Chapter V: Abduction!

It was a sunny day at the end of September. The autumn chill was in the air though, as Alisa and Jacques walked through the vineyard, a small but well-armed and well-trained escort of armigers in their wake at a discreet distance. Alfio, the grower ofthis particular vineyard, was with them too, eager to show his mistress the progress of the grapes' ripening.

"Here", he said, walking over to their left. "This side of the vineyard is more exposed to the sun, and the grapes are ripening faster. If the temperature doesn't drop too quickly, I think we can start harvesting one or two weeks earlier than last year."

Alisa watched closer the heavy grapes hanging from the vine, considering its golden colour. She touched a couple of berries, feeling its consistency, and then plucked one and tasted it. "Excellent", she nodded, pleased. "You're right, Alfio, we're going to collect this grapes earlier, weather permitting, and to produce an especially good late-harvest Prosecco."

Turning, she noticed Jacques' intrigued expression. "Perchance are you wondering why this one vineyard hasn't been harvested yet?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"I am, aye", he admitted. "I'm no expert, but I thought that grapes are harvested as soon as ripe enough for eating or for stomping..."

He looked at her quizzically, and Alisa nodded in confirmation. "That is the usual way, aye. However, someone once discovered – probably by pure accident – that leaving the grapes on the vine for a few more weeks, they become sweeter. More sugar in the fruit means higher alcohol content in the resulting wine, which becomes more valuable, and consequently you can demand a higher price for it. My father was quite sceptical, but I insisted on trying with at least a couple of vines. I was proved right, thus we started to keep one vineyard for this kind of wine, which is sold out even before the fermentation begins."

"Why not more vineyards, if this wine is so profitable?" asked Jacques, a little puzzled.

"Because if there's too much of a good, its price drops", was Alisa's immediate answer.

Jacques couldn't help but grin: she was truly a cunning businesswoman.

She was also a very attractive woman.

Jacques had carefully buried such thoughts, shoving them in the depths of his mind, but all of a sudden, they treacherously resurfaced and took hold of him.

His smile softened, his eyes never leaving hers, the golden light of the sun casting a warm glow on her face. He took a slow step closer, nodding in appreciation of her knowledge,but there was something more behind his gaze: a warmth, a flicker of something unspoken.

Alisa's breath hitched as he stepped nearer, his presence suddenly filling the space between them. The cool autumn air seemed to still as Jacques leaned in, his body close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him... an unexpectedly pleasant feeling. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. How would she react? She thought him good-looking, true, but she didn't desire him; or any other man, as for this. Not to speak about the inappropriateness of such a gesture.

Jacques reached past her, his hand brushing lightly against the vine, plucking a single grape with a casual grace. Their faces were now so close that she could see the flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes, gleaming where the sunlight touched them. Alisa felt the slightest touch of giddiness.

"Mmm... delicious," Jacques murmured softly, his voice low as he savoured the grape, his gaze still locked with hers. The word carried a weight, something almost playful, but there was no mistaking the intensity behind it. He stepped back after a moment, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Alisa felt a flutter in her chest, but she was no woman to be easily embarrassed and recovered quickly. She smirked back at him, her eyes sparkling with hilarity. "Glad you agree with me about the quality of my grapes!"

Jacques laughed. "Touché!" he cried, genuinely amused by her wittiness.

Alisa grinned broadly and was about to add something, when without warning, the world shifted violently.

Suddenly, the tranquillity of the vineyard was shattered by a rustling sound: to Jacques, an all too familiar sound of danger. His expression hardened in an instant, his instincts kicking in as his hand flew to the hilt of his sword. The shadows of men moved quickly among the vines, emerging with weapons drawn.

"Ambush!" Jacques shouted, his voice both a warning and a sharp command as he moved in front of Alisa protectively, unsheathing his sword in a smooth motion. The small escort of armigers sprang into action, forming a defensive line, their shields raised. The attackers came swiftly, their faces contorted, weapons glinting in the sunlight.

Jacques met the first strike head-on, his blade ringing against the attacker's sword with a sharp metallic clash. The force of the blow vibrated through his arm, but he pushed forward, twisting the man's wrist and sending him stumbling back. The captain's eyes darted to Alisa, who had picked up a solid stick from the ground; she looked cool but tense, ever the woman capable of fending for herself and unafraid of fighting.

