew to know he was a man who did not put an end to such meaningless blather. Lucia missed the days when the palace watch would simply leave after one such as she had given the word. She wondered if the man had gone when she heard no sound, but the call soon announced the presence of its owner yet again. "My lady, are you all right?" he said with a great deal of distress at her silence.
"I am fine," Lucia replied with restrained indignation struggling to loosen through her voice. Could he not hear what was spoken through the silence? Could he not hear that she wished for even a moment? The woman took three strides towards the door and called to he who waited on the other side. "I shall come down directly, and now I ask, no command, you to return to your post. You wait on me when it is the queen that needs you. Now, go." Her voice carried harsher sounds than she had intended, although Lucia was hardly sorry for it. She had spoken rightly; at least she believed it so. Where else was the place of a guard but by the side of his sovereign?
"As you wish, my lady," the voice said with a rather unnerved tone. "Please excuse me."
Lucia pressed her ear to the door and smiled as she heard the sound of retreating footfalls. When she was certain the man had gone a sufficient distance, the woman returned to gaze upon her rose lying in its paper cradle. She partially wondered what thoughts the watcher was holding on his way back to his place. Perhaps he thought she was in the company of a man, although she very much doubted that. Yet with how she had dismissed him, the worn advisor thought she may as well have been, for one shame was not unlike another.
She rather envied the wine-colored plant before her eyes. What cares or concerns did a growing thing ever hold to, save for a lack of water? But Lucia quickly put forth her efforts to remove such foolish thoughts. She had acted as such a child these previous days, and it was little wonder that the peers and the lesser ones took notice. Again, she repeated the proverb spoken only moments ago. At length, Lucia snatched her gloves from where they laid, dressed her arms, and then she went to retrieve her sword. Tying the scabbard to her belt, she hurried to the door.
"I will do as I have always done," the lady declared with all the purpose and authority of a woman far above her station. "I bear my wounds in battle with no weeping and no cowering. After all, if the sword doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. Why should I treat any other wound differently?"
And then she left.
Lucia strode proudly down the halls along the way to the castle gates. Though none had seen her, she had hoped a familiar, a comrade, or anyone she knew well would have, if only to, at last, dispel whatever dismal clouds hung over their eyes regarding her conduct of late. The woman went about her way, with her thoughts speaking, in endless repetition, the resolution she had made. She would not fall prey to these troubles of the weaker constitution. Still, with each recitation, Lucia wondered if it was truly as simple as this. Could this resolution relieve her or would it only stave off the relentless ghosts that had haunted her?
Shaking her head and shedding the unanswerable question, Lucia stepped into the courtyard where the companies of the watch had already assembled. In line upon line and row upon row, men in shining silver stood at the ready with lances held high. Amid her soldiers, Queen Elincia stood with Geoffrey at her side. The swordswoman quickly approached them. As she walked by the fighting forces, Lucia glanced at the faces, noting the looks of hardened duty upon them, yet also with the same love for their country that bound them to their posts; the same love that the lady herself held. Surely these men would not give into fear as she had done in the night.
When the queen saw her sister nearing, she smiled. "I thought you might have been ill," said Elincia softly into her sister's ear as she stood beside her.
"I am perfectly well, Your Majesty," answered Lucia just as quietly.
"I wish to speak with you about what happened in the library the other day, but we'll discuss it later."
"You have no need to bring that up, with all due respect. It was nothing to concern yourself with."
"I would still rather know, but as I said, Lucia, we will discuss it later."
At once, Lucia felt her heart sink far deeper than she thought possible. Her thoughts turned to the bottle and what her queen might say if she knew of it. It was not as though she had carried on as others had done. She had only drank a small amount, and it was hardly enough for concern. But oh how she dreaded the thought of Elincia learning of even a small transgression.
"To arms," a watchman cried from the balcony, "To arms. Ready yourselves; the royal knights are here!" In one instant, each man stood erect and tightened their hands upon their weapons. Lucia likewise took a firm grip of her sword and prepared to draw it as the gates of the castle opened and the clopping of approaching hooves sounded through the courtyard. Kieran entered, sitting tall and proud in the saddle. He looked far too proud, and Lucia herself had to lightly giggle as she saw him.
