Chapter 22

The sun had yet to turn orange when the Arvenians secured the battlefield. Anci had returned and sent a few riders on patrol. Hugo took the captured men for interrogation. Meanwhile, the Arvenians looted the dead for better gear and trinkets. They collected all they could and surrendered the more valuable ones to Thomas for safekeeping.

Sitting on top of a big rock, Lansius was busy mending both of his hands. Something had smashed his right thumb during the fight and caused the nail to cave in. He wrapped it tightly to help with the throbbing pain. At least he could address that one. His left palm had gotten some wood splinter that went too deep.

Darn it! Wish I had a tweezer, even a flimsy one.

Done with the interrogation, Hugo met up with Lansius and gathered the rest. “Bogdan, the caretaker of the place, is among the dead.”

A wave of relief was on everyone’s face. They felt victory was within grasp. Thus, all agreed to storm the compound. Despite the risk, the fear that the slavers might retaliate against their loved ones drove them to attack.

Lansius knew that Anci and Hugo would storm the manor regardless of his decision, for the two were looking for a far more important prize, the future Lord of Arvena. This made him wary. “Thomas, get the wounded somewhere cool and safe. Start a fire and boil some water. Treat their wounds if you could.”

Thomas nodded lightly. He cared for the men and was happy to oblige.

Next, Lansius looked at Calub. “Can I ask you to go with Thomas?”

“I need to warn you that my knowledge of medicine is limited,” Calub said.

“We have no one else. I’m only asking for a bit of cheap wine to clean the wounds, clean linen to wrap them, and some honey for treatment.”

Lansius’s explanation caught Felis’s and Hugo’s attention. They were familiar with the treatment, but Lansius’s confidence was rather unusual.

Calub smirked and asked, “So you’re also well read in medicine?”

“Just a bit . . . oh, and promise me, no bloodletting. Even if they have a fever, don’t draw blood,” Lansius warned sternly.

The alchemist’s grin grew wider. “I’m not a barber-surgeon. Anything else?”

Lansius offered his hand. “Just wishing you a good luck.”

The two clasped hands. “You too. Stay safe.” Afterward, Calub departed with Thomas.

Anci, who had stood there patiently, finally stepped forward. “Are we done with the preparation?”

“Pretty much,” Lansius answered.

“So, what’s next?” Hugo asked in anticipation.

Lansius looked him in the eyes. “The men are well rested, yes?”

Hugo, Anci, and Felis looked at each other. “I think the men are ready,” Felis answered.

Lansius looked down momentarily. Nothing was amiss, he thought, and he involuntarily nodded. “Let’s move to the summit and claim the prize.”

Anci chuckled and gestured to his riders to saddle up. Meanwhile, Hugo turned to his men and shouted, “Gentlemen, time to free your sons and daughters. Let’s move out.”

Only twenty-three Arvenians were in shape to fight, but they responded with a fierce battle cry.

Taunts and screams echoed across the courtyard of Sabina Rustica. The Arvenians had cleverly used a cart and inclined wooden poles as makeshift ladders in their assault. The defenders rushed to contain the breach by sending their best group of fighters.

Even being leaderless, the slavers zealously defended the place and almost succeeded if not for their disunity. Despite their heroic attempts, too many had left through a hidden back door with their gold and silver. The lack of men finally turned the tide for the Arvenians. The fight turned sporadic, but quickly died down as the slavers fled to the manor proper, the only stronghold left standing.

The manor’s usually clean courtyard was now littered with blood and gore. The last few continued to fight inside the main hall and storage area. Only after they had nowhere else to run did the remaining four yield. The thud of their swords on the wooden floor marked the end of the slavers’ resistance.

However, another party existed.

“Drop the sword!” demanded Anci, whose broadsword was dripping blood to the wooden floor.

“Easy, we’re not related to the slavers,” said one of the three men in red brigandine.

Despite the declaration, the Arvenians who had stepped foot on the manor’s second floor and the three guards kept staring at each other.

“Tch—” Anci spat to the side. He looked around for threats before hollering down the stairwell. “Get Hugo. We got company.”

