Valkyrie Profile:
Lenneth Novelization AU:
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.
Chapter Sixteen:
Justice and Power I
"You really will not speak with him?"
Lawson sighed, ceasing his scribing of the latest watch report. He dipped it back in the inkwell and looked up at his son. Lawfer was leaning over the other side of his father's desk, eager with anticipation. The young knight edged forward a bit more, now that he had his father's full attention.
"My boy, there would be no point," Lawson said.
Lawfer drew back, looking skeptical. "No point?"
"Ay," Lawson answered unhappily.
Lawfer could not contain his frustrated angry any longer. "Why, father? Even if the king refuses his appeal, surely you can at least hear him out. Please, father, Orlok was one of the men deployed to the Amenti mountains last year. He's among the men Arngrim saved, and he's come so far to testify for him."
The grave look on Lawson's face did not change. "Lawfer, the king has officially forbidden the presentation of anymore new materials in Roland's case. I loathe this state of affairs as much as you, but there is nothing more anyone can do. Roland will hang on the morrow, and… That is the will of the king."
Lawfer could not believe this.
"This… this is an outrage!" burst out through the young knight's teeth.
"Watch yourself. You are addressing your superior officer," Lawson firmly replied.
As Lawfer battled to keep control over his emotions, he turned and paced the length of the room to the door. He stood with his fists clenching and unclenching for a moment before doubling back briskly and slapping both hands on his father's desk. Lawson flinched from the unexpected action, eyeing his son with bewilderment.
"What about our knightly vows?" Lawfer demanded. "A knight values justice and honor above the law when administration fails. The knight who fails to correct an evil ruling forgets the face of his brothers."
"Lawfer," Lawson urged him to stop.
Lawfer did not stop. He continued to speak the vows every Artolian knight takes when they enter the order. "The knight who acts only in self-interest forgets the face of his father. A knight unleashes his wrath and blade only upon the wicked. The knight who slays the innocent to save the wicked forgets the face of his mother. A Knight of Artolia sees them clearly in his heart."
Lawson fell silent, finding himself unable to say anything more as the vows reminded him of the shame he felt. He failed to hide it as Lawfer stared him down.
"How well do you remember the faces of your brothers, father, and mother, Captain?" the young knight asked.
The question stabbed Lawson through the heart, but all he could do was look away.
"So, how about it, father?" Lawfer challenged him. "Do the knightly vows which dictated the actions of our order for centuries still mean something, or are they just window dressing now?"
"Freeing Roland would be treason," Lawson answered.
"Treason?" Lawfer nearly spat. "But we proved he did nothing wrong. King Joshua chose to ignore all our evidence, and…"
"The king has spoken," Lawson stated firmly. "With Villnore and Crell Monferaigne being ever-growing threats to Artolia's sovereignty, do you truly think now is the time for personal crusades?"
Lawfer withdrew in disbelief. "Wha…? What does this have to do with Villnore and Crell Monferaigne, Captain?"
Lawson stared at him grimly. "Publicly underlying one of the king's edicts could weaken his position, which grows ever more tenuous with his heir dead. As protectors of the realm, we must prioritize the needs of the people above all else, and that means maintaining stability right now."
"Roland's execution is tomorrow," Lawfer retorted with growing anger. "I have patiently tried to every avenue, and you worry about King Joshua's hold on the throne?"
Then he added "Captain," after a second or two.
"Of course," Lawson answered. "Right now, there is simply too much unrest for another upset. The effect even this one action could have may be more far-reaching than you can predict. I am sorry, but those jackals to the North and East will smell blood and circle in if they see Artolia weakened further by division."
The disenchantment Lawfer felt after that response was palpable. Lawson had to look away from his boy. For the first time in his life, the father was on the receiving end of the very same stern glare he used to give Lawfer when he misbehaved during childhood.
"So, that's it, then?" Lawfer's voice was hard as stone. "Maintaining a corrupt status quo is more important than doing what's right?"
"Keeping what is left of Artolia together is right," Lawson answered.
"By your leave, then, Captain," Lawfer snapped to attention.
"You are dismissed," Lawson still could not look at him.
The captain continued to stare at the wall, listening to the sound of his son leaving him. The door groaned open, but then Lawfer stopped halfway out. He turned to his father one last time.
"What a sorry state of affairs," Lawfer said. "I see now the civil war between Princes Langley and Kristoff was but a small ingredient of Artolia's woeful condition. I say to you now, father, on the day Villnore or Crell Monferaigne come for us, King Joshua will not protect his people."
After the door clicked shut, Lawson rested his forehead against his palms. He knew that all too well.
"You misunderstand, my son," Lawson thought. "My hopes rest not on King Joshua, himself, at all, but on time. We must bide time. If the gods are willing to bless us once more, His Majesty will pass away, and his new heir will take the throne after a smooth transition of power. I only hope they are a stronger ruler than he. I just pray our enemies remain too preoccupied with each other to bother with us before then."
Orlok stood with a start as Lawfer exited his father's office. The foreign knight began to approach his Artolian companion, but stopped when he saw the blonde's face. Lawfer looked utterly disillusioned and livid.
"It did not go well," Orlok stated.
"No," Lawfer shook his head. "Father would not listen. Not even when confronted with the vows he himself once took."
Orlok's eyes wondered as he took this information in, letting out an "Hmm," as he did.
For a long moment, neither man spoke. They just stood in the hallway, silently staring off into different spaces as the world passed by around them. Lawfer was already trying to think of another plan when Orlok spoke up.
"Well," the words were deliberately quiet. "Whatever you decide to do next, I'm with you."
Lawfer looked at him, both surprised and touched.
Orlok stared at him resolutely. "I swear it."
Now that Lawfer knew for certain he had at least one comrade, he felt the load on his shoulders lighten again.
"Thank you," Lawfer was earnest. "Thank you very much. Your dedication to this is inspiring, Orlok. Truly, it is. At this juncture, we have no oth…"
Then Lawfer remembered where they were. He stopped before he spoke too hastily in a public place. Sure enough, in the corner of his eye, he saw one of the castle scholars with his assistant roaming the halls with rolled up scrolls in their arms. Lawfer looked around.
"Best not to implicate ourselves," he thought.
Indeed, they could not afford for what was said next to be overheard. Lawfer looked around, spotting no one else nearby now that the scholars had passed them. He leaned in close to Orlok, and whispered:
"Let us take this somewhere with fewer curious ears."
Lawfer closed the door tightly behind them after making sure the room was empty. He'd led them into a storage room for full of parchments yet to be scribed upon. They were down in the lower levels where no one was due to be for hours. Before turning back to his pale companion from Lassen, Lawfer put an ear to the door, but heard no one passing through the halls. So, he finally faced the redhead again.
"This is all wrong," Lawfer determinedly said. "I know Arngrim and Roland are innocent, so I will seek justice by any means necessary."
A wave of trepidation hit Lawfer as he considered the task ahead. "And… and…"
He looked down at the flagstones. "All legal avenues have been closed. The king's barred any new developments in the case, so…"
He gave Orlok a somber look.
"I know what I must do, and I cannot ask you to join me."
Orlok stared at him for a long moment.
