"Daughter, dearest. I'm so glad you are home," the duke said, as he beamed at his beloved daughter. "I was so worried that you would not find your way back to us. It has been nearly a week, my daughter and I was so, so worried. Tell me, how did you make your way back to us?"
Amelia looked at her father, the duke, "Is this how you repay the man who helped me return?" she was in no mood for dealing with her father's antics today. "I was forcefully taken from my city, rescued by a stranger who volunteered to travel with me all the way back here. And this is how you choose to show your gratitude?" She was livid. Her eyes straight as flint with her father's.
The duke took it all in stride, "Come now, my sweet. Do not focus on the little things."
"We cannot afford to look weak in the eyes of the city. Someone must be held accountable for your abduction." He said imploringly.
"I don't disagree with you father, but hold the person who actually is responsible, responsible." she fired back.
From the side of the throne, a very tall man stepped out, hair slicked back. "Now, now, Lady Amelia, please do not forget your position. You raise yourself above your station. It's the duke first, father second, you're speaking to," the man said.
Amelia could not stand him. Count Reginald, her father's chief advisor. Ever since she was little, she had felt there was just something not right with the man. He continued to smile in her direction, the facade of a mask that she knew it was.
"I think we are all tired, I know I am, my dear Amelia," the duke said. "Let us rest, we'll dine later this evening, and perhaps then we can talk some more."
"Father, this is absurd, he's innocent, he's done nothing wrong…he saved my life." Amelia continued.
"Lady Amelia -" the Count interrupted, "that is enough, the duke has spoken, let it rest."
With nothing else to do and nothing else she could say, Lady Amelia turned and departed the throne room. I can't believe that man, she muttered to herself. Both of them, really. How could father be okay with putting an innocent man in jail? Since when does he care so much about image? Ughhh..Amelia continued to mutter to herself as she walked down the hall towards her quarters.
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The cell was dank. There was a little tiny window up near the top back wall which let in a little bit of light. Apart from that, there was a small pot in the corner to do one's business in, and nothing but sand along the floor.
Joedan had lost track of how long he was in this cell, but it had to have been going on a couple days. Once a day, a guard came by with a bowl of water and a piece of dried bread. Which more often than not, the bread landed in the water bowl. Having nothing else to eat, Joedan was ashamed to admit, he still ate it. Commander Griff had come by a couple of times, not really saying anything, just staring until it became uncomfortable. Then he would quickly turn and depart.
Joedan still had not heard from Amelia. He was beginning to wonder if she even cared that he was still in here. She had to know he'd been taken to a jail cell. Joedan tried to occupy some of his time by doing some light working out. A few sets of pushups every couple hours. It helped to pass the time, but there wasn't much else for him to do. Joedan laid back against the wall, watching the sunlight come through his little window, the only reprieve he could find while in this tiny cell.
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"Ralph," said Count Reginald. "What part of "if you fail me again," did you not understand?" Count Reginald stared at the man sitting across from him. Henry, his driver, stood by the door, motionless. Reginald could appreciate a man like Henry, few words, reliable. Why couldn't all of his subordinates carry themselves that way? Drifting back to the man across from him, Reginald frowned.
"Last time I saw you, I was pretty sure I let you know how serious it would be should you fail me a second time."
"Sir, I stumbled across them in Lincoln, but they narrowly escaped, and after searching the roads between there and here, I did not see them again." Ralph told the man.
"Well it's a little late now," the Count said, "our little "princess" has managed to find her way home. And no, thanks to you, a stupid farmer was the one who got her back here. Did you realize you got outsmarted by a farmer?"
Ralph knew if he said anything it would only make matters worse. There was still a strong likelihood that things would end badly for him. But with no luck finding the pair the rest of the journey and the deadline fast approaching, the only option he had was to come humbly and hope for leniency.
Ralph was still biding his time. He knew the Count was a powerful man, capable of finding him if he attempted to run. No, this was the only way. If Ralph did not return empty-handed, he would likely never get his chance to strike back at the Count.
The count stood from his desk and walked towards the window. "You know what I love about this city?"
Ralph didn't answer because he knew the Count wasn't expecting one.
"This is my city. The duke may think he rules it, but everything funnels through me, I'm the puppet master behind the strings," laughing to himself. "The duke doesn't even know he's been duped."
"Duped duke," the Count laughed again. "It really is so easy to manipulate him."
Pulling a knife from his jacket pocket the Count held it up towards the light of the window. "You know what I love about this knife?" This time the Count looked right at Ralph.
"No, its okay, don't answer. It would be my pleasure to tell you."
There was a hard gleam in the count's eye, one Ralph was growing more and more nervous as he saw it. The knife spun in the count's grip as he twirled it around and around.
"Knives do what they're supposed to, