AUDEAMUS
Chapter 7
The news of Edward's return reached Charles Swan that same day.
Mr. Swan waited a total of three hours before deciding that a small gathering should be held two nights hence.
The small gathering would only allow a handful of guests. The extended Masen family had already accepted their invitation. A few others had been invited, but all declined at the last hour. Bella did not wonder if her father had made them decline. Therefore, the only people left were her family and the Masens.
The eventful night of the gathering arrived. Charles Swan had spared no expense. Isabella Swan had gotten her finest gown fitted. It was a robe à l'anglaise in muted taffeta pink with fitted panels and a pearl-colored sash at her waist.
Their house had been intentionally decorated to fit the occasion. New wax candles had been placed in the holders and the rooms had been aired, only to be filled with the perfume of fresh flowers from the gardens.
As night eventually fell, their guests arrived. Bella had to admit to herself that she welcomed the normalcy of the evening. So many strange things had happened during the last few days that she needed something to break it up.
They awaited the Masens, Hales, and McCartys as they arrived in the respective carriages. The foyer had been cleaned spotless. As the head chamberlain of the household announced their presence, Renée turned to adjust her daughter's hair and brushed a stray lock from her face. "You look ravishing, dear," Mrs. Swan smiled down. Bella could not help a smile as the loving eyes of her mother gazed upon her. Even Charles smirked and nodded in agreement.
The footman announced the guests and Bella could hear them through the door. She stood nervously tapping her left foot on the checkerboard marble floor. She wanted the introductions over with so that she might get over her initial disappointment of meeting Alice's older brother. Bella had no wish to think ill of any of the Masens. But at this stage, she was so used to disappointment whenever a suitor was presented to her, that she held no expectations whatsoever.
She guessed there was a certain splendor in the air as the doors opened wide by elegant footmen. The Masens were welcomed in style. Carlisle stood with his wife, Esmeralda, in the fold of his arm.
"Mr. Swan, Mrs. Swan," Carlisle bowed as he forced a smile. He seemed…uncomfortable. It was as if he had just recollected himself from a rather unpleasant discussion.
Carlisle Masen was polished as ever, the long blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. He bore a redingote coat in brocade with beige breeches ending just under the knee. Esmeralda wore a dress in fine silk, the color befitting her name very much. She walked over to Bella and took her hands in her own in a familiar greeting. Alice soon joined them.
"You look lovely, Miss Swan!" her new friend exclaimed.
"As do you, Mrs. Hale," Bella blushed.
Alice looked as if she wanted to drag Bella to the side, almost to warn her about something. "Miss Swan, I really wish to speak with y—"
Rosalie stepped in, stealing all the attention with her breathtaking beauty and thus interrupting her sister. Her tall and broad-shouldered husband soon joined her.
But it was the man that entered behind them that stole Bella's full attention. Alice still tried to catch Bella's attention, alas it was too late.
Bella flared her nostrils at the sight before her. It was as if Beau Brummel himself had stepped into their quite modest little foyer. He might have been handsome if it were not for all the rather excessive accessories.
Edward Masen was quite tall and lean—from what Bella could see. He had, unlike the other men in his entourage, cropped his copper hair short, styled in the growing French fashion. The man wore a white cravat so high up his neck it looked unbearably uncomfortable. Bella noted his head was slightly bent up, giving him an arrogant air as he stared down at them with his nose up in the ceiling. He wore a tailcoat of silk and cotton in plain weave with silk satin stripes coupled over two layered figured silk vest. The coat had quite a high collar, further impeding him from turning his head. The beige breeches contrasted against the dark-green and maroon gold of his coat.
It was evident that this man lived to dress. Every inch of him was impeccable. Bella was not much for fashion, but even she could recognize the latest styles she'd seen in the pamphlets they would get from France or England. His face was powdered, and he was perfectly shaven. She even detected some rouge dusted on the apples of his cheeks.
Bella's nostrils flared further as her face started taking on a red hue and her lip trembled. "Miss Swan, a word," Alice murmured, dragging Bella to the side. And it was indeed in the nick of time. The moment they entered the adjoining room and Alice closed the door behind them, Bella burst into such forceful laughter that she thought her ribs would break.
Alice let her recover, the young woman drying her tears of amusement. "That was my initial reaction at seeing him as well," Alice muttered. "Dear lord, my brother returned quite different from when he left." The comment only provoked more laughter within Bella until her father stormed into the room.