She recalled how his fellow men chattered that his body would never manage his conceit. She also knew that her brother would have enjoyed planting his deputy-commander's feet firmly on the ground. Of course, she doubted that Geoffrey could do any great thing to him, for Kieran was quite able to humble himself in his immense and unquenchable zeal.
The deputy-commander approached Elincia with overly-purposeful steps. Lucia could not resist the urge to scoff at the knighted fool. Kieran dropped to one knee and took the queen by the hand. The queen made a considerable effort to avoid blushing as he placed a light kiss upon her.
"The reputation of your knights increases, Your Majesty," said he, quite closer to shouting than talking. "The rebels shuddered in fear at the sight of us, for they all but threw down their weapons as they faced us." He stood straight and nodded to Lucia and then to Geoffrey. "A thousand men could not have bested us," he continued.
"You would make an amazing writer for your ability to exaggerate," said Geoffrey. "As I recall, we fought the rebels for four days before we drove them to the mountains and another four before they threw down their weapons. As for you, you fell off your horse on the fifth day and landed on the flat of your back."
Lucia fought against a second laugh, for it would not bode well with her fellows if she were to find such a thing amusing. Still, she rather enjoyed finding even some small thing to laugh at. Certainly, the sight of a man as proud and thickheaded as Kieran falling off of his own mount would strike anyone who knew him as humorous. Lucia also thought to herself that if he could fall and strike a single place and remain unharmed, it would surely be his head.
The knight in red appeared dumbstruck at the account of his superior, but to those who knew him best, his silence would not endure just as a thatched barn would not endure against the flames. Already, it seemed to those present that he was concocting some reply, some quick answer, if only to save his own pride. "Yes, it is true," he proclaimed with only a slight trace of humility, though any such tone would surprise Lucia, "I did, but I have endured all hardships of the mountains and the battlefield. And, most esteemed General Geoffrey, I have done so with the training you have given me."
"I am just glad of your safe return, my lord Kieran," Queen Elincia replied. "I have sent my condolences to more families than I care to recall, on both sides of this pointless conflict. I doubt I could send another without bringing myself to tears."
"Fear not, my queen, for I will not be brought down by some mere magician and his fledgling soldiers!"
Lucia opened her mouth to remark upon his laughable declaration, yet before she could utter a word, two somber gray horses led by two equally somber men drew near to the queen. The two animals dragged a stretcher behind them, and upon the mat was laid the wounded knight, Astrid. The queen bade the horsemen to halt, so that she might look upon the injured. Elincia's face paled as she stepped with fervor to her side. Lucia followed, and though she had seen many wounds, she likewise felt color drain from her face at the sight before her eyes.
The men had stripped away Astrid's armor, leaving the knight clad in a loose tunic covered in sopped blood. Elincia gingerly lifted the garment, and she and Lucia saw bleeding bandages wrapped tightly around the woman's side and belly. Her leg was bound to two lances that served as a crude splint. Her eyes were closed, yet her head thrashed about in a violent fit. Sweat glistened upon her brow, and Lucia knew the traces of fever in her cheeks, no doubt from a wound filled by corruption.
"How did this happen?" Queen Elincia asked one of the men who had brought Astrid. "I knew she was wounded from Geoffrey, but I did not expect this."
"We were in the thick of battle, Your Majesty," the soldier began. We had pursued Okale and his warriors to the mountains, but they arrived ahead of us. They caught us off guard in the rises. We drove them upwards towards the higher ground, but they retaliated. We held them, and Astrid must have caught sight of the count, because she rode away from the company."
"I will speak from here," said Geoffrey. "I ordered Makalov to watch her. She had not seen Count Okale, Your Majesty, but a trick of his. How I wish he wasn't so partial to his illusions. If not, we would not have had this little hunt. Forgive my rambling, my queen. That fool could not even protect her for a moment, and the real Okale attacked her. The horse threw her, no doubt frightened by some spell. Astrid landed belly-first on the rocks, and then the horse fell on her."
"You did not have healers?"
"None, Your Majesty," the general said with a shake of his head. "Forgive me for not speaking of it earlier. When I had received your summons, I did not think I should elaborate on the battle. We had a few balms and bandages, but no healing craft we had or knew could heal a broken bone nor prevent infection."
