Yeah...so, this is kind of a massive change in tone? It's definitely my darkest story for A Simple Touch. I'm not sure how this will be received, but the plot idea's been nagging at me, and I already wrote up some later scenes for it, so I'm gonna go ahead and post it. We'll see how this goes.
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"Walther? Have you seen Marie?"
Walther turned to face Clara, who was walking up the corridor towards him. He had just emerged from the castle's library, and was carrying a stack of rather thick books. Clara eyed the books nervously, worried about the strain on the elderly man. But Walther seemed to have little trouble with the burden, and he smiled at her warmly.
Clara was relieved at how perfectly Walther fit into castle life; it felt as though he had always been there, even though he had come only a few years ago. Just before Marie's fourth birthday, Herr Drosselmeyer had suffered from a stroke. He had passed away soon after, leaving most of his possessions to Clara and Tommy. Clara and Eric had gone to Germany to settle affairs following her grandfather's death, and she managed to persuade Walther to accompany them back to Parthenia. Tommy had been making plans to move there soon anyway, so he came along as well.
Though Tommy was ecstatic to finally settle in Parthenia, Walther seemed to have especially benefited from the change. A new sort of vibrance had taken hold of him. Even now, in his mid-seventies, he carried himself with a spryness Clara was amazed by.
Walther adjusted the books in his arms. "Not for a few hours. Though I'm sure she will turn up soon, as I am to meet her for her literature lesson in a quarter of an hour."
Clara nodded. Marie was rarely late to her lessons, a difference from her father Clara was vastly grateful for, so Clara was sure that Marie was not far. "Thank you, Walther. I'll be sure to send her your way when I find her." She paused. "Do you need help? Those books look rather heavy."
"Heavy? Nonsense," huffed Walther. He heaved the volumes up higher against his chest. "Hardly weigh a thing."
"Well...if you insist." Clara patted Walther's shoulder as she moved past him, continuing down the corridor.
She had a suspicion as to Marie's whereabouts, and was glad to hear the familiar tinkering of piano keys when she eventually approached the doors to the castle's music room. Pushing them open, she stepped inside.
The far wall of the music room was made of curving glass windows, allowing for an extraordinary amount of natural light to filter into the large space. Various instruments had been set up throughout the room, and shelves had been built into one of the walls, upon which were hundreds of instrumental books and sheet music. Near the window wall was a grand piano, and sitting on its bench were two figures.
Playing the piano was Marie. She was a slender girl, and though she still had much growing to do, she looked as though she had the potential to become rather tall in the future. There was a maturity to her that was surprising to see in a nine-year-old, but it was tinted with a humor that seemed to always linger at the edge of her expression. Her eyes, intently focused on the piano, sparkled with an intelligence that deepened their blue shade.
Beside her sat Eric. He watched her fingers move over the keys with rapt attention, though every once in a while he would glance up at his daughter's face. An adoring smile curved his lips, and it only widened when he noticed Clara approach.
Clara had no idea what song Marie was playing, but it was a pleasant melody that complemented the cheerfulness of the morning. Smiling, she settled onto the piano bench so that Marie was in-between her and Eric.
Marie's fingers plucked out the final notes of the song, and the music dissipated into the air of the sunlit room. Looking rather pleased with herself, Marie swiveled her head from side to side to glance at both of her parents. "What do you think?" she asked.
"I think it's the most beautiful song I've ever head," declared Eric. "We'll have to have you play it at the charity ball."
Marie beamed, looking excited at the idea.
"It was absolutely lovely, my darling," praised Clara.
Anticipation flashed in Marie's eyes as she watched Clara's face. "Did you recognize the song?" she asked eagerly.
Clara frowned as she thought. "No," she admitted. "I didn't. Did Aunt Elizabeth buy you new sheet music?"
"No. It's one of mine," said Marie proudly.
"You composed it?" asked Clara. She stared at Marie in astonishment. "Why Marie, that's wonderful!"
Marie grinned. Then she turned to Eric and held out her hand triumphantly. "Ha! I told you."
Eric shook his head as he pulled out a gold coin from his pocket. "Swindled by the princess," he grumbled teasingly, dropping the coin into Marie's waiting hand.
Clara looked at the two in confusion.
"I bet Papa that you would think my song was professionally composed," explained Marie. She pocketed the coin and tossed her father a victorious smile.
Eric gave her a wink. "Well, one could interpret that as me thinking your music surpasses that of any old sheet music here."
Marie laughed. "Sure, Papa."
Clara tucked a strand of Marie's hair behind her ear. "Well, now that you've relieved your father of his money, why don't you head down to your literature lesson? Walther had quite the stack of books for you." She stood and moved back, giving Marie room to get off the bench.
Marie sighed, gazing adoringly at the piano. "Alright." She hopped to the floor. "But can I come back to practice after lunch?"
"Of course," said Clara.
Looking happy with this ultimatum, Marie hurried out of the room.
"She certainly has a better attitude about her lessons than I ever did," commented Eric.
