“Could be,” Ronan replied dubiously. “I’ve heard of such things over the years, but it’d be rare.”
“So, her life isn’t in peril?” the official asked, wringing his hands.
“I don’t know for certain,” Nellise hedged, “but her pulse is strong, which can only be a good thing.”
“This makes sense, when you think about it,” Aiden explained as it all seemed to fall into place in his mind. “The people behind the attack on Culdeny wanted to capture her, not kill her. And on the ship, that wizard wanted to take her away, too. Why would they want to kill her after going to all that trouble?”
“And who might you be?” the official asked, turning his gaze to Aiden.
“He is Aiden Wainwright, the hero of the Battle of Culdeny,” Criosa whispered, sweat beading on her brow as she spoke.
“Your Highness, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice,” the official breathed, kneeling down by her side. Although Aiden was sure about his hypothesis, he hadn’t been completely certain, and he felt just as much relief as the others at her awakening.
“We only received word this morning that you had embarked upon a ship for Fairloch,” the official continued, “and have been expecting your arrival, though in far less dramatic fashion. What is her condition, sister?”
“This poultice should neutralise what remains of the poison, though she will need to rest in order to recover her strength,” Nellise informed him, standing up and brushing off her robe, clasping the halo-ringed sword of her faith with one hand.
“I concur with her assessment, Castellan Hodges,” the robed man agreed, speaking to the official. “I will, of course, see to her recovery personally. We should have her moved to her room to provide her with more familiar surroundings.”
“Do as you see fit, Prelate,” the castellan replied, gesturing to several servants standing by to assist the priest. When they reached down to try and pick up Criosa, however, she waved them away.
“I am capable of walking to my own room,” she informed everyone present, and slowly pulled herself upright, with only a little assistance from Nellise.
“You really shouldn’t be moving about, Your Highness,” the prelate remarked, as more of an observation than an order.
“Balderdash — if it isn’t going to kill me, it will only make me stronger,” Criosa said dismissively, her words slurred. Despite this bold claim, her body seemed to have other ideas, threatening to topple over without warning. “Although, it would be nice to have a little help,” she quietly added. Aiden was about to move forward to help her when two of the servants dashed in, offering their shoulders for her to lean on.
The castellan led them into the next chamber, with Aiden and his companions following along behind as they walked slowly down a short hall and into a large, open space that took his breath away.
Tapestries depicting great scenes from the country’s history lined the walls of what was the largest interior space he’d ever seen. Lavish carpets were laid over the flagstones, and elegant columns rose up to the high ceiling, lining a path leading directly to a raised dais upon which stood a throne wrought of steel and gold. Two blazing fireplaces brought the temperature to a comfortable level, and combined with the two dozen lanterns that hung from the columns, provided soft light. The faint smell of lavender was in the air.
Up ahead, an elderly gentleman with a neatly trimmed grey hair and accompanying beard was entering the chamber, accompanied by a middle-aged man wearing heavy armour in the livery of a knight of the realm. Two frustrated servants moved beside the older man, trying to help him finish donning his formal attire while he strode briskly towards the entryway, their footsteps echoing in the vast chamber.
“By God, is that you, Criosa?” he called as the two groups closed the distance between them.
“Uncle Charlie, I’m so glad to see you again,” the princess replied, struggling to keep her eyelids open. The elderly man rushed forward and embraced the blonde girl, a look of immeasurable relief on his weathered features.
“I’m starting to get the impression you two have met before,” Aiden remarked with a warm smile as the embrace showed no signs of stopping. Criosa finally let the old man go and almost staggered backwards, to be caught by the two servants.
“So it’s true — you’ve been poisoned,” he breathed.
“A mild dose of some sort of sleeping poison,” the prelate quickly answered. “I believe she will make a rapid recovery, although I must insist she be taken to her room immediately.”
“Yes, of course, go ahead,” the old man answered, waving the servants onward. “Get some rest my dear, we shall speak soon.”
“Alright, but these are my friends, and I trust them with my life, okay? Listen to them, especially Aiden, he’s really smart…” Criosa mumbled, allowing herself to be arried along with Castellan Hodges and the prelate in close pursuit. Once the door had closed behind them, the elderly man turned to address Aiden.
“There goes a brave young lady,” he stated fondly. “I cannot adequately express my gratitude for conveying Criosa here safely. I am Charles Montague, Duke of Fairloch, and this is my aide, Sir Godfrey Davis.” The armoured man bowed his head at the mention of his name.
He bore a thick, bristling grey moustache and his grey eyes sparkled keenly under his furrowed brow. A resplendent arming sword hung from one hip, and a heavy shield was strapped to his back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Aiden said, keeping his tone respectful. He introduced his companions.
“It is both an honour and a pleasure to make your acquaintances, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” the duke continued. “I know you must be tired from your difficult journey, but I must hear how Criosa came to be wounded.”
“To put it plainly, there was another attempt to take her captive by shadowy assailants whose origin we still don’t know,” Aiden explained grimly. “This is the third direct assault upon her in a week. We might not be so lucky next time.”
