Chapter 17 - What Lies Beneath

The stench in the sewers was horrible. Matthew knew that it was bad from the few times he passed near a street runoff after a storm, but being in the tunnels themselves was far worse. He could just barely make out large rats that scurried away as the torch light neared them, their black bead-like eyes seeming to curse the foreigners before they disappeared further into the tunnels.

“This is grotesque,” Jaron commented as he watched something float down the waterway to their right.

Matthew laughed, but cut it short to limit the amount of foul air he took in, “Is it as great as the adventures you dreamed you would have?”

Jaron shot Matthew a look, but held his tongue. Matthew could hear Alexander chuckling from in front of the two. He had taken the lead, and Jaron and Matthew did not argue. For Matthew, it had little to do with whether the older man held the torch or not, but Alexander knew how to handle himself. Matthew could tell from his stride, and the way his right hand stayed on his sword, ready to draw at a moments notice.

The three stayed quite for most of the trip, none wanting to speak as they went deeper and the stench of the sewers got worse. Eventually they came to a set of stairs that went deeper, breaking off from the waterway. Alexander said nothing as he turned and started down the stairs. Matthew assumed that the man’s instructions had covered getting to where ever it was they were going, as his did not.

“Do you know where you are going?” Jaron asked, his voice echoing through the small stairwell and down the tunnel behind them.

Alexander did not turn to look at them as he spoke, “I am just following the instructions I was given. If they are correct, then at the bottom of these stairs we should find a door with a unique locking mechanism.”

Matthew and Jaron gave each other a curious look, but kept quiet. The stairs seemed to travel down forever. The stone of the walls began to change, looking older and less worked. The stairs changed too. They went from the steep, shallow stairs that were part of the sewers, to wide stairs that were almost platforms.

What made Matthew feel the most uncomfortable was that darkness before them. Usually Matthew felt comfortable in darkness, but this darkness was different. He was use to the shadows of the city. A city he was familiar with. This was different, unfamiliar, and he could not shake the feeling that something was not right.

Alexander stopped, his torch illuminating what seemed to be a door with no knob. Alexander crouched to examine the door, but finally stood, shaking his head.

“Let me look at it,” Matthew said, stepping forward, “Just keep the torch light on it.”

He inspected the door closely, running his hands along the the frame, if it could be called that, and along the area where the knob or handle would normally be. He felt nothing strange, and saw even less. When he turned to look back, something caught his eye near the bottom of the wall to the right of the door. Taking the torch from Alexander he thrust it towards what he had seen. Near the bottom, almost completely covered by waste left by the overflow from the waterways above, was a small hole.

Matthew pushed some of the mess away from the hole with his boot and crouched down to examine the hole more closely. It began at the floor and was only just large enough for a hand to be put into it. He carefully slid his hand and arm in, moving slowly in case it was trapped in some way. Feeling around, he felt a level. He moved it slightly to find how it worked before finally pushing it away.

There was a loud thunk that came from the direction of the door. Alexander pushed on it, but there did not seem to be any difference. Matthew took the torch and began examining the walls to each side of the platform. He soon found and identical hole, exactly opposite from the first he had found. He cleared away the area and found the level inside, pushing it away from him. There was another noise, identical to the first, but again nothing happened.

Matthew thought for a moment before looking to his companions, “Maybe both levers have to be used at the same time. One of you use the other lever, pushing it away from you at the same time I use this one.”

Jaron moved to the other wall, kneeling down with a disgusted frown at the mess on the floor, “Ready?” He asked, looking back at Matthew who nodded back to him, “Now.”

Matthew pushed his lever and a loud crash came from the door. A moment after the noise the door slid down into the floor. Stale air blew past them. From the air, it was obvious that the door had not been opened for ages. Alexander took back the torch and thrust it through the door. The light from the small torch barely touched the darkness of whatever was beyond. Matthew estimate that the cavern had to be massive.

Alexander stepped through the now open door. Matthew had hoped at first that the stale air would be a welcome difference from the sewage tainted air they had been breathing, but though the doorway was little better. The smell of sewage was weaker, but a different scent filled the area they now stood.

The torch moved through the space they stood, Alexander trying to see what the darkness hid. Finally the light reflected off something. Matthew at first thought it was water, but when the torch neared it, it ignited. A trail of flame traveled the across the wall, heading down. It lit a stairway that seemed to be carved from the stone of the wall.

Matthew watched as the flame traveled along the wall, racing across the liquid contained in the trough. The size of the cavern soon became clear to him. It was enormous. Matthew was certain that all the keeps of all the lord in Garlin would not fill the empty space. The flame finally curved around to where it was hidden by the platform the three men stood on.

“What is this place?” Jaron spoke, even the whisper seemed to echo throughout the room.

Alexander was the next to speak, just as quiet as Jaron had been, “I have no idea, but to think that this is hidden underneath Garlin. Who knew of this place?”

Matthew remained silent, awe holding his tongue. Alexander was the first to move, beginning down the stairs. The other two quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind. As Alexander put his weight down on the fourth step, there was a click from behind them. They all turned just in time to see that stone door slide back up into place, trapping them.

Jaron rushed back to the door, searching, but Matthew’s eyes saw what his glanced over. On this side of the door, where the handle and keyhole would normally be, was an indentation in the stone. Matthew walked over, placing a hand on Jaron’s shoulder to calm him and pointed at the indentation.

The indentation was a smooth, half-circle carved into the solid stone. Even spaced apart in the half-circle was a hole, not even large enough for Matthew to place his little finger in.

“Looks like we’ll need a key,” Matthew said, turning to look away and into the empty space of the cavern, “I just hope it is in here somewhere.”

Alexander started down the steps again, Matthew and Jaron close behind. The steps followed the wall of the cavern, a slow curve due to the size of the underground chamber. Alexander had extinguished the torch, no longer needed due to the oil fed flames that lit the expanse.

After nearly ten minutes of following the stairs, Matthew could finally make out where they ended. Using the distance they had already travelled as a judge, Matthew estimated that it would take them nearly half an hour to reach the bottom of the cavern. Jaron groaned and Matthew assumed that he had made the same judgement, but the group continued on.

Matthew took the time to examine what waited for the three at the bottom of the chamber. He could not really make out any details, but the general idea of the area seemed clear to him. About fifty paces from the ending of the stairs was a cube, Matthew assumed of stone. It looked small from that distance, but he used the stairs to approximate the size and guessed it to be roughly one hundred paces square. He could not estimate the height, but he guessed it would be at least that tall.

He continued to examine the area. As they grew nearer the bottom, and moved around so that what Matthew had marked as the front of the cube was in view, he noticed something else. In front of the cube stood two gargoyles. Matthew had seen such carved guardians on the walls of the keeps in Garlin. Most of them were ghoulish creatures, though some nobles preferred less horrific statues to mark their home.

These were something completely different. While the statues were usually basically human, though they may have claws or wings, occasionally they were sculpted with fangs or gaping maws. The statues outside the cube looked like sleek dogs. They had to be at least two times are large as any dog Matthew had ever seen in the city, but that was the only real difference.

The massive dogs looked to be carved from stone colored black as night. The sat on raised platforms to either side of the path that led from the stairs to the cube. They looked like noble beasts; like a loyal guard hound, well bred and kept. They sat back on their hind legs, heads held high, mouths closed.

When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Jaron commented, “Such magnificent statues. I wonder would carved them, and how old they are, to be down here?”

