Chapter 5

- Elly -

Elly rose early that morning. Even before the sun cast her first warm rays upon the lands. She was too nervous to sleep properly either way. Strange dreams had chased her throughout the night. Of lands drenched in blood and misery beyond the forests she knew and faceless men that moved oddly like that one servant of the Count.

Wasn't it strange somehow that the Count only had one servant? She didn't know much, but whenever the Baron had left the castle for a trip, he had taken a whole crowd of his servants with him. She had dreamed of being among them many days and nights, but she had been too young to go and lately the Baron did not go on trips anymore.

Elly found her way to the kitchen for a cup of water. She was surprised to encounter her father sitting at the table, working on a clock he must have brought from his shop. He hardly did that, bring work home with him.

They shared a look and a nod, Elly wouldn't have known what else to say and her father was a man of few words anyway.

As she leaned against the stove, drinking her cup of water, she watched her father in silence. He seemed to have trouble putting the pieces of the clock back in place. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, like she hadn't ever seen before.

"Are you quite alright?" she dared to ask.

"Mind your own business," her father gave back, unproportionally angry. A dark scowl clouded his face.

Elly bit her lip. She regretted asking, she didn't want them to be at odds on their last day together under the same roof.

Since there was not much else to do, Elly went about preparing breakfast. Her mother would appreciate it not having to do the work, and the familiarity of the task calmed Elly's nerves.

Eventually Elly's father put his unfinished work aside and sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world lasted upon his shoulders. "You do know I love you, child, right?" he said.

Elly turned to look at his face. It was old and exhausted. "Of course. I love you too, father," she said.

"You have to know, it isn't about you. I'd give you the world, if I could. But I have got no choice."

"I understand." Elly said, although she didn't.

The odd words haunted her throughout the morning, even until after her mother had her dressed in heavy silence, and later on when the hairdresser came by to bring forth a masterpiece on her head.

Her mother had prepared Elly's hair at times, ever since she had been a child, but her mother was a cook, and she had said this special day required special appearances.

Now the hairdresser's odd stares pulled Elly out of her thoughts going in circles.

She looked up at the woman through the mirror in her bedroom she sat in front. "Does my hair smell bad?" she asked. "I have had it washed thoroughly last night, if you must know."

"You have beautiful hair. A rare colour," the woman said. Her lips pursed with words she didn't mean to speak, but she couldn't help herself and spoke them anyway. "And a pretty enough face. It is hardly a surprise."

"What is?"

"Don't ask like that. You know fairly well. You young girls are all the same these days."

Elly's mother's face brought forth a frown. She slowly put the flowers down, she had been working on, then stood up from the bed.

"No wonder either, with that drunkard of a father who rather spends his nights at the bottom of a bottle instead of watching over his daughter as he should."

Elly's mother gasped for air. "Hold your tongue," she hissed then. It wasn't often the woman got angry. "Charles is a good man, he just had it rough with his work lately."

"Of course he had. No drunk man can properly fix a clock!"

"That's not how it is!" Elly's mother insisted, although not so eagerly anymore. It seemed she could see the hairdresser's point as well as Elly did. Suddenly it made perfect sense. Her father had kept complaining about rising market prices for materials, but that might have never been the issue. If his arms always shook like that morning during work, it would indeed be difficult to handle the smallest pieces contained in a clock.

The hairdresser snorted and shoved a pin in place in Elly's hair rather roughly. Tensed silence settled in the room. "I feel honestly sorry for the Lanclair boy," the hairdresser grumbled eventually.

"Forgive me?" Elly's mother hissed with a face about to throw the rude woman out right that moment, no matter if Elly's hair were done or not.

"Tell me girl, was it at least worth it?" the hair dresser said.

"What was?" Elly asked confused.

"Don't pretend. Everyone knows already. A guard saw you sneak out the Count's room."

Elly's breath caught.

"One might think you'd have at least the wits to go better about keeping it a secret."

At a loss of words about such impudent accusation Elly looked for help with her mother. But the older woman was just as taken aback as Elly herself. She stared at the hairdresser with a mouth wide open and eyes as big as plates.

"I-I did nothing of that sort!" Elly stuttered.

"Of course not," the hairdresser snorted. "And that rushed wedding is just a coincidence as well."

"Out!" Elly's mother suddenly yelled. She pointed to the door with a shaking hand. "Get out of my house! This is a proper family, and you are not to insult us any further!"

The hairdresser gave a nasty laughter and let Elly's hair slide.

***

- Jake -

Ten years had seemed like a long time. It had been about a whole lifetime to Jake back then. And sometimes time had indeed gone by unbearably slow. All the hiding, waiting, pretending. All those years he had done nothing but fight for his life. But lately the ten years seemed to him like not much more than the blink of an eye. If one had things to do, that cost time to prepare, the span of it burst out like a waterfall, instead of flowing like a river. And the end of that river was closer than Jake liked to admit.

If he ran out of time before he could bring all his pieces in place for an attack, he would lose the game by default. He couldn't let that happen.