“I heard news of her initial capture, and the battle of Culdeny,” the duke said, “but not of any further attempts since then.”
“We were attacked at sea, and then again, just a few minutes ago in the middle of the city.”
“Attacked in our own city?” the Duke bristled, glancing at Sir Godfrey in outrage. “Where did this take place?”
“In the market district, Your Grace,” Nellise answered after a quick look from Aiden. His knowledge of the city’s layout was still rather vague. “A section of the main road had been damaged due to some sort of experiment at the University, and we were forced to detour through some alleyways. That’s where the villains made their move.”
“Blast!” the duke cursed, his pale face turning red and splotchy with rage. “I knew we had such people living within our walls, but never before has there been an attempt on a member of the royal family. I had thought they would have been smarter than that, for now the entire weight of the Watch will be upon them.”
“Ronan, did you find anything of interest on their bodies?” Aiden asked curiously.
“Yeah, I found their instructions,” the sailor replied, fishing some small items out of one of his pockets. “There was this crumpled note with a suitably vague message on it. It reads — ‘The area is prepared. The mark has arrived and will be heading through shortly. Do not fail.’ It is signed ‘Number One’, which tells us exactly nothing.”
“Except…” Aiden began, a thought occurring to him, “the guard who diverted us to the alleyway had disappeared after the attack had begun. He might have been involved somehow. Someone should try and find the guard and question him.”
“How far does the reach of these people extend?” Nellise wondered aloud. “They must have corrupted the City Watch to achieve their ends. Is there anyone here we can even trust?”
“More than that,” Ronan added grimly, “is the prospect of the assassin’s guild resurfacing in Fairloch once more. The style of their at
tack made me think about how those bastards used to operate, and this sort of job is right up their alley. Excuse the pun.”
“The assassin’s guild was destroyed decades ago,” the duke informed them, his tone dark and foreboding. “I cannot imagine who would have brought them back to Fairloch. If they are involved then the royal family is in serious danger.”
“It’s also strange that they’d take the risk,” Aiden mused. “Am I correct in assuming they work for hire?”
“Of course,” Ronan shrugged.
“Then it appears that moneyed interests are behind the assault,” Sir Godfrey declared, speaking up for the first time. “This sudden resurgence could only come about if the money made it worthwhile, for they know what the result will be if the guild stays in the city for too long.”
“I’m curious if someone has contacted them directly, or if this is simply a matter of someone placing a bounty on Criosa’s life and spreading word through the right channels — or wrong, depending on which way you look at it,” Ronan remarked.
“It isn’t hard to understand their motives,” Duke Charles remarked. “With Criosa as the only heir to the throne, all it would take to throw the Kingdom into turmoil is to — heaven forbid — kill her, and even if they were to merely take her hostage, her captors would have free rein to set their terms. This is all wild speculation, ladies and gentlemen. We have theories and precious few facts. I need more information. If the City Watch has indeed been compromised, then I will need people I can trust to help with the investigation. What say you?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Aiden answered with a glance at Criosa.
“Don’t you have people better suited to this sort of thing?” Sayana asked timidly.
“Ordinarily, yes,” Sir Godfrey replied, “but His Majesty has nearly all of them with him on his campaign in the west.”
“Naturally,” Aiden grumbled quietly, wishing the King had had the foresight to leave a few competent people behind to actually run his Kingdom.
“The few we have left would be recognisable to our enemies,” Sir Godfrey continued. “In order to be successful in this endeavour, we would need fresh faces like yours to go into the dark places of the city.”
“Your point is well taken,” Aiden replied, “but to be honest, the prospect of tracking down professional assassins in their home territory is a little outside my field of expertise, and I don’t think any of us here — save Ronan and possibly Pacian — would be very useful in that regard.”
“Yeah… part of me wants to volunteer and another part of me wants to run away,” Ronan hedged. “But I think I can help you out with this one.”
“Excellent, it sounds like we’re moving forward on this already,” the duke observed, rubbing his hands together. “I wish to check up on dear Criosa, so I shall leave you all in Sir Godfrey’s capable hands. Keep me apprised of your progress, and good hunting to you all.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Sir Godfrey replied, bowing low. Nellise performed a perfect curtsey, and Aiden had the presence of mind to bow as well, and after watching this for a moment, Sayana followed suit.
“You were saying something about being able to help us out, Ronan?” the knight prompted. “Were you referring to something specific or simply general assistance?”
“While I don’t know much about the assassin’s guild, as such, I know some people who probably would,” the sailor confided, letting go of Pacian so that he could stand on his own. “I’ll have to see if I can re-establish some old contacts before I find out however, so don’t hold your breath.”
“We’ll take whatever assistance we can get at this point,” the knight replied. “To that end, I believe I know someone who might be of use to us. His credentials are impeccable, and he’s an old friend of mine so I know we can trust him. I understand you must be tired and in need of food and rest, but if you take your ease at the Fair Maiden Inn, just a few minutes into the city from here, you’ll find this man spending his evening at one of the tables. His name is Sir William Bryce-Clifton.”
