Fantasy The Betrayal (closed)

[Owl Knight]

​

Mordin stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands in a vain attempt to banish the cold the gnawed at his old bones like a starving wolf. For thirty miles the cold had been seeping deeper and deeper into his body until even the fur lined tunic he wore did little to preserve him from the chill.

The land of Bremmerlund was hard. As hard as the iron scraped from the mines that gave her her name "the iron land". And his knees felt every bit of that hardness as he made his way along the trail ahead of the carriage. He pulled his horse behind him by her lead. He didn't mind riding, so much. But there came times when he just needed to feel the ground beneath his own two feet.

The princess had been quiet for some time, hidden away in the carriage. But then, he supposed, who could blame her, being delivered this way like chattel in a prince's political game. She deserved far better than what her sex and position had forced her life to become. Mordin only hoped that the crown prince of Lyria was a better man than Ethred, the girl's hateful bastard of a brother, and he would be there for her in whatever capacity he could. All the same, his heart grieved for the child he had all but raised and the uncertain future that lay before her.

"Woah!" came a call from the rider at the head of the train. The young soldier whirled his mare around and rode back towards Mordin's position by the carriage.

"What is it?" the bodyguard asked, raising a hand to stop the carriage. The driver pulled up the wagon horses.

"A tree fell across the road up ahead," the young soldier replied. "It's not very stout, we should be able to do away with it quickly."

Mordin frowned. He had seen enough treachery in his life to know that mysteriously felled trees were not always the result of unfortunate happenstance. Indeed, they were a favorite method of highwaymen and other unsavory types that were all too common along these deserted roads, far from the nearest town.

"Alright," Mordin commanded. "Take three men with axes from the rear wagon and clear the way. Set the rest of the guard along the sides of the road. The longer we are delayed the greater the risk to her highness."

The young soldier nodded and rode back to inform the rear guard of Mordin's orders. Mordin ground his teeth as he pulled his horse back to the carriage and tied her off to an iron bracket on the side. The king had only offered him a dozen men. Twelve members of the castle guard to make the journey as quiet and expedient as possible. Mordin had argued for more men, but Ethred, the prattling little gobsmack couldn't be swayed.

Everything about this stank to heavens high.

Three soldiers, axes in hand, strode past him from the rear of the caravan, on their way to clear the blockage. Mordin watched them go and then rounded to make his way to the carriage door. His cold eye scanned the forest that rose on either side of the sunken road, the rough pine trunks wreathed in chill mist.

He knocked gently on the carriage door.

"Your highness?"

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

There was no love lost between the new King of Bremmerlund and his sister the Princess, mainly because there had been none to begin with. Ethred had seemed all too eager to see Amarys gone and it was fine, she wouldn't miss him. What she would miss was her home and the people who had cared for her all of her life. Now all she had was Braella and her decidedly uncertain future.

The carriage had been rattling down the road for some time. The wood of the wheels creaked and tossed bits of gravel and ice as they turned steadily, dutifully pulled along by the horses whose whinnies were as muffled as the sounds of the twelve guards who accompanied her -- and there was no sign of the small caravan stopping anytime soon.

Except it did stop. Amarys had been staring wistfully through a crack in the wooden shutters that covered the windows and did little to keep out the cold when the procession came to a slow halt. It didn't take a genius to understand that they hadn't reached their destination. There were only tall, dark pine trees and snow for miles and miles around them and while she had never been to the Kingdom of Lyria, she had to assume that the middle of a forest with no signs of man-made structures of any kind just wasn't the center of its civilization.

Amarys folded her leather covered fingertips around the brown and white fur that lined the collar of her emerald hued coat as she snuggled her chin and jaw into it for warmth and exchanged a concerned look with Braella who had been quietly knitting during the ride. Her needles had stopped moving as the carriage had but after the exchanged look she smiled, her lightly freckled cheeks gently plumping as her cherubic lips curved, "'tis likely nothing I'm certain... much too quiet for anything to be amiss."