"Stay close!" he barked, but the words were barely out of his mouth when another assailant lunged at him from the side. Jacques pivoted just in time, the man's blade skimming past his shoulder, but not before grazing its skin. Jacques grunted, the sting of the cut igniting his focus even further. With a swift, brutal slash, he knocked the attacker to the ground.

The vineyard was in chaos. Flesh and steel clashed as the attackers pressed in, outnumbering the armigers. Jacques fought fiercely, every move calculated, every strike deadly. His sword flashed in the sunlight, cutting down one man after another, but the sheer number of attackers was overwhelming.

Balancing the stake in her hands, Alisa stood still, her feet apart in a fighting stance, ready to meet any threat. Her eyes searched all around as to prevent any foe to assail her from behind. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like a fire, sharpening her senses, putting off her fear and turning it into a cold fury instead. How did these strangers dare attack them, invading her fief?

Two men advanced on her, cruel grimaces distorting their faces. Alisa wielded her stick at them like a club, causing them to quickly retreat. They parted and encircled her, advancing on her from both sides. Alisa yelled fiercely and brandished her makeshift club.

The sound of her shout had Jacques shooting a glance at her while still keeping an eye on any possible assailant. He saw two men charging her from different sides.

The motion seemed to slow down as Jacques watched Alisa swinging her stick at one of the attackers, keeping him off her; but the other one came near enough to her to grab her arm. She reacted quickly though, hitting the man hard square in the face with her improvised weapon.

The crack of wood against flesh was so loud that Jacques could hear it even in the din of the fight.

The aggressor recoiled in pain, blood pouring from his broken nose, but the second assailant moved fast, his hand shooting out to slap Alisa across the face; she saw stars and blacked out, and fell sprawling to the ground.

"NO!" Jacques roared, his heart pounding as fury surged through him. He tried to push through the wave of attackers, but they closed in on him, striking from all sides. He blocked a blow aimed at his head, but felt a sharp pain as another sword slashed across his ribs. Gritting his teeth, he fought on, but his strength was waning.

One of the assailants struck him hard on the back of the head. The world spun violently and Jacques fell to his knees, struggling to stay conscious. His vision blurred, and just before darkness took him, he saw Alisa's unconscious body being thrown over a horse. The attackers retreated into the trees, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.

Jacques collapsed to the ground, the sound of retreating hoofbeats the last thing he heard before everything went black.

OOO

With a groan, Alisa woke up to a very uncomfortable situation. She was lying on her belly across the saddle of a horse, her wrists tightly tied. Her head was pounding and she felt the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Despite the pain, she forced herhead up, even using her arms as leverage to raise her back a little as to take a better look at the surroundings.

"Ha, the wild cat is awake", a mocking voice came from her right, behind the horse. Alisa turned her head and saw a mounted soldier watching her, a smug sneer on his scarred face. "Ya gave us quite the trouble, lass, y'know?"

The demand to let her go at once surged to Alisa's lips, but she was immediately aware that it would be completely futile. Better asking useful questions. "Who are you?" she enquired in a commanding tone. "Who sent you?"

She was deeply concerned, even afraid, but she wouldn't let it transpire.

The man laughed. "Spirited wench y'are, huh? Well, no 'arm in telling you, as ya'll soon find out on yer own. Ma name's Orso, and ma master is Count Iacopo Bembo of Asolo. We're heading there, missy, and there's no way ya can escape."

Alisa's stomach churned in dismay: the damned Bembo, again! She and Jacques had of course expected some sort of reaction after the demise of Mariano of Ortiga and his men near Aquileia, a few weeks ago, but not an abduction in broad daylight in the heart of her own fief. Either Bembo had a lot of nerve... or he was totally reckless.

Willing herself to keep her dread in check and think with a clear head, Alisa evaluated her options: she could run, as only her wrists were tied, but even if she could actually slide down the horse carrying her, she had no chance on foot against a dozen of mounted men. She had to get on horseback into a sitting position.

"I cannot go all the way to Asolo like this", she said, her authoritative tone tinged with a false resignation. "Please, let me sit onto the saddle."

Orso seemed to ponder her request. "Ah' right", he said, signalling his men to halt.

