Though he could see naught but inky darkness, the chamberlain felt a trickle of blood cooling upon his forehead. It was a feeling distinct enough that the former chamberlain of Felboge Keep - the current sapper of Castle Bathory - knew he was not yet dead.

The chamberlain and his team of sappers had spent many hours in the undercroft with prybars and pickaxes, working to dismantle the load-bearing columns that held up the ceiling of the undercroft and the rest of the castle above it. Many hands had made relatively-light work of destroying all but the last supporting column. Knowing that destroying the last column would topple the entire citadel under its own weight,  the chamberlain had dismissed his team of saboteurs to join Edward and Emily in escaping through the sewers while he set about attacking the final column alone. Hacking away at the stubborn granite pillar with a single pickaxe had been slow going. The chamberlain had worked in exhaustive solitude for perhaps an hour or more when a tremendous rumbling shook the undercroft. A devastating cannon shot to the castle, the chamberlain assumed when he first heard the explosion clearly even through so much rock and earth. Just as the chamberlain could hear the subsequent blasts and tremors, a chunk of brick or stone was dislodged from the ceiling and struck him in the forehead. That was the last thing the chamberlain could remember.

He looked over to his side, and found one of his torches burning dimly upon the cold dirt floor of the undercroft. The chamberlain struggled to his feet and then stumbled over rubble dislodged from the ceiling to recover the fallen torch. A bloody lump on his forehead throbbed painfully with each step. The chamberlain counted himself as lucky to have survived as he noted the large, heavy slabs of stone that fell from the undercroft ceiling mere feet from where he had been stricken unconscious. The chamberlain, after some difficulty, recovered his torch and held it up against the darkness of the cavernous undercroft.

The fact that the undercroft still existed, and had not been crushed under thousands of tons of stone and rubble gave proof that the castle above still stood. And that alone was all that the chamberlain knew about what had transpired up above. The chamberlain could only imagine that the Baron had taken the castle and even now, had set about searching the castle for survivors to skin and decorate his new fortress with. How soon would it be before the Baron's men thought to search the undercroft and at last delivered the traitorous chamberlain to his lord Ulrek Bathory? The chamberlain knew he had little time to finish his work before he experienced firsthand the cruelest of Ulrek's punishments.

The chamberlain dropped the torch to the ground beside the final pillar to illuminate his work. In the flickering torchlight, he made an encouraging discovery. During the tremors following the explosions, a fracture had formed in the pick-eroded column: a fresh, jagged crack running clear across the remainder of the column. The chamberlain knew that if he could focus on this fracture - if he could widen it just enough to wedge a prybar inside and pry it just a hair - the column would fail and the castle would tumble down upon them all.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his head and the sting of blood dripping into his eye, the chamberlain began again, hacking away at the column in the light of the dying torch. For if he succeeded and brought this castle down, Ulrek's terrible reign would be over before it could begin.

[hr]

((A collaboration between [@Vampiretwilight] and [@gorgenmast].))

Waves roared as they crashed into frothy foam against a rocky outcropping where land met sea. Hewn by the ceaseless crashing of waves into gnarled and craggy stones, the rocks were pocked with numerous crags and recesses. Passersby to this desolate cluster of stone on the fringe of the Capital's harbor - infrequent as they were - would never imagine that the numerous sea-caves here in the shadow of a guard tower on the seaside terminus of the city's outer walls might go farther than a few feet into the rock. Only the very highest ranking of Castle Bathory's royal guard could possibly know that one of these narrow, barnacle-encrusted apertures was in fact the mouth of a subterranean rivulet of sewage running all the way back under the city to the undercroft of Castle Bathory. The trickle of filth pouring from this hidden sewer was mixed and diluted by intruding seawater sloshing in from the bigger waves, and the putrid stench of sewage was obfuscated by the natural aroma of tidewater. And so there was not a soul expecting them when Edward, Emily, and their guards and servants stepped out from the darkness of the tunnel onto the rocky shore.

Newly-appointed Guard Commander Bartolomue and Edward led the way, guiding a path over stepping stones slick with sea moss.

