“Come in!” She sounds annoyed with me already.
I open the door to find her standing in front of a full-length mirror in her dark red nightgown with her hands holding her hair up in a messy fashion. In the mirror I can see her full form, revealed by the tight nightgown, and I avert my eyes.
“Yes, Duchess?”
“Is Evalyn well enough to perform her duties today?”
“She has recovered.”
“Good…Servant, why are you looking away from me while I am addressing you?”
“I’m sorry Duchess. You are indecently dressed and I figured it was only respectful.”
“Indecently dressed? What is indecent?”
“I…” I honestly don’t know how to explain to a woman that I can see her full figure through her clothing. “It is your nightgown, Duchess.”
“Is there something wrong with my nightgown?” I hear the inflection in her voice peak curiously. Through my peripheral vision, I can see her turn around and drop her shiny brown locks of hair to fall across her face.
“It is a bit too revealing for me to be in your presence.”
She sighs loudly. “Fine, leave. Go get Evalyn up and prepare my breakfast.”
Quickly I leave, shutting the door behind me and returning to Evalyn. As I look at her I see another woman who, despite her outspoken dislike for me, seems to need me in some way as well.
What is it about me that attracts these lonely and desperate women? What could I possibly have that they need so terribly that they assault me, keep me captive, try and force me? Perhaps when I figure out how to stop the curse I will settle down in a quiet town away from these types of people. Did this happen to me in my past?
“Evalyn, wake up.” Leaning over the bed I shake her shoulder gently.
She startles awake and swats away my hand as if she wasn’t expecting to see me. Looking around, I can practically see her realize that she’s not at home, that she’s still in some random woman’s house as a servant.
“So, what’s our plan?” she asks.
“Our plan for what?”
“Getting out of here,” she grumbles.
“I haven’t thought it out. All I know is that we’re taking you home and I’m finding those slavers, so I can take care of them.”
“You’re really going after the slavers?” She sits up and quirks an eyebrow.
“Yes. They kidnapped us, and they’ve wronged others. I was witness to the murder of a man who was probably innocent. And what’s worse is they did it with his daughter there. This is unforgiveable.”
“Your sense of justice is misguided. As deplorable as their acts might be, you will likely end up dead and we can’t have that.”
“You can’t talk me out of it Evalyn. We’ll discuss the actual plan later. Now let’s get downstairs before the Duchess comes looking for us,” I abruptly turn and leave slightly agitated.
As I head through the halls and down the stairs, I realize that Evalyn is just looking out for me. But something inside me is urging me to right this wrong. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I find Duchess Tamiell wrapped in a robe and sitting at her table.
“Where is Evalyn?”
“She is waking up. I am getting the fire started for her to begin breakfast.”
It doesn’t take me long, once I am in the kitchen, to get the last few pieces of wood from the closet into the stove and get it lit with some flint and kindling that were with the wood pile. As it roars to life, Evalyn enters the kitchen and finds an apron to put on.
“She’s not likely to let us out at the same time,” Evalyn says while I pass her to exit the kitchen.
Turning to her I whisper, “Yeah, I figured as much. We need some way of keeping her attention off of us and then sneak out.”
Pulling the kitchen door shut I head to where Duchess Tamiell is sitting at the table where she writes with a quill and ink on a piece of parchment by lantern light. She hardly notices me, only indicating that she acknowledges my presence by glancing over at me for a brief moment, before returning to what looks like a list. After waiting for a minute or two, she finally folds it up and hands it and a coin pouch from her belt to me.
“I want you to head down to the market and find ‘Renald’s Lumber’ and pick up two bundles of chopped wood and one bundle of moss and kindling. That should equal fifteen silver pieces. Then when you have returned all of that to the house, you need to take the remaining coin and pick up some meat from the market.”
“The list I have given you has everything on it. I am not particular about which butcher you get it from, but the closest one is farther down the way from Renald’s. Return any leftover coin to me after that.”
“Yes, Duchess. Which way is it to the market?” I study the list she hands to me
“Follow the route back to the auction stand then make a left and head into the heart of the city. Stay on that main street until you reach the fountain and take another left. It is not far beyond there you will see the market places.”
“Yes, Duchess.” I tie the coin purse on my belt.
“Oh, and do not think you can run off either. Runners are killed and I have eyes throughout the city,” she warns me sternly.
“What makes you think I would run?”
“You are too free of spirit, still. I know your type.”
I choose my next words carefully so as not to arouse suspicion. “Well you can rest assured that because Evalyn is here, I have a reason to come back.”
She nods and I turn to leave. Upon exiting the house, I’m hit with a wave of warmth created by the sun reflecting off of the buildings, and it feels good. Following the Duchess’s directions I make my way toward the market. Passing by the auction stage, I find it and the area around it to be empty. No slaves, no slavers and no auctioneer.
I grumble, knowing that the slavers more than likely skipped town shortly after settling up with the auctioneer and that means they have a head start on me.
While I move with the flow of people on the streets, I pass many different stores, stalls and sellers, each of them hollering at passersby trying to get everyone they can to purchase their wares.