"Thank the heavens," teased Clara. She slid back onto the bench, pressing up against Eric's side. "Well," she prompted. "Aren't you going to play something?"
"I'm afraid I can't really compare to Marie," said Eric. He poised his hands over the keys. "But..." He paused, then began to play. It was a simple song, one Clara knew was from a beginner's piano book, but it was a cheerful enough tune. He only made it a few bars into the song before striking a wrong note. Eric smirked, unconcerned as he continued. He wrapped his arm around Clara's back, straining with exaggeration as he reached for the far keys to play the song an octave higher. Clara laughed and lifted her hand to the piano, playing alongside him on the correct octave. But she soon fumbled as well, prompting a laugh from Eric.
"Oh dear," said Clara as they finished. "We're rather terrible, aren't we?"
"Awful," agreed Eric, keeping his arm around Clara. "It seems all of our talent went to Marie."
"Well, that's fortunate for her, at least." Clara smiled up at Eric. "Luckily, your dancing makes up for your lack of instrumental skills."
"Oh, well, I suppose that's true."
Clara chuckled, shaking her head.
/
"We've invited three hundreds guests to the charity ball next month," said Clara. She tugged at a loose strand of hair hanging by her ear as she eyed the list in her hand. "Some will decline, but we should be sure to make a suitable excess of food, as people do like to bring their friends, invited or not."
Masha grunted. "I'll have to nearly double the amount, if you've invited the same guests who attended last year. The sight of all those pompous nobles stuffing themselves certainly staved off my appetite for the remainder of that evening."
"Yes, well, many of the same nobles have been invited again."
"Including the Duke of Fleer?" snorted Masha.
Clara lifted a hand to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide a smile. "Yes."
"Better add an additional three platters just for him."
Clara stifled a laugh.
The Duke of Fleer was known for his love of food – sweets especially. He had been an excessively jovial guest at last year's charity ball, especially so once the food and drink had been brought. Two hours into the celebrations and he was unable to rise from his chair in his drunken stupor, his massive belly protruding from his waistband. He fell asleep in his seat, snoring loudly despite the festivities going on around him. Both Eric and Marie had found it altogether highly amusing.
As Clara's thoughts drifted from the memory back to the present, she sobered, concern pricking the edges of her mind. She wondered whether they should be considering delaying the charity ball this year. With what had been happening along the southern border, it seemed rather trivial to worry about such an event right now.
Feeling Masha's gaze on her, Clara blinked and lifted her head, dispersing the thoughts. She would have to talk to Eric about it later. "Right," she said. "Well, we'll have to be sure that –"
"Clara?"
Clara and Masha turned to see Eric standing at the entrance doors to the kitchens.
"Yes, what is it?" asked Clara.
Eric glanced between her and Masha. "When you're done here, I need to speak with you privately."
There was an unsettling wariness in Eric's tone. Frowning, Clara looked at Masha. A concerned crease had appeared on Masha's brow as she studied Eric, but she waved at Clara. "Go on," she said. "We can finish this later."
Clara hesitated, then nodded and walked to Eric's side. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Eric took Clara's arm and gently steered her into the outside corridor. "We'll talk about it in the study," he said.
Clara's frown deepened, but she did not press him further. Quickly, they made their way to Eric's study.
"Alright," Clara said once Eric had shut the door. "What is this about?"
"I'm assuming you haven't forgotten about those bodies that had been found along the southern border," said Eric grimly. "The ones that had been…drained." He spoke the last word hesitantly, as though uncertain that that was the best description to use.
Honestly, none of them had been quite sure how to explain what had happened to the bodies. A farmer had found the first one a month ago, hidden in the brush near a river running along Parthenia's southern border. No one knew what the cause of death was, but it looked as though the man had…shriveled up. It was as if someone had sucked out all the water from his body, leaving him shrunken and disfigured. In fact, it had reminded Clara of the mummies she and Tommy had seen when Elizabeth had taken them to a museum in Berlin as children.
A second body had turned up not far from the first, only a few days later. In the weeks since, Clara and Eric had been working to discover the cause of the deaths. Which often became difficult with their attempts to keep the ever-curious Marie ignorant of it all.
"What about them?" Clara asked cautiously.
Apprehension flickered through Eric's eyes. He lifted his hand, running it through his hair. "Two more bodies were found."
"Two more?"
Eric nodded. "They were at least ten miles away the first two, but they were still along the southern border."
Clara's mouth gaped open. "When were they found?"
"The third one was about a week ago. I only just received news about the fourth this morning."
"And you neglected to tell me about the third one before today why?"
Eric grimaced. "I suppose I just hadn't had time to tell you. You've been so busy this week –"
"That's no excuse," Clara snapped. "You should have told me straight away."
"I know," said Eric. "I'm sorry. I was going to, but I wanted to know what we were dealing with first."
Clara glared at him, annoyed at having been kept from this knowledge. Crossing her arms, she silently waited for him to continue.
Eric released a sigh. "Well, it wasn't until the third body was examined that the major, Candy, and I started to develop a more solid theory as to what had happened. I had both Doctor Astros and Hoffmann examine them, as I was suspicious that something magical may have been involved. I was right, in a way." He gave her a grim look. "Clara, all of the victims had had magical abilities."
