Vindication
Chapter Five
Five years ago…
It couldn't be happening, damn it.
Schwann wanted to believe this was just one long nightmare that had yet to end, but he wasn't that naïve. It started the moment a soldier had been sent to relieve him of his evening duty. The nervous guard told him to report immediately to Captain Louis and wouldn't answer any questions for the sudden change of plans.
It wasn't surprising for him to be summoned by the captain. No, Louis had been invariably kind to him over the years, and they'd spent a good deal of time together. Whether it was a drink, a meal together, or just a good talk, the captain was not just a superior, but a good friend. On top of that, he often told Schwann that he considered him to be his protégé and expended much effort to teach him lessons of leadership.
Still, the strange dread he felt kept him silent as he made his way back into the fortress and towards the captain's office. What could be so pressing? Was he losing his leave? He prayed it wasn't that; it had been three months since the last one and Casey's letters only made him miss her more. Was he being sent somewhere else? He had asked for a transfer, but doubted information on that would be so urgent. Had he done something wrong? Nothing came to mind. Still, whatever it was, his instincts told him it wasn't good news.
He stepped into the captain's office and went to give a salute, but noticed the man was facing away, his gaze trained out the window. The departing sun bathed the room in an ominous, muted yellow light, and despite the noise he made as he entered, the captain did not turn around. A bit nervous to disturb his superior's thoughts, Schwann said quietly, "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Close the door," the captain said, still keeping his eyes focused on something in the distance.
Schwann did as he asked, noticing how cool the room actually was and gave a slight shiver. "Sir?"
"Have a seat."
"Is something wrong, sir?" he asked as he gingerly sat himself down in the chair opposite the captain's desk.
Captain Louis finally turned around, nervously running a hand through his red hair. His brow furrowed darkly as he finally said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
"Bad news?" he asked, nearly holding his breath. The captain was never one to show anxiety, at least not to him. It made the trepidation he felt even worse, and he felt his palms begin to sweat.
"I'm afraid that Casey Dalvist was listed as missing on the last report." The words came quickly, but gently. Captain Louis heaved a harsh sigh as he seemed to drop the weight of the news from his shoulders. "I'm sorry, son."
Schwann was numb. So that was it. Missing. But missing wasn't dead, he tried to tell himself. The captain seemed to be waiting for a response so he gave one, but held a firm glower. "A tragic occurrence, sir."
"You don't need to put up a front for me, Schwann," Louis said, shaking his head. "I know the two of you have been more than friends for quite some time. Since your time at the academy, I believe."
Schwann said nothing. He couldn't say anything. The rock he felt in his throat prevented that. A long pause pulled through the room until he finally managed to speak a single word through the air that was beginning to strangle him. "How?"
"She was leading a group from Capua Torim towards the new city they're building out there and her company was attacked by bandits. Many were killed and she is missing."
His eyes narrowed in rage as the tightness in his throat worsened. Whoever did this would suffer for it. He'd see to that. "Do you know which bandits? The Dark Wings?"
"No," Captain Louis said, dragging a chair to sit next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "There was nothing in the report regarding who was responsible, or if any organized group was behind it."
Schwann gave a tight slight nod but did not look at his superior. The pattern on the rug held his attention as he forced his eyes to trace its intricate patterns in an effort to curb the burning he felt within them. Right then, he wanted nothing but to go his room and be alone, but he couldn't just walk out without be dismissed.
"It's all right to show your grief to me, son," he said as he gave the young man a sympathetic pat on the back. "I will think nothing less of you for doing so. I've told you before that I consider you my protégé. When I retire, I hope you will lead this brigade, and learning to handle loss is something you must become familiar with. It doesn't get any easier, but finding a way to make peace with it will help you deal with it." He paused, adding gently, "Fighting it alone only makes it worse."
Schwann barely gave a nod in acknowledgement, gritting his teeth in an effort to fight the tears that wanted to fall. Louis may have meant well, but he wasn't helping. And yet, he knew the captain was right. No knight captain worth his salt would be emotionless at losing his men in battle. But this wasn't about men lost on a battlefield. This was about Casey.
Forcing tears back, he bit his lip and focused his eyes on a book in the case against the wall.
The captain lowered his voice. "My mother was a child of the guilds, you know. So, I know what that mark on your arm means, son."
Schwann just closed his eyes. Mention of that was not helping. Not at all.
Louis shook his head. "I also know who her father is—I helped him forge the papers to get her into the knights."
He curled his toes in his boots in an effort to distract himself from all the stinging in his eyes and the Captain's words. Casey couldn't be gone. It couldn't be true.