"Then get her inside; we've wasted enough time as it is," Elincia commanded. At once, a few of the soldiers hurried to act. Lucia watched as they loosened the stretcher and quickly bore Astrid up and into the house to the charge of the healers. How often had she seen this thing and paid no mind to the doings of it? Lucia wondered if Astrid might be healed or if her wounds carried too great an illness. In some way, the lady found herself kin to the knight, though she was certain her own wounds would do no more. The queen returned to her previous place, and Lucia followed when the doors of the palace were shut.
"He comes, Your Majesty," the watchman cried out, though he spoke with a waver in his voice. "The prisoner comes."
Lucia reached for her sword and took a firm hold upon the handle. Slowly, she crept nearer to the queen to put concerned lips to her ears; lips that could keep no bar upon their solemn advice, and surely this was the time for such guidance. "Do not allow him to speak, my queen," the lady whispered to her milk sister. "Who knows what spell he may put on us if he does." Elincia could give no reply but a slow nod.
A deathly hush fell across the courtyard, as though the sharpened and stinging talons of the winter air had pierced all those who stood at their posts through to their very souls. It was cold, so cold, even to Lucia as she stood at her place, though the chill hardly felt as the natural bite of the wind. Indeed, it felt as though the Dark Angel now hovered about the air with her scythe at the ready for the reaping. Not a word, not a sound, not a single thought was said or felt by any guard or soldier. Even Kieran, prone to loud voices, grew quiet for the coming procession. Lucia glanced about to see her fellow men with subtle yet certain looks of fear and alarm. A few appeared even fearful to take a single breath. The silence was truly deathly.
The rattling of chains echoed through the garden just then, breaking the maddening stillness as if it were but mere glass, though it hardly brought warmth to those gathered in this place. Three men entered through the gates, two soldiers and the third dressed in noble clothes woven of black thread but also the brown shades of the earth where he had slept. This final man stood shackled to his forceful escorts.
Behind the three, a lone man with a wooden box in hand followed at a safe distance. Not a man dared to speak or even look at the prisoner as he was walked, and at times dragged, to the feet of the waiting queen. When at length they reached her, one of the soldiers, Rolan by name, bowed only his head. "My queen," he said, sounding quite official as was his way, "we bring you Okale, son of Opalale and the former Count of Pinell."
Behind such formality, Lucia thought the hushed tone of uncertainty echoed through his voice, and she understood well their concerns over this man. She had not known the magician well, despite his many visits to the court, yet it mattered not, for Count Okale was renowned throughout the nation, though his prominence was given over to his infamy, much like that of Boldan. In appearance, he was a lean man, yet not a sickly fellow. Two amber eyes fixed themselves upon his monarch. From his head, a series of rich green, yet filthy, locks each of random lengths spilled forth, and his brow was large in size for he was a well learned man, far beyond the reach of many. The pursuits of knowledge were his only love; indeed, he had remained unmarried, preferring the company of scrolls and tomes over the company of women. Thus his only heir was born of a distant relative, and so it came to the surprise of no one that Count Gallabar very little resembled his predecessor.
Often had Okale come to Melior in the better days before and after the Mad King's War to take up many an art of grand esteem, and he had mastered them all. The true art of the count, however, was the art of magic. Both he and Count Bastian, often were instructor and pupil to the other on several occasions. At the age of twenty and nine, he had surpassed the Count of Fayre, which had caused many to shudder at the thought. Though his talents were many and his learning vast, Okale was a man prone to greed, not of gold or lands but for greater pursuits of knowledge and the accompanying renown. In these matters, he was a squeezing, clutching, grasping man who longed for more and more.
To the knowing of Lucia, he had never once made the attempt to check such an unbridled avarice. And so he had once gone to Begnion for five long years to learn of the elder arts of Crimea's motherland. When he returned again to his own land, his hunger was not yet satisfied. In an act of utter and unveiled vanity, he had claimed that he would learn to make men deathless, and many had scoffed and scorned him, including his former master, who wished no longer to abide him.
While Okale had not achieved this haughty endeavor, his dealings for the pure essence, the very kindling of his arts, had forged him three tomes, just as they had brought him numerous marks upon his body. These tomes were called Furiavi, the tome of madness, Effigies, the tome of illusion, and finally Proserpina, a tome that none had seen used or knew its use, but only heard of. A bitter shiver had fallen on many, even Lucia herself, when it was made known that the magician had thrown in his lot with Ludveck, for it was said that Okale could drive men to madness with but a few words from his book.