Feigning clumsiness, Alisa struggled to get off the horse, and then even more to mount again. The armiger holding the horse's bridles kept a close eye on her; as soon as she was seated, he turned and spurred his steed. Alisa took advantage of his distraction and, leaning forward, she snatched the reins, tearing them off the man's hand. She kicked her horse's sides hard and the animal sprang forward. Alisa yanked the bridles to the left and steered her mount away from Bembo's men, spurring it on into a wild gallop northwards, toward Valdastico to meet Jacques who – she was sure of it – was coming to her aid.

Unfortunately, the horse she had so cleverly stolen was but a nag and Orso with his men managed to catch up with her just in a few minutes. Alisa tried desperately to keep them off by kicking wildly at them, but to no avail. Orso himself grabbed the bridles she was holding and brutally jerked at them to force her horse into a halt.

"Now, now", the sergeant snarled. "Ya called for it, lass."

Alisa was tied up like a hog, rope going around her to keep her arms tight to her body, preventing her to grab on anything, and her horse's reins were fastened at the horn of Orso's saddle. This way, she was unable to run.

"Wild cat", Orso spat. "Ma master will 'ave a 'ard time taming ya. But don't doubt for a moment he won't succeed, missy."

Alisa's eyes flashed in hot anger even as an icy shiver ran down her spine. Jacques, she thought pleadingly. I need your help.

He wouldn't let her down, she knew it; meanwhile, she had to focus on finding a way to go through this nightmare and survive. Calling in all her noticeable willpower, Alisa steeled herself for whatever was to come.

OOO

When Jacques awoke, the taste of blood filled his mouth, and pain coursed through his body. For a moment, disoriented, he tried to push himself up. The memories of the attack rushed back, and his heart clenched in fear and anger.

"Alisa…" he whispered, his voice hoarse. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled her being flung across a horse's back and taken away... abducted.

Jacques forced himself to stand, despite the pain shooting through his ribs. His eyes scanned the vineyard: several of his men lay wounded, some of them dead. Among the latter was the unfortunate Alfio, his interiors spilling out of a horrible gash in his belly. Jacques felt a surge of bile at the sight of the poor man, who had been a husband and a father.

There was no sign of Alisa or her captors.

One of the remaining armigers stumbled toward Jacques, clutching a bloodied arm. "My lord captain… they took her. South… toward Asolo."

Jacques' jaw tightened as fury coursed through him. Asolo. Iacopo Bembo. The evil count had taken her.

"We ride after them now," Jacques commanded, his voice cold with resolve. "Let's get the horses."

He and all the men still able to stand sprinted toward Malatesta Castle. As soon as they approached the gates, Jacques yelled to the guards: "To arms! To arms! The countess has been abducted!"

After just a moment of stillness due to the utter shock, everybody sprang into action. To Jacques' great satisfaction, the armigers responded quickly and correctly. Within minutes, Vaillant and several other horses were saddled and ready to ride. Jacques dismissed the wounded armigers and ordered for the dead ones to be recovered from the site of the fight; then, he quickly selected a few of the other armigers, including Sergeant Giuliano, to be part of the rescue party. All the men were outraged at Bembo's gall and ready to skin him and his minions.

Soon enough, Jacques and three Valdastico armigers were mounted and charging down the trail leading to Asolo.

Jacques' mind raced with every racing step of his horse. He would not stop. He would not rest until he had Alisa back, and until Iacopo Bembo had paid for every drop of blood that had been spiIIed.

The trail led them deeper into the hills, through dense woods and across rocky paths. The hoofprints were still fresh, but Jacques knew they had lost precious time. His side ached where the blade had sliced his skin, but he pushed the pain away, focusing only on the road ahead. After all, compared to other wounds he had suffered, this was just a scratch. Now, all that mattered was rescuing Alisa from Bembo's clutches.

OOO

The uncomfortable journey lasted a couple of hours. When they reached Asolo, they entered the town's gate and started to ride up the main street towards the castle. The inhabitants shied away from the mounted group, keeping their distance, but Alisa saw clearly how they murmured among them in dismay at seeing a lady in fine robes being dragged as a prisoner along thestreets.