Passing by a side street that doesn’t look like it has much besides a few randomly placed shops and housing, I see a tavern a ways down. I catch a glimpse of a large man who resembles the man I labeled Burly heading inside.
There’s no way it would be this easy. To find him still here would be a stroke of ridiculously good luck considering they said they were going to leave with haste from here.
The opportunity to get some information out of him is too good to pass up, despite my current objective as directed by Duchess Tamiell. Diverting my direction from the original street I move to the tavern. When I reach the door I twist the knob, push in and enter quickly, finding the place is stuffy with what smells like sweat and cheap liquor. It’s not as dank and rundown as the nasty inn back in Asta, but this one certainly isn’t high class either.
Shifting to the side of the doorway, I scan around for Burly while trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. There are several larger men in here that are about Burly’s size, but his clothing is unmistakable. He is sitting at the bar in the same clothing as he was the other day, the yellow and white stripes, sticking out amongst the others who are wearing solid darker colored clothing.
What now? Walk up to him and say ‘Hey, how’s it going? I’m doing great with the woman you sold me to!’ Think Rain, think!
Despite needing some sort of plan, the only thing I can think of is to lure him outside and into an alleyway.
I need the information he has. If I can get him alone I just might be able to get it from him.
My feet carry me over to the seat next to his and I sit down, placing my elbows down on the counter with fists clasped together. I rest my weight forward and glance in his direction.
“Hey,” I start.
He glances at me, seeming to show no sign of emotion then returns to his tall glass
of ale.
“Hey.” I raise the tone of my voice a few notches.
“I have nothing to say to you, servant.”
“Do you remember all of the faces of the people you kidnap?”
“Get lost.”
“I’m going to make you pay for what you did.”
“You are lucky you are owned now. It might look like I was trying to cheat the person who bought you if I killed you only shortly after their purchase.”
“You can only kill the defenseless. How about you and I step outside and see if you can kill me?”
In one big gulp he swallows the rest of his swill from his half full glass and stands up. Quickly getting up, I move to the door and motion for him to follow me. I exit the building, doing my best to show no wavering, no fear, no emotion, but inside my rage builds against this abomination of a person.
By instinct, I quickly scout out a secluded alleyway. Looking back, I see he has accepted my taunt and is following me. His size is intimidating, but I’m confident that now we are one-on-one – and I am not shackled – I can take him.
Steadily I walk into my scouted alleyway and find a few vagabonds. They take no notice of me until Burly darkens the entrance to the alley. They all double-take.
“Move along,” I shoo them off.
They’re quick to do as I suggest with Burly behind me acting like a scarecrow. When they’re far enough away, I step farther into the alleyway until I reach an intersection that leads down the back of other buildings. Nothing else is in my mind but taking him down and making him talk. Freezing in place for a moment my thoughts scream.
Fight dirty!
Slowly I turn around, only to find him reaching at me with hands the size of a bear’s paw.
As he comes in to grab me I let my rage loose and charge from only a few feet distance, jamming my knee into his groin. Giving him no time to retaliate as he begins to double over, I kick his left knee out from under him and he collapses to all fours on the ground. Stepping toward him I begin to yell at him in rage.
“You’re going to tell me everything you know about the slave operation in this region or I’m going to stomp your jaw until the only thing you can eat is mush.”
His response is to retaliate rather than talk. He swings his arm out trying to catch my legs, but I jump back in time. Standing up he wobbles a bit, his head likely still spinning from the pain in his groin.
Pulling out a blackjack he attempts desperately to hit me with it, waiving it around wildly. Ducking and moving, I keep close to him so that even if he does hit me, it won’t be at full force due to the limited space he has to swing. As I do so, I find I am able to shift to the side and pound his ribs.
While I want to beat him unconscious, I keep enough sense to hold back so that he’ll be able to answer my questions. When I throw a punch at him he gets a lucky shot in while my guard is down, hitting me with the blackjack in the shoulder. It fazes me for a moment, enough to allow him to grab me and squeeze.
I don’t think so.
With my feet still touching the ground, I bend my knees, drop my weight and then slam my feet on the ground, springing up, angling the top of my head toward his jaw. It cracks loudly as it slams together and his grip loosens enough for me to wiggle out. As he rubs his jaw, he attempts to defend himself with his weapon.
I charge once again, slamming both fists into his sternum. When he bends over, I jump up, grab the back of his head with both hands and let my weight pull him and me over. As my feet touch down, I pull hard and slam his jaw on my knee. I hear teeth break. When I let go of his head, he collapses onto his side, grabbing his jaw and moaning in pain.
“You think you can kidnap just anyone and not have repercussions eventually? You picked the wrong person,” I lash him with my words.
Kicking him in the side, I watch him wince and spit broken teeth and blood out. It takes a moment, but he pulls himself into a sitting position and scoots backwards to the building adjacent from me.
“Isht jusht buthineth,” his speech is slurred almost to the point that I can’t distinguish what he’s saying, but I can guess.
