Chapter 17: Family Reunion
Deitrich Bern remained on his knees, the throbbing pain in his side a stark reminder of his defeat.
Shame gnawed at him as his master's voice echoed in his mind, laced with icy disdain.
"Mere insects you called them," the voice sneered. "Victory was assured, you said. Now look at you â a bleeding mess, on your knees. And you only live because that girl chose to show mercy."
Bern gritted his teeth. "My apologies, Master. Deal with me as you see fit."
A flicker of surprise crossed the voice. "Angry as I am, you didn't lose due to weakness. You were outmatched. In that spirit, I grant you a pardon."
Relief washed over Bern, replaced by a wave of confusion. "Thank you, Master," he mumbled, clutching his side for support.
Just then, Charlotte approached, concern softening her features. "I apologize," she began, "but a lesson needed to be learned." She gently offered him a hand to rise.
Bewildered by her unexpected kindness, Bern took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet.
As they walked towards the ring's exit, the cheers of the crowd surrounded them. Charlotte's display of sportsmanship resonated deeply within Bern, forcing him to confront the brutality he'd embraced for so long.
Danzig, watching from the stands, allowed a satisfied smile to play on his lips. His current student had not only won the tournament but had also planted a seed of doubt in his former student's mind.
Katharina, ever the pragmatist, found a sliver of hope amidst the usual barbarity. Charlotte's actions had offered a glimpse of compassion, a rare commodity in this harsh world.
The moment Charlotte had been waiting for finally arrived. The two ravens returned, carrying a large cage suspended beneath them.
Inside, her father, King Regis, stood tall despite his captivity.
Lucine, his emotions a whirlwind, longed to rush down and embrace him. However, he knew caution was paramount. Their true identities couldn't be revealed, not yet.
As the cage door swung open, King Regis emerged, his gaze filled with pride as he surveyed the arena.
He'd witnessed his daughter's entire fight and his heart swelled with admiration.
Charlotte, anticipating her fatherâs movement, subtly signaled for him to stay put. For now, they were to act like complete strangers.
King Regis understood his daughter's silent plea. A wave of sadness washed over him, but he remained stoic.
Charlotte cleared her throat, addressing him as a slave. The crowd held its breath, surprised by her seemingly cruel words.
"You there," she began, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of respect. "Now that you're mine, I'll teach you how to cook. You'll prepare all my meals."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Who, in their right mind, would offer a slave such a privilege?
Yet, Charlotte didn't speak with the usual cruelty associated with slave owners. Her tone held a strange mix of authority and respect for the 'slave's' potential.
This subtle shift in power dynamics did not go unnoticed. For many in the audience, it was a revelation. True power, they realized, resided not in brute force, but in control and respect. Charlotte's actions had unwittingly ignited a spark of rebellion in the hearts of the spectators.
As the Royal Slave Tournament officially concluded, the crowd dispersed, a sense of unease simmering beneath the surface. The seeds of change, sown by Charlotte's compassion and strength, had begun to take root.
***
Later that Day..
Katharina's home, a haven amidst the chaos, served as their temporary refuge.
Lucine, Charlotte, and King Regis stood reunited in a library overflowing with books. The reunion was bittersweet, laced with relief and apprehension.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
"I cannot thank you enough," King Regis said, his voice thick with emotion as he embraced his children.
"We simply did what needed to be done, Father," Charlotte and Lucine replied in unison.
Katharina, ever the realist, interjected.
"Now that Charlotte has told me the truth, it's quite clear you all need to escape Finsternis. But how? Everyone will be on high alert."
Lucine, ever resourceful, had a plan. "The good old Huter disguise should do the trick. Tomorrow's the perfect time. With everyone buzzing about the tournament, they won't suspect a thing."
"Thank you, Katharina, for offering us shelter," Charlotte added, her voice filled with gratitude.
"Don't mention it," Katharina replied, a newfound respect shining in her eyes. "It's the least I can do after witnessing your performance in the arena."
A shadow of worry crossed Lucine's face. "Just hope we don't bump into Schatten," he muttered, his voice a low rumble.
He'd already filled Charlotte and King Regis in on his chilling encounter with the God of Shadows, an entity Lucine suspected played a role in their predicament.
The weight of Lucine's words settled heavily in the room. The joyous reunion was tinged with the ever-present threat of Schatten's intervention.
King Regis, ever the strategist, cleared his throat. "We can't dwell on maybes. Lucine's plan has merit. We'll need to be swift and silent."
Charlotte, her brow furrowed in determination, nodded. "We've come this far. We won't let anything stop us now."
The rest of the night was spent finalizing the escape plan. Lucine detailed the Huter disguise, complete with weathered cloaks and broad-brimmed hats to obscure their features.
Provisions were gathered, a meager but necessary precaution for their journey. All the while, a tense silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the rhythmic scratching of quill on parchment as Katharina drafted forged travel documents.