The trough of oil and fire travelled along both sides of the path. A section of the trough somewhere must have split off and traveled inside the wall of the cavern, as the second trough to the right of the path seemed to flow straight out of the wall, though it was completely aflame.

The three moved forward, moving towards the massive raised statues. The hair on the back of Matthew’s neck stood straight. Something felt wrong. That is when he saw something on the other side of the flames from them, off to the left. It was an arm, or at least it had been an arm. All that remained was the bone.

“Alexander,” he said, pointing at the bones.

The others turned to look, “It looks like others have tried to come down here before,” the older man commented.

A snarl came from further down the path. The three spun to see one of the statues jump down from its platform. The other stretched where it was before hopping down to join its twin. The eyes of the massive creatures seemed to reflect the fires to either side of them. Jaron’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, and Matthew was sure his face was a mirror to the other man’s. Alexander showed a glimpse of surprise, but it disappeared as his sword flew from its sheathe.

Seeing Alexander draw his sword seemed to spark something in Jaron who did the same. The statues never flinched as the ring of steel filled the empty area. Alexander stood strong, feet firmly planted, stance deliberate. Jaron looked to be doing his best to imitate that man, but his apprehension was clear as his eyes darted around and his sword shook in his hand.

Matthew slowly moved backwards, increasing the distance between him and the hounds as he drew the black daggers from their sheathes. He watched the animals, he believed them to be living creatures now, not just moving statues. The idea of moving statues seemed absurd, but so did the idea of the two massive creatures that now stood before him.

One of the large hounds barked, the cry echoing throughout the cavern. As the jaws of the creature opened it revealed flames. Matthew then realized what he had believed to be reflections in the beasts eyes were not, it was as if someone had taken a fire and wrapped the pelt of a dog around it.

The two groups stood watching each other, the dogs pacing back and forth, keeping any from getting past them to the stone wall with two large doors. Matthew had not noticed the doors before, but now saw that the massive stone cube was actually a building of sorts. His curiosity grew, wondering what it was inside the building.

Before he could figure out what secrets were held in the building, they would have to get by the creatures that blocked their path. The beasts watched, never flinching, not making any noise since the first bark. Matthew’s eyes darted to Alexander and Jaron, both stood still. Matthew realized he two had stopped moving backwards, probably when the hound had barked.

Suddenly Alexander darted towards one of the massive dogs. Neither creature wasted any time. The one Alexander threatened leapt back, jaws snapping. The other ran past the older man and darted towards Jaron. The other young man leapt to one side, the large jaws of the creature just missing his leg. Jaron hit the floor hard but managed to roll into a crouching position.

Matthew was shocked to see the noble rush back in at the beast. He swung his sword with practiced control, but the hound easily dodged the strike. The two stared each other down, the hound now unsure of his prey, and Jaron now committed to the fight.

Matthew was frozen in place, unable to move. His instincts told him to run, get away, leave the others to fend for themselves. Something else told him he was bound to these men now, and if they died, there was little chance he would outlive them for long.

Alexander was almost twenty paces away now, sword flashing at the beast. The beast’s fangs and claws struck out, hoping to catch Alexander, but the man was too fast, too agile. Matthew still stood frozen. His mind raced going over every possibility and every one seemed to end in their lying dead on the floor, food for these creatures.

It was the cry of one of the hounds that broke his thinking. Alexander had managed to strike flesh with one of his blows and his hound now limped on its right front leg. The wound seemed to embolden the older man, who wasted no time striking out again. The hound leapt back again and collapsed on his wounded leg, allowing Alexander to make contact again, another strike across the chest of the beast. Dark red, almost black blood oozed from the wounds.

Jaron’s eyes moved to see what was going on. As he looked away the second hound leapt at him. Matthew moved without thinking. He rushed at the creature, gripping the daggers tightly. Any thought of running away vanished as Matthew charged.

The hound’s head turned to see the oncoming threat. His front paws hit the ground, barely a single pace from Jaron for the massive beast. The hound pivoted, his next leap towards Matthew. Another leap and the jaws opened, ready to tear Matthew’s throat. Matthew threw himself to the ground, sliding underneath that black beast. He struck out with one of his daggers and felt the blade pierce flesh.

The beast howled as the blade ripped through muscle. Jaron stopped sliding as he heard the large dog land hard on the path behind him. As Matthew rose to his feet, Jaron blew past him at a full run. The hound turned just in time for Jaron to drive his sword into its flank.

The hound cried out again, snapping at Jaron. He jumped back, the sword still sticking out of the shoulder of the beast. Matthew took the opportunity to charge again. The beast was having trouble standing. Matthew’s cut had been along the beast’s abdomen and blood poured from the wound. Between the grievous injury and Jaron’s sword in its shoulder, the beast stumbled.

Matthew leapt into the air, landing on the beasts back. Before the animal could react, Matthew drove twin blades into the hound’s neck, just behind its ears. The beast howled again and flames flew from its mouth as if whatever held them inside the beast was gone. Matthew withdrew his blades and jumped off the creature, creating distance between himself and the beast. Jaron dashed in, grabbing his sword and pulling it from the hound’s shoulder before running to join Matthew.

The beast continued to howl, fire streaming from its mouth as it did so. Then, as if the flames could no longer be contained, the entire creature ignited. The flames were only a flash, but the beast was completely burned away. All that remained was a scorched area on the path to signify that something had burned there.

There was another howl and sudden flash of heat from behind Matthew. He spun to see Alexander lowering his arm from his eyes, a similar scorch mark on the ground a few paces from the older man. The cavern grew silent as the echoes of the howl died away. The only noise was the dull roar of the oil fed flames.

The three men came together, each one breathing heavily, though Alexander seemed to be breathing less hard that Jaron and Matthew. They looked each other for a moment before each one scanned the room around them for signs of any other danger to their lives.

“What were those things?” Jaron asked, looking to Alexander for an answer.

The other man rolled his shoulders as he took a cloth from his belt and wiped the blood from his sword, “I can’t be sure, but they seemed to match the description of a Fire Hound a little too well for my tastes.”

Matthew took the cloth, offered to him by Alexander and wiped his own blades clean before offering it to Jaron as the other man began to speak, “Fire Hounds? I thought there were none left. I was taught that they were hunted to extinction thousands of years ago, being too violent and unpredictable to be allowed to ravage that lands any longer.”

“That is what I learned too, but, dogs the size of a small horse that seem to contain fire within them and are engulfed by those flames when they die? Sounds like what we just experienced doesn’t it?” Alexander said plainly.

Jaron began to wipe his sword, “I suppose, but still, to imagine they could survive down here for so long.”

“I would imagine they managed to survive in some sort of hibernation, only waking when someone approached them. They seemed to be the guardians of whatever is down here.” Alexander theorized, taking the cloth from Jaron and throwing it into one of the nearby troughs of fire.

Matthew shook his head before speaking, “I could really care less what they were. They are dead now and we still have to get whatever it is we are down here to get.”

“Agreed,” Alexander said, turning to look at the large doors of the building beyond, “Let’s go.”

Neither Jaron nor Matthew protested as the man led them down the path. Matthew’s  eyes continually looked over the room. He still held his daggers, not wanting to sheathe them should a new threat present itself. When they reached the doors, it was apparent that they two were made of stone, though they were carved to resemble iron bound, wooden doors.

Alexander began to push on one of the doors and it ground heavily against the floor, moving barely a fingers with before Alexander stopped, releasing a breath. He motioned for Jaron and Matthew to help him. The three of them began to push and the door moved. Slowly at first, but it was not long before they had it open far enough for them to move into the room beyond, one at a time. As Matthew stepped through the door he was engulfed by a bright light, blinding light.

