Hi, all! Thanks to anyone still reading this story (and for making it this far!). Enjoy the chapter!


Chapter Fifteen: Murder and Mayhem

Rain bucketed down from the clouds above, the grass beneath their feet quickly turning into a temporary marshland. Within moments, both Lance and Bruno were drenched from head to toe. But they didn't stop. Time was of the essence. Their horses continued to canter through the heavy downpour only slowing down to a trot when the tents of the camp became visible. Lance could just make out a wooden fence and a small outpost through the rain.

"So much for the storm lifting," Bruno murmured.

"We'll be fine. This helps us."

Bruno sighed. "We should leave our horses behind." He raised a hand and pointed towards the eastern side of the camp.

Lance followed his finger and spotted a couple of thick bushes. Bushes so tall they could conceal a horse. Perfect. With the rain being as heavy as it was it would be difficult to even see the horses from this range. Lance guided his horse towards the bushes with Bruno following close behind.

After tying his horse to the tree, Lance grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows. "I hope your aim is still fine," he said, loading a single arrow onto his bow.

Bruno grabbed his bow and arrows. "Better than yours."

"We'll soon see." Lance gestured towards the fence. "We'll stand close to the wall and make our way to the front. This rain makes it easier for us to sneak in. It'll be harder for them to hear us."

"And harder for us to see them as well," Bruno pointed out, loading an arrow onto his bow.

Lance nodded noded. "We'll take a side each. I'll go around the back and meet you on the other side."

"Right. Let's finish this."

Lance followed Bruno towards the fence and parted ways to the right whilst Bruno went around the long way. Pressing his back against the wooden planks, Lance poked his head around the corner and spotted two guards. They were both standing against the fence facing the open field. Both men were carrying spears and shields, but their armour was light and made of animal hide. Good. That made it easier to kill them.

He waited for Bruno to make the first move. There. Despite his visibility being restricted, he was still able to make out Bruno's form approaching from the northern side. Bruno raised his bow and released the arrow. It flew into the bandit's left shoulder blade. The man yelped then turned in the direction the arrow had come from. Before he could react, Bruno charged and rammed his blade into the man's stomach.

Lance swiftly moved towards the other bandit. Bow raised, he released an arrow, watching it fly right into the right jugular vein. He collapsed in a heap and Lance hurried over to pick up the arrow then dragged the corpse away from the entrance and around the fence in the outpost's blind spot. Bruno did the same. "Well, seems like you're out of practice," Lance said.

Bruno snorted. "…Maybe next time. Come on. Let's go inside." He moved through the entrance. Clearly, these bandits were lacking in funds since they didn't have a gate. That certainly would've made things more difficult for them. "Let's deal with the archer next. I'd rather not have an arrow come flying into my backside. Watch my back." He hurried over to the outpost and climbed up the ladder. Lance kept his eyes peeled for the other two bandits but there was no sight of them. Were they even here?

He heard a yell. Moments later he saw a bandit fall out of the outpost. He hit the ground hard, his face connecting with dirt first. There was an arrow sticking out of his neck. Bruno climbed down the ladder his right hand coated in blood. "Using an arrow like a knife, I see," Lance commented. "I don't think the leader is at home right now or his right-hand man. They would've heard that."

"Even better." Bruno raised his bloodied arm and drew his attention to one of three tents. Two smaller tents made of cattle hide were positioned on both sides of a larger tent. There were multiple spears around it, each spear having a head impaled on it. The leader's trophies. The heads were ghoulish in appearance and one of them even had an eye and a nose missing. Maggots emerged from the missing eye socket. "Disgusting really," Bruno said with distaste.

"I'll look inside. You check the other places."

Bruno nodded. "Right." He turned away from the tent and walked away.

Lance ducked inside the tent finding brief respite from the rain and looked around, hoping for signs of the missing hostages. He expected to see a group of women in the tent all tied up and bound together in rope, but he found nothing but a pile of white sheets which he presumed to be a bed. He also found a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor. Some had bloody marks on them. Stolen presumably.

"An animal carcass," Lance murmured, spotting a corpse of a deer opposite to the white sheets. He walked over to the body. The head had been severed from the rest of the body. Oddly, there were no weapons around in the tent either – nothing that had been used to kill the deer. "Why would there be a carcass here…." A hunter perhaps? But why were there no weapons? Had Brawley been behind this?