Louis rubbed his forehead, forcing the wrinkles there into a morose dance. "I hate to mention this, Schwann, but it is for the best that you know." He drew a long breath. "The empire will send word to the family I created on paper and they will discover that she was a fraud. It's unlikely they'll realize that she is Whitehorse's child, but it's always a possibility." He paused and another sigh fell from his lips. "You should be prepared to deny knowing anything about her heritage."
Schwann didn't even shrug. He could care less about such things. All that mattered right now was Casey. Not forged papers. Not her heritage. Just Casey. Finally, the tears won the battle. He covered his face with a numb, trembling hand that was drenched in a cold sweat.
"Son," the captain said, his hand firmly on the knight's shoulder, in an effort to offer some kind of comfort. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I wish there was more I could say to you, but you must find strength in this because there's something you must do for her sake."
Whatever embarrassment Schwann thought he would have had for such a display in front of his commanding officer melted away for the moment. Finally able to hold the tears back, he glanced up at the man and managed a word. "What?"
Captain Louis met his sorrow-filled eyes with a kind, paternal gaze. "It wouldn't be right for her father not to know what happened. And, since by rights you are her husband, you must be the one to go tell him."
As many times as Schwann had wanted to go to Dahngrest, he wished to be anywhere but there at the moment. The air smelled of thick humidity and the red haze that cloaked the city felt like a bad omen. Despite the noonday sun, the sky was dark, a perfect way to blur the unscrupulous dealings that likely happened within the city amongst members of the guilds. Even the barrier was crooked and dull; it hung at an impossible angle over the buildings and shone with barely any amount of light. Its shadow obscured his path as he walked underneath it and into the main street. He drew a long breath, hoping to get this over with quickly and get out of this place. It gave him the creeps.
He had dressed casually as to not to draw attention to himself. He didn't think the guildsmen would take kindly to an Imperial knight just wandering their streets. But even in civilian clothes, he noticed that all eyes were on him. He stopped at one vendor's stall and asked where he could find the infamous Don Whitehouse. The shopkeeper just laughed in his face. He tried another and got the same reaction. And another. He spent all day asking where to find the Don, and by the time night had fallen, he was no closer than when he started.
He took a room at the inn for the night, and though the innkeeper was friendly, he also refused any information on the Union's leader. As he lay on the bed, he knew there was a way to get the Don's attention, but he was hesitant. If he was killed before he delivered the news, he'd be a failure. Although, it was looking like he had no other choice.
The next morning, he dressed in his uniform. As he stepped out of the inn, he heard people audibly gasp as they looked at him. The next thing he knew, a piece of smelly, spoiled fruit struck him in the back of the head. Turning to see who'd thrown it brought him face-to-face with four huge guildsmen who didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation.
One struck him in the back of the head while the others grabbed his limbs and restrained him. A burlap sack was thrown over his head and the men dragged him off, the crowd still hurling insults and rotten fruit at him.
When his sight was finally returned to him, he found himself in a dungeon that would make the ones in Zaphias look hospitable. The floors were covered in filth and the stench caused him to gag. He realized that his sword had been taken from him, but oddly the knife Casey had given him remained on his belt.
Grabbing onto the bars, he tried to look out and get a better grasp of his surroundings. He could see nothing to the left because of a large pillar blocking his view, and to the right, there were only empty cells. Resigned to do nothing but wait and see what fate would bring him, he sat on the ground and hoped they wouldn't forget him down here.
A good while passed and his stomach growled. He wanted to believe the guilds were as honorable as Casey had told time and time again, but right now, they weren't really impressing him. Casey. He didn't want to dwell too much on her; it would only bring more grief, and emotions were a luxury he couldn't afford at the moment.
A deep voice, rough with a guild accent, broke into his thoughts as a group of guildsmen approached the cell. "You're either an idiot or incredibly brave to wear that outfit in this city. I'm leaning towards idiot."
"You must be Don Whitehorse," Schwann said, standing up and dusting off his pants as he took a good look at who was speaking to him. He was a bear of a man: stocky, with a strong frame and a stern face. Dressed in heavy leathers and a long coat, he smelled of battle—sweat, blood and metal. His blonde hair matched Casey's in color and he wore it long down his back. Schwann noted the resemblance stopped with their hair. She must have taken after her mother. He was thankful for that.
"And if I am?" the man answered, the men behind him snickering as he opened the cell and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.
He looked up at the huge man, doing his best to hide his fear. "Then I need to talk to you."
"Imperial trash! I don't waste time with the likes of you!" The man shouted, as he landed a surprisingly soft punch in the knight's stomach. Despite not consuming all of his strength, it still knocked the wind out of Schwann. Fighting to catch his breath, he heard the man give an order. "Get out of here! Leave this piece of crap to me. It's been a while since I had some fun."
