Annie had just told herself a few hours before that being a good daughter would be her main duty, and to fully be committed to her old man, only bringing honour and glory to Leonhart's name. But now she had to stand in shame, allowing the so-called justice bringers to tie her hands behind her back as she watched Father's gifted knife slip into Lou's pocket. She simply couldn't look up. Everyone, including the customers, had their eyes on her. She couldn't help but wonder what was going through their heads right now. They were probably thinking the same thing as Wald did: a woman doing a man's job in the tavern, carrying a weapon, and breaking people's limbs with her bare hands sounded like witchcraft or something that a secret psychopathic murderer would do. But people, who truly knew her, perceived the reality of her abilities - she was just a lost lonely girl who only wanted to have a safe and calm life, with no actual deaths of people dirtying her hands. But at the end of the day, she was mostly fearful of what Father was thinking.
"Annie will be locked up for three days. Because it has not been proven that she is a mass murderer, she will be arrested until we see if the murders continue." As his two accomplices began pushing the woman out the door, Wald stated calmly and removed his gloves which he then put in his pocket. "If we catch someone covering up for her by committing a crime, they will both face prosecution."
"Fine," Mr. Leonhart said through his gritted teeth and watched his daughter getting taken towards the exit. She looked back at him and their eyes met for a moment. She wanted to continue looking at them, to find comfort in them, to feel safe in his supervision and be assured that she's safe. But the connection of their gaze was soon broken when the young woman left through the doors, leaving him with an empty feeling in his chest. He knew Annie would be imprisoned in Stralsund and would eventually return home, but the grief would not go away. Only after he felt compelled to move away from him did he realise how much he genuinely cared about her, how much she was like a real daughter to him.
But now, there was another problem. All the spare money he owned he spent on Annie's birthday present and hens for their little farm. And to make sure that the arrested one gets the food and a warm blanket to hold on throughout the night, it must be paid for, no matter if the arrested person is found guilty or not. At the end of everything, it always comes back to the money. He knew that his strong daughter would've stood a high chance of surviving those three nights in detention but was it worth risking a person's health who he loved? Would these actions be even forgiven?
Bertholdt, the quiet guy who saved Annie from trouble with the innkeeper, was finally the one this time to step in. His face was pale, the forming sweat was sticking his fluffy black hair in thick strands. But, with his ally being taken away by the constables, the young man seemed to look determined with his decision.
"Sir, I… she will be okay. You can take my week's salary and some of my savings. That would be enough for her well being, wouldn't it?"
"Bertholdt…" The innkeeper looked up tiredly at him but seeing decidedness in his serious face, he nodded, leading it with a firm tap on Bertholdt's arm. "That would definitely be more than enough. My inner gut was right thinking that you're a good guy. When she returns and everything gets back to normal, tell her what you did for her."
Mr Leonhart entered the other room, his hand fiercely clutching his cane as it gently tapped the wood with every other step. Bertholdt stood there and watched him, knowing that the innkeeper would undoubtedly collect his weekly wage from the small coffer hidden between the planks of flooring. Was it really worth the sacrifice? Truth to be told, he could do more for Annie, even if he didn't get anything in return.
Bertholdt furrowed his brows as he now stared across the room at that bright-eyed wonder boy who really just had to be involved in this. The bartender couldn't help but think the boy was to blame for all of this chaos, or at least a part of it. It wasn't jealousy that began tearing Bertholdt's chest apart, but something else. Those brilliant eyes and innocent expression on his face didn't appear to be seeing only the ocean and the beauty of life.
Both pairs of eyes looked at each other, both knowing what they're thinking of but no real verbal exchange happening between them two. The tension became real, and it was a matter of time until it would escalate. But the bartender was the first one to break the staring contest - he turned around on his heels and rushed to help Reiner with fixing the mess that Wald's men had made.
With the sun slowly hiding behind the walls of a city, the clouds full of cold rain have started showering the streets. Marcel Galliard was already on his way riding to the street he would be guarding, beginning at midnight. As he passed by St. Mary's church, he paused for a moment to see if there were any lights coming from here or any other indication that the pastor was still present at this hour. Originally, the bells were rung three times a day, but since the beginning of this week, a fourth time has been added. Midnight. Midnight was now the time when the bell rang thirteen times, but it wasn't to gather worshippers for their prayers - it was done to alert people that the midnight killer was on the loose.
