There!
The man was setting down his barrel first onto The Regent's table and smiling at the governor as he asked to be served a drink.
Walter inhaled and shouted at the top of his lungs, "PIP! THE REGENT! GRAB HIM! EVERYONE TAKE COVER! ASSASSIN!" he pointed to the man standing next to The Regent.
The mysterious man's charm eroded away as he realized he was discovered and reached for the closest candle. Guards from all across the room raced for him, toppling over things and smacking into the assassin.
The Regent stood up to back away as fast as possible as nobles throughout the area started to scream in panic. Pip's knee-jerk reaction caused him to charge The Regent at a full sprint. His body hit the noble so hard that they were both knocked over and collapsed down one of the three staircases that the hall provided.
Walter saw Richard and William look at him, confused and frozen in terror for a moment. The loyal manservant growled in frustration and sprinted to their table, successfully flipping it over in a haze of adrenaline as a barrier against what he knew was about to hit them. Walter had smacked into a dozen nobles trying to flee the scene as they ran for the stairs, but he fortunately got to Richard and William in time. He instinctively reached for the two girls.
The assassin braved through three guards before dropping the candle into the barrel.
Walter grabbed Richard's arm and pulled her and William close to him in a choking embrace as he pressed his back onto the barricaded table.
"For the House of Poděbrady!" the assassin roared at the top of his lungs, watching his own death ignite.
*As the candle fell into the depths of the barrel, it briefly illuminated, had anyone been there to look, a most curious arrangement of linen bags adhered in neat rows all about its inner wall and dangling from cross beams that ran about its frame like wooden ribs. As the flame licked the skin of the bags on its way down, a violent flaring of sparks burst forth from several spraying, flaming ribbons and powdery ashes about the inside, coating the other containers in fire. As the air in the barrel was consumed by the flames, had anyone been there to feel it, they might have noticed the whistling inrush of wind being sucked into the barrel's open head, the dark powder spilling out of the bags whisked into a grey cloud for the briefest of moments.
The wine barrel erupted in flames like a miniature volcano, thick black smoke belching upward with enough force to strike the ceiling as the expanding gasses within sought escape. It was not enough -not nearly enough. Half a second later, the barrel blew apart, fragments the size of an arm cart-wheeling about, spraying nobles with flaming shrapnel and splinters. Those on the same side of the room as the explosion felt their organs cave in and rupture, their bodies kicked into the air to be tossed like ragdolls against tables, chairs, walls, and other people. Eardrums ruptured and bled as the sound passed through human tolerance and kept going until, for everyone who survived, the world would be a ringing haze for days to come.
Undetonated bags of gunpowder flew from the explosion to burst on surfaces across the far side of the room, covering cowering survivors in burning ashes that melted skin and ignited hair. Clothes and tablecloths went up in flames, the stink of burning flesh mixing with the foul miasma of sulfur that permeated a room which now resembled a scene from Hell.
Thick black smoke settled in to coat everything in darkness, robbing the people of air and changing the screams of the survivors into hacking, gasping fits as they drowned in the thick tarry soup that was fast-filling their lungs.*
Nobles from around the room clawed at their bodies, desperately trying to pat out the flaming shrapnel bits that penetrated and ignited their clothing; but every time their hands came into contact with the inflicted areas, skin would slough off in sheets and only cause exponentially more pain.
Richard heard William scream as the barricaded table shielding them from the blast was shoved violently as a response to the compression wave that burst outward. The table hurled them to the walls of the castle and crashed into the rock with a resounding quake of aftermath. It groaned, but the hard, thick, and aged wood did not break.
Walter braced himself as he felt his body slammed into the rock wall. He was pushed away from Richard and William, releasing his embrace on them as they each were thrown mercilessly into the castle wall. Bones cracked and caved with each person, followed by pained moans and yelps as the wood finally settled in its new and cramped spot.