Edward and Emily snuck along in the darkness, along with those guards and servants. They would soon approach the boat in the dead of darkness, no enemy knowing that they were there. The boat would take them to another land, where an ally would take them in. With their help, they would make a plan to take back Edwards' home, his kingdom. He and Emily would marry while they were away, to ensure that Edwards' birthright was secured. Emily loved him and was more than willing to marry right away. It was her idea after all. Anyway, they would get onto the boat and prepare to sail away. Edward would sigh and look back one last time, his heart aching for his stolen and nearly destroyed homeland. 

Bartolomue and Edward led Emily and the guards off of the rocks and onto the seaside wharf butting right up against the outcropping. Cobblestone jetties spanned the shallow, rocky waters just off the shore and reached out to the deeper waters that could accommodate the deep draughts of merchant cogs laden with foreign goods. Few boats remained in the harbor - most vessels had wisely put out to sea as soon as the Madness took hold over the city - and those few that remained were badly damaged or had been burned at anchor. Edward, Emily, and their retinue quietly walked past the blackened remains of a pair of vessels scorched to the waterline while Bartolomue scanned the harbor for a seaworthy ship.

On a nearby jetty, they found a ship that was unscathed.  Easily overlooked, for it had no sails nor mast, it was a shallow-draught dhow of oriental construction, with the only shelter on board provided by a canopy of waxed canvas rigged over the aft of the hull. Bartolomue nearly disregarded the vessel as a very large rowboat that might be used by a wealthy fishmonger, but an audible huff and a diffuse plume of mist  shooting out from the water directly before the stern gave proof that this was no mere rowboat. This was a chariot ship. Propelled by neither wind nor oar, but rather a team of three or four tamed porpoises tethered to the fore of the vessel. Light, nimble, and independent of the winds, chariot ships were known to be the fastest things on the sea, able to outrun any sailship even in the most favorable winds. Hailing from from the Orient, where wealthy merchants used them to race through the pirate-infested straits of the Jade Islands, chariot ships were rare indeed in these seas. To stumble upon a seaworthy specimen in the Lands Under Shadow was could only be divine providence.

Bartolomue gestured to the boat, directing the Vampire prince, Emily, and the guards and servants to make their way to the chariot ship at once. The party moved ahead briskly but quietly, thankful that the Madness-gripped citizenry had largely abandoned the harbor and gravitated toward the castle.

Edward and Emily got onto the ship. It would be a few days before they got to their destination. However, they would be safe upon their arrival. The queen who ruled the nation they were heading to was a family friend and had known Edward since he was a baby. The vampire prince knew that she would be more than willing to help him. 

Anyway, he escorted Emily as they all got on board the ship. Edward tried not to show sadness but he lost that internal fight. 

Emily kissed him on the cheek. She tried to be of comfort. She also tried to reassure him that everything would be alright in the end. 

Soon enough, the ship would take off into the sea and they would leave the vampire kingdom behind.

As Emily did her best to comfort Edward, Bartolomue and his guards looked over the ship, ensuring that no Madness-gripped lunatic or would-be assassin was hiding aboard the vessel lying in wait to strike at the vampire prince. Finding nothing on the deck, they went down into the hull to look around. Bartolomue had just tasked the servants with drawing up the anchor of the commandeered ship when a few of his guards could be heard shouting and stumbling about below deck. Bartolomue immediately drew his sword and gestured for Edward and Emily to remain still as he waited for something to emerge from below deck. Much to his relief, it was not a gang of armed peasants, but his unscathed guards that returned from the belly of the vessel, joined by a single captive. Seized tightly by the arms by the royal guards was a swarthy foreigner, clad in a flowing robe of lime-green silk and a yellow, onion-shaped turban  was coiled neatly upon his brow as was fashionable among the elite of the Orient. Unkempt stubble and purple bags under the eyes gave proof that this man had spent a considerable time hiding in the hull of this ship.

"P-please, do no kill me!" Stuttered the Easterner in his peculiar, throaty accent. "I have wealth. I have connections in Orient. I make you wealthy men. But please, please, please, please no kill me."

Bartolomue had seen plenty of peasants afflicted with the Madness. Fighting against them, face-to-face, the Guard Commander was well acquainted with their ferocious, dauntless gaze, even in the face of certain death. When he looked in the wide eyes of this man of the Orient, he saw only terror. Immediately, he knew this man was not gripped by the Madness.

