Act 4

It is morning in the woods.

The sun has risen enough to clear the misty blanket as it uncovers a travelling convoy.

There, the thumps of hooves and the huffs of horses' breaths with the rolls of wooden wheels busy the quiet forest that is filled with few patches of blooming purple pros—flowers! ..alongside its tight soil road.

In one of these wagons, Barnaby has been asleep from the night before.

Then, one of its wheels hits a momentous bump, shaking Barb into an uncomfortable wake.

Hardly opens his eyes, his vision blurs.

Someone calls him, "Hey, you."

Barb barely replies, "huh?"

"Finally awake."

Barb rubs his eyes. He peeks at the person's face. It is indeed his friend,

"Oh hey, Ron." Barb greets him back nervously. He noticed Ron looked sullen.

"You still owe me."

"I suppose so.." Barb surface a thought,

Where is..

"Right here." Mila waves him, she has leaned herself near the door trying to gain a more comfortable seat of the bumpy ride.

Between the clatter of the wagon, he overheard a familiar song. He glances at the front to find Officer Dan humming gaily.

"On the road again." Officer Dan sings a murmur from a long-forgotten folk, bygone from any recollection and records. For their memories only exist between the words of their melody that is passed down by generations, upon generations. Or so Barb was told by an old man he once knew named Nelson.

"Lad, would you spare my ears from your terrible voice?" Ron pleads his irritation.

"Sorry, can't help myself," Dan replies gleefully,

"Can't wait to hand you over to my commander though. He'll be so delighted that i'd be sured to get my promotion out of him, right George?" Dan buds a guardsman beside him.

"Yes sir." He steers the horse kindly.

"Speaking of which, how long until we reached the clearing?"

"We should be there before noon sir." George answers.

"Good, good." Dan leans back and rubs his thin belly,

"As I'm quite hungry already. How does a boar for a feast sound?"

"Double rations?" George startles, "You're spoiling us, sir."

"Why don't we hunt one when we arrive?"

"Tis my pleasure. ‘Lieutenant’ Dan." George obliges, as he added the future title to his sergeant officer's name.

Dan turns to take a peek inside, as his glance meet Barb's,

"Oh, you awake." greets him, as he continues to observe the rest.

"Do not fret, all of you would eat one. I'm not a big meany and barbaric by the likes of Ileandians."

"How kind of you." Mila fusses.

He stops his humming and falls quiet for a second. Watching the ever tall trees as it passes his view. Pondering the one single question, ingrained in his mind since yesterday.

"Nonetheless, I wouldn't have thought you, of all people, could be so meticulously grand as to bombed his estate.. in ruins.."

Officer Dan turns again, "How'd you done it? Barnaby, of Buckingsdale?"

Barb protest the accusation, "It wasn't me."

"The report tells otherwise."

Barb parts his gaze down. He detests by the fact that no matter what he’ll say, it would not have cleared his name, as he tries to recall the incident..

"There was someone else."

"I bet there was." Dan scowls,

"Did you pay the person up front? or did you leave him indebted as you did to your brute pal there?"

He then reaches a small container and brings out Barb's dearest possession,

"Or did you use this scroll?" as he waves it playfully.

Barb stares at it. For a moment he felt his chest sink, to see it is now in the hands of another person other than him. To see, it is claimed, for the hundredth of time he witnessed..

By what right? by what law? he grieves.

"I don't even know how to use it—"

"Tell that to Governor when we meet him in person, shall we?" Dan cuts him.

And so, they become quiet..

It is now noon at the clearing. Officer Dan has returned with his wild boar. The guardsman butchers and roasts it to go with their portions of bread, consist of everyday barley flour and rye. One would drizzle their bread with vegetable soup, softening its hard crust to be chewed pleasantly.

The smell of sizzling pork spreads throughout the clearing with a festive mood as the guardsmen chatter and banters about with their fellow ranks. Officer Dan occasionally arise to tell funny stories and encounters of his various romantic candidates. Whichever it was true, the guards would toast and laughs along with him. Yes, the air could turn any poor man's lunch into a hearty meal.

Well.. same cannot be said to those three on the wagon, as they don't share their enthusiasm.

George the guardsman would slide their meals from the door window.

"Courtesy of her royal highness, Empress Isabel."

He excuses himself with respectful manner. His attitude came off civil and promising enough for a steady career in the Empire's martial service.

Though it doesn't help much with their appetite..

"So what's the plan Barb?" Ron mutters between his chew.

"I don't have any.." says him, and swallows his bitter answer with the meal.

Just when he could meet his buddy again, he brought along with his problem. He regrets by the notion that his friend's fortune also hangs between whatever is bound to him. Really, part of him had wished that it could be undone.

"Governor doesn't want me dead.." Barb continues,

"If I could explain what happened.. just maybe, I could talk your way out of this."

"Don't forget her." Ron points his thumb to Mila.

"Yes sorry, her as well."

Mila halts her munch, as she discovers two of them looking at her, "..huh? what is it?"

"i.. nevermind." Barb mutters.

So again, he continues his portion with whatever desire left. Burdened, how does one escape from this sticky situation? a man can only make up plenty enough questions unanswered, as he bites the meal down, in tension..

..Except for Mila, she happens to be enjoying the suckling—juicy-warm-sweet—pork for what it is.

…

In the afternoon, they resumed their convoy with full belly. Destination? east end of the woods. Estimated time arrival? nightfall.

Dulled inside his prison carriage, Barb occasionally looks out from a small iron-barred window to see the view. He wanders off his mind as his sight fills with old redwood pines..

For a single person as him, the forest would hide him well as it took him days to travel on foot. But for a caravan? They require every abled man and horse to traverse these woods safely. And fast.

terrific woods..