"I have said it already," the foreign knight spoke firmly. "I left Lassen to help Arngrim's brother in any way I can, and I will not leave before I have done so. I will not abandon courage and run away now that I think I know what you intend."
"Heh, heh, heh," Lawfer laughed ruefully. He began to smile for the first time in weeks. "Very well. If you're certain. Meet me at the service entrance tonight at sundown. 'Tis on the east side of the castle near the back. You can't miss it. There will be a changing of the guard at that door, and we will have a narrow window to slip you inside."
"Audacious," Orlok commented. "It might just work."
"Before then, I will get the schedule for every watch. We will extradite Roland during one of the watch changes if we can. The timing will be tight, so one of us will have to carry him to ensure we can move fast enough."
Orlok stroked his chin as he listened and considered the plan.
"Do we have a way out of the castle?" he asked.
"Of course," Lawfer answered. "There may be only one way in and out of the dungeon, but one of the castle's rear exits is in the very same hallway as the dungeon access. It leads directly to the gallows out back."
"Wait," Orlok said. "If there are gallows on the castle grounds, what was that I passed on the way into the castle today?"
Lawfer grimaced. "The king is having new gallows built in the city square just outside the castle special for this occasion. He wants everyone to see Roland hang. In any event, we will leave through the rear exit, since there will be fewer guards. Once we are outside…"
Lawfer paused, realizing he had to think about that. Getting Roland out of the dungeon and out into the courtyard was doable in theory, but getting him beyond the castle walls was another story. Lawfer ran several scenarios through his head but each mental flight through the castle he mapped out featuring himself and Orlok bearing Roland in their dash to escape ended with their capture or untimely demises.
The young Artolian knight leaned back against the stone wall as he tried to puzzle together the next step of this venture. Coming up with nothing, he sighed in despair. Lawfer's shoulders sagged and he rested his head against the hard wall. Somewhere the sound of running water echoed up from below. It'd have been almost soothing if he didn't know it was the castle's private sewage canal draining waste to the river.
"…Waste to the river," he absently noted.
Then his eyes snapped open.
"Waste… to the river. The castle culvert!" he whispered loudly.
Orlok brows raised. "Your plan is a sewer?"
"Yes," came Lawfer's enthusiastic answer. "The castle culvert can be accessed via door in the west end of the cellar."
"And the cellar is connected to the dungeon?" Orlok asked.
"Nay," Lawfer answered. "Nearly beside it. The dungeon and cellar were constructed next to each other, but there are no passages joining them. This was done to prevent any escaped prisoners from being able to hide themselves down there."
Orlok nodded, indicating his understanding.
"The west cellar entrance is just one door down from the dungeon access," Lawfer enthusiastically said. "If we can get Roland out unnoticed, it won't be far at all to get to the canal. Better yet, the castle sewer is a private canal that's separate from the city drains. 'Tis a straight shot to the river. Someone occasionally goes in to make repairs or unclog it. I know where the key is, and how to get it before tonight. I can also fetch a spare set of dungeon keys."
"I am assuming this channel has an elevated walkway that runs the length of the tunnel beside the draining waste," Orlok said. "Otherwise, our gear will make us sink like stones."
"It does," Lawfer answered. "We can flee on foot on relatively dry ground."
"Alright, but what if they realize we took that route before a full escape? Carrying a lame man, we'd be slower than they," Orlok pointed out.
Lawfer made a frustrated noise with his throat.
"Besides, how would we even get out?" Orlok asked. "There will be iron bars blocking anything bigger than a rat."
"Actually, a couple of the bars have rusted through and become brittle. They need replacing," Lawfer corrected him. "The blacksmith and mason will be coming within the week to tend to it."
Orlok responded with a surprised look. "How do you know that?"
"After we found out Lombart was using the sewers to smuggle spies in and out of Artolia, we also checked the castle drain," Lawfer answered. "'Twas unaltered, but needing maintenance."
Orlok considered it. "…Very well, but we may potentially still be forced to outrun the castle guards while bearing Roland."
Lawfer thought about that. He weighed the risk of just doing it and taking the risk. Surely the other knights wouldn't figure it out, right? Except they might. Most of them had been informed of the culvert's condition as a precaution against a security breach. As Lawfer deliberated, he recalled an exchange he had with Johnny Boy earlier that day, while escorting Orlok to see the Captain.
"Oi, lad!"
"Oh, good morning, Johnny Boy," Lawfer saluted. He gestured to Orlok. "This is Sir Orlok, he's a visiting knight from Lassen who wishes to have a word with our Captain."
"Ah, you come out quite o' ways, Sir. Well met, I say," Johnny Boy smiled and exchanged a forearm shake with Orlok.
"Well met, Sir Johnny," Orlok answered graciously.
"Ah, just Johnny Boy will do for these old bones," the older knight boisterously answered.
"As you wish," Orlok answered. "Johnny Boy."
Johnny Boy smiled broadly, and then turned to Lawfer.
"Now, then," Johnny Boy said. "Yer friends Kashell and Celia just returned. Came by the castle this mornin'; said they was lookin' for ye."
"Kashell and Celia?" that perked Lawfer up a considerable amount.
"Ay, said they'd meet ye at Brandybuck's Pub tonight," Johnny Boy had told him. "Come after yer rounds end, they's said."
"That's right," Lawfer muttered. He then smiled brightly as another idea came to him. "Orlok, I know just what to do."
"Ah, I see everything is ready for tomorrow. Good, good."
King Joshua smiled coldly down at the noose already hanging from the gallows as he looked on from the window in his study. The new gallows in the large city square just outside the castle gate was complete. There'd be a large crowd tomorrow. They'd come to witness to the hanging of one Roland Gusson. Or so Joshua thought. The king noticed something then which made his smirk fade. Many of passersby gave the gallows a wide birth, and even seemed to be turning away entirely in their trek. Watching from a distance, the king thought it looked like they were avoiding it. Those who did approach acted aggressively and were soon quarrelling with the guards posted at the execution device.
The king's eyes narrowed in confusion and anger.
"Why by Hel's name do they look so displeased?" he puzzled.
Then he puzzled and puzzled. Before his puzzler was sore, he turned and shouted for his new Chief Advisor.
"Gilbert! Your king summons you."
There was a crash as something dropped to the floor in the next room, followed by a curse in one of the gods' names.
"Oh, dear! Uh, yes! Coming, sire!" Gilbert's muffled reply sounded from the man's office.
There was a patter of footsteps, and then the door flew open as a middle-aged man in dark robes like the ones Lombart used to wear shuffled in quickly. His arms were loaded with scrolls and paperwork that needed to be completed, and he tried not to drop any of it as he approached his king.
Gilbert came to Joshua's side. His graying red curls bounced as his moved, through only along the back half of his head, as he was balding in front. His red, bound face had beads of sweat on it and he was gasping as he bowed low to his king.
"So unsightly," Joshua criticized the breathless man. "You act as though you weren't prepared to answer my call in a moment's notice."
"Begging a thousand pardons, Your Majesty," Gilbert straightened, only ceasing his talk to take one final gulp of air before continuing. "I was trying to get settled into my new role, you see?"
"Yes, I should hope my new Chief Advisor was busying himself," Joshua glibly responded.
He turned to the window and pointed down at the city square. "Can you explain this?"