Chapter 16 - Into the Night

Alexander glanced at the letter from General Therad one last time. The information given to him by Captain Edbar said that tonight would be when Alexander and the men chosen by Lord Bething would venture under the city. He had been uncomfortable with the idea, but understood the importance of stopping any that would use the weapon, Alexander did not know what it was but had begun to think of whatever it was as a weapon, would use the weapon to harm those he was sworn to protect.

He stood from the chair behind the sturdy desk and made his way out of the office and into the hallway. Men were scattered along the hall, some heading to the rooms assigned to them further down, others making their way to the mess to get a late supper. Almost all saluted to Alexander as he made his way amongst them, and he returned the salute, but other than that paid them no mind.

He was looking for Jogan. He had written instructions of Jogan, should Alexander fail to accomplish the task set before him. He asked one of his riders if they had seen Alexander’s second, and he was told that Jogan was last seen in the mess. Entering the large dining room, Alexander scanned the faces of those there. Jogan found Alexander first, standing and walking towards him.

“Lieutenant, care to join me and some of the men for a meal?” The large man asked with a smile.

Alexander shook his head, “I wish I could friend, but I have a task to do,” Alexander took the letter sealed with the mark of the sixth cavalry unit and pressed it into the other man’s hand, “If for any reason I don’t come back by morning, I want you to open this and do exactly as it says.”

“Is there a problem Lieutenant?” Jogan asked, worry marking his face.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, “I hope not. However, I don’t want to take any chances. Do you understand me?”

“If you are not back by morning,” Jogan nodded, reciting what Alexander had said.

“Good,” Alexander stiffened and saluted the man. Before even waiting to see if Jogan returned the gesture, Alexander was back out the door.

He made his way out into the night of the city. The guards at the gate to the compound paid him no mind as he made his way past them. Alexander breathed heavily. Something did not feel right, but he could not place what it was. He grabbed one of the night patrol torches and lit it in one of the braziers that stood to each side of the gate. Holding it out in front of him he made he way.

The streets were nearly empty, with most people in the homes enjoying dinner with their families. Those that were on the streets yet gave him polite nods as he walked along. He did not rush himself, not wanting to raise any suspicions, but he was deliberate. He stopped for nothing, wasting no time getting to his destination.

He appeared to be the first to arrive at the grate in the city wall he had been told was the meeting place. A torch mount was driven into the wall near the grate. Alexander placed his torch in it and leaned against the wall, waiting for whoever else was suppose to arrive.

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Jaron sat at the desk in his bedchamber. He looked over the instructions Celes had sent to him. It was all vague. He was to meet some others near a grate in the wall of the city. It listed the intersection, but not who he was to meet. It aggravated him that he did not have all the information. Celes had warned that they could not risk revealing too much information, but he wished that he had something more.

He glanced down at himself. He did not wear his usual clothes. Instead of the finely made garments he was use to, these clothes were simple. They fit well enough, but they were loose in some areas, and tighter in others. He had found a servant that was about his size and asked if he could borrow some simple clothes. The servant didn’t question Jaron about why he needed anything simple, he simply did as he was asked. Jaron thought that the man must have assumed it an order, and was sure that he would not do anything to disobey one of the members of the house.

He looked out the window, the sun was disappearing behind the city walls. Standing, he moved to the door. He had to make it out of the manor without being noticed, or at least without anyone knowing his true intentions. Should word reach his father that he left the manor without first informing him, he had no doubt, regardless of what Lord Kensly had said at the banquet a few nights ago, that Jaron would be in a depth of trouble he would not soon escape.

He listened at the door and not hearing anyone, stepped out into the hall. The sword on his hip rattled a bit at his jerky motions, but Jaron held a hand around it to muffle any other noises it would make. He hurried down the hall, taking care to check around corners before hurrying along. It was strange that the halls were so empty, he was use to seeing servants bustling about, cleaning and organizing the items that decorated the corridors. They tended to do so later in the day, when the members of the family were resting and not likely to be walking between rooms.

He came to a corner and froze as he heard a woman humming. He pressed himself against the wall and looked. Five paces from him, in the hall he needed to take, stood a serving woman dusting a table decorated with fresh flowers in a silver vase. Jaron cursed under his breathe and he ducked back. He thought maybe he could find his way around the woman, but it would take time, and there was still a chance that he would be found elsewhere.

He took a chance and dashed around the corner, blowing past her. She looked up to see who was running through the hall, but could only make out his back. He hoped that she took him as a servant late for one of his duties. She said nothing, at least nothing audible to him, and he disappeared around another corner.

Finally he made it to one of the side doors that led out to the outer gardens. He had thought about whether it would be a good idea to go through the main gates, but too many of the guards knew his face, and would no doubt question where he was going, especially dressed as he was, and with a sword. Instead, he decided that it would be better to climb the western wall. At that time in the day, the wall would be covered in shadow, and it was unlikely that any guards would be patrolling the gardens, unless his mother or father were there.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Jaron tried to look every way at once. He did not see anyone. Only a few of the torches were even lit, which signaled to Jaron that the gardens were probably empty. He dashed across the lush grasses, paying no mind to the stone walkways. Reaching the stone wall, he searched for a handhold. Finding one he started his climb. The inside of the wall was rough stone, which Jaron’s mother thought added to the look of a natural environment in the garden. Jaron had spent more time than he should have as a young child trying to scale the wall, which he imagined to be a cliff.

He had not tried to climb the wall for a few years now, but since then he had grown much stronger, and thought that it should be no trouble. The wall was only three or four paces tall. He grasped a decent handhold and began his ascent. The first few handholds were easily found, but he began to notice that the higher he got, the more difficult it was to find places to put his hands and feet.

Jaron was grasping for another place to take hold of, to pull himself up, when he felt his right foot begin to slide. His eyes shot to the top of the wall, he estimated that it was a foot higher than his outstretched hand. He gathered as much strength as he could and pushed himself up before his foot could fall off. He just barely grabbed hold of the top of the wall.

He took hold with his other hand and shifted to better his grip. As he did so, he heard a door close. He did not know where from, but he was too close to give up now. He heaved himself to the top of the wall. The other side was built into a hill, but it was still two paces below him. He dropped to the hill, as silently as possible. He grunted as he hit the ground and wasted no time getting away from the manor.

He ran through the streets, trying to recall where it was he needed to be. He was not familiar with the city. Every outing from the manor he had always been in a carriage, or at least on horseback. He had never needed to pay much mind to the routes they took. Jaron had examined a map of the city the day before after recieving the message from Celes, trying to plot out the best route. He tried to remember it, but soon found himself standing in an intersection, looking each way, trying to decide where to go next.

Looking down one street, Jaron saw the wall of the city. He knew that the meeting place was somewhere on the wall, so he decided that a straight line would be his best option. At worst, he would have to trot the wall one direction until he either found his location or figured he was going the wrong way.

Deciding, he jogged down the nearly empty street. There were few people out during that hour of the night, at least few that were willing to be seen. Jaron’s conversation with Matthew had made him look at the city in a new light, aware of some of the hidden going-ons within the walls.

When he reached the wall, he looked one way, following the length of it. He saw a few streets that branched away, back into the city, and he almost looked away. Then his eyes fell on a light coming from the wall. He did not know what it was, but decided that it was his best chance. He jogged along the wall, taking it slow, until he could better make out the area illuminated by a single torch set into the wall. A lone man stood in the intersection, apparently waiting. Jaron decided to take his chances and jogged out into the lit intersection.

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Matthew had spent two days in the cell now, just waiting for any word as to what was going to happen to him. Alexander had said that he would talk to Lord Kensly and Celes had told him that she would convince her uncle, Lord Bething, to hear his case. He knew that both lords were busy men, however he had hoped that things would have been moving along a little faster.

It was not that he necessarily was uncomfortable in the cell. He had been given regular meals, though it was some sort of tasteless mixture of grains and water, it was still edible. His stone cell was cold, but he was in from the outside where it had begun to rain. He had a bed of sorts, a stone slab projecting from the back wall with a single blanket. Yet, however comfortable he could convince himself he was, he was still too well aware that he was imprisoned.

The large door to the room of cells opened and two guards strode in, clubs hanging from their hips. One of the men carried a set of manacles. They were heading to his cell. He stood, walked to the bars at the front of the cell and slid his arms through the bars. One guard unlocked the door and motioned him through. Matthew had been surprised at how reckless they were when it came to moving a prisoner, though he supposed that with a single door, which he new a guard still held, and their heavy clubs, it was unlikely that a single man would be able to fight his way out.

“High Lord Bething had decided to hear your case,” one of the guards said with a contemptuous grin, “If you’re lucky, he’ll just sentence you to spend the rest of your life in this cell.”

Matthew kept his mouth shut. He had decided after being brought into the prison area that he would give the guards no reason to harm him. For the most part it worked. There were a few that were rough with him in the beginning, but after realizing that Matthew wasn’t going to fight back, the seemed to not bother with him.

One large guard placed the manacles tight around his wrists and the two men led him out. They walked down a long hall, past the room that Matthew had been brought to any time someone wished to speak with him. They took a few turns and Matthew found himself standing before a door. One guard stayed behind, a firm grip on the collar of Matthew’s shirt, while the other entered the door. Matthew could only hear murmurs through the wood, but soon the door opened again and Matthew was led through.

The room was large, a raised platform with a heavy desk running the length of it on one wall. A section of the room, separated by a stone wall that stood only about a pace high, held rows of benches. A simple wooden chair sat on his side of the stone wall, facing the platform. On the platform, behind the desk, stood a middle aged man with brown hair, though gray streaked the temples. He wore a magnificent, dark gray suit and carried an ornate dueling cane fitted with a decent sized sapphire.

Matthew assumed the man to be Lord Bething, though he had never really seen the man from the distance he was at now. The guards led Matthew to stand before the wooden chair, the guards to each side of Matthew. One guard placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder while the other still firmly held his collar.

“This is the boy accused of murder?” the man behind the bench asked knowling, his eyes examining Matthew, weighing his worth.

“It is High Lord Bething,” the guard to Matthew’s left said firmly.

Bething began to sit, “Very well, let’s get this over with.”

The guards pushed Matthew down into the chair but kept their positions to his sides. Lord Bething looked over some papers he had in front of him. Matthew supposed they were statements taken by people that witnessed the events two days past.

“You are accused of murdering Allen Ronbar. How is it you plea?” Lord Bething asked, looking up from his papers.

“I don’t know his name, but I admit to killing a man in the streets,” Matthew said, his voice shaking.

Lord Bething nodded, “Explain to me what happened boy.”

Matthew flew into covering the events of that day. He beginning from when he remembered first seeing the man near the cart with the kabobs to when he stabbed Tavira all the way to the guards pulling him from the man. He left out no detail, not wanting to give Lord Bething any reason to think he was hiding anything.

“Your story matches up with most of what I have hear,” Lord Bething said holding up a stack of papers, “a statement from Lieutenant Alexander Varross also states that Allen Ronbar stabbed this young girl,” he glanced over one of the papers, “Tavira, and that you and the Lieutenant both chased after the man.”

Matthew remained silent until it was obvious that the High Lord was waiting for him to say something, “Yes High Lord Bething, that is what happened.”

Lord Bething held up the harness that held the daggers that Matthew had taken from Keep Danar. He pulled one of the blades out, turning it over in the light. He replaced the blade to its sheathe.

“How, might I asked, did you come to possess such magnificent weapons?” the High Lord asked. Matthew thought he heard a tone of suspicion in the man’s voice.

Matthew felt his stomach tighten, “They were given to me. A friend said that they were meant to be given to me, left to him by a man that died many years ago.”

Matthew hoped that he was not caught in his lie. He thought it sounded believable enough, assuming that Lord Bething did not know the blades true history.

“Is that so?” Lord Bething asked, his tone implying that it was not truly a question. He examined the harness and the blades still sheathed before setting them back down on the desk, “It is my believe that what you did was wrong, but that you realize that as truth. I can understand how one can give into anger after witnessing something such as you did. The want to protect those close to us can make us do things we usually would not. You have no prior convictions that I am aware of, and I believe this man, Allen Ronbar, to have been a threat to the city. There are reports of other such stabbings. As such, I judge that you should be released. I see that you are truly stricken by your actions that hold that you will not likely continue on such a path of violence. Release him.”

The guards jerked at the order, but one quickly proffered the key to the manacles. Matthew rubbed at his wrists where the manacles had been locked tightly and stood.

“Thank you Lord Bething, you’ve no idea how much this means to me,” Matthew said.

“Come, retrieve your things,” the High Lord said, holding up the daggers. Matthew approached the platform, stepping up so that he could take the harness. As his fingers wrapped around the well worn leather, Lord Bething’s hand grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly, “I trust you remember your part in all of this,” the older man said in a quiet voice that held anger and expectation both.

Matthew nodded, eyes wide, “I do High Lord.”

“Then get to it,” the man said releasing Matthew’s arm, “You know where you need to be.”

Matthew nodded and turned around. One of the guards motioned, saying that he would show him the way out. Matthew followed the large man, wishing he would walk faster. He did not want to give Lord Bething any reason to believe that he would not do as he had promised now that he was released. Once he was out of the main door to the large court building, he walked to the iron gate. He wanted to run, but knew how suspicious it would look.

The guards at the gate paid him little mind as they opened a small door set into the gate and waved him through. He continued to walk, though a little faster than normal, until he was out of site of the gate. Then he ran. He dug into his mind to remember the instructions Celes had given him that night. The thought he remembered where he was to be and turned down a street to get there.

He stopped as he neared the wall of the city, stopping completely before reaching the end of the street he was on. He stayed near the wall, creeping along it until he could see out into the open area where four other streets spilled out. Matthew nearly jumped out of his skin as a dog bayed into the night a few streets over. He forced himself towards something resembling calm and scanned the open area again. A man stood beside the grate set into the wall. The grate that he needed to enter. A torch sat in a mount on the wall near the grate, but the man stood just outside where Matthew could see him clearly. Matthew slumped to the ground and waited, hoping the man would not stay there long.

Matthew sat waiting for a few minutes when a young man in simple clothes jogged into the opening. Matthew was careful to stay hidden as the two men approached one another.

“Lieutenant, I did not expect to find you here,” the young man said with surprise in his voice.

“And you are… wait, Jaron? What are you doing, and dressed like that?” The other man said, surprise entering his voice too.

Jaron and Alexander? Matthew thought to himself. It was no coincidence that it was the two of them standing near a grate that he himself needed to enter. He had been told that there would be others, but Matthew expected them to be others like him, others that were use to such things as he was.

