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Punished GNMorning light hadn't even breached breached the horizon when Prince Aaron’s party set off. Unlike the hasty arousal of knights that had been intended to give pursuit, this revamped force of thirty-three men contained only single knight, Sir Arvel, and were prepared to the desires of the prince, looking for all intents and purposes like a hunting team out to snare a boar. These were tough sergeants at arms, lancers and outriders, men who were used to hard living, and most importantly men Aaron trusted. No longer were they garbed in gleaming heavy armor, at most they wore mail hauberks covered by green and mottled brown wool surcoats with leather half helms strapped to their skulls. In their hands they hefted not long war lances but short jousting spears with blunted ends like long quarterstaffs. At their hips hung not swords but banded maces and their quivers were filled with blunt arrows. Aaron had ordered all his men to carry non lethal weaponry, only Sir Arvel, the houndmaster Broc, and Aaron himself carried proper swords. His exact orders were to take the rogue knight and his sister alive, along with any men or women who accompanied them. While he had been gathering information about the escape Aaron had been informed of the skill archers slaying Vanguard left and right with feathered shaft. The product of their labors were strewn about the castle for all to see so Aaron had no reason to doubt such a claim. The concerning question was whether these cloaked and dangerous individuals were merely skilled unimportant mercenaries, or something else. Besides himself there were only a few people in the kingdom he knew of who could shoot a bow and arrow with such lethality, and they vastly surpassed Aaron’s own skills. The Woodsmen. And if they were who he pursued, well the thought left a foul taste in his mouth.
Thus equipped and mentally prepared for the undertaking they set off, making haste through the near deserted streets until they reached the gates. Barred against entry and exit as they were it took a moment for the night shift to confirm the Prince’s identity and relay his orders up to the gatehouse where the slow process of twisting the locking wheel began. Content to wait and take his time Aaron sat back in the saddle of his chestnut gelding, the beast was short and wooly and old. And yet as sure footed as a horse could ever be, and although slow on the sprint could maintain a steady pace for hours. Releasing a sigh Aaron scratched at his stubble beard, a sign he hadn’t been caring for himself properly lately. Raising his left arm Aaron stretched and flexed his fingers, twisting his limb this way and that. It seemed well enough, though still sore. He had removed the bandages earlier against the advice of the healers, trusting himself to be gentle on it for at least a few more days.
Aaron’s bored, wandering gaze soon fell on Sir Arvel, riding astride him. Once again the question of Eleanor flickered in his mind and Aaron broached the subject, wondering if he would get straighter answers from this man than all the others he had asked. “Sir Arvel, perhaps you could enlighten me. Every other man seems conveniently uncertain, or to have forgotten the events just prior to Allaway’s untimely escape as to give me a straight answer. You see, there seems to be a consensus from the higher ups in the Vanguard that Eleanor was not in fact snatched from her chambers, but fled with Sir Fenros from the barracks hall. That is indeed where most of the corpses can be found from the fighting. A strange coincidence considering no one can recall just why she was there, alone and unguarded, when I am certain I heard my lord father assign Sir Connall no less to her security. And, should she have been released from her chambers by traitors, it makes no sense to me why they would immediately take my sister to the Vanguard’s barracks, the jaws of the beast if you will. It's all rather confusing to be quite honest, and I have high hopes that you are better informed upon that particular situation than I?”
Arvel gripped his reins loosely, panning his gaze to Aaron. Biting his lip slightly, he spoke softly but surely. “Lord, I fear it may be more complicated and- Controversial, than your expectation. That being said, do you still desire the truth?”
“I would expect nothing less from you.” Aaron intoned, eyeing the knight with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “I specifically requested you at my side because I saw a man I could trust, not a man like those my father promotes. Yes-men, who tell him what he wants to hear. Whether complicated or difficult you will find me worthy, and all the better for having the certitude of it. Try me sir knight, and test my resolve in handling the truth.”
Exhaling sharply, Arvel formulated his thoughts. “I’m sure you’re aware of the accusations against the Princess Royal, yes?” Arvel nodded. “Given that, His Majesty the King found it a fitting punishment to- Excuse the bluntness or any perceived vulgarity, throw her to the dogs, perse. Gave the Vanguards free reign in the middle of the barracks hall. I-” Arvel paused, clearing his throat, obviously uncomfortable at the topic.