Gilbert shuffled forever and looked down. He blinked a couple of times, not understanding what he was supposed to be seeing. His green eyes looked the area over covering each of its four corners. He turned to Joshua, looking uncertain.
"I am afraid I do not understand, My Liege," he said.
"Of course, you don't," Joshua didn't even try to hide his contempt. "See the people? Why do they look displeased? I am hanging a traitor as an example. They've never taken issue with these executions before."
"Well, Gentle King… ugh," Gilbert groaned as he struggled to keep all the items in his arms in hand.
Joshua observed the man's battle to stay balanced and keep ahold of everything. Then, for whatever the reason, he decided to grant a little mercy.
"Gilbert, just set those things down on the desk over there. I'll have a servants take them to your office later."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Gilbert hurried over and tried to set everything down carefully.
With that down, Gilbert brushed down his robes as he faced his king again.
"Now then," he went back over to the window. "I believe I do have an answer for you, Sire."
"Out with it, then."
"Simply put, Sire. The people believe this execution is amoral," Gilbert told him. "Even earlier today, a young knight from a foreign land came to speak for Roland. Lawfer even…"
"Lawfer?" Joshua snapped. "The murderer's best friend?"
Gilbert gulped. "Yes, My Liege. Sir Lawfer brought him to speak with Captain Lawson, who informed them of your orders."
Joshua sneered, muttering. "Lawfer this, Lawfer that. That boy is making himself into a nuisance. Make a note of it, Gilbert. After this business with the remaining Gusson is concluded, our dear Sir Lawfer is to be transferred to our Northern border, permanently."
Gilbert looked horrified by the command.
"Your loyal captain's son, Sire?" he gave a shocked whisper. "If Villnore invaded, Sir Lawfer would be among the first to die."
Joshua turned to him with a wicked smile. "Precisely."
Gilbert's normally red complexion turned pale. "…Of course, My King."
"Excellent," Joshua looked out the window again. "Also, did you see to it my orders for the accused's last meal have been relayed."
Gilbert looked no happier answering that. "Yes, Your Highness. No special last meal."
"Right, give the little blighter his lunch already."
The guard carrying the tray gave his partner an annoyed glare from the entrance of Roland's cell.
"If ye're in such a rush, give the boys next cell over their lot, yerself," he retorted.
The other guard responded with a "Bah!" and turned away to spit chewing tobacco onto the dungeon floor. The guard with the tray turned back to Roland. The young man sat in the back of his cell, the picture of misery. His head was bowed, for he knew tomorrow would be his final day alive. The guard approached and squatted before him, offering Roland his lunch.
"Ay, lad, eat up," he said.
Roland limply looked up and stared into the other man's eyes with a dull numbness which unnerved his server. The guard was also a younger man, roughly Roland's own age. The younger Gusson uttered the faintest thanks for the food, and accepted it. However, the guard lingered, and gave his partner a quick aside glance before leaning closer to Roland.
"Hey, what'd ye like for yer last meal?" he whispered.
Roland, who now sat crossed-legged with the wooden tray in his lap, looked up at the guard.
"Not s'pposed to give ye one, but the bleedin' Weasel King can sod off if he thinks I'm gonna deny any man his special last meal," the guard smiled kindly.
Roland thought it over as he popped in a slice of raw potato into his mouth.
"Roast beef," he answered after a moment.
The guard nodded, and tipped his helmet to him.
"Ye'll have it," he vowed.
"Oi, what's takin' ya?" his impatient partner demanded.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," the food server hastily left the cell and locked Lawfer in.
Roland and the guard exchanged one more look, as the latter flashed another smile in attempt to cheer the cell's occupant up. Roland forced a weak one in return, but it was difficult to work up the enthusiasm even out of gratitude.
"We'll be back for the tray in awhile," the nicer guard said.
Then they moved onto the next convict in the death row cell block. Alone with his thoughts again, Roland felt the weight of his impending demise upon his shoulders again.
"'Tis my last day," he thought as he chewed.
In truth, he didn't even taste the food. He could only think of his brother and the princess. He hoped they were at peace, wherever they were.
"I suppose I will be seeing the princess in Niflheim soon," he thought dourly.
He hung his head and shed a tear.
"I really wish… I could have seen Arngrim… just one more time."
"How many for ye?"
"Three. A friend's coming."
The serving wench gave a light curtsy. "Three, it is. Back wiff 'em right quickly, sir and ma'am."
As soon as they were left alone, Kashell and Celia sat in silence. Celia glanced at the door constantly, hoping to see Lawfer's arrival. Kashell watched her, finding himself unable to work up enough cheer to try distracting his friend as he usually would. It was afternoon now. They sat at a round table for four.
"Not even a full day left before they drag Roland up their godsdamned shiny new gallows," Kashell thought in grief.
"Kashell."
His eyes met Celia's as she spoke to him. Before she could begin, their serving wench returned.
"There ye go, sir and madam, three meads to get yer evening startin'. Just call if ye need anything else?" she laid out the three drinks.
In response, Kashell grabbed his and held it up, toasting their waitress.
"Thank you," both he and Celia said.
When she'd left again, Celia looked towards the door again.
"Have you thought about… what we can do?" she asked.
She fixed Kashell with a look, pleading with him for a solution. It was all Kashell could do not to down his entire mug right then.
"How should I know?" Kashell sounded meaner than he intended, but he genuinely had no idea how to help Roland.
"Sorry," Celia drooped.
"Oh, damn it," Kashell thought.
"Listen," he leaned closer to her. "I… Ugh, I just don't…"
The door of the Brandybuck Pub opened, and both mercenaries head's whipped around. They were disappointed to see a wealthy-looking man with two women, one under each arm, instead of Lawfer. Kashell turned back to Celia, trying to find his words.
"But I swear, we're gonna figure this out," Kashell tried to sound encouraging.
However, Celia miserably stared into her mug of mead, which told him he was failing. It gutted Kashell to see her like that again.
"Not since… Lamia and Grey," he thought dismally.
He leaned back in his chair, scratching his head.
"We'll figure something out," he repeated firmly.
Then he gave up and gulped down some of his drink. The door of the pub opened again. This time, the duo looked with less enthusiasm. This time, it was a figure dressed in black with the hood of their cape pulled up. Once the door was shut, the person pulled the hood down, revealing himself to be a pale redheaded man. The man paused in the doorway, looking around the bar. Both sighed and turned away. Kashell was becoming impatient.
"Blast it all, where is he?" Kashell grumbled as quietly as he could.
"He'll be here," Celia attempted to assure him, but was just as bad at it as he had been.
"Yeah, I know," Kashell grumbled. "It's Lawfer. He'd rather cut one of his own arms off than stand his friends up."
"So, you are Lawfer's associates?"
The duo looked up, and saw the pale ginger man standing next to their table. Celia leaned back in her chair, specifically to distance herself from him. She saw him and disliked something about him immediately.
"Perhaps," she answered suspiciously.
Kashell noted how offput Celia was by this new arrival and followed her lead.
"What's it to you?" he asked the stranger.
The redheaded man bowed to them, putting his right hand to his heart.
"Pardon my intrusion. My name is Sir Orlok Dracul, of Lassen," he greeted.
