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Unwilling to Acquiesce – Part 21


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#1 Guest_No One of Consequence_*

Posted 19 June 2003 - 06:29 AM

In the keep’s armoury the party finds Daleson, head of the household staff. He is a slender and dignified man, with a well made uniform, though the clothes look dirty, as if they haven’t been washed for weeks. His eyes are sunken and there is a harried, almost hysterical look in them. When he smiles there is a gap in his front teeth.

“Daleson, what has happened to you?” asks Nalia with genuine concern.

“Trolls are not easy masters to work for,” Daleson replies somewhat enigmatically. “And this is not so bad. Many of us have not survived the occupation.”

“Don’t worry,” says Nalia, patting him on the shoulder as a father might a child. “We’ll soon have the castle back in De’Arnise hands.”

“Oh, good,” says Daleson, with no enthusiasm.

“Tell me, what of my father and my aunt?”

“Your aunt lives, confined to her rooms. Your father too, at least until yesterday.” Daleson’s response sends a visible shiver of fear through Nalia’s body.

“What happened yesterday?” she asks

“They want your father’s Flail,” Daleson explains. “The Flail of Ages. I don’t know why. During the assault, your father hid the three heads of the weapon in secret places about the castle. They’ve been questioning him about it continually. Yesterday they took him down to the…to the…”

“The cellars,” Nalia says, coaching Daleson’s answer. He shakes his head and his mouth twists into a manic smile.

“Oh no mistress Nalia, the cellars have been returned to their original purpose.” A disturbing giggle escaped his lips before he could choke it off.

“What does he mean, ‘their original purpose’?” asks Anomen suspiciously. Nalia lets out a sigh, obviously not wanting to explain. The hard looks on her comrades faces convince her that she has no choice.

“My family were not always as benevolent as we now are,” she says flatly. “Many years ago the cellars were used as torture chambers and prison cells. My father discontinued their use though.”

“And you called the man a coward,” says Adamant, unconcealed anger in his voice.

“What?”

“Personally I doubt I’d be in a hurry to liberate my lord’s torture chambers.”

“I told you the practice was discontinued,” Nalia snaps back with equal fury.

“I’m sure your servants take comfort in that!”

“Adamant,” says Jaheira softly, with a hand on his shoulder, trying to stay the knight’s angry words. Adamant nods, realising that Jaheira is right and the argument serves no purpose but to waste time.

“We must hurry to save your father,” he says by way of a peace offering. Nalia is mollified but obviously Adamant’s words have wounded her deeply, attacking her image of her family as they did.

“If you are going down there, you’ll need to watch out,” Daleson warns. “They’ve got some sort of digging monsters down there. I had to slaughter half my lords kennels and cook up a stew to feed the beasts. Terrifying they were.”

“Thanks for the warning,” says Yoshi.

“We’ll see to auntie first,” Nalia says.

----

The apartments of Delcia De’Arnise are furnished in high style, with silks and brocades in the household’s red and blue livery predominant. There is a four poster bed of polished mahogany and an array of rich furniture, much of it covered in gilt. In sneaking up to the second floor of the keep, the companions have passed scene after scene of destruction and advancing ruin; shattered furniture, ruined artworks, even dead bodies, shoved into corners and left to rot. In the Lady De’Arnise’ rooms there is no sign of any such thing. The place is so neat that it could well be in a museum and the air is filled with the delicate scent of potpourri. When the party enters, a guard in polished mail snaps to attention, challenging him. Behind him, the Lady De’Arnise herself sneers; the great irony of her beautiful apartments is that even with an armoured guard present, she is the hardest, coldest thing in the room.

“Heavens Nalia, what have you dragged home with you this time,” asks Delcia De’Arnise, her voice dripping disdain in the same way a serpent’s fangs drip venom. “Your mother was like this and it was the death of her.”

“Auntie,” whines Nalia, her voice seeming suddenly less mature. “This is Adamant and his company. They’ve come to rescue you.”