Jake slipped into the monk's robes and took another look at the map of the church and its side buildings he had copied from an old book, although he knew it by heart already. Then he pulled the hood deep into his face and walked down the corridor like he really was meant to do that. He had picked up a thing or two about monks on his earlier voyages to other supposedly holy places built by the Lord Lauren Cornell.

The church was busy with preparations for the wedding, no one would notice him.

The wedding. What a lucky coincidence, giving him cover he would have needed to prepare himself otherwise. Yet, he was not as pleased about it as he might have been if he hadn't known whose it was.

Alistar Lanclair was a man Jake hadn't heard much about. The family owned a small property to the south, nothing remarkable and no titles, but there was a rumour of a temper that seemed to run in the family line. Supposedly two fiancés had ran away before the wedding already. Jake doubted that maid knew what she was in for. Poor girl, she had seemed nice enough.

Jake reached a door that was locked, and he went about picking it open, as he had learned long back from Annabelle.

The room that opened behind it was small, dark and smelled like rotten water. Jake took a candle from outside with him. Its light revealed only few adornments, all the other halls and corridors of the church had plenty of them. No depiction of saints either. Instead, there were countless odd symbols engraved into the bare stone. Jake had seen them before in the books, but hadn't figured out the meaning of them yet. The air was as old as the single wooden altar that stood in the middle of the room. On it stood a plain box made of stone.

Carefully Jake reached out for it.

He noticed his fingers trembling. Shaking with awe, a great deal of fear, and little hope he would rather not have allowed himself.

He had researched countless methods so far, that supposedly could break a deal with a demon, but none had turned out anything but fraud. The seven seals of Lord Lauren Cornell seemed to be promising, but Jake would only believe their authenticity upon seeing Nathaniel burn in the hellfire he should have never escaped from.

***

- Elly -

With weak knees Elly followed her father to the backroom of the ceremony hall of the church. Rows of wooden benches filled with people and walls full of golden depictions of saints passed by her in a blur.

Elly didn't think that was how weddings were supposed to be held. It was bad luck for the groom to see his bride in her dress before the wedding. Although, even if it wasn't unusual for groom and bride to be to meet the very first time at their wedding, Elly liked the idea to meet the man before pledging the rest of her life to him.

Her father had that odd expression after reading Sir Lanclair's note. Her mother fought tears back, sitting down on the front bench to wait.

Too fast they had arrived, the door swung open, and Elly laid eyes on Sir Lanclair. He was a rather short man, about the same height as Elly herself. He had wild curls of copper hair and countless freckles on his face. Not too bad looking. But the moment he spotted Elly and her father his face turned grim.

"You promised me a virgin, and a virgin I will have, not that whore!" Sir Lanclair snapped without any welcoming words.

Elly's father sook the air in. So did she. Of course, it was about that nasty rumour.

Elly was waiting for her father to muster up the courage to stand up to her husband to be, to explain the truth, hoping it so, but there came nothing of that sort.

"Please, forgive that one misstep. She will be a good wife to you. She was raised properly," her father said.

Elly's jaw dropped. "I did not share a bed with the Count!" she blurted before she knew it, rendering her father's word of defence utterly unbelievable. A properly raised girl did not rise her voice. "Ask him about it if you don't believe me!"

Sir Lanclair snorted, his face resembling that of a pig a lot while doing so.

"What reason would he have to lie for me?" Elly tried again to argue her case. "Just ask."

"I have had about enough of this. Your daughter is nothing of what you promised me." Sir Lanclair said to Elly's father.

"Maybe she needs to be taught another lesson or two, but she will be a good wife. She can cook and sew, even read and write. Please, good Sir. The guests are already waiting outside."

"She is not worth even half the money we agreed upon!"

Money?

Money?

That's what it all came down to. Of course.

Money her father's business needed. Money her father rather spent on drinking. Money Elly's sake would give him. Never mind the hopes and dreams she had for herself.

Suddenly her father's words from the morning were not that confusing anymore. They had been supposed to be an apology.

The earth beneath Elly's feet seemed to wobble. Anger burned her heart. Her too tight dress made it impossible to breathe. The words of the men arguing about the wedding to be held, the money to be paid, slipped away from her. All she could hear was her heart hammering in her chest and the blood rushing in her body.

"I won't marry," she said. "I would rather die than marry a pig like you!" She finally yelled straight at Sir Lanclair's face.

Her father paled. His hand slipped to the belt holding his trousers as if he meant to beat her with it right there.

Elly grabbed the veil from her head and threw it to the men's feet. She meant to scream and cry and venture her anger, but what use would it have been. Instead, she turned on the heel and pushed through the door.

If it was money what her father wanted, he better worked for it himself. But she would not let herself be sold off for it.

Elly marched the long aisles down the crowded hall. In another life she would have been happy that half the village had come to celebrate with her, but in this one she couldn't get fast enough past the people turning confused heads at her. Her mother jumped up in shock to run after her, but did not quite manage to catch up.

In front of the small side chapel of the north wing of the building, Elly stopped. She had to, she couldn't breathe anymore. Sobs shook her trembling body and tears rolled down her cheeks while she looked up to the depiction of the saint Nikolai smiling down on her.