Hearing the name 'Dracul' made the pair even more leery of him. Celia pressed her back against the backrest of her chair with her head slightly turned. She eyed the mysterious man keenly in the corner of her eyes.
"Dracul?" Kashell demanded.
From his tone, Orlok knew the mercenary was familiar with his family's doings.
Orlok raised his head and looked them right in the eye. "I will not deny my unfortunate blood relation to those who revived the Gohrla cult, but that is not important right now."
"How do you figure?" Kashell was skeptical.
In response, Orlok produced a folded note from the one of the lapels of his jacket. "Sir Lawfer has bid me to deliver this message to the two of you. He said it was of the upmost importance that you read it privately, and as immediately as possible."
Kashell, who was closer to him, took the paper from him, keeping his eye on the man the entire time. He only looked away to unfold the letter to get a look at the handwriting. It was indeed Lawfer's. He let Celia have a look at it. As soon as she'd confirmed the handwriting as well, she looked up at Orlok with a somewhat softened expression.
"How do you know Lawfer?" she asked.
"I've been collaborating with him to overturn His Majesty's ruling in Roland Gusson's case," Orlok explained.
"You came from Lassen for that?" Kashell was astonished. Now he was more baffled than suspicious. "Why?"
"Well," Orlok said. Then he gestured to one to the chairs. "If I may."
"Be our guest," Celia lightly bowed her head.
So, Orlok took a seat and quickly explained himself. As he spoke, the pieces fit together. A soldier who fought alongside Arngrim on a joint-venture between Artolia and Lassen and had his life saved during a crucial operation. It was all believable enough, and yet…
"It's too convenient," Celia thought. "Why only him, and did we not hear of Arngrim and the princess's deaths when we were in Lassen if the news spread so quickly?"
She glanced at Kashell in the corner of her eye as Orlok was wrapping up. Her partner was listening closely, but she knew Kashell's expressions enough to tell he was only partially convinced of Orlok's words.
"Now, then," Orlok said. "I hate to be rude and leave you so soon, but I must return quickly. Lawfer and I have one more avenue we would like to pursue in this case."
"But according to you, the king is refusing all new materials in the case," Kashell pointed out.
Orlok gestured to the folded note Celia now held.
"I implore you. Please read its contents within the hour. Now, you must excuse me. There is no time left."
With that, Orlok stood, gave them a bow, and left them at the table with Lawfer's note. The pair exchanged uncertain looks before their gazes trailed down to Lawfer's letter.
Celia poked her head around the corner, looking in all directions. Seeing no one, she and Kashell stepped into a lot behind a closed business. Gaping holes stood where entryways once stood and there was garbage everywhere. Celia poked her head through one of the now-doorless back entrances. No one was about there, either so she ushered Kashell to follow her and they both stepped inside.
"Couldn't have picked a nicer spot?" Kashell complained.
"Well, that gargoyle Lawfer's working with did specify we read the letter privately," Celia replied.
She took the letter out of her chest-plate and then she and Kashell stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they began reading it. When they got to Lawfer's plan...
"The castle's sewer?" Celia whined.
She whimpered as she let go of the note, having finished faster than Kashell. She stepped away, shuddering, and hugging herself at the thought of going down there.
"So," Kashell mused. "They drop Roland off and distract the guards while we smuggle him to the river through the castle sewer. Ballsy move, it's so unlike Lawfer. He must be desperate."
He turned to Celia, who had her back to him.
"So, what do you think? Should we do it?"
"'Tis a request from Lawfer," she looked over her shoulder to speak to him.
"It is. I suppose we can talk this over with him when we meet him later," Kashell said. "Is there any reason to doubt the plan?"
"There's always a reason to doubt," Celia faced him, looking grim. "Though it's not Lawfer I distrust. That Sir Orlok…"
She looked away, staring off towards Castle Artolia, where he'd gone. "He's the one I don't trust."
"I know what you mean. He practically looks undead," Kashell chuckled.
She had to admit, that man had been a shade paler than paper, but it wasn't just that. Something in her heart was telling her not to place their faith in that man.
It took a lot of self-control for Lawfer to walk the streets of Artolia as though he were merely strolling. Although neither he nor Orlok had done anything truly punitive yet, his naturally cautious nature had him wanting to look over his shoulders to see if he was being followed or if the city guard were coming up from behind to arrest him. He calmed himself and walked with a loose posture, and his hands stuffed into his pockets. He tried to whistle a jaunty tune as he went.
"I hope they received the letter from Orlok by now. The timing of everything will be crucial."
Elsewhere in the Artolian capital, someone else entered an abandoned structure. The loud 'creaking' of hinges echoed through a root cellar as its exterior door was lifted, casting light over the steps. A shadow in the shape of a man blotted out some of the light as a hooded figure descended the steps.
"Uuuu-huh… Cursed Sol and her sun."
The outside door fell shut, casting the area back into darkness. The figure quickly descended the steps and stepped into the open. He threw back his hood, revealing a soft, boyish face with red hair.
"Alright, Beliza, I'm here. 'Tis I, Orlok," he called. "You summoned me?"
A second figure stepped into view, standing between two racks of fruits. She was a petite, pale woman with sandy blonde hair and eyes that gleamed red in the darkness, just like his. She wore a black fancy dress and had her own hooded cape.
"Good evening, Count, or is it still Sir Orlok until you've finished mucking about?" she teased.
Count Orlok gave her a grumpy frown in return. "Mucking about? I've selected the perfect candidate for our new hive chief."
Beliza, however, was not pleased even though her barb had gotten under his skin so readily. Instead, she returned his frown with one of her own.
"Why then has Lawfer not been turned?" she demanded. "You've had two days with him, but he still dwells among the living under the sun. Our new hive should be growing as we speak."
"You need to value patience more," Orlok smugly chided her. "I've held off because he can give us a greater bounty."
Beliza seemed skeptical, so Orlok elaborated:
"We'll be off to fetch his condemned friend from the castle dungeon this very evening," Orlok said. "By tomorrow morning, Artolia will be ours'."
"Hmph," Beliza did not seem impressed. "You intend to rule through what the commoners have dubbed The Weasel King?"
"He needs only summon the nobility to the castle so I can hasten along our original plan to make minions of them as well," Orlok answered. "Besides… You have a better plan?"
"I do," Beliza stated matter-of-factly. "I have my own machinations in the works near Yamato."
Confusion registered in Orlok's face. "A hive in Yamato? Milady, that's always failed."
"Not a hive," Beliza corrected him with a smirk. "Well, not right away. It occurs to me that in order for a new hive to be given time to grow, we'll need to be rid of our Valkyrie problem for that to happen."
"Rid of the Valkyrie?" Orlok repeated. "Is that not what all my efforts have worked towards thus far?"
"Worked towards and failed," Beliza said.
"Only once," Orlok refuted firmly.
"Yes, but I have thought on your failure to turn Belenus's servant girl," Beliza replied. "The Silver Valkyrie was so quick to sense where a new hive was meant to spring forth. If I am right, she will be coming tonight as well."
"I will be ready," Orlok stated.
"Will you?" Beliza asked.
"The Valkyries can fall," Orlok said. "They're not invincible. After all, does Lord Brahms not keep one as a trophy?"
"That one still lives," Beliza disputed. "She is not dead, and we are not Lord Brahms."