“Business? What you do is despicable. I want information about your ‘business’ and you’re going to give it to me, or I swear I will end you,” I yell at him, letting loose the rage I pent up when he killed the father from the wagon.
“I wiww nawt thawk.”
“Then you choose death!” To show my anger, I move over to him and kick him several times. Grabbing him by his mangy hair I yank him around until he is face down on the ground and then stomp on his neck once. “You have one last chance to talk and tell me about the slave ring. Save yourself, worm, and give up your friends. I already know you have no honor.”
“Thine! Thine!”
“Is that supposed to be ‘fine’?”
“Yeth.”
“Do it and I’ll let you up.”
“They are too largthe thor you to thake. Our leadther ith a neihhboring king.”
“Do you have bases? Hideouts?”
“Yeth.”
“Where?”
He hesitates, but when I grab his blackjack and stick it into a soft spot in his spine he winces and talks. “They are thpread out.”
“Which direction?”
“North-wetht. A cave carved into a hiwwthide.”
“Hillside?”
“Yeth.”
“Any operatives left in the city besides you?”
“An inthormant. I ownly know him ath the man with the owang bewet.”
“The what?”
“Owang bewet. A thlat hat.”
“A hat? That’s what you’re giving me to go on? No, you will take me to your hideout.”
“No. You might ath weww kiww me.”
“Fine.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I bludgeon him in the back of his head as hard as I can with the blackjack several times, until I can no longer hear his labored breathing. I tossing the bloody blackjack aside. Though I should be appalled at my brutality, instead I feel vindicated by the justice served to him.
Did I really just kill him? I know he murdered a man in my presence, but is that why I feel no remorse for this action? He had it coming, but was I really the one to do it?
I suppose it’s moot now and I need to find the man with the orange hat, get Evalyn out of Tamiell’s house and find the slavers ring.
Checking his body before I leave the alleyway yields his coin pouch and I confiscate it. When I open it, I find a couple gold pieces and a couple random silver and copper coins. Exiting the alley reveals passersby who seem to either not notice what happened or they just don’t care. The sun feels nice as it beams down on me. I close my eyes and soak it up for a minute.
Returning to my original path, I follow the flow of the city’s inhabitants, making my way to ‘Renald’s Lumber’ without further incident. The business, that occupies a booth built into the corner of a building, is busy. I’m forced to wait for several minutes before I’m even addressed.
There is only one man inside the booth, which I can only assume is Renald, and he is a very plain merchant. His prices are listed on a sign, carved in and the letters painted white. The Duchess mentioned that what she sent me here for should cost fifteen silver pieces but he apparently has raised his price since she last bought. The total for all three added together is eighteen silver pieces.
I wonder if I can I haggle with him.
“Next!” The man calls out.
I move up and answer his call, “I am next. I need two bundles of wood and one of moss and kindling.”
“Eighteen silver.”
“Duchess Tamiell said that it should only cost fifteen.”
“Yeah, well costs rise as I have to go farther and farther out for my supply. Eighteen silver or get out of my face.”
“Sir, I implore you to reconsider. Does the Duchess not bring you good and constant business?” Though I’m not sure if she actually does, I do what I can to bluff. From the lo
ok on his face, it’s working.
“Fine, since you are working for her I will give you a discount. Seventeen silver coins and you have yourself a deal.”
Better than no discount, I decide to take it, “Done. The Duchess appreciates it.”
He hefts out my three bundles from the back of his cove in the building, setting them down harshly on the cobblestone street. The bundles of chopped wood are the size of my torso and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get them back to Duchess Tamiell’s place.
When I attempt to pick them up by a loop in the rope with one arm each I find that they’re so heavy I can barely lift them off the ground. Setting them down, I sling the bundle of moss and kindling over my shoulder and tie it underneath my armpits with a bit of excess rope so I don’t have to fuss with it while trying to drag the heavier bundles along. Making my way back is grueling work, dragging along at a snail’s pace.
At least this will keep me fit.
When I reach Duchess Tamiell’s house in its little dead-end street, I set down the bundles, grab the knob and open the door. Cool air breezes across my face and it feels good. One after the other, I drag the wood into the house and to the wood room, and then unload the kindling and moss. But my job is now only half over. The Duchess still needs me to purchase the meat cuts for her. Back outside, I begin making long strides back toward the market.
I stay alert for any men with hats. If I took Burly’s slurred words right, it’s an orange ‘beret’. While I’m not familiar with that style, I can’t imagine many men around here would be wearing an orange hat at all.
When I reach the street with the bar where I confronted Burly, I find there is a crowd gathering around the alley. Not wanting to be fingered as the culprit by anyone that may have seen me, I move on quickly. Turning left on Renald’s street and following it down leads me into a larger market area. The first butcher shop I come across has a wooden sign hanging out from the doorway that simply says ‘Butcher’ in white paint. I enter and join a line of half-a-dozen people waiting to either drop their orders off or pick them up. When my turn comes, I step up to a slightly pudgy butcher who looks like he probably eats a bit too much of his own product. I hand him Duchess Tamiell’s list and after he studies it carefully he nods at me.
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