Soon enough, they reached the castle, an imposing, but quite poorly maintained building on the top of a low knoll at the back of Asolo. In the courtyard, Alisa was unceremoniously pulled down the horse and hauled up the staircase to the main entrance, then again up more flights of stairs to the third floor. Here, Orso shoved her into a room, cut the ropes tying her and stomped out, locking the door behind him.

Massaging her arms and wrists, Alisa looked around: she was in a luxurious chamber. A massive bed with heavy red velvet curtains stood to her left, a big wooden chest at its feet. A closet leant against the opposite wall, where she spotted also a chest of drawers with a basin and a large pitcher on top of it. Several towels were neatly folded beside the two items.

Briskly, Alisa crossed the room to peer out of the window. The view over the rolling hills surrounding Asolo would have been lovely, if she wasn't in such a predicament. She looked down: there was no way to jump, as she stood at around ten metres height.

She had to think about another way out.

Meanwhile, she could as well take advantage of the pitcher and towels. She walked over to the chest of drawers and poured some water into the basin, then used the lavender-scented soap-bar to clean her hands and face, drying them off with a towel. She found also a brush, a comb and a hand mirror; hence, she brushed her tousled hair. Watching her reflection into the mirror, she was satisfied that her appearance was once again fitting to a noblewoman.

Finally, Alisa seated herself onto a chair and waited for whatever would come. Despite her strength and willpower, her hands were slightly trembling, therefore she clutched them together. No way was she going to let Bembo see how frightened she truly was.

She didn't have to wait too long: half an hour later, she heard the door unlock and Iacopo Bembo marched in, his strides bearing all of his arrogant overconfidence.

He was a tall, middle-aged and slightly overweight man; his blond hair was greying, as well as his perfectly trimmed goatee and moustache.

Alisa didn't bother to stand up as a sign of respect and stayed seated instead, glaring at him. "How dare you", she growled through clenched teeth.

The Count of Asolo grinned, his cold blue eyes fixed on her. "As fiery as ever, I see, my dear Lady Alisa. Even after being abducted, manhandled, tied up and imprisoned." He glanced around. "But what a fine prison it is."

Alisa ignored his sardonic remark. "Don't waste my time, Bembo", she snapped. "What do you want?"

Bembo's eyes narrowed. "You know very well what I want, my lady", he answered in a low, dangerous tone. "You, and Valdastico."

Alisa had of course expected this; nevertheless, she felt an icy shiver running down her spine. However, once more she willed herself to hide her dread and managed to snort a scornful laugh. "And how do you plan to achieve it all, pray?"

The question was rhetorical, because she knew all too well how he planned to get what he wanted, and the thought made her sick.

"By marrying you, of course", Bembo declared arrogantly, unaware he was stating the obvious.

"I will never agree", Alisa replied matter-of-factly.

Bembo's lips slowly curled into a horrible sneer that chilled Alisa to the bone. "Oh, you will agree, my dear... after I have bedded you, with or without your consent, and got you pregnant."

Horror washed over Alisa: Bembo was openly talking about rape! She felt as if all the air had been sucked off her lungs. She fought to speak. "You... cannot be serious", she whispered, trying desperately to steady her voice.

Bembo sniggered spitefully. "Oh, no, I am serious, my lady, I assure you", he said.

Alisa felt the ice-cold fingers of fear dig into her very soul. All her expertise as an archer would be useless, should Bembo attack her now. She had a small stiletto, hidden in her corset, but that wouldn't keep her forever safe from him. She was vulnerable, and she knew it.

Alisa's confidence threatened to shatter and her eyes widened in sheer terror. She couldn't hide the violent tremor that shook her from head to toe.

The sight of her dread made Bembo laugh malevolently. "You are at my mercy, Alisa", he snarled. "How does that feel, hmm...?"

It was clear that he was revelling in her fright. His eyes shone in excitement. Perhaps he was even aroused, Alisa realised with disgust and fear.

She fought for breath. Don't lose your head, Alisa, she thought. "No... You cannot do this", she said, once more struggling to keep her voice from faltering. "You would dishonour not only me, but the laws of the Republic as well. Laws that allow women to be mistresses of their own fate!"

"I don't give a damn to the Republic's laws", Bembo proclaimed spitefully.