"We can hear your little chuckles of amusement, child! You will calm yourself or I shall be forced to send you to your room!" he hissed at her until he noticed Alice standing next to them, placing a hand over her mouth, stifling a small chuckle herself.
"Pardon me, Mrs. Hale, I had no idea you were here," Charles bowed, quickly leaving both women in a state of unrest. "Control yourself and get out here again. You haven't even been properly introduced!" he hissed by the door before disappearing into the foyer again.
Bella dried her tears once more and took deep breaths. "You could have warned me, Mrs. Hale," she sighed as the laughter died down.
"I tried to, but my brother entered so fast that I never got the chance," Alice admitted. "Father spent half an hour trying to make him change the cravat. He looks idiotic with his nose up in the air like that all the time. And the hair!" Alice exclaimed. "À la Brutus," she mimicked her brother. "That is what he called it."
Bella could not help the amused smirk curling on her lips. "It would not be so bad if it were not for the fact that he has gone through the trouble of adjusting the curls to lie so perfectly against his temples," she said. Indeed, Edward Masen had adjusted each and every one of the curls with some sort of wax to lay plastered against his forehead. The result was quite appalling.
"Wait until he starts talking," Alice muttered. It was clear to anyone with a pair of eyes that she was less than impressed with her brother.
"Fear not, Mrs. Hale, I shall not think less of you no matter what your brother says," Bella encouraged. She knew too well how it was to have an irritating family member.
"Then let us face the beast," Mrs. Hale said, taking Bella's arm in her own. They braved on and walked back into the foyer, Bella fighting hard as another laughing fit started creeping up on her.
"Miss Swan," Esmeralda started as she saw the young woman near them. "Allow me the honor of introducing you to my son, Edward," Esmeralda said as she guided her to stand directly in front of the man of the hour.
Bella did what she usually would do. She curtsied deeply and gave him her hand to kiss. He bent over it in a rather stiff bow, the arrogance never once leaving his face. "Charmed," he said with a rather thin and nasal voice with the hinting of a slight British accent.
"Indeed, Mr. Masen," she echoed just as coldly.
They were led to the drawing room where they would pass some time before moving on for supper. Edward had been strategically placed next to Bella and the rest of the family had, much to her dismay, moved away from them.
They sat in awkward silence until Edward spoke. And the more he spoke, the more she wished he would keep quiet. "I suppose I am to make some sort of conversation with you now, Miss Swan," he said rather nonchalantly. Bella had never seen anyone so bored. When a stifled yawn emerged, and he did little to hide it, she could not help but raise an eyebrow.
"I shall not think less of you if you refrain from such an action, sir," she answered stiffly, turning away from him where she sat. They had been placed on the same couch and each sipped their respective glass of port.
"I, of course, find to have a mere conversation for just having it to be a complete waste of effort and energy," he drawled on, ignoring anything she had previously said.
"Indeed?"
Edward kept looking away from her as if she weren't even there. Bella had yet to determine if he was extremely oblivious or just purposefully rude.
"The art of conversation is something I pride myself with being exceedingly good at," he continued, finally turning slightly to her, as if acknowledging her existence. Edward Masen sat stiff and reluctant in that sofa, and the way his body language screamed arrogance did not go unnoticed by the young woman.
"I never knew conversation was viewed as an art form."
"Oh, but it is the purest art form, madam. Conversation can never flow freely if those involved do not know how to use it to their advantage. It is not just a simple savoir-faire," he said, mimicking a French accent as he spoke the nasal tones. Bella forgot herself and wrinkled her nose at the expression.
"Then forgive me good sir, but I have never been trained in any conversational artform and I have gotten by just fine in life."
Edward finally turned to meet her. Bella was shocked by how intense his eyes could be. But it was just a flicker of a moment. Maybe they had never been so deeply regarding her before. The emerald orbs were as dull as a cloudy autumn day and he sipped his wine, the very effort seemingly tiering him.
"I forgot that not everyone does things the right way," he drawled lazily, each tone more prolonged than the other—if that was even possible.
Bella's eyebrows might have shot up to her hairline if it weren't for the fact that she found his whole countenance immensely entertaining. So, she did the only thing she could think of—she played along with him.
"Well, Mr. Masen, enlighten me, if you would," she smirked as an eyebrow arched slightly.
"You mean to tell me your governess never instructed you in these matters?"
"I never had a governess," she cut him off, wondering what his reaction would be. A sharp intake of breath followed with some low muttering that she could not make out.