Don Whitehorse waited while his men left and then raised a brow at him. "So whaddya want with me?"
It was time, Schwann told himself. He could do this. He had to do this. "Sir, my name is—"
"Schwann Oltorain," the Don interrupted. "I know."
"How--?" he began to ask.
"Casey told me she marked herself for a knight with that name. Figure it's you since that knife on yer belt's the same one I gave her mother." He gave a smirk as he circled around Schwann. "Never expected ya to be such a scrawny sack of shit, though."
His fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of the weapon. "I'm surprised you didn't take it from me. The empire would never leave a prisoner with a weapon."
The huge man leaned on the wall of the cell and looked at him with an intensely serious gaze. "No guildsman who wants to keep his life takes another's knife. The only one who can do that is the one who gave it to ya. It's the worst kind of disrespect 'round here."
"I see," Schwann answered, meeting the man's eyes. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, sir."
"No 'sir'ing 'round here, kid."
"Forgive me," he sighed and then bowed his head in respect. The words came out in a jumble of a mess. "Captain Louis, well, he knows you and Casey, and he told me to come and…"
"Don't they teach you idiots concise reporting?" the Don said with an annoyed shake of his head.
Schwann glared darkly at him and delivered the news in a snipped, even tone. "I'm here to tell you that Casey's dead."
The huge man laughed. "No, she ain't. She just needed to get out of that damn army and back here where she belongs."
Schwann's eyes widened. It was impossible. Well, not impossible, but certainly not what he expected to hear. "What?" he asked desperately, his heart filling with blind hope. "She's alive?"
"You heard me, boy. She's alive. She's back here, with us."
"I have to see her!" he said, clenching his fists in excitement. "I have to! For two weeks I've thought her to be dead! You've got to bring her here!"
"I ain't gotta do anything for you. I'd think the man who swore his life to my daughter would have more sense than to walk into town wearing the uniform of my enemy. Unless he doesn't value his life or his promise that much." The words were harsh, even though the Don's eyes shone with good-natured contempt.
"I wanted to get your attention," Schwann answered.
"Well, ya got it, all right. Mine and the whole city's." Whitehorse gave a dark laugh. "Clever, I'll give ya that. Though, I'll tell ya, the only reason yer still alive is that my men recognized that knife. Otherwise, I don't know that this woulda ended so well for ya."
"But Casey," the knight entreated frantically. She was so much more important that this nonsense. She was alive. "I must see her."
"She ain't here at the moment, but when she gets back I'll tell her I gotcha down here. More for your own safety at this point." He gave a sideways grin and grasped Schwann's shoulder. "I think everyone in town is linin' up fer a chance to tear an Imperial knight limb from limb."
Schwann gave a nod. The man was right about that, at least. "But what about the attack on her company?"
"Only way to get her out was to take her back," the Don raised a brow at him. "What does yer country do to those who leave the army without permission?"
Schwann frowned. The empire had no sympathy for deserters. "Hang them."
"Couldn't let them do that to my girl," he answered, glancing away from Schwann for a moment. "I ain't got much left in this world, and Casey means more to me than you'll ever know." Then after a pause, he grinned, "Well, maybe ya do know about that, boy."
He gave a nod and said with as much courage as he could muster in the face of this man. "I love her, sir."
"What did I tell ya about that 'sir' business?" the Don laughed. "Anyway, if she left and they discovered who she is, might mean a full out war on both our sides. Best that it just look like a battle gone wrong."
"So you killed her company," Schwann sighed. While he understood the reasoning, he couldn't really agree with the method.
"Fought with her company," Whitehorse corrected firmly. "Some were killed. Some on our side, too. But I got her back here and she's fine."
"I can't believe you'd kidnap your own daughter just to bring her back to you and your guild," the words were sour but he spoke them anyway. "I thought she had your blessing to be in the knights."
Backing out of the cell and locking it behind him, the Don said cryptically, "Only did what she asked of me."
"Huh?"
"Never ya mind," Whitehorse answered, his arms crossed across his chest. "Cool yer heels down here for awhile, boy. I'll make sure they feed ya and when Casey comes back, I'll tell her yer here. If she wants to see ya, she'll come down."
"Why wouldn't she?" Schwann asked. The mere thought of Casey not wanting to see him was incredulous.
The Don shrugged as he walked away. "Who knows? Women can be like that."