Braella's presence was a comfort, albeit a small one. She wasn't much older than Amarys and had been her Lady-in-Waiting since she had blossomed into womanhood. The bigger comfort was Mordin, who had been there all of her life, though now she was about to lose him and it was a struggle not to burst into tears just to keep him from worrying for her more than she thought he ought to.

The knock at the carriage door and Mordin's voice drew a response from Braella whose golden curls, pulled loosely back from her face, were blown about by a breeze that invaded the carriage when she immediately opened the shutter covering the window so that Amarys could clearly see him. The princess mustered a weak smile, the sudden gust of cold air stinging her already red nose, "Captain. Why have we stopped?"

She did her best to retain her composure, wishing to appear every bit the princess that she was and not the fearful girl she felt like, the one who caused the quaver to her voice which she had to disguise through a gentle clearing of her throat.

 

[Owl Knight]

"Your highness, there's an obstruction in the road," he said, "a fallen tree by the look of things. The men are working to clear the path now. We should be able to move within the hour." He turned once more to scan the hill that rose amid the trees to the east side of the trail. The woods were quiet, wreathed in a chill winter haze that hung like a curtain between the thick pines. The prickly and unsettling feeling of being watched came over him as he stared through the haze, his jaw working restlessly as he tried to shake the uneasy sensation.

He turned back to the cabin to meet the royal girl's keen eyes. Girl, he thought, sadly, she's all but a woman now. And he was about to lose her forever. "Your highness, I advise you to stay in the carriage," he warned. "This is a land rife with cutpurses and highwaymen. If you and your lady remain in the shelter of the carriage we can soon be on the move."

He wondered if she could make out the unease in his voice. It was very likely she could. After all, Elsa was always able to read him like one of her books, and Amarys' apple had fallen quite near to the tree. He consoled himself with that fact. Elsa's husband had been a right bastard when it came down to it, but that had never marred her magnanimous spirit. Amarys would have to follow in her mother's footsteps.

"Captain," came a voice from up ahead. Mordin turned as saw one of the soldiers he had dispatched to deal with the tree. The young man was somewhat aggitaded as he called.

"Here, boy," he called back. The excited young soldier approached him, pointing back towards the tree.

"Captain, you need to see this,"

Mordin cast a curt boqw towards the carriage and set off by on the front of the retinue. They stood some yards from the carriage, gathered around the end of the tree where it fell.

"Well?" Mordin asked, "what's the delay?" one of the soldiers pointed down at the foot of the tree, where one might expect to see the roots pulled out of the frozen earth when the tree fell, but there were no roots, just the hacked and tapered end of a tree that had been felled with an axe.

" Someone did this on purpose," one of the soldiers said with a dark frown. "Someone blocked the path."

Mordon's hand went to his sword.

" Clear it quickly, and let's get on the move, " he said coldly and began to stare once more into the fog on the hill.

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

Braella was right, it was quiet. Without the ceaseless rattling of the carriage wheels and the rhythmic clomping of the horses' hooves, it was deafeningly so. Amarys turned her blue eyes towards the hills as Mordin did and tightened her grip on the collar of her long coat, the brown leather of her gloves creaking softly. He was right, she could sense his unease but she said nothing and only gave a nod at his warning. Even without his words she could feel a general disquiet in the air that was unsettling and left her feeling as though Braella had been mistaken, there was something amiss.

Her eyes shifted in the direction from whence a voice had called out to Mordin before she looked back at him and returned his bow with a brief but graceful nod of her head. Braella mimicked the Princess's action and firmly closed the window shutter, "there now... nothing to worry for, your highness."

Amarys gave Braella a brief half smile, the Lady's dulcet voice and cheerful tone were of no comfort and she wondered if Braella honestly believed her words or if she was only attempting to alleviate her concern. She watched her for a moment as she went back to her knitting and feeling Amarys's eyes on her, the needles stopped their continuous movement and Braella returned her look, donning a smile, "Princess, we'll be moving along shortly, the Captain said so himself. What more could be the matter?"