He looked around some more and spotted a wooden chest. Intrigued, he walked over it and dropped to his knees. Strangely, the lock had been broken. A sword wouldn't be able to break it off and he didn't see any signs of a hammer anywhere. If a hammer had been used, there would've been other signs of damage, but nothing. It hadn't even been melted off by magic. There were no scorch marks nor any signs of melted metal. It was as if sheer force had removed the lock alone.

He pulled back the lid and peered inside. Inside there was a painting of a red-headed woman with fair skin and bright blue eyes. Her cascading curls of red hair fell just short of her waistline. She was wearing a plain white dress with a golden sash around the middle. She seemed happy as indicated by the smile on her face. Unfortunately, the painting could not be identified.

"I found them!" Bruno said from outside.

Lance closed the chest and rose to his feet then turned around. "How many?"

The man entered the tent accompanied by two women. A tall lady with long auburn hair that reached her tailbone and a much younger woman with dark skin and no hair. The younger woman had her arms wrapped around the taller woman's waist. He noticed dark bruises on her arms and legs, and even a vertical gash beneath her right eye.

"Is that all?"

"The others died," the auburn-haired lady spoke. "I'm Lorelei, and this is Samantha."

So, this was the woman Bruno had left Blackthorn for. "What happened here?"

"I took the young women to the beach to search for shells. These men approached us. Big men. We tried to fight them off, but we outnumbered and outpowered. One of the girls tried to flee, but she was shot down with an arrow. They took us to the campsite…" The woman paused to recollect herself then continued. "…Alice and Julia tried to flee, but they were also killed. The man… the leader… Jacob he called himself."

"What did he want?"

"He said I reminded him off his wife. That's why he wanted to keep me alive. Samantha here would've died too, but I convinced him to let her live." The girl did not move away from Lorelei.

"He reminded you of his wife?" Lance thought back to the painting in the chest. The woman in the painting. He squinted at Lorelei. He supposed there was some resemblance in the hair colour. "I found a painting in the chest with a woman on it."

Lorelei nodded. "He talked about her a lot. Raving mad really. He went on about how much he loved her, but that he had to leave her. He was driven away like a rabid wolf, he said. He mentioned Edward Blackthorn a few times too. He really has a bone to pick with him. But he's mad. Not well in the head at all."

"Did he hurt you?" Bruno said, examining her arms and legs for any evidence.

She shook her head. "No. Like I said. I reminded him of his wife."

"You should leave before he returns," Lance said.

"We all leave together."

Lance shook his head. "No. I want to see him for myself."

Bruno furrowed his brows. "And leave you here alone with someone like that? I might have abandoned the service, but I'm not abandoning you – not yet. You don't get to give me orders, Lance. Not anymore. You've always had my back, and I'll have yours."

Again, Lance shook his head. "And I'm asking you as a friend to leave and take Lorelei back home to where it's safe. You wanted to reunite with the woman that you love – I'll be fine. I'll see you in Violet City. You should go."

"Lance…"

"Don't make me say it again."

"It's your deathbed, Lance." Bruno picked up Samantha and exited the tent with Lorelei.

.

"Does Lance approach you often?"

Lyra glanced over her shoulder. They were both out on the farmlands picking blueberries off bushes. Already, she had filled two straw baskets, but they needed to stock up on more before the long winter season arrived. Blueberries still grew, but at a much slower rate. Sheila wanted to make a cake with blueberries to celebrate the royal wedding and she planned to make an extra one for the castle servants to enjoy.

"Quite a few times, yes. Why?"

He shrugged. "It's just… Don't you find that a bit odd? I mean… I don't mean any offense or anything, but why would he come to you? I mean your Clair's servant. Not Lance's."

She arched a brow. He raised a good question. Why did Lance continue to keep talking to her? First, he had taken her to the baths. The second time he had met her at the stables and now just recently he had come here specifically to find her. There was a decent chance he'd want to speak to her again before her departure for Unova. "Maybe he likes my company? I can't imagine he talks to many people, especially slaves."

Ethan shook his head. "Correct. He doesn't. In fact, he doesn't really talk to anyone but his family, Samuel Oak and that soldier, Bruno. So, it is interesting that he sought you out. I don't think Clair would've sent him here. If she wanted you, she'd get one of the servants to send you a message than do it herself."

"He's an interesting character. Quite different from what I would've expected from a royal knight." She picked off a few more berries and dropped them in the basket. Unfortunately, it was going to be quite a walk back to the kingdom and she could only carry one basket at a time. If it were a cloudy day it would be more manageable, but it was searing hot. "I always thought princes would be arrogant and outspoken, but Lance is the opposite. He's quiet and thoughtful. Modest too."