On the other hand, who was that thing hiding under Midnattmorder's name? Some rumors were telling it's a black shuck that is terrorizing Stralsund and leaving the bitemarks on its victims, although that creature from Anglia was never associated with killing men speciffically. Nix sounded like the one who could aim for the man's throat but a creature of the freshwaters would doubtfully step into the brine.
Despite the fact that many people had made up stories about an evil ghost or other creature tormenting the town, Marcel couldn't buy it. He remained sceptical about it being something from a children's fairy tale. Maybe it's just some kind of ruthless mastermind hidden behind this mysterious name, his plans so cunning that even the most astute man could only define it as a mythic's job.
Marcel shook his head and nudged his grey stallion's sides with his spurs, forcing it to lift its head and start trotting towards Heilgeistkloster street (or the slangy Dead man's street), where he would patrol the area beginning at midnight. Mr. Leonhart's tavern was located right around the corner. It didn't appear to be as crowded as it usually was, and no music could be heard through the open doors, but the drunks were still devoted to their booze customers and risked coming here despite the midnight killer being on the loose. The guard's armour reflected the tavern's ambient light, but it didn't protect him from the rain, so he hopped off a horse and quickly brought him inside Mr. Leonhart's horse shed, next to a few other horses. He took off his helmet, revealing his dark, slicked back sweaty hair and was about to tie the stallion's reins to the pole until he noticed a tall figure walking over. For some reason, the guard couldn't help but not be able to move a muscle.
"Galliard, is that you?" A familiar voice spoke up and the brunet couldn't help but let out a nervous laughter.
"Gosh, Reiner, I thought you were that Midnattmorder thing, don't scare me that way," Marcel attached his helmet to the saddle and walked to shake hands with the bartender. "How have you been?"
"Eh, almost the same as always, today has just been a bit harder to handle though."
"Pressure from Wald? Or too many customers?"
"I had to take on Ann's work and manage to find a second to go to the goldsmith." Reiner picked up some hay with a rake and brought it for Marcel's stallion. He looked at the soldier, who seemed to genuinely be confused about the situation, so this time with a saddened pitch in his voice, he added, "Ann was taken by Richter's gang. He's saying she's a possible suspect for being Midnattmorder but it's literally impossible - she's always behind the counter after midnight. Never has she ever left the tavern then even before, unless it was with me or Bertholdt. And neither him or me would have a reason to kill our customers."
"Shoot. Okay, I didn't expect that at all. So is she brought for a trial already?"
"No, they're keeping her in the cell for three days until they have proven that some folk are still killing people at nighttime."
"Well, at least that's good to hear." the guard said softly and continued watching Reiner feeding the horses, then cleaning up the straw bedding and throwing it into the cart that was placed close to the entrance. Once done, he cleaned his hands in the bucket and walked back to the poorly lit taproom. Galliard followed him while keeping an eye on the room to make sure that the drunktards were in control. And they definitely were - with the guard in their sight, they wouldn't even dare to make any questionable jokes around or start a dumb fight over their wives. Who knows - any dumb move could make anyone suspicious of them being a Midnight killer. And even a man with his drunk head knew that he didn't want to have a taste of prison, or even a taste of what the innkeeper's daughter was going through tonight.
Another thing he noticed was that Bertholdt wasn't around. But the guard only took mental notes on the situation - it wasn't the night guard's duty to know the work schedule of the bartenders.
"Wanna drink?" Reiner offered as he walked behind the counter where the bartenders were usually preparing the drinks. Marcel, meanwhile, stood in front of the counter and rested his arm on with, with the other staying next to his sword holder out of pure habit. "We got some new scotch brought for us. Or grog, so you wouldn't fall off your horse?"
"No, thanks, I could drop down even after getting grog. Get me a glass of Annie's kvass if she made a fresh batch."
"Alright. Also, guess what, you're not the only one now who's always getting that drink. There's another rich man who comes here to chug a mug or two." Reiner grabbed a jug covered with washcloth to avoid the fruit flies and filled the mug with the sweet drink. When he saw Marcel lingering with a coin between his fingers, the bartender shook his head and quickly added, "My treat. For keeping your guards up tonight."