"Oh... I don't know, 'tis not as though I'm on my way to an arranged marriage all on account of it being my duty," it wasn't truly the reason she felt so uneasy, but Braella was so emotional she didn't want to rile her by voicing her concerns. Her gaze turned from Braella back towards the crack in the shutters where she peered through once again.

With a chastised expression, her Lady-in-waiting glanced down at her craft, a chocolate brown length of woven yarn which she planned for a shawl, "I understand that fulfilling one's duty is not always what we wish it to be," her tone wasn't as chipper as before. Even though she attempted to keep Amarys's spirits high, she understood that emotions were not just skin deep and there might not always be something she could do or say to help, "but 'tis not always so terrible... perhaps you will enjoy your new home, and of course I will be with you. You might find that your duty is a blessing in this case."

The meager light in the carriage glinted off of the silver knitting needles in her hands as they began moving again, tapping against each other with soft clicks. Amarys looked back towards her and was graced by a smile that matched the hope of her words and she couldn't help but return the simple gesture before she let out a sigh and returned her gaze towards the sliver of light that marked where the pane of the carriage window met with the shutter which covered it.

 

[Owl Knight]

The vicious twang of the crossbow sounded distant and hollow in the snowy air of the wood, but the wet thunk as it found its mark in one of the soldiers lining the eastward side of the road. It caught him in the shoulder, sinking deep and pulling him around in a half circle before he fell to the icy road, stunned. Mordin's head snapped around and his broadsword flashed as he drew it from its oiled scabbard. A second shot caught his ear and a hiss drew his attention back to the soldiers who stood with him near the street. The young one, who had called him over from the carriage, staggered against him, the feathered butt of a crossbow bolt blooming from his throat. He let the lad fall to the earth, struggling for his last breaths. There was nothing to be done for him.

The first man had overcome his shock and now lay howling and writhing in a growing red stain on the snowy ground as he tried to pull the bolt free from his shoulder. His screams mingled with frantic shouts as the ten soldiers still standing scrambled to meet the threat from the woods. Two more fell, their bodies thrown in violent spirals to the ground. The rest stood by, clutching their spears and gazing with their gormless mouths agape at their fallen comrades.

Mere seconds had elapsed since the first shot and now a fifth man fell, then a sixth. Half of the company was gone.

"The Princess!" Mordin bellowed, bounding over the first man as he continued to struggle in the snow. "Protect the Princess!" A seventh man reeled back, a bolt placed perfectly through his left eye.

"Yurvin's teeth!" Mordin cursed. Twelve fat, lazy palace guards and not a soldier worth his salt among the lot. He barreled towards the cart, ignoring the stubborn ache in his left knee that had not let up since they crossed into the snowy wood. An eighth man was caught as he turned to help his fallen comrade, slumping over him as the bolt pierced his neck.

The shots were coming from the hill, as Mordin had feared. With the four men remaining, there was no way he could rush their position and close the distance. He could only pray that the bowmen were few and would need to stop and reload their weapons.

His foot struck a patch of ice and he stumbled, losing his footing and falling to his knees. It was a providential happening, for the bolt that would surely have snuffed out his life hissed harmlessly overhead. He cursed, scrambled, found his feet, and pressed on to reach the carriage.

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

"What was that?" Amarys questioned, not really asking in expectation of an answer as she looked away from the window and towards the other side of the carriage. Braella paused in her knitting and listened before shrugging her shoulders, an uncertain expression crossing her features as she shook her head slightly and went back to knitting. Amarys could still hear the voices of the guards outside, though they now sounded louder and more urgent, drowning out the sound of Braella's knitting needles before they were soon replaced by the agonized cry of one of their number.