It was a claim one would surely question had they not known the truth of it. Upon the revelation of his treason, the knights had hurried to seize the count's estate. The man had gone, but worse things had they found in his wake; men and women driven into the darkened pits of lunacy with no hope of escape, and no doubt placed in such states as testaments concerning the reach of Okale's power. When this act became known, a new name arose among the nobles and common men alike. They dubbed Okale the Black Count, for surely it was the very color of his heart. His name no longer carried his noble and lofty interests upon mention. No, his name now brought forth images of pained screams and mindless babbling from the mouths of his own people. He was now a man such as Boldan; named only by a hated title.
It seemed as cruel irony to Lucia that a man with such vast knowledge should stand fettered in iron before her, unable to use such learning to loosen mere metal. As she pondered it, the lady felt a strange fire within her belly, and she could not keep the flames from molding into speech. "Of what value are your labors now, count?" she asked. "Your silly words will not help you now."
"Will they not, my lady?" Okale hissed. "You should learn to appreciate the arts of magic more, and if not for these chains, I should like to teach you to appreciate my words."
"Bind his mouth!" Elincia commanded. "I will not allow him to speak again." Rolan produced a worn cloth, no doubt one to wipe his own sweat upon, and turned towards the count as best he could, but it was close enough to stop up his mouth.
"If you fear my words, then you need not," Okale uttered quickly as the soldier prepared to carry out his queen's command. "What words could I speak without any of my tomes?"
"He speaks the truth, Your Majesty," Rolan said, turning back to face the queen. He stuffed the cloth back into his breastplate before he beckoned to their follower. As the man approached, he continued his formal address. "When we captured this mongrel, we also captured one of his tomes. We believe it is one of the three. The only other tome we found with him was one of fire and one well worn I might also add. We tried to force the location of his remaining books, but he would say nothing."
The book bearer presented his small box to Elincia's waiting arms. When she had opened it, Lucia peered over the shoulder of her milk-sister. Though she held no interest in magic, she found it a strangely curious affair concerning the books of the Black Count, and often did she wonder which of his works would find their way into the halls of knowledge. Elincia took the book in her hands and examined its deep violet binding with all intent. Upon its cover was a symbol of black within a gold border. It looked as two circles, one larger and a deeper shade of black, connected to the smaller and duller circle by a single line. The queen and the lady at once knew the design, for on one such occasion before the rise of the Traitor of Felirae, Okale had presented this tome to the royal house.
"Effigies," the two women said together before returning it to its bearer.
"Yes, yes," the Black Count replied. As he continued, his voice seemed to change from a noble tone to an altogether insolent voice. "The second and also the least of my works. Tell me, queen of straw, what do you intend to do with it? Will you create your own shades to pry into the houses of every mother's son you suspect?"
"Strike him for that," Lucia commanded, unable to abide such foul words towards her queen. At the instant, Rolan swiftly slapped Okale upon the mouth.
"You will learn to hold your tongue, prisoner," the soldier scolded harshly. To the surprise of many, a thick language of the countryside came from his mouth rather than the formal voice he had spoken with mere moments ago, though some knew it to be so when he was provoked to wrath."Talk to the queen like that again, and I'll be sure to knock your front teeth out."
"That will do, my lord Rolan," said Elincia. "Before you do anything of the sort, there are things I wish to know." Count Okale merely smiled, though it seemed odd that he should do so.
"If you wish to know where I have hidden the last of the three, I will tell you nothing," he declared proudly. Lucia lightly shook her head and sighed at the words, for despite his days spent in even less-than-humble places, his vanity was not yet breached. "I shall say that they are hidden, but you will hear nothing else. If I die today and it is certain that I will, then I wish for my works, my labors, and my knowledge to live on."
"You seem so certain, count," the queen replied. "Are you now able to divine the future?"
"One does not need to ask of the future if one has only to observe the present and see it for himself. Your soldiers have made it clear that I will indeed die this day, if not for waving the banner of Felirae but for the so-called crimes I have committed against my own people."
"I wanted to kill him myself, Your Majesty," Rolan announced returning to the voice of formality, "I admit it, I would have liked to. Some of my friends served this plague rat; men I grew up with when I was a lad myself. They served him well, and he had them howling mad later. But you wanted him brought to you first, so here he is. So, please, Your Majesty, let us have at it here and now."