“Phh,” is the Lady De’Arnise’ dismissive response. “It is bad enough that the castle has been overrun with monsters but now you invite these low-born ruffians to clatter about ruining our home. You disappoint me, Nalia.”

“Stop treating me like a little girl,” Nalia protests.

“We are not all low born, m’lady De’Arnise,” interjects Anomen. “I am Squire Anomen Delryn, first born son of the family Delryn.” He bows with flourish, as his companions look on with a mixture of amusement, surprise and annoyance.

“Delryn?” Delcia asks rhetorically, her mouth turning the word around carefully, as though it is unpleasant to the taste. Her gaze falls icily upon Anomen whose smile flees before its onrushing coldness. “I have heard of Delryn and I can assure that a few bags of gold are no justification to your pretensions. One cannot buy breeding. Besides, from what I hear, your sot of a father will soon have neither money nor pretensions left. You’ll be back where you belong, on the street with the other merchants.”

Lady De’Arnise turns her face pointedly from looking at Anomen, clearly dismissing him with the gesture. For a moment both Adamant and Jaheira fear that Anomen might do violence to the woman, watching the mace in his weapon hand closely. But he does not move, instead standing deflated in spirit and heart, all the will drained from him through the noblewoman’s stinging wounds.

“Lady De’Arnise,” begins Adamant, but Nalia’s aunt cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“Enough,” she commands. “You must leave, now. I am tired and would rest.” She walks towards the bed.

Adamant crosses the short distance between them and seizes Nalia’s aunt by the upper arm. She is shocked by this sudden aggression, as no one has ever in her adult life touched her without her express permission. Her guard’s hand goes to his sword hilt, but Adamant’s blade is already in hand, its tip pointing to the mans chest. Adamant shakes his head in warning.

“Lady De’Arnise,” Adamant says again, his voice hard as his namesake. “Your castle is occupied by trolls and gods know what; your servants are being casually slaughtered on a daily basis; your brother’s life is in mortal danger; and we have bled and suffered to win you through to freedom. Now, you have one finger of the candle to gather what things a lady of your station cannot live without and then your bodyguard here is going to escort you to the servants quarters where the head of your household staff will lead you out of the castle to safety.”

“How dare you?” Delcia De’Arnise squirms ineffectually in Adamant’s mailed grip. “I will do no such thing…”

“You will do as I command!” Adamant roars, his voice echoing with a force and authority that none of his companions has ever heard in it before. Jaheira blanches, for she has heard it once, though not from Adamant; it was in the voice of another, not so long ago, in a temple under the city of Baldur’s Gate.

Adamant releases Nalia’s aunt and presses his hand against his face. The Lady De’Arnise does not even bother to gather anything, but rushes from the room, unable to keep from crying. She is swiftly followed by her guard, who is equally unnerved, but able to hide in his duty. Nalia has never seen her aunt shed tears, not even for her sister’s funeral. With Anomen she stares at Adamant’s armoured figure, a fearful awe keeping her from speaking and moving. Jaheira gently touches Adamant’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off. Shaking his head he swears under his breath; “Dammit!”

Yoshi walks into the room suddenly through the inner doorway of the apartments and everyone realises suddenly that they hadn’t noticed he had even gone. In his hands is a piece of red metal, the size and shape of an ornate mace head.

“Nalia,” he says brightly. “Is this one of the heads to that flail of your father’s?”

“Yes, where did you find it?” says Nalia, recognising it immediately.

“There’s a secret room back there,” Yoshimo says, nodding over his shoulder. “It’s full of very menacing looking statues and some old coffins. I didn’t want to grave rob your family, but I thought that they might be an excellent hiding place, if someone, like your father for instance, were to want to hide something in the castle.”

Yoshi looks from Nalia to the others, to see their reactions and realises for the first time how sombre they all are.

“Did I miss something?”




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