Focusing his eyes as he raised his arm, Walter discovered that the limb was broken in two places and dangling from his elbow. He quickly turned away from the horrid sight, thankful for the numbness that had spread all across his arm, to check on Richard and William. There was absolutely no time whatsoever to worry about his own health.
Both girls were not responding to Walter's cries. He shouted their names, or he thought he did. The deafening cracks of the explosion made Walter feel as though his ears had nearly ruptured. He assumed he was yelling their names, but it just sounded like he was speaking under water, if at all. He managed to gain control of his legs and began to scoot closer to the girls.
William was the first to wake, instantly covering her ears in agony as a flaming packet fell straight into her lap, setting her dress on fire. She screamed and swatted it away, searing her fingers in the process. Glancing up, she saw Walter crawling over with one good arm and wrapping it around as much of her body as he could, patting down her singed hair and dress as more undetonated linen wraps of gunpowder showered over them. Walter suddenly felt a deep and bottomless pit of dread in his stomach that warned him something far worse was about to rear its ugly head. Sure enough, on cue, an acrimonious plume of continuous smoke coasted in over the table.
"Where is Richard?" Walter began to hack on the spreading, caustic cloud. William shook her head and glanced around in what little space was offered as visible.
"Richard!" she shouted, though all that answered were the excruciating outcries of other people in the room, slowly choking and gargling.
Victor's body was blown back down the staircase from the initial blast as he careened off the spiraling wall. He gasped in pain as he began to fall further and further down the steps he had just ascended. With one giant act, he stomped his feet down and clawed at the passing steps to cease his gathering momentum; he bashed into the wall and dropped into a heap on the last set of stairs at an uncomfortable angle.
All he could begin to hear within his close vicinity were the wails of people; but before Victor heard anything at all, he felt the warmth of a fire on his skin. Something was burning, and it was burning fast.
Victor groaned in determined frustration, though it was filled with fatigue, and raised himself by his arms into a sitting position.
"Come on, Victor, get up," he chided and worked his legs until they allowed him to stand.
Wobbly and shaky for a moment, he gripped the wall and pushed himself forward and up the stairs once more. Hearing nearing screams and wails egged him to go faster as he trail-blazed back up the stairs in seven-league boots.
Skidding at the top and around the corner, he was hit with a massive wave of smoke that instantly filled his lungs. He hacked and spat, but waded his way through, the only light provided being the flickering, spreading fire. People smacked into him, blindly rushing the exits with burnt fingers and clothes and often bleeding from more than one orifice. The unsightly spectacle of it was enough to make his instincts almost coerce him into running back to safety, but he pressed on until his foot hit something solid. Crouching, he noticed a man trying to drag two young women who were choking to death out of the room. Victor's mouth dropped as he recognized who one of the ladies was.
"Lady Richard!" Victor exclaimed and rushed in, picking her up by the waist and reaching for William as well. He paused to look down at their servant, but he promptly shooed them off.
"Go! Take both of them to safety!" Walter gasped for air, crawling as fast as he could to outrun the fire that had ignited the carpets.
Vi
ctor marched through the sludgy air of the hall until, in his good height, he could see the staircase he had used previously to enter. Noting that the smoke was wafting down the steps, he made a mad dash up one floor and set the coughing and dazed girls down for a clean air respite. They were both hardly conscious, but Richard managed to reach out and grip his arm.
"G-get Walter. Our servant. Retrieve him without fail," she inhaled to hack once more and saw the man nod. She then closed her eyes in relief as exhaustion overcame her and she finally blacked out, the world turning darkly peaceful for a time.
Richard woke up to the sounds of birds chirping in the cross-breeze. Before sensing where she was, Richard could feel the sunlight shining on her backside. She opened her eyes meekly to the light of the window -her window in her room.