“A knight of the realm?” Aiden remarked. “I would have thought His Majesty would have taken him too, if he was any use.”
“He is a man of many years’ experience, and would find an extended period of deployment detrimental to his health,” Sir Godfrey explained delicately. “Just speak with him, and take your measure of the man in person.”
“Very well,” Aiden agreed hesitantly. “If we’re going to be investigating on behalf of the Crown, we should probably have something to declare our authority, should we need it. A small stipend to cover expensive would be useful, too.”
“I’ll see to it the duke writes up a signed letter to that effect, and it shall be delivered to you first thing in the morning,” the knight said. “I won’t keep you from your rest any longer, ladies and gentlemen, so I thank you again for your service thus far, and wish you good fortune in the coming days. I will be doing what I can with my limited resources, so stop in from time to time as you need to. The castle will be under lockdown, so movement will be somewhat restricted for you, even with your royal authority.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Aiden replied. “Farewell, Sir Knight.”
* * *
They walked through the castle’s gate and watched as the drawbridge was raised after their departure, where it slammed into place with a resounding boom. Sir Godfrey hadn’t been lying about the castle lockdown, for the number of visible guards on the walls tripled as they watched. Aiden hoped it was enough to keep Criosa safe for the time being, even though their trustworthiness might be questionable. There was nothing Aiden could do about that and for now had to trust that Sir Godfrey and the duke trusted their soldiers.
Criosa’s continued welfare was of paramount importance to the Kingdom, and not because of any personal feelings he was experiencing, of course, as that would be unprofessional.
“I’m going to head off and look around for a bit, you know, to get my bearings and talk to some old contacts of mine,” Ronan informed them as they walked towards the inn. “I might be able to find a few more reliable people to help us out, because just between you and me, we’re completely outmatched by what we’re up against.”
“So you’re certain that it’s this ‘assassin’s guild’?” Nellise asked dourly.
“Very, though don’t ask me why,” Ronan warned, his breath misting in the cold night air. “It’s not their actual name, by the way. We never found out what they called themselves. Anyway, I think the Fair Maiden is a good base to work from, so set up there and I’ll be back before dawn with news, hopefully.”
“Watch your back,” Sayana called to him as he walked off along the snow-covered streets.
“Always do,” he replied before disappearing around a corner. Eager to be out of the cold, Aiden opened the heavy wooden door of the inn and stepped inside, welcoming the rush of warm air laced with the aroma of hot food and strong drink.
The Fair Maiden inn was much larger than the Bracksfordshire Arms, and it was nearly full to capacity as the citizens of Fairloch crowded out of the bitterly cold winter. Several fires crackled away in several fireplaces around the room’s edge, and musicians strummed their instruments on the far side of the vast common room, barely audible over the din of hundreds of people chatting away with each other. The smell of warm food and good drink was present as the small group made their way through the throng towards one of the few empty tables available along the far wall.
“I’m going to rent a room and take Pacian upstairs to heal and rest,” Nellise advised, leaning her head close to Aiden in order to be heard and then hauled Pacian off towards the bar.
“I’m going to order us some food,” Aiden advised Sayana, rising to his feet. “Wait here for a few minutes.” Pressing through the crowd, he noticed that the clientele at this inn were well-dressed men and women of means, and while their attire wasn’t as lavish and expensive as the duke or the Castellan Hodges, the people here were clearly d
oing well for themselves.
Aiden eventually made it to the bar, where a cheerful, plump girl with a big smile received his order for Aiden’s favourite meal, ‘whatever you’re serving’. Looking up, he saw a huge, gold-framed painting hanging on the wall overlooking the common room, depicting a lovely and curvaceous woman with red hair and fair skin sitting on a plush couch.
She also seemed to have misplaced her clothes. A caption on the bottom of the picture read ‘Constance’, no doubt the name of the maiden, and most likely where the inn took its name from. Aiden was no artist, but he certainly could appreciate the subject material.
“Lovely, isn’t she?” the waitress asked him.
“The painting certainly adds a touch of class to the place,” Aiden commented, not knowing what else to say. The wide grin from the girl indicated she liked what he’d said, and a few other things she had an eye on too. He handed over a small handful of copper jacks and made his way back to the table, satisfied that the meal would eventually be brought to them by the enthusiastic girl.
On the way back he noticed Sayana was gripping onto the table with white-knuckled tension, and the look in her eyes reminded Aiden of the first time he had seen her in the wild.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as he sat down next to her, watching her chest rise and fall with her rapid breathing.
“Nothing, I’m just really hungry,” she replied a little too quickly. “Perhaps I should go and get some fresh air.”
“If you need to, sure, but the food is on its way, so perhaps you can just try to relax and enjoy the warmth,” he advised with a smile. Sayana let out a slow breath and seemed to calm down, so Aiden leaned back on his chair and waited idly, slowly allowing his mind to sift through all he had experienced over the past few hours.
“How did you create that light?” Sayana asked abruptly a minute or so later.
“Excuse me?”
“After the fight in the alley, you lit up your sword,” she clarified.
“I did?” Aiden asked, to himself as much as to her.
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