"'Tis why I intend to have the Silvermane killed," Orlok shrugged.
Beliza's brows twitched once, dismissively. She looked away and began wandering the cellar.
"There is, however, a seed of truth in what you say about the Valkyrie in our Lord's keeping," Beliza said. "The Silver Valkyrie need not necessarily be dead, either. She simply needs to be… unable to interfere anymore."
Orlok considered what she said. "Alright, I'm interested. Do go on."
"No, no," Beliza feigned humility. "Far be for me to question your brilliant plan."
Orlok scowled. "I've already said I am prepared for the event of her interference this time."
Beliza let out a haughty, scoffing laugh. "Well, when your plan fails, come and see me at the uninhabited Wakoku island south of Yamato."
Orlok's features darkened with anger. "Excuse me?"
"You are excused," Beliza blithely answered. "Now, then, I have business to attend to. Try not to die."
Then with that, a teleportation spell circle appeared around her feet, and each runic point lit up, one at a time, before it bore her far away from the abandoned root cellar. As she faded from view, she cast one final superior smile at Orlok.
The Vampire Lord glared after her, staring with rage where she'd stood.
"When my plan… fails?" his rage burned against her. "Oh, I'll show you yet, Milady. I needn't share power with you once I am ruling through a thralled King Joshua. You will rue the day you mocked me, you hear! This new string of hives will be my own!"
"Alright, we just head west through the woods after we leave through the south gate," Kashell told himself out loud in attempt to convince himself of how simple this would be.
Across from him at the end of the alley, Celia was no less tense as they both stared out at the south gate a couple blocks' worth ahead of them. They were both leaned against the sides of the buildings which made up the alley's walls in attempt to look casual. So far, no one had given them odd looks, so they supposed it was working.
It was the latter half of the afternoon, and the sun still shined fairly high in the partly-cloudy sky above. They were positioned where Lawfer's letter told them to be, between Oswin's Bakery, and The Old Artolia Inn.
"I don't like this," Kashell muttered.
Neither did Celia, who just nodded. They both scanned the area. Although they hadn't done anything yet, receiving secret messages only to be read in private with intention of breaking a man out of prison made them both feel like they were already fugitives.
"If you're looking for me, I'm over here."
Celia let out a started, breathless cry and jumped into Kashell's arms, clinging to his chest. Kashell also tensed up as they both turned and looked at the back end of the alley where Lawfer stood. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but laugh. The young knight covered his mouth to attempt stifling it.
It was then Celia realized what she'd done, and looked up at Kashell, who smiled awkwardly down at her. Her face turned bright red as she backed away from him, covering her face in her hands.
A joke was on the tip of Kashell's lips, but a glance over at Lawfer reminded him of their situation. He headed further back to his friend, and Celia followed after a moment of collecting herself. Her face was still flushed when they reached him.
Lawfer led them around the corner into the little back lane which passed through the block. The alleyway was 'T' shaped, with Kashell and Celia having entered through the intersecting street. They were no other entry-points except straight back and forward, so it was easy to ascertain they were alone. Lawfer looked his friends over and was pleased to see they were both in good health. The feeling was mutual, although it hurt them both to see insignia representing Lawfer's former rank as an officer gone from his vest.
"Lawfer, buddy," Kashell greeted as he stepped forward with his hand extended for a shake. The two men exchanged a forearm shake, followed by a hug. "It's good to see you again, whatever the circumstances."
"It feels far too long," Lawfer warmly replied with a smile.
Celia stepped up beside her partner wearing a look of worry and empathy. "I can't imagine what the last two weeks have been like for you. Are you alright?"
Lawfer laughed without humor and looked at the cobblestones, finding it difficult to look her in the eye. "I am unsure if I can answer that. Physically, I am well. Otherwise, not so much."
Celia looked guilty. "I'm so sorry we all left you alone to deal with this."
Lawfer shrugged as he held out his hand for a shake. "Hey, who could have foreseen any of this?"
Celia took hold of his forearm and he gripped hers' before sharing an embrace
"Well," she said. "'Tis beside the point. I cannot fathom what possessed Arngrim to take such a job. He was always so careful with who he accepted work from. He never once steered us wrong."
"It may have been fate," Lawfer muttered unhappily. "All his friends suddenly had business elsewhere the one time he had a lapse in judgment about a job. 'Tis almost like it was meant to be."
Kashell scowled. "Don't start with that. As if anything could bring meaning to this horrible, pointless tragedy."
Celia gaped at him, taken aback by his aggressive response.
"Was it pointless?" Lawfer asked candidly. "Arngrim did expose a traitor in the end."
Kashell scoffed. As if that made it any better. He turned away, seemingly observing the surrounding area in the back lane. In truth, he was sorely put off by Lawfer's attempt to make this seem like anything but needless suffering.
"Kashell…" Celia started to say.
"So, about this job," Kashell cut her off.
He turned to Lawfer and Celia again. "Why us?"
Lawfer craned his neck back in surprise, uncertain of what Kashell meant.
"You could hire anyone to smuggle Roland out of the country," Kashell elaborated. "Why not have us at your side when you bust Roland out of the iron pen tonight?"
"There's no one else who I could trust with this job," Lawfer said with conviction. "So, please, look after Roland for me."
He looked at the both of them. "Now, you've received the letter, yes?"
"Uh-huh," Celia nodded.
She tapped her chest-plate, indicating where she'd hidden it again.
"Good," Lawfer said. "Now, we must act quickly. It will be sundown before too long, and I must return to let Orlok into the castle. Now you two get going. It'll be easy to break into the sewer. Once you're inside, 'tis a straight shot to the cellar door. I've gotten the key from the custodian's storage room."
He held the keyring up, and then handed it to Celia.
"'Tis the little brass one. Yes, that one. You can unlock it from the inside as well. Just be make sure no one discovers you before I can hand Roland off to you while Orlok and I distract the guards. Understood?"
"Well, yes…" Celia uttered hesitantly.
Lawfer turned to Kashell, who said nothing. Instead, the dark-haired man sighed and gave reluctant nod.
"Good. Now I must be off," urgency was in Lawfer's voice. "See you both in a while. Bless."
He turned to walk away, but Celia grabbed his arm.
"Stop right there," she firmly ordered.
Lawfer grunted as he was pulled to a sudden stop. He hopped backwards twice, trying to keep his balance. When he'd settled on firm footing again, he looked at her in astonishment just to be met with a deep frown and a penetrating gaze. Celia lightly whopped him alongside the head, which still had a sting because of her gauntlet. Kashell let out an empathetic "Ooh!" when the hit connected, grimacing in secondhand pain.
"Do you really expect your friends to just sit by quietly while you go to your own death?" Celia demanded.
Lawfer had no answer for that and turned away. Celia wasn't finished with him just yet.
"Dying for justice and lofty ideals is pointless!" her impassioned words dug into his heart.
"She's really not going to make this easy," Lawfer realized.
His heavy gaze met her worried one.
"There are many who would agree with you," Lawfer admitted. "But, there are also many who would disagree."
"You're talking about Arngrim again, eh?" Kashell observed.
Lawfer didn't try to deny it.
"Is this about him being 'special'?" the other man asked.
"You're wrong," Lawfer shot back. Then he reigned it again, and spoke in a calmer tone. "It's not like that, actually."