"That's an interesting link between them, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything," said Clara. "Magical beings are not exactly uncommon in Parthenia."
Eric shook his head. "No, you don't understand. They were targeted because of their magic. Clara…those bodies were like that because someone had drained them of their magic. All of it."
Clara stared at Eric, dumbfounded. A long second passed before she finally spoke. "Can that be done? I've never heard of someone being able to steal another's magic."
"Neither have I," said Eric. "But there are rare beings that have that ability, apparently. Hoffmann admitted to having heard of a few of them in his youth, which is why he was able to recognize the signs in the victims." He rapped his knuckles against the desk's surface in a rather agitated manner. "Clara, someone is feeding off of magical people in Parthenia."
Stunned, Clara fell quiet. She rubbed her fingers over her mouth, her brows drawing together as she digested this new information.
"Do you have any idea as to who, or what, is doing this?" she finally asked.
Eric shook his head. "They're not human, of that Hoffmann is sure. At least, they aren't anymore."
Clara frowned. "And the victims were all found along the southern border."
"Yes."
A sudden thought came to Clara. Disgust coursed through her at the possibility, but it made sense. "Eric…there is one person who may know who's responsible for this." She grimaced. "He has gone further beyond the southern borders than you and I have ever been. If anyone could give us some information, it would be him."
Eric's eyes narrowed as he realized who she was referring to. "You want to ask him?" He scowled. "I doubt he knows anything about it."
Clara cocked an eyebrow. "He had spent an extensive amount of time in that area. And we still have no idea where he had learned his magic. It is very likely that he knows something."
Eric looked unconvinced.
"Or," said Clara coolly. "We could just wait for a fifth body to show up."
Eric frowned at her. Then he gave a defeated sigh. "Fine. We'll see what he has to say."
/
Once the situation had been explained to Elizabeth, who now permanently resided at the castle, she agreed to watch Marie in Eric and Clara's absence. Their destination, one of Parthenia's most remote prisons, was a three-day journey, so they hoped to leave within the next few hours. Captain Candy and Rodolph were to accompany them, along with three of Rodolph's men, but that was all. Eric preferred to keep the group as small as possible, so as not to draw attention while traveling.
The explanation they gave Marie for their departure was purposefully vague, as they had no desire for her to know its gruesome details. It was a bland excuse about meeting some diplomat on the southern border, which Marie was suspicious of right away. But her prodding did little to provide her with clear answers, and she was forced to accept her parents' story.
"But you'll be back soon, won't you?" asked Marie.
"Yes," reassured Clara. "We won't be more than a week."
"Promise?"
"We promise," said Eric. He kissed Marie's forehead. "Watch for us from the south tower."
By mid-afternoon they were gone. They encountered no trouble on the road, and arrived at the prison three days later with little problem. All of them were weary from the journey, and eager to rest at a nearby inn, but Eric and Clara wanted to speak with their potential source first. The threat of a fifth victim turning up was too high of a possibility for them to risk delaying any longer.
"Are you alright?" Eric murmured to Clara.
One of the head guards was leading them down a corridor in the prison. It was lined with cell doors, from which occasionally emitted the sounds of prisoners muttering or scuffling about. A damp chill clung to the prison, which was lit only by the flickering torches on the walls.
Clara restrained herself from reaching for Eric. Fear thundered in her chest at the thought of who they were to meet, yet she fought to control it, not wanting Eric to worry.
But then Eric threaded his fingers through hers, she was unable to help herself as she clutched his hand tightly.
"You don't have to speak with him, Clara," Eric said, his voice low so as to keep their conversation private. You don't have to see the man who kidnapped you. "Don't feel as though you are obligated to."
She gave his hand a squeeze. "But I am," said Clara. "This is important; we need to do this together."
Eric released an uneasy breath as he returned the pressure on her palm.
They rounded a corner, stopping before a cell that had been set back into a particularly dim corner of the prison. Through the bars of the cell door a single cot could be seen, along with a small table and chair. Sitting at the table was the hunched figure of a man, who was intently writing in a book by candlelight.
Clara released Eric's hand, though she stayed close enough so that their arms continued to touch. She lifted her chin in a manner fit for a queen, watching the prisoner with a cool gaze.
The guard banged his fist on the door's bars. "You have visitors," he said gruffly. "The king and queen want to speak with you."
The man stilled. Slowly, he straightened in his seat, setting down his quill with deliberate care.
"I'll leave you to it, then," said the guard. "I'll be just down the corridor if you need me."
Eric nodded his thanks, but he kept his eyes on the man in the cell.
It was only when the guard's footsteps faded that the prisoner moved again. He stood, keeping his back to the door. He held his stance for a long moment, as though savoring the heavy silence that had settled between him and Eric and Clara. Then he turned to face them.
"Your Majesties, how wonderful it is to see you again."
Johan Vogt smiled, sweeping his arm outward as he gave Eric and Clara an elegant bow.
