The Capital, The Guard, and The First Delve

Aled awoke to cold air within his mobile prison cell as fog gently rolled in from the barred window. He had never gone to the royal capital before and certainly never expected his debut appearance to be as a convict.

A guard tapped the toe of his boot against the metal gate.

“Aled of Llewyn” The man asked.

Aled paused before answering, “…Aye”

“I am Father Owen,” The man continued, “I will be responsible for your hearing and sentencing today.”

Aled did not have much in the way of restful sleep and did not fully pay attention as Father Owen recounted the report on his alleged crimes.

The Quiet Revolution, as it would be later called, saw the elderly Lord Emrys deposed by the clergy in favor of his second-born son, Prince Calder. While no word of execution or exile was mentioned, word spread that Lord Emrys had seemingly disappeared following the coup.

The Royal Militia shortly after began a census under claims the previous lord was lax in his duties and arrived at Aled’s family farm three days prior. Led by one Praetor Ellis, the recordkeepers called for Aled’s arrest over claims of misrepresenting crop yields for the prior year. Despite protests from not only himself but his own neighbors, there was no evidence to dispute the Militia’s claims.

“Praetor Ellis is the benevolent right hand of the righteous Prince Calder,” Father Owen droned, reading from a sheet of paper, “And as part of his mercy he offers the accused the chance at redemption. For him and his family…”

Salus per Sanguinem. Salvation through Bloodshed

Aled was beside himself as visions of the gallows in the public square invaded his mind. The faces of the cosmopolitan freemen gawking at him, the noose tightening as the false floor gave out from underneath him.

The bailiff watched as Aled went pale, dropping to his knees. Moving from his post, he knelt down to pull Aled back to his feet.

“Oy oy, up with yeh now,” He whispered into Aled’s ear, “That’s just fancy church talk for hard labor. Nobody’s fixin’ to die less they plan on doin’ it themselves.”

This revelation took a moment for Aled to fully take in. He offered his gratitude to Father Owen for the Prince’s leniency and apologized for his interruption.

After being ushered back to his holding cell, Aled waited until he was called upon by Father Owen once again.

Father Owen arrived at the cell with a fresh change of clothing, “You are to bathe yourself in the attached room and change out of your current attire. The rite of Salus per Sanguinem is nigh.”

Later that morning, Aled found himself at the entrance to the catacombs in the presence of three similarly dressed men, a young girl wearing a finely embroidered linens, and an imposing guard clad in half-plate. The girl’s clothing seemed far too elaborate to be another prisoner. Aled inferred she must be a royal retainer or lady-in-waiting. A full helmet obscured the guard’s face, Aled inferred this was to prevent prisoners from recognizing a familiar face.

“You are my charges, and I assume you have all been given your equipment for this expedition?” The guard questioned, his voice buzzing through the closed helm, “Squire!”

The young girl jumped at the sudden declaration before pulling out a roll of parchment. The guard unrolled the paper and began to read from it, keeping his helm shut.

Under the direction of Praetor Ellis, right hand of Prince Calder, all individuals gathered today under the rite of Salus per Sanguinem are charged with locating the whereabouts of the traitorous Lord Emrys within the castle catacombs and the treasures he is accused of absconding with.

Proof of the traitor’s capture, dead or alive, will serve as a base completion of expected duties and absolution of all crimes charged therein. Any attempts to elude the escort or escape the catacomb will be considered dereliction of duty, leaving the offending charge ineligible for absolution.

Any property discovered from the royal treasury will serve as collateral for compensation upon completion of duty or taken into consideration for an early absolution should completion of expected duties prove impossible.

The guard paused as he unrolled the parchment further, “I will now initiate a roll call.”

“Aaeron of Casne. Crime: Embezzlement”

The tall, scrawny boy to Aled’s left responded meekly, “…Yes.”

“Aled of Llewyn. Crime: Embezzlement”

“Y-yes.” Replied Aled, nerves getting to him.

“Craig of Palmyr. Crime: Theft”

“Yes” Replied the stocky, tan man to Aled’s right.

“Tristan of Gwent. Crime: Blasphemy”

The final man, much older than the other three, simply lifted his chin in acknowledgement.

“Tristan of Gwent.” The guard repeated sternly.

Tristan raised both arms above his head, “Yes, yes, I’m here!”

“All charges are accounted for. Squire!” The guard announced, rolling the parchment back up.

The young girl grabbed the scroll and returned it to her sack.

“We begin our duty, onward.”

The group was led below the castle basement and into the ancient catacombs. The chiseled stone blocks dramatically gave way to carved bedrock, smoothed over from centuries of traffic and wear. Small sconces dotted the walls, each holding a small fire within. Aled wondered whether they were just to set a somber mood. He could barely see the ceiling directly above the flames, and the ones further back almost floated within the inky black void.

Traveling down the first hallway, multiple pathways presented themselves to the group, each one branching off into the darkness.

“Oy…” Aaeron said in a low, hushed tone, “How are we going to keep from getting lost?”

“My job is to ensure your success.” The guard responded, “Squire!”