The young lady stretched her arms within the blanket's folds and sighed happily. The breeze was chilling, but it had a touching and warm familiarity to it. Winter would be arriving soon, and crops would wither, prompting farmers to save up their goods. The changing foliage always decayed beautifully, leaving in its wake a covering of snow that would begin the cycle of growth once more -plants emerging from the ice like a phoenix from its ashes. Richard enjoyed watching the cycle greatly, but a sudden flood of memories tore through her peaceful thoughts like a scythe in a wheat field.
"Oh!" she shot up in her bed, remembering the past events of the night of the explosion.
The commencing dinner.
The speech.
The shout to take cover.
Pip tackling her father and falling down a stairwell.
And then the flash of light followed by the most deafening cracks of explosions.
"Father! Mother!" Richard shouted as she began to rip off her blankets, but not before feeling herself. Everywhere ached in pain, was bleeding in scrapes, was broken and bandaged in a primitive splint, or was purple with bruises. Tears of agony spilled out across her face as a shadow appeared and thrust something hot and burning down her throat.
"The Regent is safe, if not a bit bruised and out of sorts," Walter suddenly appeared and grasped her hands to kiss them, "Shh, everything is alright." His eyes were blackened and bruised, his hair patched with bald spots, there were bandages across his entire front poking out of his attire, and his left arm was in a sling with wrappings up to his shoulder. Pip was also present with an encouraging smile and no injuries of which to speak.
Richard gasped when she herself felt bald spots across her scalp, bare and naked for all the world to see, "My hair...Where is-"
"William was sitting next to you, Matthias was in the kitchen sneak-eating, and your mother was trying to find the ladies-in-waiting. They are all of them now sleeping in their respective rooms, as was Pip and I. Your father is in his chambers also sleeping off his wounds. We recovered quicker than most."
"And the casualties?"
"There were many casualties. The men who tackled the Assassin closest to the barrel that exploded were killed -you saw the flying body parts of burnt fingers, a torso here, a foot there, part of a head still in its helmet. The nobles all along that side of the table were hit with shrapnel pieces of wood and killed by the blast. Anyone who was close to the barrel and had exposed flesh was burned severely and knocked into the wall. The rest of us on the other side of the room who barricaded were knocked down with broken bones or have severe burns from the fire thereafter."
"How long was I asleep?"
"About two days," Pip answered as Walter deferred to his information.
Richard felt her arms tighten and her fists clench, her eyesight even morphing into a red haze.
"Who did this?" her voice sounded deep and gravely, trickling with vengeance.
Pip smiled, "My lady, that's what we are currently figuring out. The best place for you is to be here, next to your younger sister," he looked downward at William with restrained adoration.
Richard turned her neck and felt it strain, but the sight of her sister sleeping so soundly caused her rage from within to simmer down to a low boil. There were a few scrapes that saddened the perfect picture of a mop of strawberry-blonde curls, and there were myriad bruises -some even continuing underneath her blankets. Her head was wrapped in bandages as well with the slightest hint of red blood peeking at the surface. The look of plain white terror had vanished and William's body had relaxed, at least. The balanced state of tranquility had been restored, if only for a time.
Pip's smile softened to passivity, "You heard the last words that the Assassin declared, correct?"
Richard fought through her mental barriers that were already erecting walls to repress the raw and still bleeding memories within her psyche. However, it only took her a second to remember the unfortunate name that resounded in her head over and over.
"Yes, I do. 'For the House of Poděbrady'. I do not-I refuse to believe him," she heard herself say.
Walter nodded and gave her hand a light squeeze, "His family is being investigated as we speak, my lady. We cannot blithely throw a noble house in the dungeon, but, as you recall, Lord George was not there."
"But Victor was. He was the first person I saw as the explosion rocked us and nearly split the tables in two. He raced up to me and carried me out. Victor dragged twenty others. He is a hero! He could not have done this," Richard assured him as she uncovered herself from the comfort of the warm blankets once more, only to look horrified at her blue and purple legs, one of which had the worst imaginable gash along her shin.
Pip made her drink from the cup once more, and Richard began to relax, taking the drink and gulping down the rest of it. She recognized the taste now. It was hard mead.