For a minute that felt like eternity, Alisa was unable to breathe, to speak, even to think. This was beyond the worst nightmare she ever had. For a terrible moment, feeling totally helpless, she lost her confidence. All she wanted to do was running and hiding from this revolting man. Oh, Jacques, my knight, where are you...? she implored inwardly.

Then, like a blinding light, the solution, albeit a temporary one, came to her darkened mind.

Jacques. He, he was the solution. He would come to her aid. She knew it. It was an absolute certainty, and she would cling to it.

However, she needed to buy time for him to arrive and find her.

Her brain started to work again, finding back its cleverness, seeking a believable pretext.

An idea took suddenly shape.

Clenching her teeth, Alisa bravely mastered her terror and willed her weak knees to move. Slowly, she rose from the chair. "I am no maiden", she announced, forcing her voice out of her tightened throat and into a believably assertive tone. Bembo stared at her, eyes wide with shock. "I have been betrothed once, remember?" Alisa went on, taking courage with every word. "Besides, for some months now I have a lover: Jacques Le Gris, my captain of the guard and right-hand man."

She saw how each word was a like a blade stabbing Bembo's confidence, shattering his plans.

"He was in my bed even last night", Alisa continued, more boldly by the minute. "Thus, if you want to be sure I am not carrying another man's child", she added inexorably, an undertone of triumph in her voice, "you need to wait until my next moon cycle, which will be in three weeks."

This was completely false, as she was actually expecting it in just a few days; but she wanted to make the most of it, and this disgusting man had no way to know.

Bembo clenched his hands into tight fists. He was almost chocking in his rage. For a moment, Alisa thought he was going to hit her and braced herself for the blow, but she wasn't backing down on this. It was the only way she had been able to come up with to buy herself some time, during which she would be safe. Time that would allow her to find a way to escape, or Jacques to come to her rescue.

"Fine", Bembo literally spat the word out. "You have three weeks."

With that, he whipped around and left, the heavy door banging as he slammed it closed and locked it.

Alisa sank back onto the chair, feeing lightheaded, almost drunk from relief. For the time being, she was safe from Bembo's lewdness.

OOO

Along with his men, Jacques rode hard, the pounding of hooves beneath him barely registering as his mind raced faster than the wind whipping past him. His heart, however, felt slower, heavier, each beat resounding with fury, worry, and something deeper he couldn't quitename.

The thought of Alisa being taken, abducted in broad daylight, made his blood boil. His grip on the reins tightened, his knuckles white beneath his black leather gloves. Every part of him ached, not from the battle earlier, but from the thought of her in the hands of that swine, Iacopo Bembo. That vile name echoed in his head like a curse.

But beneath the anger, there was something else, something unsettling. His concern for Alisa was sharp, painful even, but why? She was his lady, yes, but there was a feeling inside him that was new, unfamiliar. Something that stirred when her face flashed before him, when he imagined her brave, defiant gaze and the fire in her eyes. The same fire that had first intrigued him when they met, and now, more than ever, seemed to burn inside him like a slow flame. The thought of harm coming to her...

He clenched his jaw. He couldn't allow himself to get lost in these feelings. Not now. He was a strategist, a man of precision as much as of action. Emotions would only cloud his judgment, and he couldn't afford that. Alisa needed him focused, sharp. He would find her, and Bembo would regret just having thought about laying a hand on her. That much, he swore.

The sun had begun its slow descent by the time they reached the outskirts of Asolo. From a ridge, Jacques could see the sprawling town below, the walls of the evil count's fortress rising ominously in the distance.

He reined in his horse, and raised a hand to signal his men to do the same. They gathered around him, weary but determined. Jacques' eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he stared at the town, his heart hammering with rage and determination. "This isn't over," he growled. "We're going to get her back."

"Aye, we will, captain!" cried Giuliano, and all the armigers nodded, shaking their fists towards Asolo and its despicable lord.

Jacques' mind raced with options. Charging into the town wasn't feasible. Too many of Bembo's men would be watching the roads, especially after such a bold abduction. And storming the castle was out of the question, practically suicide. He needed a plan, something that would get him into the heart of the castle without raising an alarm, giving him the chance to search for Alisa.