Schwann was certain it was night, even though he couldn't see the sky. The guard had changed, food had been brought and the air was noticeably colder. The meal he'd been given wasn't half bad, but the temperament of the guards left much to be desired. They'd spent most of the afternoon heckling him from outside the bars, tossing ugly words along with apple cores at him. When he asked for a blanket or even some straw to sleep on, the answer was only a harsh laugh. Resigned to sleep on the stone floor, he lay down in the hopes of finding a bit of rest in the uncomfortable surroundings.
Suddenly, a clamor of approaching boots brought him to his feet. Before he had a chance to object, the cell door was flung open and two huge swordsmen entered. Blades drawn, they forced him up against the wall and tied his hands behind his back. His attempts of protest were met with a swift kick to the back of the legs, forcing him down to his knees. One held his sword to Schwann's neck, the tip drawing a line of blood as the man sneered at him.
"Yer lucky," the taller of the two said. "The Don likes ya. So we ain't gonna do anything too bad."
He didn't answer. He had nothing to say to these men. If they were going to kill him, they needed to just get on with it.
"He ain't very talkative is he, Marco?" the other asked. "Figured Imperial trash would squeal like a pig when faced with my blade!"
"Ya think too much of that blade of yours, Rozzi," Marco answered.
In response, Rozzi knocked Schwann on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. "Yer afraid of me, aren't ya, boy?"
Schwann remained silent. They were intimidating, but he refused to let them have the pleasure of seeing his reaction.
"I think he's mute," Marco said. "We best just get on with this."
Rozzi stood behind him and Schwann steeled himself. They were indeed going to kill him. So much for all that honor of the guilds that Casey had told him about. Murdering an unarmed man who had committed no crime was nothing less of barbaric. Maybe all those things he'd been taught about the guilds before he'd met Casey were true. Maybe she was living in denial about what her father and his ilk were really like.
He heard Rozzi tap his sword impatiently on the ground as if waiting for him to say something, to protest or perhaps beg for his life. He did none of these things. Then, without warning or choice, he was blindfolded. The strip of black cloth stunk of stale sweat, but he still did not close his eyes. In that moment, waiting for his short life of twenty years to end, he chose to regret nothing.
"Enough," he heard Casey say, but the sound told him that she was distant—perhaps in the long hallway in front of the cells. He gasped a sigh of relief. She was alive! She had come to him! Her footsteps echoed on the stones and then he knew she was near him now. Finally! He could get some answers. This whole nightmare could be put behind them and they could move on! Her tone was angry as she addressed the two men. "You exceeded your orders. I'll deal with you later."
"But Guildmistress--" Rozzi started.
"Get out of here," Casey commanded. "Now."
Schwann heard the two men run off and breathed a sigh of relief. With a laugh, he said, "Well, yes, thank you, Guildmistress. That could have ended badly."
"I'm sorry," she said, and he heard her sit down in front of him.
"Don't be sorry. Just untie me, already."
"Schwann, I can't."
Those three words again. He shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? I know you told me to never come but I thought you were dead! I thought your father should know! And then, he said you were alive!"
She touched his face with just her fingertips, as if brushing away tears that had yet to fall. "I am," she replied tiredly, to which statement he wasn't entirely sure.
"Why must I be bound and blindfolded?" he asked, dreading the answer. Was she here to say one last goodbye before the Don had him decapitated? Was she afraid he might see something in Dahngrest that would be considered a guild secret?
There was a long pause as her fingers gently tugged his long bangs out from under the blindfold. "Because if I were to look in your eyes again, I might not be able to do what I have to do."
He tried to choke his words back, but failed. "Are you here to kill me?"
"No."
"Then what? What can't you do?"
"Send you away," she said, her words sliding in between tears.
His hands felt numb under the ropes that held them behind his back but they still managed to shake. "Send me away? Why? Why can't—"
She put a finger over his lips and he swore he could taste her agony on her skin. "Things are different. I have problems and responsibilities I must face here."
"Did your father—"
"It has nothing to do with my father."
"Then, what? What can't you tell me?" he pleaded, attempting to scoot himself closer to her. "You always preached how the guilds believed in doing what's right. How is disappearing from the army right?"
"It is the right thing for me to do right now."
"I don't believe that," he said, shaking his head as his throat tightened in anguish. "I don't believe you believe that either. You told me once you were both a knight and guildsman. You said you had to have it both ways. What suddenly made you change your mind?"
"Schwann, please," she begged, touching his shoulders. "Please don't make this any more difficult for me."
"No! Damn it, Casey!" he felt his lips quivering. She may have well just killed him.
She grabbed his arm, still sobbing. "C'mon, get up."
With her assistance, he stood. What he wouldn't give to see her, to put his arms around her, hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. No matter what the problem was, they could work it out. "Something isn't right. Please, let me look at you. Please, tell me what is going on. Please, Casey."