***
The Next Dayâ¦
As dawn approached, casting pale streetlights through the library windows, a nervous energy crackled in the room.
The excitement of escape was overshadowed by the very real possibility of failure. Yet, they were determined. They had a taste of freedom, a taste they wouldn't relinquish without a fight.
With a final shared look of resolve, they donned their disguises.
Charlotte, her fiery hair hidden beneath a worn hat, Lucine, his features obscured by a thick beard, and finally King Regis, his regal bearing subdued beneath a rough cloak, were ready to begin their escape.
A silent farewell was exchanged with Katharina, who stood at the doorway, a flicker of admiration in her eyes.
With a final, lingering glance at the haven that had offered them temporary refuge, they slipped out into the pre-dawn mist, their footsteps echoing faintly on the cobblestone streets.
The escape had begun. The weight of Finsternis, with its brutal traditions and shadowy secrets, pressed down on them.
But they carried a spark of hope, ignited by Charlotte's defiance and the seeds of change she'd unknowingly sown.
The road ahead was fraught with danger, but they were a family, united in their quest for freedom.
The air was thick with the murmur of gossip. As Lucine predicted, the citizens were abuzz with yesterday's tournament. News of the "merciful lioness" who had defied tradition was spreading like wildfire.
Suddenly, a group of Huter guards approached, their gruff laughter echoing through the quiet street. Lucine's heart hammered against his ribs.
These were the very same Huters he'd tricked a few days ago, extracting information about King Regis' imprisonment. Recognition gnawed at him, a cold fear slithering through his veins.
One of the guards, a portly fellow with a missing tooth, spotted them. "Hey there, fellas! Early morning stroll?" he boomed, beckoning them closer.
Lucine cursed under his breath. Playing along seemed the only option. Adjusting his fake beard, he forced a jovial smile and steered Charlotte and King Regis towards the guards.
The conversation flowed, mostly centered around the previous dayâs tournament.
The guards were full of praise for the "merciful lioness." One, a young Huter with a mischievous glint in his eye, reached out and playfully tugged at Lucine's beard.
With a sickening rip, the beard came loose, revealing the familiar face beneath.
The young guard's eyes widened in recognition. "That's him!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with accusation. "The one who infiltrated the dungeon!"
A shrill alarm whistle pierced the morning air. Before Lucine could react, they were surrounded. Huters materialized from every corner, their expressions grim. The escape attempt was thwarted.
The guard captain, a man with a scarred face and steely eyes, demanded their identities.
Lucine, his cover blown, knew escape now hinged on a desperate gamble. With a battle cry, he launched himself at the nearest guard, a flurry of punches and kicks aimed at creating a diversion.
"Go!" he roared at Charlotte and King Regis, gesturing towards a side alley. "Don't you dare stop!"
Charlotte, understanding the gravity of the situation, took King Regis' arm and sprinted down the alley, weaving through backstreets and rooftops.
With his back against the wall, Lucine fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal. He knew he couldn't hold them off forever, but every precious second bought Charlotte and King Regis valuable time.
***
Meanwhile, in the Shadow Realm...
Dietrich Bern sat slumped against a cold stone pillar, the throbbing pain in his side a constant reminder of his defeat.
He attempted to meditate, to find solace in the shadows, but his mind was a battlefield. Charlotte's words echoed in his thoughts, her victory a bitter pill to swallow.
Was there any truth to her words? Was there a better way?
Suddenly, a voice, young and almost mocking, shattered the silence. "Don't fret, it's just me."
Bern's eyes snapped open, irritation twisting his features. "Deutsch, What do you want?"
"Don't worry, I'm not here to gloat," the voice replied, amusement tinging its tone. "You've already done enough of that yourself."
Bern recognized the voice, a voice that deeply annoyed him. "Speak plainly," he growled.
"News from the mortal realm," the voice continued.
"Three individuals, one matching the description of the boy who raided the dungeon, are attempting to flee the city. You know how our Master prides himself on the impregnability of Finsternis. Stopping them would not only please him but would also put you back in his good graces. Consider it a win-win situation."
Bern scoffed. "Why not just tell the Master himself?"
A chilling laugh reverberated in the chamber. "Initiative, Bern. That's what you lack. You let that new Klinge form right under your nose, the very one who brought about your downfall."
Bern clenched his fists, anger warring with a strange sense of obligation. "What's the plan?" he finally asked.
"You go after the other two," the voice said. "The boy...well, despite his size, he's quite the fighter. I'll handle him."
A portal shimmered into existence, its swirling darkness beckoning. A wave of nausea washed over Bern, but the promise of redemption, however dubious, pushed him forward.
He stepped through the portal, reappearing on the streets of Finsternis, his eyes scanning for his quarry.