Recalls the forest from those books he read. Sure it is a name worthy for it he thought—battles have been fought, disputes have been asserted, territories have been contended and claimed across the span of history however much it is written, burned, and rewritten..

Tittered, he found it amusing for how many studies he read for the clerk's entry position.

A sigh let loose by the afterthought.

For all the fillings, the proofreads, the assistance, the classifying and the sorting of all sorts of government documents.. Every work he has done no longer matters.

..What fate lies down the road? he wonders.

In between the scenery, he notices on the corner of his view;

Mila has been watching him.

Wide, yet daunting sets of pale emerald eyes. piercing.

Nor cold.. Nor warm..

It wasn't judging..But it wasn't welcoming..

It explores thoroughly.

The eyes that delve deep into a person's resolve.

Barb wasn't sure if he should be unease nor that he should acknowledge the look. His throat clenches, by it, beckons him to mutter an apology,

"You really shouldn't help me, you know.."

There was a pregnant pause.. her gaze solely fixed.

But then she rolls her eyes sideways cheerful, as she replies with her ginger voice,

"As a responsible barmaid, I have pledged my uncle to follow you until I acquired your friend's tab."

As she leans herself near the door, the sun radiates her freckle cheeks.

There, would she raise the sweetest and the most softest of smiles, that would disarm any grown man and young boy's soul into a soothing rest.. as she continues,

"Plus additional property damage."

Or maybe it was just Barb imagining things after the odd stare.

"And my.. my pension fund, oh god.." mumbles Ron as he buries his face down to his palms.

Barb is confused, "Your pension fund?"

chuckled from the eavesdrop, Officer Dan speaks,

"You see Barnaby, Ron has been saving up some of his bounty earnings. But since he's now a fugitive like you, Empire has the right to seize every wealth and possession he had accumulated in her entire Domain,"

He turns and gives a joyful smirk, "including the ones on the Bank."

"All of my savings in His Sire Banking Co.." Ron groans between his palms.

"HSBC?" says Barb.

"Let's just say.. they may or may not have already force-closed his retirement plan." concludes Mila.

Barb apologises nervously, "um.. sorry?"

"No problem brother.. anytime." Ron grumbles.

Mila slightly tittered, "what a happy family we are."

"For everything else, there's m—" Dan pauses to glimpse someone from afar.

His scoutsman gallops towards him.

what brings him to incredible haste?

"Sergeant officer, sir." the scout saluted, as Dan nods upon his arrival,

"There's a dead horse sir." Scoutsman says

"A dead horse?”

"Yes sir, a dead horse.. on the road."

"Have you checked the surroundings?"

"Yes but.. there's no one.”

They fall silent.

George mutters, "Tis upmost suspicious.. Sir."

Without a second doubt, Officer Dan raises a fist, signalling every guardsman to halt the convoy. One would yell the other to relay Dan's command.

With the convoy entirely stop, Dan gives his orders to George,

"Gather ten men and double-check the surroundings. Check the ground, check every bushes and leaves around it. Check the trees if you have to."

George hops off the wagon and borrows a horse from the convoy.

"Be careful."

George nods, He proceeds to follow the scoutsman along with his band of ten well-armed men.

…

Officer Dan and his guards standby to wait for any sign. Among them grow cautious, gripping their weapons and shields closer as the hour goes by. Barb and the rest would not say a word to each other, unsure of what is to happen to them.

But as hope would have, George comes from afar and informs Officer Dan.

"False alarm." George turns the horse, as he continues,

“It seems to be stranded. I have not found a single cut nor wound in it. The men are to rid of it as in this moment sir”

“Gunpowder?”

“None, sir.”

Dan pauses for a while as he watches him.

A brief wind hangs between them.

“I’ve inquired your observation, yet your wisdom tells otherwise, yes?”

George does not answer, Dan pauses again as the breeze seeps through their armour.

“..Seems we might not have a choice but to proceed,” Dan parts to watch the trees, “Tis indeed a precarious road in these historic woodlands, wouldn’t you think, George?”

George does not reply.

“Well then.. As I‘ve taken the necessary precaution to the best of my rank, if our events were to transpire as I’ve imagined,” Dan turns to glare at the Ileandian,

“I know who to blame.”

…

Officer Dan proceeds to the convoy with his wagon in the middle. They would ride slower as they kept watchful. After a while he discovers George’s men relaxing and chattering about near it. The tenseless nature between them gives reassurance.

One of the men would playfully yell at him, “Just a poor fellow aye sir?”

“Sir, look!” another man taps his feet to it, “It’s dead sir!”

Officer Dan and George would give a chuckle as a response, among the men themselves would ease their worries as they raise their cheeks. Behind everyone's mind one notion would flourish, in that; it wasn’t as perilous as Dan would’ve thought.

Except for Ron.

He startles Barb and Mila from his abrupt move, as he pushes Barb aside and presses his ear between the barred window. He would silence him before he could ask.

He listens carefully as their wagon gets closer..

He picks up something.

There's a fading noise coming out of it.

Thus, his spine shivers.

"Get away from that horse!"

The guardsmen meet his loud shout, startling them. Despite his worry, Officer Dan would wave his hand at them to ignore him, as it prompts them to laugh at Ron. With that, Ron rustles to the front as he fists the wagon wall intensely.

"Move it! quick!"

Provoked, Dan raise his voice back to him, "Godamnit what could it possibly are you on this time—"

Ron screams and slams even harder, "MOVE! MOVE THE WAG-"

By then it is too late.

Glints of a yellow light beam from its stomach as it implodes and pulls everyone and everything around in unexpected force. In a flash of a second, it trashes every single thing with incredible violence, as it blasts even the thickest of carriages off its wheel..

As the force gives the brightest of light, Barb and Mila would witness being covered by Ron.

Before everything becomes white.