She didn't answer. Instead, she leaned against him, as she always had, tucking her cheek against his chest. She remained there a good long while, crying on him, her hair smelling of fresh tanned leather and her beloved fire lilies.
He'd never felt so useless in his entire life. There was nothing he could do to console her. And, though she was killing him with this idea of sending him away, he couldn't stand to see her so distraught.
Finally, she raised her head. "You must leave. Don't look back."
He just wanted to see her face. He had to see her face. "Why can't I help you?" he asked. "Why can't I help you with whatever you have to do here?"
She slipped her hands around his waist and pressed her forehead into his chest. "These are my responsibilities, not yours. You have always had your own dreams and I cannot ask you to give them up. You must return to the knights and work to fix all the problems of the empire." She sighed, repeating words that he had said to her numerous times. "Expose those who are corrupt. Find those who have done unjust deeds and see that they are punished for their crimes. Work to bring peace to this world. Help create an empire that judges people on their values, not their social standing."
Hearing his own words being repeated just made the sense of finality even worse. "I'd give it up for you," he said firmly. "I'd give it all up right now."
"Don't say stupid things like that!" she whispered as she pounded a weak, miserable fist on his chest.
"I'm serious," he answered with strong resolve, tilting his head down in hopes of touching his chin to the top of her head. "Do you want me to join your guild? I will. Just tell me what I need to do."
She sobbed. "This isn't about guilds versus the empire."
"Then what is it about?"
"Nothing I can discuss with you right now, Schwann," she answered in a pathetic, quivering voice. A trembling hand touched the side of his face, her palm rough with calluses from her bow. He knew where each and every one was—he'd touched those hands so many times. And now, they were about to slip away. Just like that.
"Why not?" he asked, the tears stinging his eyes and threatening to fall. At least the blindfold wouldn't let her see him cry. He rubbed his cheek against her hand against it before desperately kissing her fingers. He had to feel her. He needed to hold onto her, somehow. "I swore my life to you. I would die for you, Casey. Doesn't that mean anything to you anymore?"
"Don't say that," she whispered, her lips so close to his that he could smell the tears on her cheeks.
He tried to kiss her, to remind her of how things should be—how they had to be. But she pulled away. "Casey," he implored, nearly whimpering her name, but not daring to raise his voice. Not when he had her this close. "Casey…I mean it. If you won't let me stay here with you, kill me. Kill me! Now, damn it!"
"No. I will not kill you." She touched her lips to his for a mere second; it wasn't enough to be called a kiss and barely a caress. "If you want to honor me, live for me."
Schwann felt the space between them grow and hung his head in torment. "Please." One word. That's all he could he could manage. She was strangling him in these long moments.
Nothing but shuddering tension filled the cell as she took a moment and sat down on the ground. With a pat of her hand, she guided him to sit facing her. Tears soaked each word as she strained to say them and her fingers stroked his cheek once again. "This is how it must be, Schwann. There isn't another way. You must live your life and I must live mine! Now, go, live a good life, make some woman happy and work towards all those dreams you used to tell me about. Don't ever come back to Dahngrest." She paused and let her hand drop. "And just forget about me."
"I can't forget. Those dreams—this life—mean nothing without you." He muttered the despondently acrid words, realizing there was no arguing with her. She had made up her mind.
"Don't be an idiot, Schwann," she sighed, each syllable a single breath as she rose to her feet and stepped behind him.
"Casey…please…"
She knelt behind him and held him against her, resting her cheek against his neck. "At dawn, some of my father's men will take you to Capua Torim. You should be safe to travel on your own from there."
"Casey," he pleaded, nuzzling against her damn cheek as his tears finally fell. He drew a long breath, taking in that one moment—her touch, her scent, her breath, her nearness—hoping to stop time as she held him. "Please…just let me stay with you."
She remained there for a few drawn moments as the blindfold began to dampen. Then, she gave a long, hesitant sigh and reached around his waist. He felt her hand tremble as she took her knife from his belt. "I love you, but this has to be the end. I'm sorry, Schwann."
He shook with grief, sadness, anger, frustration, desperation and about thirty other emotions he couldn't put names to as he felt her pull away.
She jerked off the blindfold and backed out of the cell, pulling the door closed. Before he could turn around to see her, to call back to her, to beg her one last time to let him help her battle whatever demons she'd found in Dahngrest, something metal resonated on the stone floor behind him.
Craning his head, he was able to see that it was the knife he had given her. And, from the darkness, he heard her say in a voice so forlorn it might as well have been a dirge, "Now we owe each other nothing."