"I will not waste the rest of my evening trying to inform you in the basics of formal etiquette," he muttered.
"We all did not have the fortune of attending a prestigious university in England." Instead of taking it as an insult, Edward smirked, thinking her remark a compliment.
"Of course not, only the best do. And me being within that category must be befitting of the title, my dear." He sighed again, almost as if giving up on the whole situation. "I guess I might as well extend some of my kindness to you. My youngest sister seems to have gained some form of affection for you, and I will not insult her by ignoring your own ignorance."
Bella played dumb, not letting his little comment wipe her smile off her face. "I am in your debt, sir," she said, grabbing for her fan and fanning herself. Bella allowed it to hide her disgusted expression, wishing the night would end quickly. She hoped she would never have to see that poor excuse for a man again. But, since he was moving to Hayes, Bella feared she might not be so lucky.
As fate would have it, the night went on excruciatingly slow. They were seated together at supper. Every move she made for either grabbing her utensils or her wine caused a stifled snicker from his part. Edward would then and again offer some rude comment about the whole set-up for dinner. It did not take long until Charles was blushing in embarrassment. But he was not the only one, Carlisle had taken on a red hue in his face as well. He looked about ready to chastise his son when Esmeralda managed to whisk Edward away from the table. Bella would have given anything to hear the argument playing out between the two—to see how the arrogant and lazy son of the Masens stood and listened to his mother's banters with an indifferent air.
The night did not progress as Charles would have wanted it to. Bella came to realize that—as time moved on—she liked Edward Masen less and less by the minute. From the way he spoke to her and to the way he treated the maids of their households, he was nothing but a foolish dandy and a complete fop.
When supper was over, Charles gave the family no offer to stay on and the Masens soon moved for their carriage. The fiasco of the night ended with Edward Masen reaching for Bella's hand, only tripping on his way to kiss it, stumbling clumsily before them all. It was confirmed that the fop did not only lack any basic human compassion, but he did not have any natural grace as he walked awkwardly to his carriage, carrying himself clumsily after almost falling face first in front of them.
"The way he behaves might be all the rage at the British court, but it has no place here. Carlisle Masen should have a stern talking to that boy. It is rudeness I have never seen before!" Renée exclaimed as the carriages left their courtyard in front of their house.
Charles was dismayed as well. He had expected someone else. "I had foreseen something a bit… well a bit more." He turned to Bella. "But both Mr. and Mrs. Masen are quite taken with you, Bella."
"Father dear, look at me—your only daughter—and tell me honestly that you could ever accept having such an excuse for a man as your son in law. I dare you," his daughter sneered.
Charles opened his mouth as if starting to speak, but soon stopped himself. Even he could not utter the words. "I think young Mr. Masen might be too fine a gentleman for common people like us," he winked at his daughter.
"Thank you, papa," Bella said, finally breathing out. She relished in the fact that there was no pressure put on her to engage that foppish young man. "Perhaps someone like Jessica Stanley would suit him better," she added. The remark made both her parents burst out into laughter as they returned inside their house.
The weeks drifted by and little happened otherwise in the sleepy town. The townspeople settled back into their previous rhythm. It was as if nothing had ever happened there, as if the whole incident with the Black family had never taken place.
June passed along into July and the warm days grew long, and the nights never saw complete darkness. They were brief and before the citizens knew it, the sun was up in the sky and another day commenced.
Bella enjoyed such lazy days. She and Alice would take the vis-à-vis carriage to Raven's Grove with Jasper accompanying them at times. They would stop by a small lake and have picknicks. Edward Masen never bothered them and never insisted on following with.
Whenever Bella stopped by the Masen's elaborate house, she could not avoid perceiving the subdued tension within it. Carlisle Masen was disappointed by his son, it was inescapable not to notice. Whenever Edward offered any type of comment regarding his time in Oxford, the father would sigh.
Carlisle identified more as a man of action. It was not unusual to see him fencing with his son-in-law Emmett McCarty or his fencing master in the gardens. Edward would go nowhere near the blade, saying sword fighting belonged in the days of old and that he had no need to defend himself.
Alice, though not wishing to truly accept it, was also embarrassed by her brother. It seemed Rosalie was the only one who could handle him. Jessica Stanley was quite taken by the young baron to be. Bella did not know if it was due to Edward's inheritance, his title or his knowledge and familiarity with the metropolis life in London—which he never failed to mention he'd frequented often.
