PreCursive
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Chapter 144 - Mistaken Identity
🕑 Added 2024-02-16 18:00:05 +0000 UTC“It is my belief you have been placed here, at this specific point and time, by the Lord of House Savoy.” The Prince said heavily. “It is well known how callous the dwarf is, and few would disbelieve him of this capability. It would not be out of character for him to have an uncooperative heir assassinated with help from another family member, in order to enact an extravagant plot. Said plot would involve the insertion of his nephew and a human operative into my new court, at the moment of my alignment with the Uprising. For what purpose I do not know, but that can be determined later. In short, ‘Mr. Hart’, I believe you to be Anguis’s creature.”
I blinked slowly at the odd pseudo-rant that the Prince had unloaded on me. Even with the stranglehold on my emotions I had using my middle ring, I couldn’t stop the reaction his words caused in me.
I started laughing.
Hard.
In fact, I started laughing so hard at the thought of me of all people being a willing slave for the Savoy that I started crying a little. I would have doubled over in my hilarity, but Augustine still had an iron grip on my arms.
“I-I can’t b-believe,” I managed to get out, before howling again.
This didn’t stop for a few minutes. The thought just kept making me laugh more.
Eventually, though, I did settle down. When I raised my head again, I could see that the Prince had an almost dumbfounded look on his young face. That nearly sent me into hysterics again, but I managed to keep a hold of myself. I shook my head. “No, your Highness. I can assure you that I am decidedly not a Savoy spy. Piss on the Savoy. As far as I’m concerned, everyone in that family but Azarus can die in a fucking fire.”
The Prince frowned down at me. “All we have is your word that you are not a spy. And I’m afraid that is not sufficient, Mr. Hart.”
I shook my head up at him. “No, actually. There are at least two pieces of evidence that speak to me not being one. First,” I said before the Prince could speak over me. “Is the fact that…do you really think it would be that easy to get one over Grey like that? Do you really, really think that someone like Grey, who, let’s be honest here, used to be a pirate. Would not be able to sniff out a mole? Much less someone he took as his personal apprentice?”
“He’s still just a man. The Headmaster is not infallible.” The Prince pointed out. Still, I could see a mote of doubt on his face.
“Two,” I continued. “In the pouch at the small of my back, you can find an example of the device that I created to break the Slave Bond. Ask yourself, why would Anguis allow such an item to be devised? Its very existence threatens the foundations of his empire.”
The Prince frowned but looked away from me to nod to Augustine over my head. The knight grumbled but released me from his grip. I wanted to rub my flesh arm as blood started flowing again, but I refrained. Instead, I slowly reached behind me, aware of the knight still looming over my head, and withdrew the Bond Breaker I had on me.
Never went anywhere without one, these days.
Bringing it forward, I handed the oversized fork to the Prince. He took it from me warily, looking down at it. Slowly turning the breaker over and over in his hands, I saw the Prince adopt a considering look on his face.
“Of late,” He started slowly. “There have been strange rumors coming from the Principality. My agents tell me that a Human man and his cohorts assaulted a plantation on the edge of Savoy lands, slaughtering the slave masters. It is said that their goal was to not only liberate the slaves held there, but to free them from their Bonds. This man apparently broke those bonds, using a Mystical Bident of some kind.” The Prince raised his head to look me in the eye again. “I had not put much stock in those rumors until this moment. Was that perhaps your doing?”
My eyes lit up at the Prince's story.
That had to be Bleddyn!
God, it was good to get any news about my old friend. Even just hearing that he was apparently sticking to his words and freeing slaves was a relief.
I took an excited step toward the Prince, unable to help myself. I was stopped from getting too close to him by an armored hand falling on my shoulder, though. I didn’t care. “Do you know anything else?! Anything at all?!”
The Prince looked taken aback at my enthusiasm. “Ah, I’m afraid not. I’m guessing you know the perpetrator of this attack?”
“Hell yes I do,” I said, not even bothering to be formal anymore. “It has to be Bleddyn. He was another slave held at Addersfield. He helped free everyone at Addersfield, and when we were leaving, he and a large group of other slaves elected to stay behind. Bleddyn was planning a full-on slave revolt in the Principality, when I last saw him. I left him with my original Bond Breaker and the means to make more, because I wanted him to succeed.”
The Prince blinked rapidly. “A full-on slave revolt? If that is what this…Bleddyn intends, it has yet to begin. As of now, his presence is being dismissed as a slave folk tale by Principality authorities.” He paused for a moment. “Bleddyn…that name is…familiar somehow…” His eyes widened, grip on the Breaker almost slipping in surprise. “Tell me, is this Bleddyn from the Hill Tribes?”
My own eyebrows rose. “Uh, yeah. He told me he was from Clan Thunderheart.”
“Clan Thunderheart’s Heir was captured as a slave, even if only briefly?” The Prince questioned in shock. I jerked back in my own surprise.
Bleddyn was some kind of Clan Heir? He never told me anything about that.
Man, why did it seem like everyone I met was some kind of big important somebody? Heirs, and children of Headmasters, and disgraced nobles. Sometimes it felt like I was living in a drama.
What’s next, Renauld was going to turn out to be the son of the Throng leader? Maybe Fade was secretly the King of the Spirit Wolves?
The tension in the air was rapidly deflating at the evidence that was mounting against the Prince’s slave story. The kid was starting to look a little awkward as the silence in the room grew longer.
I cleared my throat. “Well…is that enough you for, your Highness?”