"Lawfer…" Celia gently uttered.
"Roland's our friend, too," Lawfer answered.
"I get it. Really, I do," Kashell held up a hand to keep Lawfer calm. "Everyone here knows that in this line of work, there are times you just have to grit your teeth and face death."
His expression turned stern then. "But that doesn't mean you should throw your life away."
"Please, let us go with you," Celia urged desperately. "Let's all face this, together. There's no reason for you to go it alone. If we all go in, then…"
Lawfer held up his hand to stop her.
"No," he brusquely answered. "I need people I can trust handling the other half of this rescue mission."
Kashell looked skeptical at that statement. "But you trust your new buddy, Orlok, to fight by your side in the castle?"
"Yes," Lawfer replied. "Orlok's earned my trust. He's already saved my life once. I had a run-in with the Vorpal Axes while unarmed, and he stepped in with his blade in hand, saving my life. He must have already told you he came all the way from Lassen to repay Arngrim any way he can. He's dedicated himself to this, the same as us."
Celia made a tense, rough "Hmm…" noise in her throat as she cast a mistrusting stare which was matched by Kashell's own. Lawfer looked between them, silently asking for an explanation.
"So…" Kashell began. "A man who just happened to be part of the joint-campaign against the Lizard Men last year came to Artolia to speak on Roland's behalf after hearing the news all the way in Lassen? Then he just happened to come across the one man in the whole kingdom still fighting for Roland's life right when he needed help during a fight?"
"Yes, the whole thing is rather serendipitous, I will admit," Lawfer conceded.
"You think?" Kashell sardonically responded.
"Lawfer, we never once heard of Princess Jelanda's passing or Arngrim's 'treason' while in Lassen escorting Lady Lobelia's family," Celia stated. "Not even during off hours at the pubs."
Lawfer considered that last point. It was a good one, admittedly. However, he couldn't think of any gains Orlok would obtain by lying to him.
"My friends, to what purpose would Orlok enact a ruse so elaborate?" Lawfer asked.
"I don't know, but there's something about him that stinks," Kashell insisted.
"I agree," Celia added, just as insistently. "There's just… something wrong."
Lawfer regarded the two for a long moment as he considered it.
"If not him, then trust me," he said. "Can you put your faith in me?"
"You've always had that," Celia assured him.
"Good. Please trust me on this," Lawfer requested. "Don't you wonder why Arngrim did what he did? Even though he understood what it could mean for Roland?"
Lawfer looked skyward. "He didn't want to draw his sword against my father, and so he…"
He didn't need to finish. Both Kashell and Celia had heard what happened from other knights by then.
"When I think of how he must have felt, it reaffirms my decision this night," Lawfer told his friends. "I will not run away."
Celia and Kashell both felt lead weights upon them as they realized they could not talk Lawfer out of this plan. They looked upon a man who was about to march away to his death as he stared back, taking in their faces one last time.
"So, adieu, my friends," Lawfer began to turn away again.
"Lawfer," Celia called to him.
"Celia, I really cannot relay any lon…" Lawfer was cut off as she raced up and engulfed him in a tight hug.
He stared down in surprise at first. Then he wrapped his arms around her, returning the gesture. Kashell stepped in next to them and joined their final embrace, wrapping his arms around them both.
"May the gods be with you tonight, Lawfer," Celia's voice became shaky as sobs began.
"May Saga guide your steps and Hlin watch your fool back," Kashell said endearingly.
"Thank you, my friends," Lawfer said deeply. "May Saga and Hlin bless your way, too."
"Arngrim did what? This is some sort of a mistake!" the voice of a young man shouted in disbelief.
"Please, let us go with you. Let's all face this, together. There's no reason for you to go it alone. If we all go in, then…" a woman about the same age desperately begged. Then a moment later, she fervently shouted: "Dying for justice and lofty ideals is pointless!"
"You're talking about Arngrim again, eh? "Is this about him being 'special'?" another young man, though with a rougher cadence, said.
"I will not run away," the first young man ardently proclaimed.
Lenneth ended the meditation and looked to the Northwest.
"A soul torn by duty, grief, and ideals shines brightly this evening," she murmured.
She turned to her einherjar hovering with her where she stopped directly over the mountains. It was almost sundown.
"We go again to Artolia. A newcomer to our ranks awaits," she reported.
"Ah!" Jelanda exuberantly cried out.
Her eyes lit up as she flashed the biggest smile, full of childlike glee. Llewelyn smiled at the sight of the former princess forgetting herself.
"Excited to be visiting home?" he asked.
"Of course!" she eagerly answered.
Then she realized they were all staring and adjusted her disposition to a calmer facade.
"I mean, of course. As the former princess of Artolia, I cannot help but think of my homeland from time to time," she said stiffly.
Llewelyn suppressed a laugh as he watched her. Arngrim's eyes, however, were on Lenneth.
"Any idea who this newcomer is?" he asked.
Lenneth was surprised by the question. Her einherjar, past or present, rarely asked for the identity of their soon-to-be brothers or sisters-in-arms.
"I know not this man's name," Lenneth answered. She thought about the voice she'd heard to describe it in words. "But he still possesses the soft voice of a boy despite carrying all the weight of a seasoned warrior when he speaks. He was also very well spoken. Nobility, if I must guess."
Arngrim's expression turned grim as he listened to her.
"Sound like someone you know?" Belenus asked.
"…Maybe," Arngrim's voice was almost shaky.
Lenneth studied him, wondering if she should mention that his name was even been brought up twice in the resonating thoughts echoing through the string of fate. Arngrim looked on, growing apprehensive.
"Perhaps I should find out more before I reveal too much," Lenneth thought.
"We are off," the Valkyrie stated.
As they were pulled through the air after her, the Heavy Warrior's thoughts continued to dwell on his friend.
"The way she described his manner… Oh, Lawfer, that better not be you, kid," Arngrim thought.
"Just about time for our shift change. Where in Hel's name are they?"
The guards posted by the service entrance both waited impatiently for their relief to arrive. One had his arms crossed with his spear's body hooked by one of his elbows. The other tapped her foot against the ground loudly enough it began to annoy her partner. Before an argument could break out over it, the service entrance door opened. They both whirled around, ready to give their reliefs a tongue-lashing for the ages. However, their reprimands died in their throats when they saw it wasn't their reliefs at all.
"Lawfer?" the female guard exclaimed. "Where is our relief? The night watch is supposed to be here."
Lawfer just smiled and nodded at each of them. "Horatius, Rodrigue. Do forgive them, they were called by the Captain for a quick word about their shift. They'll be but a few moments. I'll watch the door 'til they come, so go ahead and turn in."
"Just you?" Rodrigue asked.
Lawfer. "'Tis but a few minutes. What could happen?"
The guards thought it, and then shrugged.
"Ay, very well," Horatius saluted by raising her spear. "But you don't hesitate to ring the bell the instant you see something you don't like. Good night, Sir."
"Good night," Lawfer bid them farewell for the evening.
Lawfer stood at attention by the service entrance, in full armor and with his halberd in hand, looking ever the guard on patrol, however, instead of being on the lookout for intruders, he was staring at right some decorative plant beds nearby.