Standing, he calmly walked into the torch lit area. Both men spun to look at him, a hand of each going to the sword on their belts. Matthew kept walking towards them calmly, waiting for them to recognize him. Alexander realized it first, hand dropping away from his sword followed soon after by Jaron’s realization.

“Matthew?” Jaron asked.

“But how did you?” Alexander began at the same time Jaron spoke.

Matthew smiled, “I was released tonight. Lord Bething heard my case and released me. It was with the understanding that I would do something for him in return. I guess that you are the two I am to work with.”

“Wait,” Jaron said, confusion replacing surprise on his face, “Released? What happened that Lord Bething had to hear your case?”

“It’s a long story, one better saved for a more appropriate time,” Alexander explained, turning away and moving towards the grate.

The man pulled a key from a pocket in his uniform and used it to remove the heavy lock that held a large chain in place. Pulling the chain out from the grate, he pushed open the small part of the metal object that was on hinges. The noise of the rarely used hinges filled the air and caused Matthew to flinch before quickly scanning the multiple streets for any that might have heard and decided to come investigate.

When he was sure that no one was coming, he turned to look at his companions, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

They both nodded and Alexander pulled the torch from its mount, thrusting it out before him as he ducked into the sewers.

Chapter 15 - New Orders

Alexander stood at the door outside Miktan’s residence. He struck the heavy knocker on the door. He thought it strange that a retired bard would have a knocker on his door that was in the shape of a hammer in anvil, but he paid it no mind. He took a step away from that door and waited to be greeted.

Alexander could not help but let his mind wander. Ever since the stabbing, his mind had been full of worry, both for Tavira and MAtthew. Alexander had done all he could. He had met with Lord Maris Kensly and asked that he think about listening to Matthew’s case.

Too much of it did not add up. He could not figure out why Tavira had been stabbed. While Alexander had not seen the man that stabbed Tavira as often as Matthew claimed to have, he did remember seeing him a few times. Alexader could often piece things together and find a solution, but this time, he just did not have enough information.

The wooden door opened and a tall, thin man stood in the doorway. He was a young man, Alexander thought, at least in comparison to his master. At least, Alexander took him to be Miktan’s manservant, though he did not know for certain. He stood half a hand taller again than Alexander. His dark red, almost brown hair, marked him as a Garlin man, or at least from the surrounding area. It was cut short, well groomed and oiled.

“Can I help you sir?” The thin man asked.

Alexander stepped closer to the door, “Yes, I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross. I was told that Tavira, a young girl that was stabbed earlier this day, was being cared for here. I was hoping I could see her.”

The other man showed no expression as he spoke, “Of course sir, if you would accompany me, I shall lead you to lady Tavira.”

With that, the man motioned Alexander through the door, shutting it before taking up a point in front of Alexander. He led him up a stairway and down a short hall, into a room with a large bed. On it lay Tavira.

“Master Miktan, Master Vansen; Lieutenant Varross is here to visit lady Tavira,” the thin man said as they entered the room.

Miktan and Vansen both sat to one side of the bed, Vansen at her head and Miktan  sitting in a chair next to him.

“Thank you Jonson, that will be all,” Miktan said, giving a nod of dismissal to the thin man.

Jonson nodded, “Simply let me know if there is anything you need,”

“Thank you Jonson,” Alexander said as the other man left the room.

“Lieutenant, it is good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” Miktan greeted with a weak grin.

“Indeed,” Alexander said as he moved to the opposite side of the bed, pulling a chair up behind him, “I wanted to be sure that she was doing well.”

“Healer Myira did what she could and gave us some herbs and a poultice to care for her,” Miktan explained, “She seemed to believe that Tavira would be fine.”

“I’m glad, I told Matthew that she was doing well when I saw him,” Alexander said.

“Is Matthew all right?” Vansen asked. The young man’s eyes were full of worry.

“As good as he can be considering the circumstances,” Alexander said with a light chuckle, “I’ve just come from speaking with Lord Kensly. He said that he would look into Matthew’s case and do what he could.”

“Good, good,” Miktan’s eyes returned to the girl, “Maris is a good man, he will be just in his decision.”

Tavira stirred and all eyes were fixed on her. She looked weak. She had looked weak before the stabbing, while they were walking the streets, but this was different. On the streets her face was filled with color, and her attitude could almost making you ignore her gaunt appearance.

Her eyes fluttered open and took in the room around her, “Wh-what happened?” She asked weakly.

“You were attacked,” Miktan began explaining, “a man on the street stabbed you. Vansen brought you here and we called a healer. She tended to your wound. You should be fine, but you will need to stay here in bed for a few days at least.”

“I was… stabbed?” Tavira asked as she shifted in the large bed and winced at the pain.

“Yeah,” Vansen said, giving the girl a smile, “I always told you that if you weren’t more careful you’d end up full of holes.”

She smiled, the freckles around her eyes standing out against her pale skin, “Lieutenant, what are you doing here?” She asked, her eyes falling on Alexander on the other side of the bed.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Alexander said.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile. Her eyes looked around the room, searching, “Where’s Matthew?” The eyes of each man dropped away as she looking into them. The silence seemed to drag on, “Tell me!”

It was Vansen that spoke first, “He and Alexander chased the man that stabbed you down. Matthew caught him,” Vansen squeezed his eyes shut, remembering what Alexander had told him, “Matthew killed the man Tavira, the guards took him.”

“What?” Tavira exclaimed, trying to sit up in the bed but Vansen held her down by her shoulders, “the fool! What was he thinking? Killing a man over a little knife wound? Knowing the kind of fool he his, he’s probably sitting in a cell right now thinking that he deserves what he gets, probably thinking that it would be right if some High Lord sentenced him to be executed. Why, when I see the boy next I’m going to bash his skull in.”

Her anger had forced some color back into her face, even if it was still a few shades lighter than it should have been. She eventually gave up trying to fight against Vansen’s hold. She lay on the bed, arms crossed and a grim look on her face.

Miktan let out a laugh, “I’ve no doubt you will do just as you say. Alexander said he spoke with Lord Kensly about what had happened at that Maris will look into the situation.”

Tavira gave a firm nod, relaxing at the words. Alexander smiled at the young girl. Alexander could not help but think had his parents had a daughter, she would have been that same as Tavira.

He stood, stretching his arms before he spoke, “I should be on my way. The Captain should know what happened, should anyone bring up the subject of today’s events with him.”

Miktan nodded, standing to escort the man to the hall. When they were both a few steps from the room, Miktan turned to speak to Alexander, “I want to thank you Lieutenant. I’m not sure what you know of these children,” Miktan motioned back to the room, “But their friends are in short supply, and the world is a dangerous place for them. I am glad to know that they have another ally in this city.”

Alexander smiled at the old man and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “It is a dangerous place for us all Miktan. A friend is always a good thing to have, and are more often in shorter supply than enemies.”

Miktan nodded, “It is a pity, but that is most often the case. Be well friend, and if you see Jonson on the way out, if you would tell him to bring up some food for the girl, Myira said she should eat as soon as she woke.”

Alexander nodded and headed back down the stairs. He found Jonson standing beside the door leading from the house and gave him Miktan’s message before leaving.  Back out on the street, Alexander started for the barracks. His eyes took in everything on street. His eyes watched the hands and faces of those that came near to him. He did not want to be suspicious of everyone, but the stabbing earlier had shaken him more than he expected.

He was glad when he finally reached the barracks and could relax. If he could not trust his own men, there were none in all of Elaesif that he could no trust. He walked through the building, saluting to men as he passed. He had stopped by Captain Edbar’s office only to find that he was out.