"Right," Ethan replied, grabbing a new basket. "Don't tell me you find him attractive too."

"Why? Would that be a problem if I did?" Well, he certainly wasn't ugly, she thought.

"It's dangerous to think like that. He's a royal prince. You're a servant. If someone thought you were attracted to Lance…. Well… You'd probably lose your job because he'd be a distraction for you. I don't think Clair would like you talking to her cousin. She'd expect all the attention on her," he added.

Lyra frowned. Was that a hint of jealousy in his tone? Was he upset because she had been given a higher-ranking role than him and he had served longer? Or was he jealous of Lance for whatever reason? It's not like she preferred Lance over Ethan. Their difference in social standing was like a sea between two continents. "He just likes talking to me. That doesn't mean anything, Ethan. You don't have to be worried."

"But I am."

"I'm not in any danger."

He sighed. "It's just… I've known you since we were children, Lyra. We grew up in the same village. I know we didn't see each other again for a long time, but I always thought about you. Lance… He was taught to hate mages. Your mother was a witch doctor."

"Lance knows, Ethan. At least, he knows my mother was a healer."

"Oh," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder as a gesture of comfort. "That doesn't change anything. I am worried about you. What if his grandfather finds out or Lance tells him what he knows about you? You could find yourself on the chopping block… That's what they do to magic users here. You don't even have a chance at a fair trial."

She turned back to the berry bushes. Lance wouldn't tell his grandfather about what he knew right? What benefit would he get out of that especially with Clair leaving soon? She'd have to find another servant in a few days. Clearly, there hadn't been anyone else suitable for the job until Lyra had arrived otherwise, she would've had a personal servant already. "I think you'll find your suspicions about Lance are wrong."

"Whatever you say… But I won't stop worrying about you."

"Lyra! There you are. Clair has a message for you."

Joey's voice. She hadn't even heard him approaching. Turning her head around to look over her shoulder, she said, "Hi Joey. What is this message?"

Joey pulled out a scrolled-up piece of paper and handed it over. "I don't know. She wouldn't tell me."

She took the note and opened it, keeping it away from prying eyes. A recipe list. Two leaves of poison ivy. Two milkweed leaves. A bottle of ale. Two teaspoons of honey. A batch of strawberries. An odd list indeed. The plants were poisonous. But she wasn't sure how the ale, honey and strawberries connected. A poison to kill rats, Clair wrote. "Thanks Joey." He nodded and walked away.

"Something wrong?" Ethan said.

Lyra frowned. "It's a recipe to kill rats. We have strawberries and honey, but I need ale, some milkweed and some poison ivy." Ale would come from the tavern, but the plants would require her venturing towards the forest where the plants grew. "I'll need to head to the forest."

"That's an odd list. Clair trying to kill someone?" She wasn't sure if he was attempting humour or being serious.

"She says it is for rats." Picking up the first of the berry baskets, she climbed to her feet and sighed. "I should probably start collecting. Clair might get mad otherwise. Wait. What am I saying? Of course, she'll be mad." She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Ethan."

He stood up. "No, I understand. Clair comes first. I'll take the rest of the berries back. You just watch yourself, all right? There are some gloves you can use at the quarters. You'll need them. And probably a knife as well to cut the branches. Oh. Maybe you can convince a few soldiers to come along and guard. I mean, the forest is dangerous. Any soldier will come along if you show them the letter. No one refuses Clair." He picked up a basket. "You could ask Lance, I suppose."

Lyra picked up another. Lance would ask Clair questions on why she wanted poisonous plants. Best not to involve Lance at all. He had his own problems to worry about. She didn't need to burden him with more. "Right. That's understandable. Shall we head back then?"

Ethan nodded, leading the way back across the fields. He didn't say another word and she was glad.

What exactly was Clair getting herself involved in?

Hours had seemingly passed by when there were finally some signs of activity. Lance had almost fallen asleep to the steady downpour of rain, but the constant claps of thunder were enough to keep him from drifting off. He stood up from the ground, his hand on his sword just in case he needed to act fast. A layer of cattle hide was pulled back and a single man entered.