His eyes scanned the landscape: Asolo perched on its hill, the castle looming above like a shadowy predator. The main gates were well-guarded, possibly bolstered after the arrival of Alisa as a prisoner. Then, as he watched down the slope leading to the town, Jacques spotted something: a wagon.

It wasn't just any wagon. It was laden with barrels—wine barrels, to be exact. A merchant's wagon, likely one of many heading to the castle to deliver supplies.

A sudden thought struck Jacques, one that had potential, but he needed more. His mind whirred. A wagon filled with barrels... but it was too obvious, too simple. The guards would likely inspect it. No, he needed something subtler. His eyes followed the wagon as it trundled along the dirt road, and then he saw it: the small procession of labourers that followed behind it, carrying heavy loads of grain and other supplies on their shoulders or on handcarts.

Labourers.

Jacques' eyes narrowed, his mind starting to pierce together a plan. Labourers were often overlooked: faceless, nameless figures that drifted in and out of castles with hardly a glance from the guards. They were invisible. And if there was one thing hehad learned during his years as a knight, it was that invisibility, in the right moment, could be the sharpest blade of all.

He turned to the armigers. "We need reconnaissance", he said. His mind whirred as he calculated the next steps. He couldn't risk bringing his men, it would be too conspicuous. "Just me. 'Twill be easier blending in", he added quickly, as he saw Giuliano opening his mouth with the obvious intention of protesting. "You three will follow later, and we'll meet somewhere near the castle. I suggest a tavern along the main road. Take off your Valdastico insignia and pose as soldiers of fortune. But I need to get some labourers' clothes."

Jacques instructed them to stay just beyond the tree line, under the cover of the trunks and the forest's shade. "Giuliano, come with me", he said at last. "I'll need someone taking back my own clothing."

On foot, Jacques and the sergeant approached the labourers and merchants making their way toward Asolo. The plan was risky, but it was his best shot at getting into the castle unnoticed and look for Alisa, or at least, collecting rumours about where she was being held. He observed the group: men in worn, rough-spun tunics, clearly exhausted from their journey, hauling carts filled with sacks of grain and other cereals. These were men of simple means, but their clothes and anonymity were worth more than gold to Jacques right now.

As they approached the merchants, Jacques squared his shoulders and put on an air of calm authority. Though dressed as a knight, he looked battered from the earlier skirmish, which gave him a rougher appearance. Still, the labourers blinked in confusion when they saw the two armed men approaching. A few of them stopped in their tracks, casting wary glances toward the strangers.

"I need your clothes," Jacques said without preamble, looking at a broad-shouldered man about his size, who sported a scarred face and a crooked nose. The knight's voice was low and firm, but this time less of a command and more of an opening.

The labourer eyed Jacques suspiciously. "Mah clothes?" he repeated, incredulous. "What's this 'bout?"

"I'm no thieve," Jacques added quickly, sensing the tension rising. "I'm a knight of Valdastico, here on urgent business. My armour is too conspicuous for the work I have to do. I need to blend in, and I need to do it quickly."

The scarred man crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing as he sized Jacques up. "A knight of Valdastico, eh? An' what if Ah refuse?"

Jacques paused for a moment, noting the tightening grip of one of the other labourers on his cart handle. This was a dangerous line to walk. He couldn't intimidate these men the way he could soldiers or bandits. These were working folk, stubborn and proud in their own way. He needed to offer them something they could respect.

Reaching into his cloak, Jacques withdrew a small leather pouch and tossed it toward the man's feet. The pouch hit the dirt with a soft clink, unmistakably the sound of coins. "That's more than enough for your trouble," Jacques said, his voice firm but fair. "Your clothes, and you'll be compensated generously. You won't even miss them."

The scarred man crouched, picking up the pouch, and opened it carefully. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the coins inside: silver ducats. He bit one of them as if to test its authenticity before looking back up at Jacques. The labourers behind him exchanged curious glances, waiting for their companion's decision.

The man studied Jacques for a moment longer, then he shrugged. "Ah reckon Ah can part with mah clothes, fer that price."

There was some chuckling among the labourers, but most of them gave the pouch an envious glance. If any of them were in their companion's place, they would undoubtedly do exactly like him.

The man stripped off his rough tunic and cloak, handing them over. Jacques could see the wariness in his eyes, but he remained calm, offering a brief nod of gratitude.