The girl lit a torch from a nearby sconce before wordlessly handing it to Aled. She then reached back into her sack and pulled out a large leather map.

“Aled of Llewyn to the front,” The guard declared, “The squire will guide us.”

Aled kept the torch ahead of him, making sure the girl could read the map. He tried to sneak glances, but the uneven cobblestone forced him to keep a closer eye on his surroundings. It was clear this was not the first time this guard and squire were sent into the catacombs, especially the speed with which the girl navigated the numerous branching pathways.

Their search efforts had already rewarded the group. The marked path was blocked by a cave-in and forced a detour, but Tristan sighted a wooden container within the rubble. Together, Aled, Tristan, and Craig were able to uncover a small wooden chest containing jewelry and coins confirmed missing from the royal vaults.

Craig lingered behind the group. He fiddled with the dagger that was included in his expedition pack as he turned his gaze opposite the blocked hallway to see a narrow unlit hallway.

Hehhheheheh… You…

“Hey wait!” He yelled out as he pointed toward the hallway, “I think I hear something down there!”

“There is nothing down that path, Craig of Palmyr. We must continue forth.” The guard declared flatly, continuing to move the rest of the group forward to catch up with the squire, “Beyond this hallway is a room we have not investigated. Keep wary of your surroundings.”

Craig reluctantly turned back toward the main group. Rushing to catch up, he tripped around the corner.

“Agh!” Tristan cried out as a metal spike shot out of the wall, piercing his upper leg with the black metal tip. He dropped the chest he was holding. Aled snapped his head over toward Tristan and saw a tile was depressed below Craig’s left foot.

“Aaeron of Cesne!” The guard barked sharply, “Secure the chest while Aled of Llewyn assists Tristan of Gwent!”

Aaeron dragged the chest away from Tristan and Aled helped keep him steady as he pulled his leg away from the trap. The cut wasn’t deep, but the metal tip was unrefined and left a jagged tear in Tristan’s skin.

“We need to go back!” Craig pleaded to the guard, “Tristan’s injured. We don’t know if that trap is poisoned!”

“My job is to ensure your success.” The guard replied flatly.

Craig looked at the guard incredulously, “What do you mean! We’ve already found some treasure. That should be enough, right?”

“My job is to ensure your success.” The guard repeated.

Craig was sweating profusely in panic, his hand visibly shaking. He shifted his eyes between the guard, Aled, and the rest of the group before settling on the narrow alley they were ushered past.

Hehhheheheh…

The formless voice whispered to Craig once again. The dagger slipped out of his hands with a clatter, and he made a run past the guard.

His escape was short-lived. The guard maneuvered his shield to stifle his momentum before pushing him against a wall.

“Let me go!” Craig yelled, clawing at the shield, “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You must fulfil your sentence.” The guard firmly retorted, pushing Craig harder into the wall and turning his head back to the main group, “Squire!”

The squire nervously pushed through the men, who haphazardly encircled her during the conflict. She produced a length of rope and proceeded to begin wrapping it around his ankles.

“H-hey, what are you doing?” Craig yelled as he stomped and shuffled his feet. The squire continued to wrap Craig’s ankles, tying the rope off with a lazy knot. Standing up, she reached for additional rope in her pack when Craig reached out and grasped at her braids.

“Ow ow ow!” The young girl cried out as she was pulled up onto her tiptoes. The guard lowered his shield, exposing Craig’s head.

Without warning, an armored right fist impacted the top of Craig’s head with thud. Craig’s eyes went blank and his grip on the squire immediately loosened as his body slumped to the ground. Blood trickled slowly from his nose.

“…Craig of Palmyr,” The guard said after a moment of silence, “Cause of death, dereliction of duty.”

The squire gingerly rubbed her scalp where the braid came loose, sniffling back tears of pain.

“Squire…” The guard’s voice was soft, almost fatherly, “Craig of Palmyr. Cause of death. Dereliction of duty.”

The girl pulled a hairpin from her breast pocket and clumsily pinned her loose braid in place. She then retrieved the rolled parchment and held it under the torch Aled still held in his hand. She located Craig’s name on the document and wrote his cause of death next to it in charcoal.

The guard looked over to Aled and the rest of the men, “Untie his feet, we continue.”

A tense silence ensued before Tristan hobbled over to Craig’s lifeless body to untie the ropes.

“I need something clean for my leg,” Tristan growled as he undid the layered knots, “It would help ensure my success.”

The guard remained motionless, “…Squire.”

The girl reached into her sack and pulled out a roll of brilliant white linen.

“Thank you, girl,” Tristan said, “… I… need to remove my trousers.”

The girl’s eyes went wide after a brief pause before spinning around to face the wall. Pulling down his trousers, Tristan revealed the wound and unrolled the linen around his thigh, making sure to only use as much as he felt was necessary. Using Craig’s discarded dagger, he tied off his makeshift bandage and pulled up his trousers before handing the roll of linen back to the girl.

“Thank you. I’m decent now.”

The girl grabbed the linen from Tristan, still facing away from him, and shoved the cloth back into her sack.

“Well?” Tristan grunted as he turned to the guard, “Shall we continue?”