Bella had been forced to attend yet another one of Miss Stanley's gatherings. She wrinkled her nose at the tea as Edward sat surrounded by women in frilly dresses, heavy perfume raining down on them and fans fervently moving as the summer heat crept in through the tall open windows.
Alice sat by her side. "A pompous peacock is what he can be at times," she muttered to herself as she sipped the bitter brew. Edward kept on speaking of the merchant quarters in London and Safeira. He would tell of the finest shops and parlors to visit and the young women would sigh in anticipation. Bella took to regarding him as he sat with the same starched and high cravat, his nose ever up in the air and his face powdered too white.
"But how bored you must be here, Mr. Masen. It is such a sleepy little town," Jessica cooed as she moved closer to him on the beige couch. The excess of perfume and pastel colors had added to Bella's growing headache.
"I find it quite simple, at times. But then again, the countryside is très à la mode these days. Returning to the city now would be a show of weakness to my other friends. Anyone of importance is in the country during the summers. I only find the city tolerable during the start of the season—during winter, that is," he smirked as he directed his speech to Bella. Edward had seen it fit to do so at times, whenever he thought she would not understand what it was he spoke of.
"I am well acquainted with the seasons, Mr. Masen."
"Have you ever journeyed to the capital during winter?" he asked condescendingly. Every year, around winter, the richer people of the country villages would travel to either Wessport in the north, or to Safeira, in the west, as it was the period when balls and dances were hosted. It was also the time for young women to make their debut into society. Bella had never done such a thing because her family was not well connected enough to be invited.
"No, Mr. Masen, my family has stayed in Hayes."
"I have only gone to Wessport, Mr. Masen," Jessica interrupted, wanting to catch Edward's attention. "But I understand, of course, that it is nothing compared to Safeira," she quickly added as he raised an eyebrow, rather unimpressed.
"Quite," he drawled, sipping the last of the wine in his glass. He turned his attention to Bella once more. "And what do you do here if you do not go to the city?" he asked. Bella was waiting for another insult. But he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.
"The details would only bore you, Mr. Masen," she answered.
"I insist," he added, leaning forward slightly. The thin nasal tone scratched at her ears and her head grew a pulse of its own as her headache increased.
"She does not wish to speak of it, brother. And I am not surprised, as you would only insult her further," Alice chimed in, growing ever irritated. "For that is what you always do, you can only insult people." It was evident that the sister was growing ever more tired of her brother. She did little to hide it.
Edward's mouth turned into a sour frown. "I only speak the truth, sister. I will not tell lies to simply flatter, dear. I pride myself in my honesty," he said, pushing out his chest.
"Dear Lord," Bella muttered under her breath.
"Let us be off, Bella. A headache has suddenly befallen me, and I find myself quite unwell," Alice hissed as the other young women looked on with wide eyes at the exchange of words.
"A bit of wine will soothe any ailment, Alice dear," her brother drawled on. "I suspect you were out in the woods far too long yesterday. Women of your stance and delicacy should stay inside more."
"It wasn't the woods that have made me ill," she insisted, getting up from the chair, taking Bella's arm in her hand. Bella looked back and forth between brother and sister. There was definitely something going on between the two.
"It might well be the company!" Alice huffed and turned to leave the peacocks alone. Bella made no move to stop her friend, happy to be out of there.
The last thing they heard before leaving the room was Edward's irritating drawl: "…she has been corrupted by the farmers and servants who rule this town," he said in a disgusted tone. The footmen closed the doors behind them. But Alice kept dragging her friend until they were sitting in the carriage.
"Pompous peacock!" she exclaimed as they were taken away from there.
"Mrs. Hale, calm yourself," Bella said. She moved to sit closer to the young woman and took her hand in hers as support.
"Forgive me, I overreacted." Alice cast her eyes to the ground in embarrassment. They continued their ride in uncomfortable silence. But, finally, Bella had enough and overstepped her boundaries by asking what should not be asked.
"Do you wish to speak about it?" She knew it was not polite to ask such a question. But Alice Hale looked so disheartened that Bella wanted to make sure she could get her worries off her chest.
A sad chuckle escaped her. "It isn't exactly a secret that my brother is unbearable to me, is it?"
"I think most of us find him annoying. But he is still your brother."