Alexander instead went to the small office he had been given when they arrived. He had insisted that he did not need an office, but Captain Russent would not allow an officer of the army to work out of their sleeping quarters.

Jogan stood from one of the chairs on the other side of the desk as Alexander entered the room, “Lieutenant, this came for you while you were gone,” the man held out a sealed letter.”

“Thank you Jogan, you may leave,” Alexander said, examining the seal. It was that of General Therad. Alexander looked up at the other man just as he was leaving, “Jogan, if you could inform me when the Captain returns, I need to speak with him.”

“Of course Lieutenant,” the man saluted and closed the door as he left.

Alexander broke the seal to the letter and hurriedly opened it.

                            Lieutenant Alexander Varross,

                                               I would first like to apologize for the confusion my earlier orders no doubt caused, however it was of the utmost importance that information was kept safe.

Your purpose in Garlin is to prevent what could be the most serious threat not just to our nation, but all of Elaesif, that we have ever seen. I have received word that there is something held deep below Garlin that could threaten us all. I am unclear as to what is held in the ancient chambers beneath the city, but from what I have been able to gather, it is an item of immense power.

You and Captain Edbar are to do all you can, using whatever methods you see fit, to prevent any harm from coming to the people of Garlin, as well as the people of the world.

I wish you the best in your endeavors. Remain strong and remember your duty to the people of Elaesif.

                                               Third General of the Beldinian Armed Forces

                                                        Lofric Therad

Alexander read over the letter again, trying to make sense of what it said but to no avail. He could not make sense of what he was reading. What could be held underneath Garlin that could harm the world? If it truly existed, how had it remained hidden for so long? How had the General learned of such a weapon? The letter answered the question of why they had been sent to Garlin, but it raised so many new questions.

Alexander fell back into the high-backed wooden chair that sat behind the desk, dropping the letter to the top of the hand-carved, oak desk. He closed his eyes and tried to piece all the information he had together. No matter which way he looked at things, he just could not seem to make it all fit. There were still too many holes.

A knock came at the door and Jogan entered at Alexander’s summons. The man moved to the front of the desk, saluted, and stood at attention, “Lieutenant, Captain Edbar has returned and would like to speak with you.”

“Good,” Alexander said, standing and grabbing the letter, “I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

The two men left the room and walked the hallway to the Captain’s office. The room given to Captain Edbar was separated from Alexander’s office and the men’s quarters. Jefell Russent, Captain of the city guard, insisted that Edbar take his office and that he would move to one of the smaller offices. Edbar did not argue and took the office. He had stated that it would allow him distance from the men, that rumors would be less likely to be spread by any that might over hear something said in confidence.

As they neared the office, Alexander noticed Albur Torric, Edbar’s aid, waiting impatiently outside the closed door. Alexander dismissed Jogan before he got to the door. The man seemed torn between accompanying his lieutenant and following his order, but he saluted and left. Jogan was a good man, and a good soldier, but his loyalty sometimes was a little too strong for Alexander’s liking.

“Lieutenant,” Albur said when Alexander stopped in front of him, “the Captain is waiting for you.”

Alexander nodded and went through the door at the man’s motioning. The office was not much different than the one Alexander had been given. It was larger, and a bookshelf lined one wall, containing maps of the city and surrounding area, as well as books on the laws of Garlin. Alexander noticed a few titles that must have been just there for general reading; Kesmas and the thousand wolves, Telnogar Anson and his Queen, The Golden Drum, The Adventures of Regrad Regar.

“Lieutenant, have a seat,” Edbar said motioning to one of the cushioned chairs on the other side of the desk from him.

Alexander saluted before sitting, “Captain, I take it you have received a letter from the General?”

“Yes, though I must say that it doesn’t clear a whole lot up,” the Captain said as he gestured towards a folded piece of paper on the desk.

“No, it didn’t,” Alexander said as he pulled his letter from his pocket, setting it on the desk beside the other man’s, “Perhaps if we put our heads together, we can come up with something as to what this item is, or at least who is after it.”

“That, I think, won’t be entirely necessary,” Edbar said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair, “I’ve just come from a meeting with Lord Bething. He too has heard of this supposed item beneath Garlin and wishes to keep it out of the hands of some that would use it to harm the people of this city.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow, having trouble believing that Lord Juston Bething would be come to the military to discuss such a matter, “And what does he propose?”

Edbar smirked, “His suggestion is that we retrieve the item before any others would have a chance to do so.”

Alexander frowned, “Would that be wise sir? We aren’t sure what this item is, if it truly exists, or what it is capable of and it is no offense to the honor of Lord Bething, but I’m not sure I would trust a single man with such an item if it truly does exist.”

“The High Lord would agree with you. His suggestion was to retrieve the item and leave it in the care of the court of Garlin until the Weaver’s Guild could come up with a way to contain, or better yet destroy it,” Edbar explained.

Alexander was still unsure on the matter. Lord Bething was a good man in general, but when it came to the city of Garlin, he was as protective as a mountain cat over its cub. The idea of leaving an item of such power in the hands of the High Lords just seemed like trouble to him. Most of the lords did all they could to scrap together what power they could. To place an item capable of brining ruin to the world would be to place a temptation in front of them all, risking a civil war within the city.

As for the Weaver’s Guild, the association of men and women that studied and practice the art of weaving the eight threads of power were more likely to try and harness the power of such an item than they were to destroy it. He had always been wary of the guild. They held more power than any single group in all of Elaesif. If they all worked together, there was not an army standing that would be able to hold them back. Each military had their own corp of weavers, but none held a number that would be able to stand up to the might of the guild. Luckily, they were more content living in their city complex, training and studying the histories of Elaesif and only rarely stuck their noses into the politics of the nations.

“What are your thoughts Lieutenant?” Edbar asked, examining Alexander’s expression.

“I don’t know Captain. There are too many unknown variables. We don’t know what this item is or what it can do. I do know that I wouldn’t want to leave it in the hands of the High Lords, I fear that the temptation would be too great for them,” Alexander paused for a moment, his throat dry from the whole idea of an item that could harm the world, “as for the Guild, I believe you know my feelings on them.”

“What other alternatives do we have? Certainly you would not want to leave such an item in the hands of the military. To do such a thing would threaten any nation that has managed to stay apart from the kingdom of Beldin. That is not to say I support such actions, however, I do believe that men have a right to chose,” Edbar surprised Alexander with his words. Something seemed different about the man, though Alexander could not place what it was.

“I agree, but I’m still not sure what should be done. I suppose that is why you are in command and I am not Captain. What ever you decide I will support and follow your orders to the best of my ability, as will my men,” Alexander vowed.

Edbar smiled and nodded in response, “I have learned that Lord Bething is looking to retrieve the item, with or without our support. As such, I want to have a hand in its retrieval. If we were to allowing Bething to get the item, there is no telling what might happen. As such, I would like you to accompany whoever it is that Bething sends to get the item.”

“Me sir?” Alexander asked, curious as to the other man’s motives.

“We have not always seen eye to eye Lieutenant,” Edbar said admittedly, “however, of all the men here, I believe that you are the one I can trust the most. Even when you disagree with an order, you carry it out. I trust that it will be no different with this.”

Alexander nodded, “As you order Captain.”

“I do, I will give you the information you need as soon as I have it” Edbar said with a nod, “Now, is there anything else you would like to talk about?”