His head was concealed by a black hood, as was the rest of his body by a black cloak. Only his arms were exposed, and Lance could see multiple scars covering them both. He was a tall man - solid with broad shoulders and judging by the scars most likely involved in many fights over the years of his life. He wasn't carrying any weapons with him, at least not from what Lance could tell. He immediately stopped.

"…You're either brave or extremely foolish," the man said, his voice deep and hoarse. There was a scar across his throat. He guessed some accident had damaged his voice box.

Lance didn't move his hand off his sword. "You're unarmed. You're no threat."

He didn't expect a hearty laugh to escape the man's throat. "I don't need a weapon to end your life." Raising a hand, he pointed a finger at Lance's sword. "You can try and harm me with it, but it won't end well for you. Many have tried and failed. Why do you think you will succeed?"

Lance hesitated. The man spoke with so much confidence, but he'd be a coward if he backed down now. He couldn't show weakness. Not now. "I'm not here to start a fight."

"Yet you come in here, kill my men, and take my guests, and now you stand in my home with a sword and a bow. And you tell me you're not here to start a fight?" He chuckled again. "Amusing. Give me a good reason why I shouldn't add your head to my collection outside?"

Lance pointed to the chest. "That painting of the woman. Who is she?"

The man tilted his head to the side. "You came here for a painting?"

"I want to know."

"Tahlia Blackthorn."

Tahlia Blackthorn, Lance repeated to himself. His mother's name. The painting was of her? He hadn't even seen any paintings of her in the castle. "How do you know her?" he said, trying to keep his tone steady, his fingers tightening their grip on his sword.

"I know many names." He took a step towards Lance. "Tell me yours. I like to know the names of my victims. It's nice to put names to faces."

"Blackthorn," Lance replied tersely.

Silence then the man laughed again. "Blackthorn? I don't take kindly to that name."

Before Lance could react, the man lunged forward, and tackled him to the ground, knocking the sword out of his hand. Lance reached out for the blade, but the man grabbed his arm and pinned it in place with surprising strength. He couldn't even move his arm if he wanted to. He kicked the sword out of arm's reach.

"A wretched cursed name that is," the man spat, his tone laced with venom. Drawing back a fist, he brought it forward, connecting with his right jaw.

Lance held back a cry of pain and ran his tongue against his teeth, checking to make sure they were all still there. It was as if the man's fingers were made from steel. The salty taste of blood ran down the back of his throat. "I just…. Tahlia Blackthorn … Is my mother…" he said in between gasps.

"I don't know anything about her."

"You have her painting."

"Looted off a corpse. Looked valuable." He drew back a fist and slammed it into Lance's jaw.

He cried out in pain, hearing a crack in his jaw. "…I'm not… your enemy…" He tried to throw the heavier man off him, but the man had pinned him down. He received another punch to the jaw. This time on the other side. The taste of blood filled his mouth. "… Killing me won't give you answers," he managed to gasp.

The man climbed off Lance then walked over to grab his sword. Retrieving the blade, he picked it up, and ran his fingers across the tempered steel. "A fancy sword. You must be wealthy. Your head will fetch a nice price if I hold you for ransom. And what's this? The royal emblem of the royal family…" the man studied the dragon head symbol on the blade's helm. "You called yourself a Blackthorn. Are you an imposter?"

"…Not an.. imposter." Lance rolled over onto his stomach and brought a hand up to his jaw. Nothing had broken, but another strong punch like that and he was certain his jaw would break. He spat out some blood on the ground then uttered a gasp of surprise when he was lifted from the ground. Never had he faced an opponent he couldn't match in battle. Until now. "…I'm a Blackthorn by birth… Lance Blackthorn…"

"The boy died."

Lance gazed up at him. "I'm not dead."

"You're lying!" He grabbed Lance's arm and pulled him in close then leaned forward, bringing his face close to his neck and… sniffed him? "….Impossible. It cannot be."

Lance received a hard shove, and he toppled over and fell on the floor once more. He rolled over onto his back and threw his hands up in front of his face to defend himself from another hit. But the strike did not come. "…I'm not your enemy."

He dropped the sword. "Lance Blackthorn… I know that name."

Deciding that he wasn't going to be hit again, Lance climbed up from the floor but maintained his distance. The man was clearly volatile. He touched his jaw again. It was tender to his touch. But nothing had broken. "Jacob," Lance said, recalling the name Lorelei had mentioned.

"Tahlia Blackthorn fell in love with a mercenary against the wishes of Edward Blackthorn. No good woman would marry someone with no place to call home. Jacob didn't make good coin. He didn't have any fancy titles. But she loved him…" He cast a glance towards the wooden chest. "She believed in him. Together, they chose the name Lance together."