Alice squared her jaw and turned to stare at the neat stacks of colorful houses as they were driven back to the Masen house. "I just find him a completely different person. The Edward that left all those years ago is not the same who returned. We expected he would leave a boy and return a grown man. You can imagine our disappointment." Alice caught herself slipping and a blush crept up on her. "I still care for him, he is my brother!" she blurted out, ashamed of what she had said about him.
"Even if our relatives do strange things, we forgive them. I am certain that, deep down, your brother is still the same. He just needs time to adjust," Bella tried. But even she found that hard to believe.
"Father has taken his change the worst. Edward is his only son and heir, and he was so proud of him when he was younger. Can you believe Edward would jump and run all over the place? He loved fencing and playing clever tricks on us. He was quite the acrobat as well. I wondered what happened in England that changed him so." She stared far off into the distance, the question meant more for herself than for Bella.
"He grew up," came Bella's soft voice, breaking through the haze in which Alice found herself. Her lips thinned as that realization hit her. She did not want her brother to be that way.
"Perhaps, but he grew up into someone else. That is not the Edward I knew."
Bella had no idea what else she could have said. The rest of the journey was tense and muted. Alice apologized as she dropped the young woman off at her house. The carriage drove on and Bella contemplated it for a while. She had her difficulties with her family as well—her father could be quite unbearable at times. But it was not to the extent to which Edward had gone.
Bella sighed, going to the kitchen to hide from her parents. They would, no doubt, wonder why she was home so early. She found the kitchens busy as always, the maids chatting away and the chatter merging together into incoherent sentences. They all seemed rather shaken, for some strange reason.
"What did I miss?" Bella asked, trying to act cheerful after the incident at the Stanley's.
"What is there to miss? The excitement of Hayes has come and passed. We are back to our old and boring ways," a maid sighed as she kept working the dough on the countertop table.
"That is not entirely true," Dory said with a shadow on her face. "A notice has been circulating town. Lord Newton means to raise taxes again."
"What? The people cannot afford another taxation like the last! It is too early!"
"Tell it to that greedy little bastard," Dory muttered, sounding strangely alike Little Lucy.
"Do my parents know of this?"
"They should, all of Hayes should know of this soon. Lorraine was the one who brought the news. They've put up a notice in all the major squares of town."
Bella knew what this would mean, people would starve. It would not be too bad during the summer. But come fall and winter they would have no funds left for food and nature would be frozen. It would not be able to provide them with any sustenance.
What Forster and Newton were doing should be outright illegal. It was criminal to demand so much from the people. But, in accordance with the law, Lord Newton had every right to tax the people of his district—of course, a percentage of that went to the crown. It was a rather large percentage, but Newton would still get his fair share.
"With things as they are in Safeira, I doubt very much that we could say anything that would get the king's attention regarding this matter," she whispered to herself.
"You think the king will care what one of his lords does to us petty people? The coward has shut himself inside his palace and will not leave after what happened in France. It's the very lords themselves who govern Angloa. They do what they want—Newton belonging to that elite." Dory had put her hands on her hips, not able to keep her mouth shut for much longer. "My brother and sister in law work the land, they will be hit the hardest by this. It is not right that the more well off should treat us so poorly."
Bella could not agree more. But if the king would not listen to their problems, who would? She shook her head. She had never had a mind for politics or problems of such a scale. Either way, there was little she could do that would have a direct effect on the problem. The best thing was to keep her head down and do as the authorities said. Forster held an iron grip over Hayes, and she would not be the one getting in his way like Billy Black had. Her train of thought made her feel shame. But Bella was realistic, knowing well that stepping too far into the daydream might give her delusional thoughts that could never be accomplished.
As the summer day progressed, the poorer people of Hayes started worrying. Many searched through their houses, trying to find something of value that they might sell. It wasn't until the next day, around noon, that the Royal Guard came knocking on the doors, forcing the people to go to the garrison and pay their taxes.
Many showed up empty-handed. A few of the wealthier families of Hayes showed enough compassion to bail out the poorer farmers from the lower district of the town. But many did pay up—even though it left them without a nickel to their names.
When the hour for supper came, Hayes had been sucked dry of her nonexistent wealth. Many families went home to no food on their table that evening. Many mothers and fathers stared at their hungry children and wondered what they could do now. Would they starve for the rest of summer? And what of winter? The desperation growing within the poor households festered like a disease and many grew weary of the coming future.
It was a little after midnight, when the stars were high on the sky, that a lonely shadow made its way across the rooftops of the sleeping town. It treaded with sure footing on the slippery tiles with one goal in sight: the garrison.