But what about seeing the world?

Now more than ever she wanted to leave the town. She couldn't bear the idea that she would be the source of gossip among the villagers. People would say horrible things about her and forget that they knew better – that they had known her all her life and that she would never – never – do something so indecent.

She would be lucky if anyone married her like this. Not even the kind Len would want her anymore. He would look at her with disgust in his eyes like the rest of them.

Maybe if she just apologized ...

A hushed rustle had Elly look around, just in time to spot a hooded figure sneaking around the corner.

For a long moment of silence both froze. Eventually the man uncovered his eyes and nodded his head in what Elly supposed should have been a polite greeting. Then he continued on in his path and left Elly alone and confused.

***

- Jake -

Jake rushed to leave the church with the commotion starting to rise. People strolled out of the main hall and down the supposedly silent corridors without paying too much attention to him. The guests were all but too upset about the wedding not to be held.

"That poor girl! That demon Count must have bewitched her!" an old woman whispered loud enough for Jake to hear.

It startled him enough to stop and frown for a moment. There were a lot of unpleasant things he had done in his life, but breaking a marriage wasn't one of them. It would never be anything he would do, no matter how desperate. He knew better than to repeat his family's mistakes. And bewitching anyone or anything was far beyond his talents anyway.

He slipped out of a side door and sought cover in the bushes to wait until all the guests had left the church, then he found his way back to the castle the same secret passage through the stables that he had slipped out of before.

Nathaniel had discovered it a day before and not been very pleased that he'd had to share that specific piece of information. So Jake wasn't too surprised when he found the demon awaiting him at the hidden door on the first floor.

"Are you not pleased with the spy work I do for you?" Nathaniel said nonchalant.

Jake felt caught, because at the end of the day, he was. "Can't a man go for a walk every now and then?"

Jake grabbed the pocket in which he had stuffed the item he had taken from the church to assure himself it was really there in a fling of unreasonable fear and was calmed by the sensation of it brushing his fingertips.

"At least make an effort to lie properly." Nathaniel pushed himself off the wall he had leaned against and strolled alongside Jake to his quarters. "The Baron wishes to speak a private word with you, by the way."

"Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

"Good. He's been waiting for over an hour, and let me tell you, he is not a patient man."

Nathaniel parted at the next staircase and Jake went on to his room to change into proper attire. The brown-haired maid awaited him with her usual half shocked face.

Unnerved Jake shook his head.

What was even that other girl's name?

She had looked devastated. Beautiful, in her wedding dress, like a princess from a fairy tale, but devastated, nevertheless. Like condolences were in order and not congratulations. Sadness and sorrow had clouded her enchanting green eyes. He might have stayed to comfort her a little, if he hadn't been about playing the good Count for the whole town.

No, he might have not. If she was already depressed, he needn't have made it any worse. Nothing good would have come from it. He had already done too much to her. He should have never talked to her – at least not so much more than necessary.

Repeating his goals and purposes in his head, trying to shake off any other thoughts, Jake made his way to the Baron's quarters. Nathaniel awaited in front of the door and knocked at Jake's arrival.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Jake asked as a welcome and stepped into the room. It was crowded with book shelfs and the air was stale.

The Baron looked up from the work on his desk and made a grim face. "You charlatan. I should lock you up in the deepest, darkest hole my dungeons have to offer," the old man said.

"But you won't," Jake stated with played confidence and supressed a shudder at the idea of that. If there was one thing he hated, it was places like that and remembering the time he had spent in them.

"No, sadly not." The Baron rose from his chair with a groan and rubbed his hip. He stood to look out the window.

Jake relaxed. So the old man would agree to pay for silence over his past crimes. Needlessly so, Jake could have never gone to the authorities with that piece of information. He would have ended up in shackles instead. Good thing, the man didn't know that.

"I am old. Maybe I won't live to see how your game at politics ends, maybe I will. But let me tell you, son, you are in over your head. I was young and ambitious once too. Look how it turned out for me."

"Quite well, I suppose. Otherwise, you wouldn't be the one I am talking to right now," Jake said.

"Yes. But is it really worth a lifetime of hoping no one will find out about your crimes to you? I know the young hardly think about the costs, but I have walked your path, I have seen how it ends."

Jake clenched his teeth. "You hypocrite bastard don't go telling me about costs," he pressed out in between them with a bitterness in his voice that would have frightened himself on other days. Jake had sold more for this than he had to give, he was well aware what his ambition cost him every second of every day.

The Baron turned to regard Jake with a serious face. "You may have my gold, but leave my folk out of it. Should you find the need to go to open war, make a great detour around my lands, or my ghost will come to haunt your worst nightmares."

Jake gave a grim smirk. "Don't assume you know about me." A threat or two was by far nothing anymore that disturbed his rest at night. That was, if he managed to properly sleep at all.

The Baron shook his head. "I don't even want to know," he said and sat back down in his cushioned chair. "I'll have everything prepared by the morning. Leave, before I change my mind."

***