“There is,” Alexander began to explain the events of the day, briefing Edbar on every detail. He left nothing out. The Captain seemed to take everything in stride. Alexander assumed that at least a little word of what happened had reached that Captain’s ears, but he left nothing to chance. At the end of it Edbar said that he would keep Alexander apprised of the situation and would let Alexander know anything he could.

Chapter 14 - Prison

Matthew sat on the cold stone floor of his cell. The thick iron bars that surrounded him allowed him to examine the larger room that his cell was a part of. The room was empty, except for cells identical to his own, most of them empty, though there were a few that held other men. Matthew made note of the fact that no women were in the room. He was not sure why. He knew he had seen women arrested in the past. He thought that they must keep them separate from the men.

He welcomed the stone beneath him. It cooled him, both body and mind. The rage from earlier that day frightened him. He had never lost control like that before. Even when thinking back on Tavira, eyes wide, hands and shirt covered in blood, the anger that welled up was not as overwhelming as he had felt before.

Maybe it’s because the man responsible is dead, Matthew thought, By the weave, I killed a man! What was I thinking?

He had asked himself that very question what seemed like a hundred times since it happened. He had tried to piece everything together. There were too many unanswered questions, too many mysteries to make sense of everything. Why stab Tavira? It could not have been a random happening. Matthew had seen the man multiple times while on the street. He had seemed to be following them. Tavira was no one important, at least not to anyone outside the crew. Who would want her dead?

The other question that plagued him is why so many of the guards were there so quickly? They were just guards, none of the soldiers that had been helping patrol. It seemed as if they were prepared to deal with a dead man. It was almost as if they knew it was all going to happen.

Matthew pushed the questions aside. They were not going to help him now. He had been told by the guard that put him in his cell that Matthew was going to be questioned by the Captain of the Guard. Matthew was not looking forward to the meeting. The guards had not been very gentle with Matthew. He assumed they would have been worse had Alexander not been with them the entire trip to the prison.

What is his part in all of this? Matthew’s mind started again, I just so happen to run into him on the streets on the day that Tavira is attacked and I kill a man? Burn my thread, I can’t help but feel that I’m just a piece in some huge game.

The door to the room of cells flew open and a large guard stepped in. Matthew stood, making sure his hands were in clear view, placing them through the bars. He was sure that the guard was there for him. The other men in their cells appeared to have been there a while, at least long enough to have been questioned for their crimes.

The guard strode to Matthew’s cell, “Put your hands on your head,” the man ordered in a scratchy voice. Matthew did as he was told. The man proffered a large key and opened the door to his cell. Matthew stepped out and waited as the man placed his hands in heavy manacles, keeping them tight together.

The man led Matthew out of the dank room and down a hall to another room. In the room were two chairs. The guard shoved Matthew toward one of the chairs and ordered him to sit down before shutting the door. There was a heavy click as a lock was set into place on the door.

Matthew sit in silence, waiting for what was to come. After what seemed like hours, Matthew heard voices outside the door. He could not make out what was being said through the thick wood of the door, but he could get an idea of the mood of each speaker by their tone. One of the men seemed to be explaining something, while the other seemed to be trying to maintain a level of understanding under the anger present.

The lock clicked and the door opened. Matthew stood and almost almost sighed as he saw Alexander step through the door, though he stiffened by the muscular man that stepped in behind him. The man wore a uniform of the High Guard of Garlin.

“Matthew, are you okay?” Alexander asked, concern present in his voice.

Matthew nodded, not wanting to speak for fear that the large man would berate him, or worse, strike him.

“So your name is Matthew?” The large man said. His deep voice filled the small room and caused Matthew to swallow.

“Yes sir,” he said, trying to show as much respect as he could.

“Sit down boy,” the man said. His tone was not one of suggestion so Matthew sat back down, “Do you deny killing a man in the streets today?” He asked, locking eyes with Matthew.

“No sir,” Matthew replied, surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

The man nodded, “The lieutenant here tells me that the man you killed stabbed someone in the streets. A friend of yours. A young girl.”

“Yes, Tavira. Is she okay?” Matthew almost stood again, but froze at a look from the guard.

“She is going to be okay,” Alexander explained, “Vansen got her to Miktan and a healer was brought to her.”

Tension melted from Matthew. He had not realized how tense he had been until that moment.

“Yes, the girl will be fine,” the guard said, glancing to Alexander, “However, you have admitted to killing a man. Regardless of the reasons, that is a crime.”

Matthew stared at the floor, nodding in understanding, “I know, and I take any punishment given to me.”

“Of course you will, willingly or not,” the guard said, almost laughing, “But, first I want to get some things straight. Do you know who that man that you attacked was?”

“No,” Matthew said, pausing to think before continuing, “I noticed him a few times in the street today, I think he may have been following us.”

“Why? For what reason would he follow you?” The guard asked, “Did you wrong him in some way? Did you attack him or his family before today?”

Matthew searched his mind. He thought for a moment about Lord Danar. He knew that the man must have been furious that someone had managed to get into his vault and take something from him. There was no way that the he would know who robbed him however. There was nothing that would have led him to the crew, to Tavira. Not unless someone in the crew ratted you out, Matthew crushed the thought, not wanting to believe that anyone in the crew would go that far.

“No, I didn’t recognize him at all. I almost didn’t notice him at all until after he stabbed Tavira,” Matthew explained.

“So, a man stabs your friend for no reason and you expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with the reason?” The guard was looming over Matthew now.

“Captain Russent,” Alexander started, “I may have a suggestion. The boy and his friends were walking with me. There are those in Garlin that are less than pleased by the military’s presence here. It is possible the attack was related to me.”

“Then why not stab you?” The Captain asked, spinning on the other man.

Alexander raised a hand in an attempt to calm the man, “If he would have stabbed me, he would have had the entirety of the men stationed here after him. To attack a man of the army is as if you attacked every man in his unit,” Alexander explained, “However, in attacking the girl, there would be nothing tying it directly to my men.”

The guard thought for a moment before speaking, “Perhaps. None of this seems to make sense at all though. We still don’t even know who the man was, let alone why it is he attacked anyone.”

The room was silent while Captain Russent thought. Finally he spoke, “Boy, I understand why it is you did what you did, but I can’t excuse it. I’m going to have to keep you here until one of the High Lords can hear your case. It’s up to them what happens to you.

Matthew slumped. It was unlikely any of the High Lords would give him any chance. They would see a boy that lived on the streets that had killed a man for no more reason than stabbing another useless member of society. They may have well killed him then.

“Can I speak with him a moment Captain,” Alexander said, looking at the other man in the room, “alone? Just for a short while?”

The guard looked Matthew over before nodded and striking a fist to the heavy wooden door. The lock was released and the door open, letting the Captain out.

Once the door had been shut again, Alexander took up the other chair in the small room, “I’ll go and try to speak with Lord Kensly to hear your case. I’ve no doubt that he will listen to what happened and release you.”

Matthew continued to stare at the floor, “That’s if one of the other lords doesn’t take this chance to cleanse the city of one more of its rabble.”

“Don’t give up,” the older man said, “Tavira is waiting to see you. Even if no one else is, she is grateful for what you did.”

Matthew looked up and forced a smile. Alexander did the same before standing and knocking on the door. He left and that guard that had brought him from his cell returned him to it. Matthew sat against the wall. He was sure that he would never leave the cell again and never see Tavira or any of the others again.