Captain Forster had long since retired to bed, amusing himself with the happenings of the day. He could not believe that he had gotten away with feigning another tax collection in the name of Newton. That the unknowing lord should be away in the turmoil that played out in the capital, had given him an excellent window of opportunity to enrich himself. Forster had smirked as the citizens had dug deep into their pockets, getting together what scraps they had left. The sinister and diabolical smile had sent his lancers and soldiers walking the other direction whenever they saw him striding through the garrison later that day.
The garrison—the barracks—were impermeable multi-story blocks grouped in a quadrangle around a courtyard. It had been impossible to break in, until a month and a half ago, when Billy Black had first been saved.
The shadow took a different route this time, jumping through an arch of two joined houses and working its way to a window it was well familiar with. It fumbled with the opening until slipping in as silent as the breeze of the summer night's wind.
Sgt. Thompson enjoyed the freedom his new post brought him. He was allowed to move around with ease, even after the required bedtime hours. He had just come back from the kitchen while on duty for the night, thinking a late-night supper might be in order to last the rest of the wee morning hours.
The last of Dory's delicious meat pies had been consumed earlier that day and, so, he had to make do with some left-overs from supper and some watered-down ale. But Thompson didn't mind. He wiped his hand on the napkin as he devoured yet another spoonful of the cold and hearty stew. The smile on his face was akin to that of a young boy in a candy shop.
Perhaps that is why the point of a sword at his back caught him so unawares. Sgt. Thompson tensed up with a stale piece of bread still in his mouth. The large man started trembling, stretching his neck while trying to get a view of whoever was behind him.
"W-who goes there?" he asked, the piece of bread falling out of his mouth and into his lap. His usually deep and burly tone had jumped into falsetto.
"The man who will kill you if you do not follow my orders," a dark and ominous voice hissed in his ear. It was so close that he could feel the warmth of the intruder's breath hit his neck.
Sgt. Thompson swallowed harder than he should have. The loud gesture rumbled across the small of his quarters as he put his hands up.
"Very well, sir," he squealed.
"Where are the taxes?"
"What taxes?"
"The taxes from today!" The point of the sword embedded itself more forcefully into his back and Sgt. Thompson positively jumped where he sat.
"Ah, yes, the taxes," he said with a nervous chuckle, feeling quite jumbled. He had never been trained for such a confrontation. "They are in the tax room."
"Tax room?" the dark voice asked in disbelief. But before Sgt. Thompson could answer him with quite a drawn-out answer, he was cut off. "And where is this room?"
"By Captain Forster's personal quarters. It is on th—"
"Ah yes, I know where the captain's room is," the voice growled. When it spoke again, it held a hint of amusement to it, as if the person speaking was smiling. "You have been most helpful, sergeant. I thank you for your cooperation."
Thompson genuinely smiled widely at the compliment. "Why thank you!" This unknown stranger had been the first one in weeks to offer such nice words to him. But Thompson soon remembered himself, he was still held at sword point. He sat there, sweating profusely, waiting for the man to say something else. The chubby man did not dare turn around, afraid a pistol might accompany that sword. He kept his eyes firmly on the whitewashed wall before him. "I hope you do not mind, good sir, if I finished my late-night supper. A man like myself is in need of constant sustenance." When no answer came, he took that as a yes.
Thompson would have scratched his head if he could. The intruder was indeed a very pensive man, for he had spent the better part of ten minutes in complete silence.
What the fat sergeant didn't know, of course, was that it had been ten minutes since the shadow had positioned the sword in such a way that he could leave it—still pointing at the unknowing man's back. A wide grin had flashed a brilliant set of pearly whites before he left the same way he came. He slipped past several guards and found the "tax room" as the sergeant so eloquently had called it. An eyebrow arched as he saw the riches, so poorly guarded. The shadow guessed Forster had no fears that anyone would dare break into the military fortress and steal from him.
Aye, but he did not really steal. Technically, the shadow was just returning stolen money. He grinned as he gathered the trinkets and coins into some bags. Before leaving he wrote a quick note, happy with his handy work.
Before an hour had passed, he had silently slipped in and out, none the wiser that he had ever been there.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and Edward's official introduction hehe. Thank you for the reviews to the previous chapter. The fic is now kind of established and we are finally getting more into the plot and the characters, so from here on there will be a bit more action and it will not be as slow ;)
Cheers,
Isabelle