Braella's needles stopped moving, her blue eyes wide as she looked across the carriage at Amarys who quickly slid across her seat to the side of the carriage where Mordin had approached and reached for the latch keeping the shutters closed but was stopped by her Lady's hand, "your highness!"

She shook her head and Amarys's brow furrowed, her lower lip drawn between her teeth for a moment as she spotted the fear in Braella's eyes. Her own heart had begun thumping violently in her chest and she tightened her hands into fists, giving Braella a nod and finding another crack where the shutters met the window's edge so that she could peer out just in time to see a flurry of crossbow bolts flying towards the caravan, the sound of yet more struck soldiers echoing off the trees that surrounded the forest road.

Her smooth brow deeply creased as she hurriedly backed away from the side of the carriage only to hear Mordin call for her protection. Braella's knitting had stopped and been tossed aside as she stared at the side of the carriage while Amarys's eyes shifted nervously, her mind trying to fully grasp what was happening and what they could do.

"We are under attack?!" Braella moved directly across from Amarys as she cried out in panic, "what shall we do?"

She echoed Amarys's thoughts who shook her head as Braella grasped her hands. Mordin had told them to remain in the carriage and that they would be safer that way, but if all of the guards fell, would they really be safe? She trembled at the thought of what could become of she and Braella if the guards were not able to survive the attack and protect them. She turned her eyes back towards the window beside her, the one on the far side from the hill, and peered through the crack, "Princess!"

"Shh!" Amarys responded to Braella's cry of urgency, "I'm trying to think."

Amarys shook her head while Braella silenced her words but not her voice, continuing to express her distress through gasps and sobs that joined the fearful tears which fell from her eyes. With a deep breath, Amarys turned her hands over to hold Braella's and gave them a squeeze, "Braella. I need you to help me."

Braella nodded briskly in response as Amarys cupped her face and wiped away her tears in an attempt to soothe her as she spoke, "we must get to the horses."

"What? No! The Captain told us to remain in the carriage!"

"That was before we were attacked... what shall we do if..." She shook her head, she didn't want to think of Mordin dying, but she knew in her heart that he would want her to save herself if he could not. She also didn't want to cause Braella any more fear and returned her hands to Braella's, "please, help me."

It took Braella a moment to make a decision, her red and wide eyes staring at Amarys for several moments before she slowly nodded and Amarys gave her a single nod, her expression questioning if Braella was certain of her choice before she raised the latch which sealed the carriage door.

 

[Owl Knight]

Mordin's knee was screaming after falling on the ice. It's surety was already a tenuous prospect without being battered and worn by sudden action. He stopped midstride to lift on of the fallen guards' round shields and lifted it beside as much of his trunk and skull as he could reasonably cover. Another bolt just missed him as he drew near the horses who were whinneying and tossing their heads at the commotion. It had been less than a minute since the first shot had been fired and he could feel every muscle coursing with red hot energy.

Two of the soldiers had already found cover behind the carriage, a third moved to approach Mordin as he closed the gap, but a bolt tore through his hauberk and pierced his heart, dropping him dead on the spot.

His knee gave out, and he stumbled once more, this time holding the shield aloft as he struggled up. He could hear footsteps in the ice on the hill and voices shouting back and forth between the trees. The shots had ceased for the moment and he wondered if they were loading fresh shot, or if the assailants would approach on foot.

As he pondered this, attempting to rise despite his knee's lack of cooperation, he noted with sudden confusion that the voices on the hill were not Galtic, nor even Lyrian, but the words of Bremmerlund, their own country!

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

The way was clear on the far side of the carriage. There was no sign of their assailants attacking from that side and she could hear the bolts being fired on their caravan as they whizzed through the air and struck the other side of the carriage with hollow thunks as they embedded in the wood. The sound of the horses voicing their fear left a sharp pain in her heart but there was nothing she could do for them, at least not all of them, and she only hoped that none of them would be felled during the attack.