As soon as the early evening watch had gone around to the back of the castle, Lawfer beckoned Orlok over with a gesture. His partner in crime came out from behind one of the decorative plant beds and ran over to him, keeping quiet and low. As soon as he'd joined the blonde knight, Lawfer turned and ran for the door with him. They passed the alarm bell by the door and through the service entrance into the castle.
Lawfer shut the ornate, but thick wooden door behind them firmly. He sighed heavily, thanking whatever forces at work they had not been spotted in the castle yard. Both men paused in the small servant's foyer, watching and listening for anyone who might happen to pass through. There were distant sounds echoing through the castle, but it could be tricky knowing how far or near they were. So, the two men didn't dawdle and took off down the hall at a mild jog, as Lawfer attempted to keep the clanking of his armor to a minimum. The servant's quarters and work area wasn't decked with portraits or expensive carpeting like the main areas of the castle. Simple stone walls and flooring were what the castle staff made do with.
Lawfer and Orlok stopped when they heard heavy footsteps approaching up ahead. Lawfer pointed to a nearby door and both men ducked inside right before the night guard stepped into the hallway, gruffly muttering about the "change in rules" Lawfer had oh so helpfully 'informed' them of. Their spears bore the nation's banner just below the spearhead, unlike the previous guards'.
"We 'ave to bear the royal banner on our bloomin' spears for the night watch now? For the service entrance? This is ridiculous!" the more thickset of the two complained. "Oi, if we catch any lip from Dame Horatius for this makin' us late, I might just turn in me badge and go back to me Papa's ranch."
"Ay, bloody mad Weasel King," his partner muttered. "Think he does it just to wind us up?"
"Wouldn't doubt it," the first grumbled.
They passed the room Lawfer and Orlok hid in, walking to their post. As soon as they were gone, Lawfer poked his head out, and then carefully stepped back into the hall. Orlok followed behind.
"Alright, I know where every guard in the castle will be and when they'll be there," Lawfer told him quietly. "Follow my lead, and we'll make our way to the dungeon without encountering anyone."
Orlok nodded. "Lead on."
"Do I even want to know what's crunching under our feet?"
"It's best not to think about it, Celia."
The warrior woman tried not to look down. It was bad enough hearing and feeling all the rats skittering around under their feet and wading through them on the raised walkway. Kashell was ahead of her, holding up an oil lamp in one hand. He had his sword clutched in the other. Celia followed behind. She again felt for the keyring she'd attached to her belt. She felt her fingers close around the metal band and the objects hanging from it. It put her heart slightly at ease knowing she hadn't dropped it.
"Let's just hurry along," Celia said. "Lawfer may need us yet."
Kashell lowered the oil lamp to see the floor better and quickened pace as best he could between the damp slickness and the rats. He tried not to think about where some of the bones that were underfoot came from.
"We're here. The dungeon entrance is on our next left."
Orlok stopped when Lawfer did, coming just shy of the corner. They were still on the ground floor of the castle, in a back hall of the west wing. It was also devoid of the furnishings of the main area. The two men were surrounded by stone and torches. They were in a hallway of many passages, standing by the first turn to the left. Lawfer poked his head around the corner to look. At the other end of the passage was an iron-barred door.
"That's the dungeon access. We are almost to the far end of the west wing," Lawfer informed his companion.
The passage split off to the right and left from the dungeon entrance as well.
While Lawfer and Orlok waited, both men felt very exposed standing there, but they remained in place. Clanking footsteps echoed from both beyond the dungeon door's bars and from the passage to its right. In a moment, the afternoon guarded stepped into view on the other side of the bars from below as he scaled the steps. He unlocked the door and let himself out, but remained there holding it for his relief. The night watchman came into view from the right, and the two knights saluted each other. Lawfer silently cursed at being too late to interfere with the shift change.
"Sir Skandar, reporting for duty," the arriving night guard addressed.
"Sir Edmund, acknowledging," the afternoon guard answered.
With that, Edmund allowed Skandar down the stairs before locking him in. Then Edmund headed right to leave out the back door to the barracks for the evening. As soon as Lawfer and Orlok heard him leave, they crept up to the dungeon access.
Down below, Skandar had not even reached his post when he heard the barred door above swing open again. He turned and looked up the stairwell in confusion, and then alarm when he heard clanking footsteps pounding down towards him. He got into a battle stance, holding his weapon at the ready.
"Oi? Who goes there?" the night guard demanded. Then he saw a very familiar face emerge from the darkness. "Lawfer? What are…?"
THUNK!
Skandar fell roughly onto his back and lay in a deep unconsciousness. Lawfer knelt by his comrade-in-arms, examining his head. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he hadn't given the man a concussion with the butt of his halberd.
As Orlok came down after Lawfer, he looked around and found they were in a hallway. There were no doors or side passages to explore, only the way ahead. The ginger heard Lawfer grunt beside him. When he looked, he saw that Lawfer had picked up the fallen Skandar and draped him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Oh, he is heavy in his armor," Lawfer grunted.
Orlok could not stop himself from chuckling as Lawfer walked somewhat clumsily while burdened by his fellow knight.
"Here, allow me to help you with him," Orlok offered.
A short while later, the two men entered a small square room at the other end of the hall. They carried the still unconscious Skandar, gripping him under his shoulders and legs. Lawfer and Orlok paused just inside the room.
"Ah, the dungeon reception area," Orlok realized.
There were three doors, each labeled for where they led. One was across from them, and the two to either side. The door on the left read "Storage: Personal Effects and Evidence", the one ahead read "Cell Blocks," and to the right: "Interrogation".
The room's only furnishing was just inside on the right: a chair and desk with parchment, pen, and ink laid out.
Lawfer nodded towards Interrogation. "We can restrain him in there."
"Right," Orlok answered.
Awareness and pain broke like a battering ram through a thin, wood door as Skandar's eyes flitted open. He found himself staring up at a stone ceiling in a dimly lit room. Before he could question this, he realized his head in was splitting pain, but when he tried to move his hands to massage his temples, he found he could not.
Skandar looked at his right hand, and saw it was restrained by the wrist and bicep with metal bonds set directly into the flat metal surface he realized he was lying on. He looked at his left hand, discovering the same was true for it. He finally looked down when he realized he couldn't move his legs, either, and found the upper thighs and ankles similarly restrained. Standing at the foot of the iron slab was Lawfer and Orlok, the former of whom looked at him with genuine sorry.
Skandar struggled against his restraints, and tried to shouting at Lawfer in demand an explanation only to find his words were but a quiet moan under a stifling cloth gag.
"I am sorry, old friend," Lawfer told him. "Sir Willem will free you when he comes to make the rounds with you."
With that, Lawfer turned away from the muffled protests of the night guard with Orlok in tow. They left the torture chamber and its single occupant alone, hesitantly shutting him in.
"Now," Lawfer said. He turned to the middle door in the small reception room. "We have no time to waste. Sir Willem will arrive to accompany Sir Skandar in making rounds through the cell blocks before long. We must be gone by then. Come, Orlok. Our objective is in sight."
Lawfer pushed the heavy door in and let Orlok enter first. The pale ginger stepped through into a hallway. Ahead on the other side was another door with two side passages halfway down. Orlok stopped and allowed Lawfer to walk in front again.