Lance's eyes widened. The man either knew his father or was his father. But the man was supposed to be dead, or had that just been another lie he had foolishly believed in because it felt justified? "You knew Tahlia." An uncomfortable feeling gripped his stomach. That feeling when something felt amiss, and you knew the answer, but didn't want to accept it.

"You ever get that feeling inside you? That something wants to break out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Jacob grabbed his arm again. "Of course you don't. I can smell it all over you. Magic. Foul magic. The witch placed a spell on you to suppress that part of you in the name of Edward Blackthorn's pride," he released Lance and spat at the ground. "I always wanted a son. But I was denied the right to see him. To see you. And even now I'm still denied that right."

"You're not making sense." Lorelei had called him mad. Stark raving mad.

A muscle jerked in the man's jaw, and he curled his fingers into fists. "Tahlia was going to marry me under the full moon. That was her dream. But the full moon is… a curse. It makes you become something else entirely and you have no control. Edward couldn't allow such a secret to become known. Oh no, he had too much pride for that. I was forced out of the city."

It was starting to make sense. No lock on the chest. The absence of weapons in the tent. He didn't need weapons because he wasn't entirely… human. A werewolf. But what of the scar across his throat? Werewolves could heal. Right? "You're mad," Lance remarked, taking a few steps back.

Jacob gave a sardonic laugh. "Am I?"

"I'm going to leave."

Jacob stepped in front of him. "Oh, you're not leaving. Not yet. You do not get to break into my home and decide when you get to leave." The man lunged, barrelling him down to the ground, with his right shoulder.

Lance hit the floor. Before he had a chance to recover, he felt a heavy weight on his back. The man was sitting on him, pinning him in place so he could not escape. Still, he tried to reach out for his sword with his foot, but Jacob noticed and grabbed him by the neck, applying crushing force that he found it hard to breathe. "…Please… just let me go… I won't tell…" he managed to rasp, feeling more pathetic by the passing second.

Cold fingers brushed up against his neck. "…A crescent moon. A binding spell."

Lance froze, a coldness sweeping through him. Lyra had said the same thing. "…What?"

Hot breath washed up against his right ear. "I can smell the magic all over you, but a father can always identify their own. Suppression will only kill you… You're dying. Slowly. Like an animal trapped in a cage. It's a wonder you've even survived this long." Jacob pulled away and climbed off him. "They've made you weak. Kept you weak."

Lance rolled over onto his back. "I don't…"

Jacob paced back and forth. After a few cycles he stopped and picked up the wooden chest, raising it above his head only to bring it crashing down on the ground. It splintered into pieces across the room. "Edward denies me once more! Is it not enough to deny me my wife, but my son too?! Look at you! You're pathetic. Nothing more but a simpering cub unworthy of being my son."

A werewolf. Again that word. It was obvious. So obvious. But his mind didn't want to accept. Jacob could not be his father. There was no logic. The man was just insane. Right? He was not related to this violent and volatile man. He was not a werewolf himself. He did not share the same blood. What a ridiculous thought! A werewolf! He would've laughed if his jaw didn't sting.

"I would end your life but you're already dying," Jacob said, his tone expressionless. "There is no satisfaction to be gained from someone who is already on the death's door."

Lance stumbled out of the tent and didn't look back. He broke out into a sprint and headed towards his horse. Fortunately, the animal was still where he had left him. Undoing the rope, Lance climbed on his horse and urged his companion to move as fast as he could, trying to put the past behind him. For a moment, he forgot about Jacob and his words, and just relished the temporary peace he had. But then reality returned. His stallion's loud pants and gasps made him come to an abrupt halt.

He climbed off his horse and dropped to the ground, a sudden feeling of weariness overcoming him. Pain flooded his head unlike anything he had experienced before. The pain worsened. Now they were sharp implosions, prodding him in various places, each stab worse than the previous. Whimpering, he clutched his head, and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside.

He opened his eyes again, and stared up at the bright blue sky, catching a glimpse of the full moon. Even though it was broad daylight, it seemed to glow brighter than the sun itself. He clenched his jaw, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Soon, he felt hot and stuffy in all places.

His vision clouded. The world around him became a blur. All except the moon which seemed to glow brighter. He tried to keep his eyes open, but then darkness took over and all was silent.


Do let me know which characters you find most interesting!