The bewildered and panicked dialogue of the guards who had made their way to the far side of the carriage reached her ears and she cautiously opened the door and peered out, letting out a sigh of relief to see that it was her own escort and not the attackers, "thank goodness," she breathed as she bunched her skirts up around her knees with one hand, the brown leather of her knee high travel boots the only thing protecting her legs from the cold, and hopped from the carriage with little grace before she once again released her skirts, "how many of you have fallen?"

"P-Princess!" One of the guards, a heavy set man with a blonde mustache that seemed much too large for his face, blurted out frantically and stepped between Amarys and the other guard, who appeared very much his comrade's opposite with a tall frame that seemed as though he had skipped one too many meals, "you should return to your carriage!"

"For what? To wait until you all have fallen?" Amarys's brow furrowed, her clear blue eyes narrowing in irritation as Braella stepped up to her side, standing a few inches shorter than her, "no. Where is Mordin?"

The two guards exchanged looks between one another before looking around them as though they expected Mordin to appear suddenly at his mention. Amarys shook her head, her brow remaining creased. Ethred couldn't have intentionally selected an escort of inept guards to accompany her to Lyria and if he had it had to only be because he was confident that it would be a peaceful journey. She now wished that her brother had shown more consideration for her, but she was almost as a stranger to him and his consideration was not something she should have ever expected.

The taller of the two slapped the shoulder of the other a couple of times before pointing back behind Amarys and Braella, "there Princess! He's there!"

Amarys whirled on her heel to spot Mordin where he was taking cover near the horses with nothing more than their large frames and a small shield to protect him. Her posture was poised to run to him, but she stopped herself, though it wasn't entirely without hesitation. She quickly turned back towards the guards, "aid him!"

Her command was almost frantic and they scrambled to do as they were told without actually leaving the protection of the carriage, which Amarys climbed back into after telling Braella to remain as she was. The sound of the bolts embedding themselves into the carriage had ceased and Amarys peered out through the crack in the still closed shutters, trying to gleam some sense of what was happening or some sign of who had been so bold as to launch an attack against a royal cavalcade, even if it was a miniature one.

Her bewildered gaze darted back and forth as she took in the scene that had unfolded near the carriage. She could hear the voices in the distance but she paid no mind to what they said or how they spoke, only taking into consideration that with the halt in their attack they might believe everyone to be dead and their next move would be to check the carriage. She moved away from the door and looked around her, there were books and Braella's bag as well as her own with embroidery tools, not really anything that she could use as a weapon, but she quickly grabbed the needles from Braella's knitting, tugging one from the yarn and sliding it into one of her boots while she held the other in her hand. They weren't exactly weapons, but they would do well in a pinch.

 

[Owl Knight]

Before Mordin could rise from the icy road he hear his name ring out, clear in the cold air of the pine wood. Looking up, he saw Amarys emerging onto the westward side of the road, her skirts gathered in one hand, her emerald coat nearly gleaming against the faded white and grey of the pines.

"Your highness!" he called, rising, and keeping the shield up in his right hand. "Princess, take cover!"

He heard boots scrambling down the hill on his right. He turned, swapping the shield to his left hand and bending down to lift his broadsword from where it lay in the snow.

At lease five men approached, cloaked in grey and gripping axes and swords in their gauntleted fists. Their surcoats were black and without emblem.

They came quick and Mordin scarcely had time to set his footing before the first was upon him, the axe in the assailant's hand hissing as it arced down toward Mordin's exposed head.

He beat the blow aside with a swing of the shield, feeling his arm vibrate with the force of the blow. The man's wild swing left his side exposed and Mordin's swordpoint found a soft spot in the underarm of his mail. The attacker shrieked as Mordin drove the point deep and then jerked it free, splattering the hot road with crimson blood that hissed and steamed in the cold.

Mordin had scarcely enough time to bring the blade up to deflect the sword of the second attacker, who came quick on the heels of the first, advancing on Mordin with a flurry of tight blows that drove the old soldier back a few paces.