"We don't want your money. But we do want this ship. Is it yours?"

"Yes, yes! This my boat. No sail but it go very fast. Pull by... how you say, big fish?"

"Whales." One of the guards holding the easterner by the arm chimed in.

"Yes, yes! Pull by whales. I take you wherever place you want. My crew dead, but maybe you be new crew? Is easy, I show you."

"What happened to your crew?"

"Crazy people. Crazy people come out of house and street and kill everybody. Kill my crew when we go to leave. I hide in ship and they no find me."

"Then let us serve as your crew for this voyage. Take us away from these lands," said Bartolomue, producing a drawstring bag full of golden vespers to show to the merchant, "and we will make you even wealthier."

The easterner's lips drew into a wide smile as he looked upon the purse full of coins with almost-dwarven avarice.

"Yes, very good! Very good! You pull up anchor, I wake up big fish and make them go."

Edward kept his guard up when the guards inspected the ship. His eyes were wide as he saw the exchange between his loyal guards and the owner of the ship. He frowned. He did not condone such behavior. He would never have approved of it if he had known they were going to act that way. Anyway, he knew  It would take days before they reached the grounds of their truest of allies. But, it would be worth it once they arrived there. 

Emily gasped. Her eyes were wide as well. she stayed close to Edward, acting nervous during that time. She would be quite relieved when the ship finally took off, pulled by those whales. She looked out at the open waters with Edward by her side. 

Edward sighed. He would feel homesick already. Edward looked at the guards. 
"Let us set out! We must leave quickly! It is going to be a long journey and we must get there before it is too late!" He used the same tone of voice his father used to use when commanding his troops. Emily faintly smiled at Edward. 

"You heard his majesty!" Shouted one of the guards in response, rousing his comrades. "Pull that anchor! Let's be off!"

At once, the guards and the servants hoisted the anchor out of the water and up onto the deck as the merchant captain went to the fore of the ship and gave a series of deft tugs on the thick rope reigns that ran from the bow down to the harnessed whales sleeping just below the surface of the water. One by one, the beasts were roused from their slumber, waking with short, irritated puffs of mist from their blowholes. The easterner sang a lilting string of syllables in his native tongue while he pulled and tugged on their reigns with practiced efficiency. Without warning, the ship lurched forward as the whales swam ahead. A foamy wake formed at the bow of the vessel as the sea protested against the rapid speed the ship had built. Within minutes the chariot ship was well into the harbor and the broken skyline of the once-great capital of the Lands Under Shadow shrank behind them.

"No worry, Majesty!" Said the easterner, glancing back from the reigns. "We leave very quickly now. We can get to big city of Aepiranth tomorrow. Twelve day, maybe we get to Orient. Just tell me where to go."

"Our King needs a place to gather allies and support before taking his country back," said Bartolomue. "Are there mercenaries in the Orient?"

"Oh yes! Yes, of course. One hundred mercenary company you can hire in the Grand Bazaar. Assassin mercenary, horse mercenary, elephant mercenary, cannon mercenary... cannon [i]on[/i] elephant mercenary! Every mercenary you can hire in Orient!"

"Your Majesty, perhaps we should visit the lands of the Orient, and inquire about purchasing the services of such formidable fighters for your cause." Bartolomue suggested to Edward, even now imagining returning to these shores to battle Ulrek with an army of horsemen and elephants from the Orient, blasting Ulrek's defenses to bits with cannons aboard privateer warships bearing the crimson sails of King Zachaeus.

Edward looked at Bartolomue. He nodded once. 
"Very well. We may journey there as well. We shall need all the help that we can get. We must take back our homeland and avenge my father and his good name!"

Emily agreed with him. She stood right by his side. She encouraged him and such. 

Edward was determined to accomplish this goal. He glanced back again once more, thinking about his dead father this time. He narrowed his eyes. He vowed to ensure his father and the others who died were avenged. His brother and Kane would both pay for what they had done. He would make sure of that, he thought.

"Then it is decided," affirmed Bartolomue as he turned to the captain of the chariot ship. "Take us to the Orient."