Chapter Four.
A few minutes had passed of searching for her father. She hadn't formed the deal with the wretched industrialist yet but she would have to if she were to 'rescue' her father from his supposed and apparent death tonight. Well, tonight, seeing as she wanted to find him as soon as possible. She scuttled past doors, peering in to see where he was. No sign of him at all. "Father?" she called every now and again. This manor was like a maze! Impossible to find her way around, she kept running into dead ends and rooms she had already been in, how Reaver managed to live like this she did not know. "Father? Are you here?" Angeline's delicate hands pushed a heavy oak door open, yet nobody was there. She could make out the creaking of metal and the jingling of chains, as if something or someone was trying to break free. Angelien took it into mind that it could either be her father, or just some one time raunchy fetish going on. Holding her breath, she entered the empty room and knocked against the locked door. "Is that you, father?" she held her ear close to the door for a few seconds. The chains were still rocking and making lots of sound, and then she heard his familiar slurred voice echoing throughout some sort of large room. "Father! Oh thank Avo," she attempted to unlock the door yet made no avail. She cursed to herself. Reaver probably had the key tucked away in his pocket, he was such a snidy and sly man, only getting to him would possible prove a slim chance of getting the door open.
Angeline fumbled through the drawers of the room, not caring whether anybody heard her or not. She just wanted to find a spare key or some sort of opening mechanism to unlock the door with. A few minutes had passed and she'd began to grow unhopeful and faithless, yet within the nick of time, a small miniature dagger glinted in the candlelight underneath an old book and some feather quills. Angeline took it and hurried back to the locked door in hope of picking the lock inside and getting it to open. It was rather loud and drew the slightest bit of attention yet she could do it, and did. The door swung open just like that; she considered flinging the knife to one side, but decided to keep it instead. With her hands pinching her dress up, she abrubtly rushed down the circular stone staircase. The jingling and rattling of chains became much louder in the cold atmosphere and Angeline sped up her pace, causing her to trip on the last step and fall to her knees with a soft thud. "Looks like we got company, eh?" a speech impaired voice slurred towards the girl. She pulled herself to look up and caught sight of the man. "Wait... Didn't you...?" she retorted. "Die? That's what they thought all along. Nah, none's ya' business anyway, darlin'." The man was Barry Hatch. Everyone had thought this man, Reaver's butler, had been killed during the Hero of Brightwall's fight through the Wheel of Misfortune's rounds once he was mauled and eventually slaughtered by a balverine. "I heard chains... Where's my father? Where is he?" Angeline's voice was desperate and rasped from the fall. "Oh, you mean Mista' Copperfield? Aw I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Master Wreavah' means business ya' know."
As if on cue the man appeared once again from the staircase behind Angeline. "We really have to plan these meetings you know, dearest. I'm constantly late, well, fashionably late," he chuckled eerily. His cane was back in his hands. Angeline spun to face the man, forgetting his height. The party had seemed to drag. She and her father had arrived at about six o'clock in the evening and now it was about eleven o'clock at night. Time flies when you're trying to avoid somebody in their own home. "And have you had the time to think our little deal over, hmm?" Reaver cocked his head aside, standing straight and proud as usual. Angeline glanced from him, to Barry Hatch, and then to the staircase. "My decision? Well, I'd rather be a thousand miles away from you, if that's not obvious," she straightened her dusted red corset. Reaver watched her carefully with interest, smouldering eyes taking in every shape of her body. "Hmm, yes. The visit..." his dark eyes gave the cue for a malicious smile, "Yes, yes, wonderful. You do know your way there, correct?" Reaver questioned her. "Wraithmarsh? I think so, yes," Angeline stayed strong and stood still, trying not to become phased over both Reaver's and Barry's glare. Reaver lifted his head, "Alas a young girl such as yourself, she may not be able to protect herself from the dangers that lurk within Wraithmarsh," he took a few steps closer, tapping the cane against the stone ground twice before reaching a hand towards the girl's chin, lifting it, "I'd hate to see that pretty little face of yours return all blemished and disfashioned, those wondrous eyes gouged right out of their sockets by the whispering call of the banshee," he spoke huskily and slow, as if to frighten her. Angeline shivered and pushed his hand from her chin, "I'll be fine," the girl hissed. Reaver snorted, stepping back towards the staircase, "Very well, very well. Follow me."