They traded blows for a moment, but Mordin managed to sidestep a deadly blow and drive his sword up across his foe's neck.

They're good , he though, preparing for the next attack. Well trained and fast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Princess surrounded by three of her remaining guards, but before he could make a move in her direction, on came the third attacker from the hilltop, whirling a two handed axe around for a beheading swing.

The blow landed hard on the edge of Mordin's shield and bit deep, refusing to be pulled from the wood. After a moment's struggle, Mordin released the shield as the big man yanked at it. The man stumbled back, off balance and Mordin lunged forward, stooping low and bringing the point of the blade up into the man's belly. He followed the motion through, turning his wrist and bringing the blade up in a wide swing, both hands gripping the black handle as he opened the man's bowels.

His heart was throbbing and his breathing came in rasps, the cold air squeezing as his lungs fought for every bit of oxygen they could draw in. On the hill he saw three more men dropping their crossbows and drawing sword and axe to join their comrades.

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

The sound of footfalls as they rapidly tread down the hill reached her ears inside of the carriage and she quickly returned to the window to peer through the crack, finally catching a glimpse of their attackers. She shook her head as she scanned them, the lack of emblems offering her nothing decisive concerning who they were or why they had attacked. Mordin had mentioned cutpurses and highwaymen, perhaps that was all it was. Though if it were only brigands attacking for personal gain, why had they seen so fit to kill before even bothering to approach and demand any valuables they may possess.

She shuddered involuntarily, though whether it was from cold or fear one could only guess. She quickly gathered her skirts again and jumped out of the carriage just as she had done previously and just in time to hear the sound of steel meeting wood as Mordin blocked an attack. The two halfwit guards hadn't moved from their position beside the carriage despite the fact that the assault of crossbow bolts had ceased and it was unlikely that if any of their assailants had remained on the hill that they would again begin their torrential attack with their comrades in harm's way.

"Go, you fools!" Amarys felt exasperated by the idea that the guards had just been standing there watching Mordin defend himself when he was outnumbered. Her voice showed her feeling as did her actions when she gave the guards a firm shove towards the skirmish. They moved forward with some hesitation while Amarys remained with Braella behind her and the only remaining guard to her Lady's rear. She shook her head in disbelief at what was happening, how Ethred could allow something like this to happen. Were they assassins in revolt of her brother or were they there seeking posthumous revenge against her tyrant father? She couldn't figure out why they would attack so aggressively unless perhaps they knew of her journey and wanted to kidnap her for ransom.

"Princess!" Braella's sudden cry pierced her ears and she turned her attention back behind her where she had thought they were perhaps safe because of the guard that remained only to be stunned by the sight she now faced. A bright red splotch was quickly blossoming on the fabric of the back of Braella's pale yellow coat, the size of it rapidly growing by the second.

"Braella!" Amarys screamed in a combination of terror and rage, drowning out the sound of Braella's pained sputters as blood flowed into her esophagus and seeped its way between her lips. Yet Braella's hands did not release the guard, tightly gripping his clothing and holding herself in place on his blade. Amarys felt the knitting needle in her hand, the metal growing warm as her palm and fingers squeezed around it. The guard hadn't arrived until after she had left the carriage. He didn't know she had it in her hand. She lunged at him, driving the needle as hard as she could into the side of his neck before repeating the motion until her glove was slick with blood and she could no longer retain her grip on the smooth and slender tool.

The treacherous guard released his grip on the dagger he had driven through Braella's stomach and as he did, she released his jerkin, allowing him to stumble away in shock, his neck spurting blood that spattered his victim as well as his intended. Amarys's cries were uncontrollable as tears flooded her eyes and she dropped the needle to the ground, catching Braella in her arms as she began to collapse. Her sobs came out panicked as she leaned her companion against one of the carriage wheels, her hands fumbling around the blade in her stomach, too hesitant to pull it out and unsure of what she should do.