"All in good time, sir," answered Elincia. "His crimes are many, but he has only a single offense for which he will answer to me. As for you, Count Okale, you surely must know the laws of our kingdom to know what I must have done with you; a traitor. While you yourself correctly passed judgment a moment ago, your future may not be so certain. Tell me this; how close were you to Ludveck?"
"I should like to know why you would ask that of me , but I was close enough, I suppose. I was not ordered to march with him; that was Calihem's lot. I was to wait for news of the battle and then either flee if the news should be ill or march on Melior if the news should be good. But again why do you care? Why should you and your sheep care for it at all?" he added, casting a malicious glance at Lucia. The lady opened her mouth if only to order the offender struck again, but the queen spoke first.
"I am offering you your life, Okale, just as I have offered the same to your master. Make no mistake, Black Count, your crimes are enough to see, at least, two men under judgment. However, if you can tell me what I wish to know, then I can promise you better. Now," added she with a slow calmness like that of a gentle brook. "Do you know of General Boldan and where he may be found?"
At this, Lucia bade upon the arm of her milk-sister. Pulling upon the queen, they moved but a few steps back. "Is it necessary to interrogate him, Elincia?" the swordswoman whispered. "If he knows, he will not say, and if he doesn't know, then he will do the same. He already realizes that he has no better lot, my queen. I know you well enough to know that have no intention to make a free man of him, and for that matter, I am sure he knows it as well. If he doesn't go to his grave, he will go to prison."
"If it leads to Boldan's death or capture, I would go before Ashnard himself if he stood before me. You are right, Lucia, but I would rather see where this stream will flow before I have it stopped up." Lucia said no more, and again, Elincia put the question to the fettered man. "Where is Boldan?"
The count, however, answered not. Lucia spied him from where she stood. He seemed to peer past Elincia to stare at her, though Lucia knew not why. His eyes became as amber coals as they met with the blue eyes of she who strangely held his attention. The lady suddenly felt a cold bead of sweat form upon her brow as she stared back, unsure of why she did so. The count's eyes seemed to grow in heat, burning with a fire that held not even a trace of warmth. She wondered why he gazed at her or why she troubled herself to stare back.
Lucia felt as though each face, each horrid face, that had haunted her sleep stared through the eyes of the prisoner. Though he was bound, she wondered if he might break free just then and work some terrible enchantment upon her, if only to strike a blow against his captor.
"You are troubled, Lucia the sheep," said Okale with a strange smile. Lucia felt a twinge of fear sending a bitter shiver through her back. She had no care for the insult, yet she wondered if, by his craft, he could see beyond the dishonest face.
"I am not," Lucia replied with a slight stammer, hoping to offer herself some brief reassurance.
"Oh, but you are. I can see it. I see it as clearly as I see this mob around me."
"Silence," the queen commanded. "You will show a greater respect for Lucia, if not as my bodyguard then as a member of court; a status you have seen proper to forfeit, Count. Since you have given me no answer, I must only guess that you do not know anything about the Iron."
"It's true, I do not," the prisoner replied. "It must be a poor reason for you to give the order to keep me alive when I am of no other use to you, but surely you must have another reason to keep me alive. You must have known that I would not know of Boldan. Only Ludveck himself would know where he lives or where he fell. At the very least you would suspect that, but pray tell, what other reason did you have to spare me even for a moment?"
"If only you hadn't fallen so far," said Elincia. "You are indeed wise, and you would have made a fine adviser to me."
"Or a fine spy," Geoffrey spat. "Was it knowledge that brought you to Melior or perhaps the purse strings of your cohort?"
"Shall I answer another sheep? No, I say, akab." To hear the words of the ancient tongue was of no great shock, for it was also the tongue of his arts. The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, wondering what the meaning of the word meant, but most thought it was certainly an offense.
"If you will not answer my sheep, as you have called them, then answer the shepherd," Elincia said. By the tone of her voice, she was well-wearied by this senseless exchange. "What prompted you to cast your lot with Felirae? Did I ever deny you my archives? Did I deny you your lands? Or perhaps did I deny you security as Ludveck claimed I did? I knew his reasons, but I know nothing of your reasons or any other man for that matter. That is also why I spared you the sword, at least for now."