“Ahhh,” The Prince said in an embarrassed tone of voice. “I…believe so. You have my deepest apologies for the misunderstanding, Mr. Hart. But if I may ask…whatever could you have been doing in Rhoscara at that time? Considering the timing, you must have still been enslaved and under the ownership of House Savoy.”
Hey. Look.
While I wasn’t incredibly pissed about this whole thing, I still wasn’t happy. I wasn’t sure if I could trust this guy anymore, after he’d apparently waited for a moment where I was alone to ambush and interrogate me.
I wasn’t going to tell him all of my secrets.
“I’m afraid that the specifics of my petition have to do with the uniqueness of my Path and training,” I said firmly. “If you really want to know more, you’ll have to ask Grey-, ah, the Headmaster.”
Now it was really awkward in here.
The Prince sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “I understand,” He said tiredly, as Augustine walked around from behind me. For once, the massive knight wasn’t looking at me like I was scum from the bottom of one of his greaves. It just looked like he’d completely
Was this what all that had been about?
“If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our-”
The Prince was cut off.
Not by me, or even Augustine.
But by the sound of faint screaming echoing from the hall, just outside of the practice room. The Prince and I jerked in surprise, while Augustine rounded on the door, one hand on the broadsword sheathed at his waist.
A convenient excuse to get out of this awkward situation, if I ever heard one.
I hurriedly bent down to pick up my dropped Oninite blades, and sheathed them in the holsters at either side of my waist. With a slightly insincere apologetic smile aimed at the Prince, I raced for the door and threw it open.
On the other side, I could see other people opening doors around us and poking their head out in confusion. In the hall, there were some people standing around, facing the direction of the screaming with shocked looks on their faces. I followed their gaze.
Damn. That didn’t look good.
Just down the hall, there was what looked like an incredibly distressed maid. She was pale from what might be shock and pointing a finger behind her, towards a staircase that led further down into the depths of the Citadel.
She was covered in blood. She didn’t look like she was injured, so…
It had to be from somebody else.
I felt my lips flatten, as the Prince and Sir Augustine appeared at my elbow. As they were reacting in surprise at the sight of the bloodied maid, I raced down the hall. Several other men were trying to attend to the maid when I got there, only to step back when they saw my black and silver-clad form. I’d made a habit of wearing my Order uniform around the Citadel for situations just like this, where I didn’t want to be questioned.
I nodded at them as I approached the maid. “Miss,” I said quietly, taking her jittery free hand in my own. I did my best to catch her shaky gaze with my own. “What happened?”
“M-m-m,” She tried to get out, before finally succeeding. “Murder! I-in the dungeons!” She wailed, collapsing to her knees.
I cursed, as the stiffening of the men next to me signified the arrival of the Prince and his bodyguard. He had obviously heard the woman as well, from the pissed-off look on his face.
I think we’d both realized what that probably meant.
Our eyes met as the Prince spoke. “The dungeons are where we were keeping Duke Graden. If you don’t mind accompanying me, Mr. Hart, I’d like a representative from the Order present as we confirm my suspicions.”
I nodded at the Prince and fell in step with him. I may be a bit irritated with the little shit, but now wasn’t the time. We fast walked away from the scene with the maid, trusting the onlookers with her well-being. Taking the steps several at a time as we descended into the dungeons, I was puzzled at what I heard echoing up at me.
It sounded like…cheering?
And was that singing?
As we hit the ground floor of the dungeons, I was a little…weirded out.
Yup, all the prisoners held in the cells around us were cheering, hooting, and hollering in glee. They weren’t exactly being subtle about for what, either.
“Death to Graden!”
“Fucker’s finally carked it!”
“Yeahhhhhhhh! Fuck him!”
Down the hall, I could see an individual wooden cell door lying open. On the ground in front of the open door was a smear and trail of blood, that led up the stairs that our group had just rushed down. Possibly from the maid.
I took a deep breath. Well.
I guess that’s that for Graden, then. Still, we had to confirm things with our own eyes.
The visibly furious Prince and his bodyguard stalked down the hallway, while I trailed behind him. More than one prisoner was waving and cheering at the sight of us, as we passed their cell. One even winked at me and gave me a thumbs-up.
I’m guessing Grey had been understating things when he said the people of Helstein didn’t like Duke Graden.
Just a tad.
As we approached the open cell, the singing that I had heard coming down the stairs grew clearer, until I could make out the words. It was coming from the cell next to the open one, as well as the sound of a basic beat being played on the stone walls inside.
“Oh Duke Graden, your reign’s now gone,
Helstein’s joy will sing at dawn.
In dungeon’s deep, your end we see,
Freedom’s chorus, loud and free.”
A bit morbid, my man.
At least, the Prince, Augustine and I came to stand in front of the open cell. And inside…
Yup, that was Duke Graden.
Dead.
Very, very dead.
His throat had been slit so deeply that his head was hanging on by only the barest sinew. It didn’t look like the death had been recent, though. He was pale to the extent that he was a little blue, and I’m not sure there was a drop of blood left in his body. And the blood that was pooling on the stone of his cell was dark and coagulated.
Oddly, the dead Duke had a surprised look on his face.
I sighed. Yeah, Grey wasn’t going to be happy about this.
There went his information source about the other lords who had plotted his capture.
As the Prince glowered at the scene, the bard in the cell next door continued his song.
“Good riddance to a tyrant’s name,
Helstein’s folk, no longer tame.
Raise your voices, let them ring,
For Duke Graden, the end we sing.”
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