———————

Jaron sat in his room. He had been given the entire day from his lessons to do as he wished, but Matthew’s words still haunted his mind. He had spent a good part of the day reading reports he had requested. The reports told of the spendings of the city of Garlin. He made note that of all the houses, high or not, House Kensly was among only three that gave money to the city for the purpose of supporting those in need. He was appalled as he continued to read where money did go to instead.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door, “Come in,” he said, setting a book he had intended to read before getting lost in his thought.

A servant dressed in the purple and yellow colors of House Kensly stepped in and gave a deep bow before speaking, “My Lord, Lady Celes Debeart is requesting an audience with you.”

Jaron’s brow furrowed as he thought of why Celes would want to speak with him, “Yes, escort her to a sitting room and then come retrieve me when she is settled. Be sure that chilled wine and some fruit is brought to her.”

The servant nodded before bowing again and moving back out the door. Jaron continued to think what purpose the woman would have for visiting him. Surely she did not think that he had any intention of being a suitor.

Perhaps she too is troubled by what she heard Matthew say last night, Jaron thought.

His mind wandered until there was another knock at the door. This time Jaron moved to the door and opened it. The same servant was standing outside.

“Lady Debeart is waiting,” he said respectively.

Jaron motioned for him to lead the way. The servant deftly navigated the passageways of the manor. Jaron suspected that the man knew the halls better than he himself did. It was not that there were that many halls to learn, at least not in relation to the great keeps of the other houses.

Jaron had always been glad of his father’s conservative attitude when it came to their home. He did not believe that he would have liked living in one of the stone keeps the other noble’s kept. There were those that believed the manor estate was a sign that House Kensly was weak. The other High Lords however knew better.

Finally the servant stopped before a door to one of the sitting rooms and opened it for Jaron. He stepped through the door as Celes stood to greet him. Her dress, a similar cut to the one she wore the night before, if not as extravagant, was a rich green color that stood out against the colors of the sitting room. Her hair was not as finely done as it had been during the banquet, but even in its simplicity, it radiated beauty.

“Lord Kensly,” Celes said, her soft voice flowing through the room, “I am so glad that you could see me on such short notice.”

Jaron motioned for her to sit and he made his way to one of the plush, high-backed chairs that sat around the low table in the center of the room, “Of course Lady Debeart, it is an honor to speak with you. To what honor do I owe this visit?”

She sat, sitting straight in the chair across from him, “I was giving some thought to what you were saying last night, about the want for some excitement,” Jaron tried to hide any emotion, but he could feel his eyebrows rise slightly, “I have heard tell that there is something beneath the city. Something that could be dangerous if found by the wrong people.”

Jaron’s brow began to furrow in confusion as Celes continued, “My Uncle would like to investigate the matter, and possibly retrieve whatever it is, but he is torn in trying to find people he could trust the job to.”

“And you believe that I could be trusted to such a task? Why not simply hire men to carry it out?” Jaron asked, his voice steady as he spoke.

“He would, knowing that there are few things that some men value over gold. He fears however, that should such men retrieve this item, and should it be as dangerous as he believes, he fears that they would use it for their own means,” Celes voice was soft, yet firm at the same time, like stone wrapped in silk.

“Then why not go to the men sent here from the army?” Jaron thought back to his father’s conversations with some of the people from the night before, “From what I understand they are still awaiting orders and I am sure that they would be more than capable of carrying out such a task.”

Celes gave a small laugh before speaking, “You no doubt know of my Uncle’s feelings towards the military. However, he has decided to speak with Captain Edbar on the matter, though he holds little faith that he would find worthy men, or that any would give him aid.”

Jaron nodded, understanding what it was Celes was referring to. Lord Bething was not known for kindness, especially when it came to anyone from the military. He doubted that any of the men would give him anything but the same in response.

“So you see,” Celes continued, “I have been tasked with finding those that would be trustworthy. Your family is known for it’s generosity towards this city. What better way to protect its people people than to remove an item that could potentially destroy them.”

A question struck Jaron that had been scratching at the back of his mind, yet almost hidden, “It is no offense towards your family, but what would your Uncle do with such a thing? And what sort of item could threaten all of Garlin?”

Jaron thought he saw anger flash across Celes’ face, but it was gone almost as soon as it was there, “My Uncle intends to turn the item over to the council of the High Lords, that they all may decide what to do with it. As for what the item is, I am not entirely sure. My Uncle found some old tomes and scrolls that spoke of an item of power, an item tied directly to the threads of power. He fears that such an item could be used as a weapon.”

Jaron’s head spun. He tried to reason out what Celes was telling him, but he was having trouble focusing. His mind was muddy. He thought that perhaps he was taking too much in at once, between what Celes was telling him and what he had been researching earlier that day. His mind began to clear and he began to agree with what Celes was saying.

“Yes,” he said, “if there is something that could harm the people of Garlin, I would be more than willing to help keep it from those that would use it for less than noble deeds.”

“Excellent,” Celes said almost before the words had left his mouth, “Now, I apologize for having to leave so soon, but I had best get back before my Uncle begins to worry about where I have run off to. I will be sure to inform him of your willingness to help and you should receive the information of where you should be when soon.”

Jaron nodded, standing as she hurried out of the room. His mind seemed clearer now, but he was still trying to puzzle together what exactly had just happened.

———————————-

Matthew sat in the chair to the small room once again. The guard had woken him and nearly drug him from his cell. He had not even bothered to put the manacles around his wrists. He sat, unbound, in a locked room, alone.

The door opened and two large guards stepped in. Behind them followed Celes Debeart, her deep green dress hugged her hips and bosom, but covered everything. Her beauty seemed to fill the room with light, though the single torch mounted to the wall was the only true source.

“You may leave us,” Celes said, command filling her voice.

The guards looked at her, eyes wide with surprise, “But my lady,” one of them spoke, “this man is a murderer!”

Celes fixed her eyes on the man’s face, “I believe that he will harm no one, especially me.”

The two looked at each other, torn between protecting the lovely woman and following her orders. Finally they bowed, saying they would be just outside the door, before leaving the room.

Celes sat in the other chair. The filth of the small, dank room did not seem to effect her. Her blue eyes met Matthew’s dark green. They seemed to sit there in silence, staring into one another’s eyes for all of eternity. Looking into those eyes, Matthew thought he could live the rest of his live in a cell and die happy.

“Matthew,” Celes finally said, looking away, “I heard of what happened and was worried. Are you well?”

Matthew was stunned at first that one such as Celes would show concern to someone like him, but he spoke, “Well enough I suppose. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Nonsense, noble or not, you are important to me,” she said. Matthew’s heart leapt, “I had to be sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Matthew said, still stunned by her words, “I’m not sure for how long, but for the time being at least.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her eyes meeting eyes again.

Burn my thread, a man could get lost in those eyes and be happy doing it, he thought. He spoke, “It seems that I have to wait until a High Lord hears my case before I can learn of what my fate will be.”

“That’s splendid,” Celes said with what seemed like excitement in her smooth voice.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, “I’m not sure I share your opinion.”

“My Uncle is a High Lord,” she said, “I’m sure I could convince him to hear your case.”

“Lord Bething?” Matthew asked, “I can’t say I would be too sure that he would be likely to do anything but sentence me to be killed.”

“Nonsense. My Uncle has a reputation of being a tough man, but in truth, he is fair and just. He just holds no tolerance for bad behavior,” Celes explained.

“Do you truly think he would hear me out?” Matthew asked.

“I do,” Celes stated, “However, I will need you to do something for me.”

Matthew did not hesitate, “Anything!” He agreed.