"You wish to know why I played the deserter along with the others when I had stood by you against the Mad King? Of all the things you could ask me, that is what you choose? Then in that case, it is the one thing I will deny you, queen of straw. If I die today, my works die with me, yet I will go to my end knowing that I carried my secrets with me. If it is possible to see from whence I go, then I will gladly look upon your frustrated face. I will say this, however." Turning his face to the crowd, Okale cried out with a loud voice, "Long live King Ludveck!"
At once, a thousand voices rose up in a single accord for the death of the speaker. Though each word seemed to twist and twine with its fellows, Lucia could discern some over the din. Some called for death, others merely for the tongue of the count. When again, Okale shouted the praise of a betrayer, the multitude grew louder. Lucia thought her ears would never again hear a sound save for those cries. At length, Elincia raised her hands if only to quiet those who stood near. When they did so, their fellows did likewise until, like a gentle wave a child makes in the rivers, a peaceful, yet surely frail, silence swept over the courtyard.
"It seems I have no need to prolong this," said the queen. "Okale, you have indeed done things worthy of a sentence of death, and that is exactly what you shall receive from me." The queen turned to Rolan. "Melior has no gallows post nor an executioner. Therefore, as you have wished to do, you may see to this. Take this man past the boundary of the city, and strike off his head. Will you do this?"
"I surely will, my queen. I'm not a man who strikes another for a petty squabble, but I'd be doing my friends a wrong turn if I didn't see this one dead."
"And what of his tome? Shall we have it destroyed?" Lucia asked pointing to the book still resting in its box.
"Have it brought to the archives. I will decide its fate later, though it would surely be a fitting punishment to have it die along with its master. Now, be gone with him, Rolan. As for the rest of you, return to your posts. As for those who have returned, go and take your rests. You have surely earned them."
"What of the war council?" said Geoffrey. At once, Kieran spoke again.
"I do not need to rest, my queen. I am surely stronger than mere fatigue."
"Maybe so, but I think we could delay it for one day. I would not want my deputy-commander falling asleep in front of his peers. Now, go and take your rest, Kieran. Come, Lucia," she added, turning to return to her house.
The lady, however, stood watching them drag the man now condemned away to do with him as Elincia had said. She heard the footsteps of the queen and the book bearer behind her, but she remained rooted to the ground, as if she were any growing thing. She knew not why she watched the executioner appointed only moments ago leaving with his charge. But she felt she must. Lucia strangely found the count a kindred spirit, for she thought of the fateful afternoon when she was dragged as he was to a certain doom. The lady could not help but wince as the gates closed, as though it was a blow upon her back. She stood there quietly, wondering strange thoughts. Would it be quick? Would he beg? Would he plead for his life when she had not? Would they taunt him and tease him as they had done to her once?
"He will have no one to come for him," Lucia uttered softly finding her voice, "No arrow, no rider, and no sword to save his neck. Should I take comfort in knowing that my queen has rid her kingdom of yet another enemy? Or should I pity him because I've been also treated in such a way?"
"Lucia?" Elincia called, sounding quite surprised at the words. The lady turned to see her milk-sister still standing in the doorway. Had she stood there long? Would she see the look in her eyes? Lucia did not know, but she turned to meet her friend nevertheless. "Lucia, are you coming?"
"If it would please you, Elincia," Lucia began, "I request that you let me oversee Rolan and his party."
"What reason would you have for wanting to see an execution? I would think that would be the last thing you would want to see."
"I have killed and seen men killed before, Elincia. I consider it my duty to ensure that this is done; that an enemy of yours is given his reward. More than that, I wish to guard them if Okale should try to escape." Lucia wondered if her queen would truly believe such a thing, for she believed it not herself. Again, the lady hated the foul taste of the lie, but she knew not if Elincia could bear the equally foul taste of the truth.
"Do as you will, Lucia," said the queen. "You have known best in many things, and if you see fit to observe this terrible thing, then I will say no more." And so she left the side of her queen.
When the lady had at least reached the place where they had gone, she found Rolan holding his sword at the ready. The others had unbound the count only as needed to compel him to kneel before the fateful blade, and by now he had done so. Lucia had entered their sight as the unflinching weapon was laid upon the neck of its victim. Lucia had always thought of herself as such a blade; unyielding and strong, but the words of the count had worked rust upon her. As much as he was able, Okale turned his head to the sound of the crunching earth beneath the lady's boots.