"The way is straight ahead, to death row," Lawfer urged.
The blonde knight took off at jogging pace and the pale redhead followed.
"What lies down the other two ways?" Orlok asked as they passed the side passages.
"The cell blocks for less severe crimes," Lawfer answered.
When they reached the end, they entered a long, rectangular chamber. Prison cells lined the walls from the front clear to the back, numbering fifty in total. The cells each had a front barred wall and door, keeping each inmate in full view. Hearing someone enter their miserable living space, many convicts began stirring and looked to see who had entered.
Orlok looked around the chamber hungrily, with a smile to match.
"Who the Devil are you?" one asked.
"Oi, what you lookin' at, pretty boy?" another of the prisoners demanded.
"Pretty boy? I'm thinkin' that's a she!"
Orlok noted how full death row presently was.
"Just ignore them," Lawfer said as he stepped up next to his companion. "Come. Roland's at the end on the right."
"Goodness, is every cell full?" Orlok was truly astonished.
"Yes. Many arrests have been made in light of evidence we found through investigating Lombart," Lawfer answered. "The other two cell blocks are full, too."
One corner of Orlok's lips showed the faintest hint of a pleased half-grin.
Lawfer took off again while Orlok lingered at a much slower pace. As Lawfer ran past, some of the inmates demanded to know what was going on, and a few ever jeered and catcalled him for his soft, almost feminine looks. He ignored them, running up to Roland's cell as fast as he could.
"Roland!" he hissed loudly.
"Lawfer?" The frail man within the cell sat up.
When he saw the blonde knight step into view, Roland pushed himself up from the stray bedding and stood. He limped up to the bars and clung to them for support. Bewilderment could be read in Roland's grayish-blue eyes as he stared out. It quickly turned to shock when Lawfer showed him the keys.
"Worry not," Roland," Lawfer gave a reassuring smile. "We come to spirit you away from here."
Roland was moved, and began to smile, but it dropped quickly. Worry filled his eyes.
"Thank you, old friend, but you shouldn't have come," Roland told him firmly.
Lawfer almost recoiled in shock. "What?"
"We'd never make it, Law," Roland told him. "Now please, get out of here before you're cau… Wait, we?"
"Yes, the two of us," Lawfer gestured to Orlok.
Roland looked out into the cell block towards the other man. Then the color drained from his face. The dark figure approaching Lawfer had gone all black even in the torchlight save only for its red gleaming eyes. The convicts cried out and backed away from the bars of their cells as Orlok glided across the floor, utterly silent, towards his prey despite the stillness of his form. Roland knew immediately what he was beholding, a member of the Undead.
"Lawfer, look out!" he screamed.
Lawfer turned with his halberd readied, but it was too late. Orlok was upon him. Lawfer tried to swing his silver-laced halberd at his opponent, but Orlok backhanded it away with enough force it was wrenched from Lawfer's hands. As the weapon banged against the bars of Roland's cell, Orlok grabbed the mortal warrior and began overpowering him easily. Lawfer tried to fight him, punching and kicking the vampire with everything he had, but it had no effect
"Stop it! Just leave him alone, foul beast!" Roland shouted.
"Guard! Guard!" many inmates began shouting towards the door.
Orlok grabbed Lawfer by his arms and hurled him against the wall beside Roland's cell. The back of the Lawfer's head hit the stones hard, dazing him. Then Orlok pounced again, pinning him against the stonework.
"NO!" Roland screamed in helpless protest.
He reached his arm through the bars in attempt to grab Lawfer or Orlok, but they were too far away. All the younger Gusson could do was watch in horror as the vampire threw his head back, flashing his fangs triumphantly in the torchlight. Then the vampire among them sank his teeth into Lawfer's jugular. The burning pain dragged Lawfer out of his daze, and he cried out.
"Orlooooo…!" Lawfer tried to yell, but it turned into a strangled gurgle as the Vampire Lord bit in.
With the last of his strength, Lawfer pushed himself away from the wall to escape, but Orlok held on too tight, unwavering under the knight's weakening struggles against him.
The dungeon was filled with the screams and cries of traitors and murderers, as they begged for help to arrive. Roland backed himself away from the bars until he bumped into the wall. He sank onto his knees as he watched Lawfer grow weaker and limper in his attacker's arms until his thrashing and strangled cries finally stopped.
Orlok's head jerked back, and he tilted his head back with his mouth wide open. Blood glistened on his lips and teeth under the torchlight. It trickled down his chin. His slowly closed his eyes and took deep, pleasured breaths as though in the midst of lovemaking. He licked the crimson juice from his lips, savoring the taste before lunging in and taking another bite of Lawfer. The limp man jerked but once in response this time. As Orlok took his second taste of his victim, he set Lawfer down gingerly on the flagstones, almost cradling him as he did. He withdrew from Lawfer again, slowly this time. Then he reached into the other man's belt and drew out the keys. All the while, he hadn't taken his eyes off his prize. He ran the back of his hand down the side of Lawfer's face ever so gently.
"Untainted, pure," he said breathlessly as he continued to hold Lawfer almost lovingly.
Then Orlok looked on the inmates with ravenous red eyes. He flashed his fangs bestially and presented the keyring, shaking it violently for all of them to see and hear. Roland looked around his cell for something to protect himself with in a mad panic. His eyes fell on his crutch, which he grabbed and held close as his terror-addled mind tried to formulate a thought.
"I need something to scribe the Helm of Awe upon the floor, but what?" he thought.
"Ah!" he gasped as his finger was pricked against a bit of rough wood along his crutch's surface.
He looked at the bead of blood on his fingertip.
"Guard!" the prisoners again shouted desperately.
Orlok laughed at them. However, he did not move away from Lawfer. There was a ritual yet to be completed. He took a knife from his belt. As he began to raise it, Lawfer reached with a shaky hand to stop him. Orlok looked down, faintly surprised to see him still conscious. The young knight clutched at the gaping wound in his neck as he tried grabbing for Orlok with little success.
Lawfer managed to croak out a barely intelligible, "…Beast."
"What's wrong?" Orlok smiled down at him wickedly. "Your purpose was to die tonight, am I wrong?"
Lawfer's jaw quivered as he tried to speak, but his throat was filling with blood too quickly. Orlok gave him a gentle "Shhh…" like one would for a scared child. Lawfer's gaze turned aside, towards Roland's cell, and he gave his friend one final look of regret. This pleased Orlok greatly.
"To think you came so close, just to fail now," he taunted.
Lawfer looked up with hate in his eyes, but he couldn't see well enough anymore to look at Orlok properly.
"Worry not. There's no such thing as death without meaning," Orlok spoke soothingly. "Whether 'tis regretful or full of hate. To die with such negative emotions, you will surely become Undead."
With that, Orlok put the knife to his own wrist and slit it. Crimson beads formed and began to slide down his skin.
"And with my blood to complete you," Orlok whispered. "You will become our new hive chief. Our newest companion to slay The Battle Maiden. Now…"
He grabbed Lawfer's face, forcing his mouth open. He held the dying man still so that the droplets of blood fell into his mouth.
"Drink your fill. Become one of us while I make underlings for you of these other wretches!"
No one yet knew of the dark design at work that night down in the isolated depths of the castle dungeon.