At his behest, a few rushed downstairs. They passed the call and not long after, hurried footsteps echoed against the stone stairwells.

Hugo appeared with a bloodied face and hair.

Anci snorted. “Someone got you good.”

“Fuck off, ’tis just a scratch,” Hugo retorted and then gazed at the men in red.

“We’re not hostile unless you threatened our master,” the most senior of them replied.

“Who’s your liege and what’re doing here?” Hugo asked.

“We’re accompanying our master, the baronet of Brunna.”

The name drew Hugo’s attention. “Tough luck, it seems that we got your master with his pants down.”

“I’m sure we can—”

“It’s a walk to the gallows for slavers. It’s not a path you should follow,” Anci cut in.

The three looked stressed and gave no answer, but continued to stand in front of the guest chamber.

Hugo gestured to his men to lower their weapons. And then to the tree he proposed, “Yield, and we’ll promise the safety of you and your master.”

“Will you hold us for ransom?”

“Nothing substantial for you three. Two goats or one if you’re poor.”

One of the guards snorted. The joke came out of nowhere. “What about my master?”

“I can’t decide for a baronet. We’ll let the nobles decide.”

The three looked at each other before lowering their swords. “Fair enough,” the senior guard said and presented his sword to Hugo. “We yield on the conditions that no harm befall our lord and the three of us.”

“I, Hugo, on behalf of Sir Peter, accept.”

That brief ceremony marked the end of the conflict in Sabina Rustica. Now, Hugo and Anci were free to roam the second floor for their biggest prize, Arte of Arvena, but his whereabouts remained elusive.

“Nothing here but marks of looting. You sure there’s no hidden cell downstairs?” Anci asked as they searched the master chamber.

Hugo exhaled deeply while patting his forehead with a clean linen he had found. “There’s nothing in the cellar or storage . . . Must be outside. There are several suspicious buildings—”

“Wait, we haven’t checked the guest chamber.” Anci marched out.

Hugo ran after him and they watched how the red guards called their master, to no avail. “No answer?” Hugo asked.

The senior guard shook his head. “No luck. We explained it’s safe to get out, but . . . ”

Anci snickered. “Is he dead?”

The guard sighed and lowered his voice. “I hope not. I have a family to feed.”

“You,” Anci called for one of his men. “Get me an axe.”

“Umm . . . how about a poleaxe?” A rather young-looking man offered his weapon.

Anci grabbed the poleaxe and found it solid. He smirked. “This will do.”

Inside the guest chamber on the second floor, things remained calm. The room had seen better days, but the plaster on the wall still retained its bright color. A cool breeze rushed from a fully opened decorated glass window on the far side. Lacquered furniture completed the fancy look.

Nowadays, guests rarely used the chamber anymore. Decades ago, a potential customer would need to travel to see the wares, but nowadays the slavers had bribed enough that they could smuggle their wares directly to the customers. Thus, there was seldom a reason for a visit.

However, three days ago, a valued customer, no less than a baronet, had traveled on a whim. He just had a new company, an effeminate wandering bard from the looks. They wanted to browse the wares before deciding on a purchase. Their host was just too happy to oblige. But now their trip had come to an abrupt end.

A muffled roar from outside followed by a violent smack shuddered the room. The oaken door creaked while wood splinters flew. A dozen more powerful bashes followed until the edges of the door frame gave up. Despite the layers of tallow, the metal hinges had rusted.

“Jam it into the gap—”

“We need a chisel!”

“Stand back! Yeaaarrggh!”

The hinges burst while the iron lock slipped. Anci, one of the ones who brute-forced it, sneezed loudly as wooden and plaster dust gathered around. The room was too quiet to his liking, but that didn’t stop him. “Yield,” he demanded while brandishing his reddened broadsword.

“You’re too loud,” came the answer.

The tone and the sight dumbfounded Anci.

An effeminate young man sat naked on the bed. His shoulder-length light brown hair swayed by the wind as he filed his fingernails calmly. To his side, a grotesque man lay exposed in an awkward position with mouth foaming.