"Ah, so the queen sends her prized sheep to a crippled wolf," said he. "Does she not fear for you?"
"You don't open your mouth again, you maggot's spawn," Rolan snarled. "The sooner we're rid of you, the better we'll all sleep." His voice and eyes softened as he looked to Lucia. "What brings you here, my lady? This is not a place you should be; go back to the queen."
"I wish to speak with the prisoner before he dies." The lady could not begin to describe the look of surprise upon the face of the executioner, but Rolan merely withdrew his blade.
"Speak quickly, my lady," he warned. "As I said, the sooner we're rid of him, the better."
Lucia nodded and approached. "Before I do, give me your word, men, that what is said here will go no further." When they had all agreed, she looked down at the count. She did not bother to bring her lips to the ears of her teaser, for she saw no reason to whisper. "What did you see?"
"Whatever do you mean?" hissed Okale. "I see many things."
"What made you say I was troubled? What did you see in me?"
"So you are troubled then?"
"So what if I am? What concern is that of yours?" Lucia said in an impatient retort. "What did you see?"
"I will not say. Of what value is it to you if I tell you what I know? But know this, Lucia the sheep, I see the fear in your eyes; it is the one thing I recognize most of all. And you will have good reason to fear. One day, you and your queen will both have the same reason to fear."
"That is enough!" Lucia shouted, unable to listen to another word. "Let the blade fall, Rolan. Let it fall and be done with."
And so, the lady stood there silently, as again the executioner placed his blade upon the Black Count and with the fiery strength of due vengeance coursing through his arms, the sword rose and fell and Okale died. Lucia thought perhaps that the words, those chilling winds still ringing in her ears, would subside upon their speaker's end, but they did not. Instead, they seemed to chill her more and more. When at last, they took his body away, Lucia turned to leave. As she walked slowly and soberly back to her queen's house, she passed Count Bastian with his eyes set on where she had come.
"Ah, fair lady, what brings your steps here?" said he.
"I was seeing to the sentence handed down by the queen," the lady answered.
"So, Okale is dead then. Alas, I would have liked to have had words with him for the last, but I see the slowness of my feet has cost me the words of my tongue. Still, I should like to pay what final esteem I may give to a pupil and what last odium I may repay a traitor. Tell me, where have they laid him to rest?"
"They're likely to bury him near where they killed him," Lucia said, pointing back behind her. She did not wait to hear what words of thanks Bastian spoke to her. She could only keep her feet upon their road back to the castle. As she crossed the gate, Lucia could not help but lightly and quietly sob at her vain attempt to answer what haunting riddles still filled her mind and soul. She managed a false face again for the court, the queen, and her family, but as she laid herself upon her bed that night, she reached for another bottle where she had hidden it and drank until her head could not withstand its own weight nor her eyelids theirs. For she still saw the faces in the darkness about her, and now she could not relieve herself of the stinging gust of the words of the slain count.
From out of the light of their rooms, two men escaped into the inky blackness of the night. They had met together, Shinon and Gatrie, to concoct some wild and cunning scheme, and now they hurried to achieve it. Through the woods around the fort, they ran. Through small cold streams, they ran. Through the biting air, they ran, with thoughts of glory and gold guiding them, drying them, warming them, though it was hardly a feeling of warmth. Greed and pride drove the archer forward, who sought only to claim a rich bounty for himself and prove his leader a fool. Truly, his thoughts could bring him no warmth.
Loyalty compelled Gatrie, however, yet still the fleeting glitter of unclaimed gold filled his eyes as well. And so they went on. Perhaps, the shimmering of riches in the dark was too great for their eyes to bear, for neither of them could see that they were quickly becoming lost.
A/N: Sorry again for the long wait for this update. Besides that, I hope you all found the length agreeable. It took me a while to write it, and the exchange with Elincia and Count Okale took a couple of tries. If any of you are wondering what that word akab means, I'll explain. The ancient language in Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn is really backwards Japanese. Akab the right way is baka, which means 'fool' or something along those lines. I don't speak Japanese, so I'll have to trust the translator.
A big shout-out goes to HaveAHeart301, my amazing beta. Thanks for all you do and for all the support you give me, especially the names of the three tomes.
And another big shout-out goes to all of the readers. You make the time and the effort worth it all.