Depression

“Oh my God did you knock him out!?” Fulcher exclaimed, dropping to his knees. He peeled the guard’s eyelid up, seeing the man’s pupil enlarged and unresponsive. His eyes dragged up to the large dent in the helmet left behind by Schon’s strike.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you did?” Schon snapped, waving a hand at the guard with the beaten face. The man groaned and turned onto his side, coughing lightly.

“No, not even close! He’s just got some bruises, you probably gave this guy brain damage!” Fulcher said, peering up at Schon.

“Oh, big deal! Sorry if he was a friend of yours but we’re fleeing and he had a blade to your throat,” Schon said, kicking the helmeted man’s limp ankle. “At least, I assume. You are fleeing, right?”

Fulcher glared at her before standing and rolling his shoulder where he had impacted the man’s armor.

“I’m taking Stella somewhere far away from here. Give me that,” Fulcher said, reaching for the candelabra. Schon was quick to slap his wrist, taking a step back and raising the makeshift weapon above her head.

“Don’t touch me! I’ll help you grab Stella and leave but don’t think I won’t turn this on you the second you try and leave me behind,” she said, her glare hardening.

“Fine,” Fulcher relented. He bent down and picked up the guard’s sword, slowly turning it in his grasp. He had never used a blade like this before, and if he could help it he would prefer not to kill anyone with it.

Maybe just having the blade will be enough to make people back off, he thought. He turned to Schon expectantly.

“Alright, lead the way,” he said. She stared at him for a long moment.

“To Stella’s chambers? What, you don’t remember?” she remarked harshly. Fulcher sighed and shook his head.

“No, I don’t remember,” he said softly. Her eyes raked up and down his form as she scowled, bending down to rip her pink dress to allow better movement of her legs.

“Figures a jerk like you wouldn’t care to remember. Come on,” she set off, stepping over the guards. Fulcher followed behind her carefully, swinging the sword around a couple of times to practice the weight.

The two crept through the keep, traveling up staircases and down halls Fulcher did not recognize. Finally they ended up at another ornate door, with the same crest that Fulcher’s had.

“Grab her, I’ll guard the door,” Schon muttered. Fulcher nodded and opened the door, slipping inside. He found Stella curled up in her bed hugging a pillow. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were still wet with fresh tears. Fulcher’s heart ached as he reached out to shake her gently by the shoulder.

“Stella. Stella?” he whispered. Slowly the girl’s eyes opened as she shifted her body closer to him, sniffling.

“Fuly. I’m scared. I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” she said as she clutched his tunic.

“You won’t be,” He said with a gentle smile. “In fact, Schon and I are gonna take you on a big fun adventure instead!”

“Adventure?” Stella sniffled, looking up at Fulcher. “Will dad come too?”

“No, dad has to stay and work,” Fulcher replied with a frown. He dropped the sword on the bed and scooped up Stella in his arms.

“Come on, we’re playing tag with the guards and we’ve got to go quick!” he said. Stella nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him as she settled within his grip. Fulcher quickly moved back to the door, sneaking back out into the hallway. Schon looked at the two with a confused expression, but quickly shook it off.

“Come on, to the front. Nerrel’s carriage should already be ready for his departure. We can take it,” she explained. Fulcher just nodded, not really having much of a better plan in mind.

He continued to follow Schon through the winding halls, ducking into rooms when guards approached or slipping deeper into the keep to avoid common patrol routes.

They met the cool breeze of night as they entered the courtyard from a side door. Near the gate Nerrel’s carriage sat idle, lanterns already lit and horses hitched. As they darted across the courtyard to the carriage, a figure began moving towards them in the dark. Schon readied her candelabra as Fulcher stood behind her, holding Stella close.

“Sir?” the man said, Fulcher recognizing the voice as belonging to Vardia. “What are you and the Princess, and the uh, other Princess doing?” He peered at the trio in confusion, hands held idle against his spear.

“Nothing,” Schon hissed.

“We’re fleeing the keep,” Fulcher said bluntly. Schon whirled her head back to stare at Fulcher in awe. Vardia shifted awkwardly, his legs parting slightly as if he meant to flee.

“Sir?... I thought you were to be kept in your chambers? I don’t think-” Vardia began to say, but Fulcher cut him off.

“Do you think this is right, Vardia? To marry off a child to some lord’s son? To keep people as objects? Do you want to be a soldier of that kingdom?” Fulcher asked. Vardia shook his head.

“No, Sir!” he said.

“We need a carriage driver. Are you going to go run and tell my father? Or are you going to be loyal to your sworn charge, and help us escape?” Fulcher asked again, as if he were conducting an interrogation.

“I…” Vardia began. Conflict churned across his face, it was clearly not an easy decision. He looked up at Fulcher, meeting his gaze and steeling himself.

“Sir! I will be your shield!” he shouted.