There was a time or two when a rich man would find his way in a tavern but mostly it would be for making shady deals while lurking in the dim lights of the taproom. These kinds of stories used to pique the guard's interest, but now that he was more concerned about the manslaughter situation, his priorities were different from tavern gossip at the moment.
"Lucky. Speaking of rich men… I'm very concerned about Annie's health in prison." Marcel said in a lower tone and watched the boozers trying to peek at the conversation while pretending to focus on their drinks.
"Who isn't though? But Bert bet a whole week's salary for her well being, so did her dad. She'll get a royal treatment for those three days with all of that."
"I highly doubt it. You see, the prison guards usually steal the majority of money or useful items that were given for prisoners and in exchange, they give cheap stuff to survive on instead."
"Are you serious? Wait, is it even legal, even if a man is locked up only temporarily like Annie is now? She's not a prisoner."
"Legal? Not really. But no one really dares to go against authorities. Sadly, I don't have much power in prisons either. "
"Damn…" Reiner looked down and felt his shoulders dropping weakly. He waited for the drunken talk of other guests to fill the gloomy silence before speaking out again. "I wish I could have asked that rich boy to stay here till midnight so he could do something about it. With enough money, even the most devoted of men with authority can be swayed." He crossed his arms over his broad chest and then spoke up, "I'll try to think of something. There just needs to be a way to help her somehow..."
"If you won't have anything in mind by the end of the night, just leave it for another day. You know, a fresh start of the day can solve some fresh problems."
"Hah, can't argue with that one, it helps sometimes." Reiner smiled faintly, looking down at the counter. Oh man, he wanted to believe Marcel so much.
The men shared a silence between them, letting the chattering of drunktards fill up the quietness of the room. But then, the other sound joined the tavern, coming from the cold night outside.
Dong
Dong
Dong
One after the other, the bells of the St. Mary's church were chiming, counting to thirteen and announcing the upcoming the presence of the killer on the loose. The chiming was creeping in everyone's heads, ringing in their ears, pervading their bodies and deepest fears of death. Marcel felt how dozens of pairs of eyes lingered on him across the room. He knew the time for his duty had come, and his duty wasn't to hide behind the tavern's doors.
"I'll be going now. Gotta not miss out on a killer if they're in this street." Marcel announced loud and clear, hiding fright building in the depths of his heart. "Is Bertholdt anywhere around?"
"He was cleaning the rooms upstairs but then left, the last time I saw him."
Marcel narrowed his eyes and nodded. That was… strange. Reiner's pal wouldn't leave the tavern after midnight, especially alone. Or maybe Reiner just didn't notice where he went to continue work - Mr. Leonhart must be burdened with extra work while his daughter isn't around.
"I see… I hope he's in a safe place right now. See you tomorrow, at midday." the guard shook Reiner's hand and forced out a little smile. "If Pieck comes over tomorrow before I do, tell her that her fiancé is coming back from the sea to spend holidays with her."
"Will do. Plan tomorrow's midday for staying here a bit longer. There won't be Midnattmorder that would step in your way."
And Marcel headed off to the street, leaving the tavern behind, with only his stallion's hooves clopping on the paved road and accompanying him for the night. Despite being a high-ranked guard of the marquess' subunits and knowledge of professional fighting, the man couldn't stop fearing about something - just as his younger brother, he used to be a part of the naval military, sailing in the seas and doing all kinds of things. That's what he was paranoid about.
Midnattmorder seemed to be hunting down the sailors.
Marcel's narrowed eyes scouted the street that he passed by, using a lantern attached to the long stick to see better. The soft glow of the light reflected on his armour and lingered around the area he was passing by, leaving the pitch back silhouette of him and the stallion to follow from behind. At first, nothing seemed to be out of ordinary - despite Mr. Leonhart's daughter was absent from the tavern, the drunktards continued roaming the night, the rats were hiding from the moonlight and guards… and so were the men in the brothels. Everything seemed fine until his horse started slowing down and shaking its head, its heavy breathing turning into heavy panting.
The men held the reins tighter and stopped his stallion but even that didn't stop it from chewing on the bit. The guard furrowed his eyebrows and clinched his jaw - no, there was something out of ordinary.
With a stick clasped in his hand, he started looking around… the street became strange. No more rats, no more drunktards getting caught by moonlight… only two glowing eyes staring at him from behind.