[b]Chapter 19: Setback[/b]

He slipped upon the blood on the floor but extended a hand to catch himself against the doorframe. Past the main entrance bodies lay scattered on the floor, friend and foe alike. Arthur inhaled sharply through his teeth and pushed himself away from the door, taking a cautious step forward to not slip again. Behind him came the other knights, warily glancing around them as they entered the manor. It was eerily silent with nothing but the scent of blood greeting them, Arthur heavily weighed the sword in his hand and hoisted it up to rest upon his right shoulder while approaching one of the side-rooms. Lowering the sword from his shoulder, Arthur pressed the tip of the steel against the door leading into the room, slowly pushing it open. Empty, of course. Arthur turned around with a silent sigh, the other knights had also gone about checking the remaining rooms. He looked over to one of them inquiringly, but his fellow knight merely shook his head. Nothing.

Arthur turned on the spot to face the stairs leading up, but before he could approach them something suddenly grabbed around his left boot. Arthur twisted his wrist, the cold steel rapidly pointed down at whoever had grabbed him. Captain Hal stared up at him, teeth gritted in pain with a layer of sweat dotting his forehead. His other hand was pressed against his abdomen, over an evident injury. "Sir.."

Sheathing the longsword, Arthur dropped down to a knee at Hal's side, a hand held against the officer's shoulder. "Captain. What happened?" Arthur inquired, his eyes shifting to the other man's injury. Hal's hand was bloodied as he kept it pressed against his injury, undoubtedly caused by a sharp object. Trails of crimson seeped through his fingers, and Arthur realised with a heavy heart that Hal did not have long left.
"The king...", he mustered through laboured breaths. "... he's not here. Taken. Infront of our eyes." Hal coughed hoarsely, his head turning to the side to stare off at nothing in particular. Arthur raised the visor on his helmet before lifting it off his head to put aside. "Was it the Raylians, captain? Where did they go?"

Hal looked back to Arthur, his head shaking to either side. "No... A woman. And light.", the injured officer's face twisted into something that resembled both disgust and fear. "Magic."

Arthur felt a chill creep down his spine. If magic is the culprit behind the king's absence, then the chances of finding him are near impossible. He withdrew his hand from Hal's shoulder and clutched his digits around the grip of his sword. "Are you absolutely sure?", he inquired. Perhaps there was a slim chance that Hal was simply delirious and uttering nonsense. But Hal's expression told no lies and he nodded weakly, reassuring both himself and the knight. "...need to find the king. You have to find him." Hal spoke up again, and with seemingly renewed vigour he reached out with his free hand to grab Arthur around his arm, but as quickly his energy had come, it disappeared, and Hal's arm fell back to the floor. Arthur nodded. "I will do all that I can."

Hal nodded grimly before his head thudded back against the floor and the final breaths escaped his lips. Arthur sighed and lowered a hand to close the officer's eyes and then looked aside, back out the front door. Where would he even begin to start looking? And who was this enigmatic woman?

Arthur grabbed his helmet and rose up to his feet. He glanced around the interior, looking for anything that could've been used as a clue, but alas, he saw nothing. He felt the anger build up inside him and his hands clutched tightly around the helmet. If there were any higher powers in the world, then surely they were playing wicked games right now with both the Northlands' and Arthur's fortune. He sighed to calm himself down and turned the helmet around before putting it on. "Give these men the burial they deserve.", he muttered to the five knights that had accompanied him before storming outside the manor. The fighting had died down now, and the smouldering town stood silent. The howling wind and distant horses was all that sounded.

He clenched his hands and leered skywards through the helmet's visor. He had been left with precious few options, and he disliked every single one of them.