did his best. But he couldn’t…”
“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry.” Katherine felt a pang of sorrow for her cellmate, knowing how the loss of a loved one hurt.
“Don’t be sorry mum,” Belle sniffed away a tear. “He did what was right and honourable. He died protectin’ the woman he loved.”
At a loss for words, Katherine let a sullen silence fall over them. Even though Katherine couldn’t hear it, she knew the other woman mourned the loss of her fallen beau, for her body shuddered amidst shy little sniffles. Long moments passed as Belle silently mourned her fallen love, leaving Katherine to her thoughts.
Katherine sighed, once again feeling the back of her skull. Scanning the dark room, Katherine racked her mind, trying to remember how she found herself in such a place.
The morning had been a brigh and uncharacteristically warm for Syntar. I had stepped out of my villa into the congested streets. The salt-children were scampering around, pestering the nobility as is their won’t. I headed to the south, making for the designated boarding district for the poor souls destined to a life of destitution .
Katherine rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands as she struggled to remember.
The streets were bustling with joviality. Favourable weather set a mood I hadn’t seen outside of the drunken evenings in the soup-houses. It was certainly contagious. There was something amiss though…what was it? Oh, that’s right, there was a strange man who was pasting some sort of poster along the walls of buildings. I hadn’t seen him before, but he certainly glared at me with a feverish sparkle in his eyes. Was it he who stole me? No, it couldn’t have been, as I spent the rest of the day sitting with the elderly and feeding the children.
Katherine’s mind throbbed the harder she thought. The pain was too strong for her to recall further, but Katherine was certain that had been the day she had been taken.
The rough scraping of hard soled-boots upon stone began to sift into the dark cell.
“Belle?” Katherine whispered. Someone is coming. Belle?” Katherine looked at the other woman’s silhouette. “Belle? Please, Belle!” She shook the slumped form gently at first, but as there was no response, Katherine’s attempts became more frantic. “Belle!”
Without warning, Belle snapped upright, frightened. “What d’ye want? Who are ye?” She demanded.
“Oh Belle, thank goodness.” Katherine said, relieved.
“What’s that? Oh, right. Sorry mum, I must’ve dozed fer a minute.” The woman sighed. “I dreamt o’ the night Willard was lost.”
“Belle,” Katherine said. “Someone is coming. I do not know if they come to us or…”
Voices could now be heard outside their prison. The words were too muffled to discern, but Katherine could make out the distinct sound of a ring of keys being searched through. The heavy sound of a metallic lock releasing overtook Katherine’s senses. The screeching of aged metal against metal intruded into Katherine’s mind, searing the pain already housed within. The bright shock of orange light from an everflame lantern filled the cell as the heavy door pushed open. The sudden light blinded the two women.
Standing in the doorway was a trio of men, all dressed in similar black uniforms. The man in the middle held the keys, while either of the flanking men held a lantern. Upon the breasts of their waistcoats sat a cloth-of-gold gear with the embroidered initials I.O.W. Each man brandished a holstered pistol. The central man, however, carried a sheathed rapier held up by a deep red sash that only served to exaggerate the appearance of his robust stomach.
“A’ight lads, these are th’ wenches,” the man stood a good head taller than either of the flanking lackeys. With a surprising delicacy he clipped the iron keys to the same sash that held his blade. “Orson wants them down t’ the baths t’night.” He showed half rotted teeth through a twisted smile. “They
“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry.” Katherine felt a pang of sorrow for her cellmate, knowing how the loss of a loved one hurt.
“Don’t be sorry mum,” Belle sniffed away a tear. “He did what was right and honourable. He died protectin’ the woman he loved.”
At a loss for words, Katherine let a sullen silence fall over them. Even though Katherine couldn’t hear it, she knew the other woman mourned the loss of her fallen beau, for her body shuddered amidst shy little sniffles. Long moments passed as Belle silently mourned her fallen love, leaving Katherine to her thoughts.
Katherine sighed, once again feeling the back of her skull. Scanning the dark room, Katherine racked her mind, trying to remember how she found herself in such a place.
The morning had been a brigh and uncharacteristically warm for Syntar. I had stepped out of my villa into the congested streets. The salt-children were scampering around, pestering the nobility as is their won’t. I headed to the south, making for the designated boarding district for the poor souls destined to a life of destitution .
Katherine rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands as she struggled to remember.
The streets were bustling with joviality. Favourable weather set a mood I hadn’t seen outside of the drunken evenings in the soup-houses. It was certainly contagious. There was something amiss though…what was it? Oh, that’s right, there was a strange man who was pasting some sort of poster along the walls of buildings. I hadn’t seen him before, but he certainly glared at me with a feverish sparkle in his eyes. Was it he who stole me? No, it couldn’t have been, as I spent the rest of the day sitting with the elderly and feeding the children.
Katherine’s mind throbbed the harder she thought. The pain was too strong for her to recall further, but Katherine was certain that had been the day she had been taken.
The rough scraping of hard soled-boots upon stone began to sift into the dark cell.
“Belle?” Katherine whispered. Someone is coming. Belle?” Katherine looked at the other woman’s silhouette. “Belle? Please, Belle!” She shook the slumped form gently at first, but as there was no response, Katherine’s attempts became more frantic. “Belle!”
Without warning, Belle snapped upright, frightened. “What d’ye want? Who are ye?” She demanded.
“Oh Belle, thank goodness.” Katherine said, relieved.
“What’s that? Oh, right. Sorry mum, I must’ve dozed fer a minute.” The woman sighed. “I dreamt o’ the night Willard was lost.”
“Belle,” Katherine said. “Someone is coming. I do not know if they come to us or…”
Voices could now be heard outside their prison. The words were too muffled to discern, but Katherine could make out the distinct sound of a ring of keys being searched through. The heavy sound of a metallic lock releasing overtook Katherine’s senses. The screeching of aged metal against metal intruded into Katherine’s mind, searing the pain already housed within. The bright shock of orange light from an everflame lantern filled the cell as the heavy door pushed open. The sudden light blinded the two women.
Standing in the doorway was a trio of men, all dressed in similar black uniforms. The man in the middle held the keys, while either of the flanking men held a lantern. Upon the breasts of their waistcoats sat a cloth-of-gold gear with the embroidered initials I.O.W. Each man brandished a holstered pistol. The central man, however, carried a sheathed rapier held up by a deep red sash that only served to exaggerate the appearance of his robust stomach.
“A’ight lads, these are th’ wenches,” the man stood a good head taller than either of the flanking lackeys. With a surprising delicacy he clipped the iron keys to the same sash that held his blade. “Orson wants them down t’ the baths t’night.” He showed half rotted teeth through a twisted smile. “They
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