“I left, needed some air, didn’t see what happened beyond that.”
Aaron hissed, long and low his hand clenched tight around the hilt of his sword as he fumed over this answer. At long last he released the sword casting a furious glance over his shoulder back towards the castle. “My father has much to answer for…” He murmured every word containing a level of venom rarely heard from him. “Are you certain of this? These accusations, though not beyond my father admittedly, would be unforgivable should they be proven false? They cast into doubt this very venture, I am of half a mind to let them escape, Eleanor would be safer in Fenros’ care...”
“I am certain. Yet, none of these riders we venture with would say anything the same, I’m sure.” Arvel sighed, glancing around, before leaning in towards Aaron, speaking lowly. “And, if this is the way you feel, Lord, it should be noted I have to agree. The truth is, I saw Fenros that night. He challenged me to step aside or die. Neither could I betray the King nor win against Sir Allaway, those are true.” Arvel paused again.
“So I stepped aside.”
“I am grateful you did so.” Aaron said with sincerity. “The world would be all the lesser without you. And by doing so you may have saved Eleanor from a fate worse than death.” Frowning the young prince stared into nothing for a while, contemplating his options, and the many unanswered questions that remained. “Unfortunately, there rides with the knight Allaway and the princess, men and women of extreme importance, including the would-be-assassin Tyler. All people whom I would very much like to question personally.” Lowering his voice he leaned in as well, mimicking Sir Arvel. “Should the opportunity arise to allow my sister and Fenros to flee, well, see to it they are not brought back home in chains. As of now I must ask you of something a prince should never ask of his knights. I ask you to lie, to keep our exploits secret from the king and anyone who might be loyal to him. Of these.” Aaron cast a hand back at the men assembled behind them. “I trust only Broc absolutely. You have seen first hand how my father treats those he presumes betrayed him. Loose lips could cost us much. Even I could be at risk, and I would not lose you. Can I entrust you with the delicacy of this situation Sir Arvel?”
“You can, Lord. It will be done, should the Goddess strike me down.” Arvel affirmed, offering a gloved hand to Aaron in solidarity.
“I will hold you to that Sir Knight.” Aaron accepted Arvel’s proffered hand shaking it with a warrior’s grip. “Ah, and behold our journey awaits.”
The massive gates creaked at last into place, and a thin line of guardsmen intermixed with watch officers had assembled as something of a Royal escort to send off the prince and his men. They stood in rank and file at attention, their gear having been hastily shined and their weapons sharpened. Lanterns cast small circles of light in the predawn shade of the walls. Crisp air persperated as they breathed vanishing in short order. Without hesitation Aaron flicked his hand and the thirty-three, in unison whipped their reins and spurred their horses forward passing through the honor guard and out onto the main road leading west out of the city.
By the time they reached the escape point of Fenros and his cohorts the sun was rising, casting brilliant beams of light across the rugged land. Several sweaty and tired looking men were waiting for them, those few who had attempted to climb the wall and pursue on foot. Aaron waved them away, before slipping from his saddle and dropping to the ground, summoning Broc the houndmaster and his four dogs. The hounds were all older beasts with graying muzzles, but they had noses sharper than a sword and a record of success that Aaron knew firsthand. Earlier Aaron had been able to locate some of the personal effects secured from Annabelle Tyler during her brief imprisonment and kept in the dungeons. Briefly Aaron held the item under each of the hounds’ muzzles. They cast about, twisting and turning their heads, first smelling the ground and then the air but at long last they all sat down whining.
“Bad trail?” Broc grunted, eyeing the dogs disapprovingly.
“Maybe, but we can try another.” Aaron muttered, not liking his secondary solution. Throwing aside the crossbow, claimed to have belonged to Tyler, Aaron stalked over to his horse pulling open his saddle bag. From there he produced a slipper, a small thing but well worn. This he held to each of the hounds in turn and this time they found the scent.
Straining on the leashes the hounds slobbered and howled eager to give chase. “Mount up!” Aaron shouted, ignoring the fact that he was the only one on his feet.