The scarred man hesitated for a moment, then looked Jacques squarely in the eye. "Ah don't know what business yer have in Asolo, but be careful. Yer Valdastico people aren't exactly loved around 'ere, an' there's been talk o' trouble brewing in the castle."

Jacques met the man's gaze with a steady look. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be careful." He placed one hand on the man's shoulder, a gesture of mutual respect. "This will be over quickly, and you'll have your money to show for it."

With that, Jacques quickly stripped down, exchanging his armour for the rough-spun tunic and cloak. The fabric was coarse and ill-fitting compared to his usual gear, but it would serve its purpose. Once dressed, Jacques pulled the hood of his newly acquired cloak low over his face, effectively hiding his features.

He glanced at Giuliano, who was now holding Jacques' armour and the rest of his garments. The knight had kept his sword though, concealed under the labourer's cloak. "Go back to our men," he instructed him in a low voice. "Lay low for a couple of hours and then get into Asolo. Find the tavern nearest to the castle along the main road and wait there for me."

"Aye, captain", answered Giuliano in an equally low voice. "Get back in one piece", he added with a grin.

Jacques grinned in turn at the man's wittiness. "I will", he assured him.

With a parting nod, the seasoned sergeant turned and walked towards the wood.

The scarred labourer, satisfied with his payment, watched as Jacques joined the back of their group, blending seamlessly into the procession as they made their way toward the town's gate. The scent of sweat and soil clung to the air as they trudged forward, unnoticed by the guards at the gate. Jacques kept his head down, his heart pounding in his chest. Every step brought him closer to Alisa.

Inside the town, the streets bustled with activity. Plodding along the road, Jacques kept stealing glances right and left to locate the taverns. He counted four of them, the last one just a hundred meters away from the fortress' bastions, going by the name of The Good Mug. That would be where the small group of his men would wait for him, hopefully with news about Alisa.

The labourers were herded toward the castle, where the guards barely glanced at them as they passed through the gate. The castle's stone walls loomed above them, imposing and foreboding, but Jacques had no time for hesitation. His mind was already working on the next move.

They passed through the castle's courtyard, where servants and guards moved about with little care for the lowly labourers. Jacques noted the patrols, the layout of the walls, and the entrances. He needed to get inside the castle itself, into the heart of the keep, where Alisa was most likely being held.

As they approached the loading area for the supplies, Jacques walked away from the labourers. He moved quietly, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

All of a sudden, Jacques spotted a familiar figure: the very man leading the party that had attacked them in the vineyard. He had heard one of his men calling him Orso, bear. A very fitting name, he thought, as his size and brutality recalled the big wild animal.

The thug was swaggering with a self-satisfied grin on his face, coming from the main building. Jacques slipped into the shadows, his jaw tightening and his hands bending into tight fists as he resisted the urge to leap at the brute to beat the hell out of him. Jacques' true target was Bembo, not this brainless minion. Hence, the captain forced himself to keep quiet and still, until Orso was out of sight.

Jacques turned to look at the main building of the castle. Where could Alisa be? He doubted that Bembo would keep her in the dungeons, as she was a noble lady and his goal was to convince her to marry him, hence he had to ingratiate her with him, not alienate her even more than she already was. This reasoning, adding to the direction Orso had come, convinced Jacques that the Countess of Valdastico had to be kept in one of the bedchambers on the main floor, where the nobles lived and accommodated their guests.

His mind made up, Jacques approached the main building, searching for a way in. He spotted an entrance to the castle's lower kitchens, unattended and unguarded, as servants bustled in and out with baskets of food and tools. Exuding confidence as if he belonged to the place, Jacques slipped inside, keeping to the edges of the room.

The heat of the kitchens was stifling, but no one paid him any attention. He was just another labourer to them. Jacques moved with purpose, his eyes darting to the narrow staircases leading upward. The air smelled of roasted meat and baking bread, but his mind was solely focused on one thing: Alisa.

He ascended the stairs cautiously, slipping past servants and guards who barely registered his presence. His heart thudded in his chest as he moved deeper into the castle, his mind already calculating the next steps.

He would find her.

He would get her out.

And God help anyone who stood in his way.