“Oi, what happened?” Hugo asked from behind. He impatiently shoved Anci aside and saw the young lad. “Who’re you?”

“I’m just a guest here. You must be looking for this big arse?” The naked lad gestured his hand at the grotesque man. “He’s a slave buyer all right, but not the owner.”

The heightened tension and heat caused blood on Hugo’s head to start dripping again. He wiped it off as he approached the bed. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. “That’s the baronet of Brunna.”

“A baronet?” the lad asked.

Hugo nodded while ascertaining that the baronet still drew breath.

“Oh, to be taken advantage of by a baronet,” the lad said as if in a play. “I thought he was at least a baron in disguise.”

“Brunna is a wealthy estate. He’s as powerful as a baron.” Hugo felt compelled to explain while he took a piece of cloth and dabbed the reddened sweat from his eyebrows.

“You better get that checked—” He was cut off by the appearance of a lady at the door.

Felis held her crossbow in her arms as she went inside. “Oh, my.” She noticed the naked lad and gawked at the beautiful yet masculine body.

“Please pardon my uncouthness, my lady.” The lad jumped from the bed after he had noticed the blonde and made a gentlemanly bow, all without trying to cover his groin. “A most unfortunate circumstance just befell me.”

“Not at all. Please, I’m not a noble,” Felis corrected him. “But . . . you’re Archie, right?” She saw through the heavy makeup.

The name forced Hugo and Anci to do a double-take. As mere squires, they rarely saw Lord Maurice’s son in person. Only now, they began to see the resemblances.

“Ah . . .” The lad’s surprise turned to smile. “You’re the lady from three days ago. Such a good fortune to be blessed with your presence again. But tell me, for what purpose, my lady, are you here in such an unpleasant place, and are these your men?”

Felis smiled. Before they could interact further, someone intruded from outside. “What’s happening? Is my master all right?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Just a bit drunk.” Anci blocked the way and passionately guided the guard out. “Listen, there’s personal stuff happening, totally unrelated to your master. So, grunts like us, we better wait outside.”

Hugo breathed a sigh of relief at Anci’s quick thinking. Afterward, he approached the naked lad and took a knee. “My Lord, I’m Hugo, Sir Peter’s squire. We have come to rescue you.”

“My, to be found by my own retinue. ’Tis so unexpected.” The lad, no other than Arte of Arvena, stood taller as he straightened his back like a seasoned fighter that he was.

To their side, Felis gathered the scattered clothes and offered them to Arte.

“Gratitude, my lady. And pardon for the sight.”

“Not at all, my lord. I heard it’s a sign of nobility when one isn’t ashamed of their own body.”

Arte chuckled at Felis’s flattering while Hugo readily assisted him to don his clothes.

“Squire, tell me about your master.”

“My master is Sir Ian’s firstborn son.”

“Ah, the old baronet. It seems that the Ancients’ light has not forsaken me.” Arte closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. “I’m indebted to you and your master, but for now, let’s drop the formality. I’m in a poor state, and there are likely assassins coming after me . . . Until I can stand on my two feet, call me Archie, a knight from Arvena.”

Hugo bowed his head and then asked, “Sir Archie, may we ask what happened and why you’re here?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe for some other time.” Archie looked at the man in the bed. “You only need to know that I used this poor excuse of a man to hide from my pursuer. Unknowingly, he kept me safe. But there’s always a catch . . .”

Hugo nodded diligently. Outwardly, he appeared content to serve his newfound lord, but inside, he knew the story didn’t add up. However, there was no reason for a lowly squire like him to pry further.

“So, what did you do to him, Sir Archie?” Felis innocently asked.

“Well, how should I explain . . . this sorry man enjoyed my company, so it’s only prudent to return the favor, no?” Archie let out an innocent smile.

Felis unexpectedly giggled. Meanwhile, Hugo found it hard to digest. “He’s passed out from that?”

Archie laughed but didn’t offer an explanation. “More importantly, now you’ve rescued me. What is your plan?”

Hugo’s back tensed up. He knew it was best to consult with a certain someone, but this was too good an opportunity to pass. “Sir, I think it’s best to head out tomorrow at the first light.”