Walter looked up into her eyes and witnessed genuine concern and strong belief, "You recognized him from the portrait that you two exchanged of one another, and he you, as well."
"Yes, and I will not have him in the dungeon because of what some Assassin stated. The Assassin could as well be setting a family up for execution in the hope that it would destabilize our unity against the Ottoman Empire's threat!" she reasoned and inhaled for air, realizing that she had placed too much faith in her kingdom.
Walter chuckled and patted the top of her head, "My, my. Still as keen and perceptive as ever, even with a few bumps on your forehead. Fear not, Victor is in no dungeon, for it was he who dragged all of us out of the deadly smoke and fire. Were it not for his bold and daring act, you and I might not be talking here today. His father is the one in question."
A somber expression weighed down her delicate features, "His family I cannot vouch for," she then frowned at the ground, "Wait…how could Victor know about an Assassin and warn us in the nick of time if his family did NOT contract one against us?"
Walter then changed positions in his seat. At first, Richard took a moment to observe just what it was that caused it, but then she realized that it was an overhanging feeling of dread with an undertone of despair. He looked at her from an angle, which she instantly recognized as his position assumed when dealing with a very delicate matter at which she would usually blow up. Reaching down, he pulled up a full bottle of mead and filled Richard's glass, handing it to her.
"There…is another problem. Ladislaus and Vincent returned, and they were the ones who caught wind of this Assassin. It was a product from their trip to Bagamér, when Ladislaus found a scrap of cloth bearing the lion of Ismail -their sign. They both had an inkling that it was a trap to lure Ladislaus out and into the open, away from the safety of the castle."
So that is where Vincent roamed off to…Richard interrupted, "What is the problem, then?" Her head felt slightly heavy.
Walter swallowed and cleared his throat, "The problem is that they were right, and not only were they right, but a team of Assassins ambushed them and murdered everyone. They were the only survivors."
"Are they alright?" she reached for his sleeve and felt her heart beat faster with every passing second that was silent, "ARE THEY? Walter!"
"Ladislaus is beyond reach. He
is all but gone to us. He is unresponsive to any stimuli we give him but he continues to breathe. Zargo, our apothecary, believes it to be a slight coma. He is still alive but he must be dressed, fed, and changed daily. He just…he just sleeps and sleeps. That is the best way I can describe it. Victor found them in the brush not a mile outside of the castle, and that was when Vincent explained to him everything that had transpired," Walter stopped talking to hug Richard.
Her eyes began to mist and then water the fronts of her cheeks like a rain flood in the spring. She choked back soft sobs and pushed against Walter, loath to receive any affection. But his grip overpowered her weak and purple arms as they screamed in pain from exertion. She gave in and succumbed to his warm embrace.
"L-let go of me," her body stiffened in hot enmity as she controlled her crying to a standstill.
He hesitantly released her and backed away, standing up. She could immediately tell that his feelings were hurt, though it took an expert to notice, "Your ladies-in-waiting shall arrive any minute to take care of you. I have some important business to which I must attend. Will you be alright here?"
She nodded, "Where is Ladislaus now?" Richard asked as kindly as she could.
Pip answered, "In the barracks. He was originally with Zargo, but his room is now filled with the injured and their more immediate needs. Farewell, my lady," he left the room.
"If there is anything you need, I am but a step away," Walter paused for a moment in the hope that she would want him to return to her, but when all she did was nod, Walter bowed, shut the door, and continued on down the hallway with Pip to The Regent's chamber.
Vincent turned in his bed and heard the cot squeak in frustration at him. He groaned in pain as it felt like thousands of needles were pinching, poking, and prodding at his entire right side. They each stabbed and jabbed at his numb flesh that was beginning to sense again, staying a moment to sting his nerves and then ceasing. The man sensed that he was in a cold sweat and threw the bed sheets off of himself for fresh, cool air to seep in.
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