Trouble in Trelle (Chloe's Story)

“Clovis?”

The sound seemed like it was coming from so far away and right next to Chloe at the same time. Her head was foggy, she wasn't sure where she was or even what time of day it was. And worse, when she tried to move she found her arms were tied to an extremely uncomfortable chair.

“Clovis?”

Was this a nightmare? Chloe hoped it was, but she knew it was all to real. What happened? She was at the ampitheater with Agnes, something yanked on her from a distance. Magic? Would Agnes be able to sense something like that? Didn't matter. By the time Chloe even realized something was happening she was out like a snuffed candle.

“Wake up Clovis!” The voice echoed in the high ceiling of the room along with the slap. It stung, but no more than the realitization what had likely occurred. This was all just standard procedure for the family. At least they didn't hurt the others, as best Chloe could tell.

“I'm awake! I'm awake!” Shouted Chloe in response to the strike. Thinking to herself that this was certainly a warm homecoming. The lush setting came into view as her eyes adjusted, a parlor that might be a nice place to enjoy stimulating conversation and a glass of wine after a meal. That is, if she weren't tied to a chair and being slapped around by a sorry excuse for family. And since it was midsummer, that seemed like the right time of day too given the dusky hue of the sky outside the ornate windows lining the chamber.

“You know...” The assailant started with a sickly sweet tone. “I wouldn't have to be so rough if you would just listen.”

“Sorry I didn't snap out of...whatever you did to me fast enough.” Chloe spat back, earning herself another firm slap across the face.

“And we wouldn't have to do it in the first place if you would quit running away and face your problems like a proper Taronite heir.” The violent-tempered woman straightened her hair in a nearby mirror, acting like nothing had happened.

Chloe struggled not to break down, she didn't want to show a hint of weakness. “I thought I made it clear, I have zero interest in that. Let Lenci or Irini do it.”

“Oh-ho-ho...” The woman mocked Chloe with a fake laugh that made her wonder when the last time her aunt had ever had an earnest moment of joy. “Now now, Clovis dear. You know why it has to be you. Our family has to be better than some nouveau riche merchants who still need a few generations to learn ettiquite. I wish it could be sensible Lenci or strong Irini over a vagabond like you but they're girls.”

“And so am I!” Chloe shouted back, straining against her restraints. “Why does it even matter? Plenty of families are run by matriarchs.”

The aunt turned to offer a brief sneer. “You say that, but you don't even act like a proper lady either. We don't care what those lesser families do, Taronites actually care about tradition.”

Chole wanted to throw some family secrets that ran to the contraty in her face, but thought better of it given her situation. Instead taking atvantage of her aunt's refusal to look her in the eye to see if she could loosen the cords holding her arms to the chair. She received a lucky break at this task when a commotion in the yard below distracted her aunt.

“What kind of barbar--” The aunt began before she was cut short by the door flying open.

Agnes stood in the frame wearing her usual aloof expression like she just happened to stumble upon this place. That is, until she scanned the room and saw Chloe tied to a chair with red welts on her face. Then it changed to a brief look of concern that made the young woman a little misty-eyed before she witnessed a sight she'd hoped to never see again in the sheer rage contained in the eyes that met her aunt's.

Agnes said nothing as she made her way down the length of the long parlor. Taking her small, slow steps with each punctuated by a thump of her shepherd's crook on the plush carpet. After each step something about Agnes seemed to grow. A nightmarish presence leaking from every pore to the point the frail-looking old woman took on the appearance of a monster from a poet's epic complete with some kind of physical presence. Chloe wasn't quite sure what it was, but the effect made the room feel like a furnace and this woman she had traveled with, fought beside, and even come to love more than any “family” in this twisted house filled the room as if the Giant King were crammed in here himself.

Chloe's aunt began to panic but couldn't find words as she slinked away, trying to make herself smaller and smaller as Agnes's presence continued to grow. As she stood in front of the assailant she still needed to look up, but felt like she was at least three times as tall before she spoke in a voice that seemed to make the air visibly tremble.

“I've seen enough. You may be nobility, but if my young companion wishes to leave this place she will. I will burn this lovely home to the foundation if I must. Do I make myself clear?”

Chloe's aunt still couldn't remember how to speak. Silently mouthing a couple of nonsense words before offering a humble nod and collapsing to her knees. Then Agnes turned her attention to Chloe as she made her way to the chair. The frightful presence vanishing almost instantly as she carefully singed the cords that bound the young woman. When she looked up to meet Chloe's eyes, it was right back to that sweet, humble smile and when she simply said “Now now, little cat burgular...let's leave this place. I hear Tumlin has our ship.” Chloe couldn't control herself anymore.

Sobbing as they left the room, Chloe took one look back at her aunt and for the first time felt a twinge of pity before turning back and choking out a meek “Thank you, Granny Agnes. But let me make one stop on the way out.”

The manor was eerily quiet as the pair navigated hallways lined with plush carpets and fine artwork. Chloe wondered why she heard the occasional shout or explosion outside but decided she wouldn't worry about that if it clearly wasn't bothering Agnes. They ascended a spiral staircase and at the top Chloe pushed open the door to a refined study. Chloe strode across the room to the central desk and flipped open a wooden box sitting upon it.

Agnes wasn't quite sure what to make of the item Chloe pulled out of the box to examine. It seemed to have a clear handle from the way she was holding it and then that handle turned into a long metal rod that was open at one end. Chloe inspected the mechanisms on the side and held the tool up so she was looking the same way the open end was facing, muttering something about models and stopping power.

“And what prize have you decided to sneak away with, little cat burgular?” Agnes asked, snapping the girl out of her fixation.

“A fancy new weapon,” Chloe replied as she slid the pistol into her belt. “After those Gorgon vines in the forest I was thinking I could use a better one than just having a knife. We'll call it Dad supporting this journey. Bet he won't even notice it's missing.”

The pair made their way out of the manor without further incident and once out on the grounds were met by a score of men Chloe thought looked like pirates. She took a bit of perverse joy out of how many formerly well-manicured topiaries were upturned and especially those massive wrought iron gates that once took her so much effort to escape lying mangled on the ground. By nightfall they were on the deck of a ship called the Pahari and even Hektor seemed overjoyed to see her as it pulled away from Trelle .

“Home isn't a place,” Chloe thought to herself as the ship began to wheel around towards their next destination. “It's people who would go this far for you, people you'd go this far for.”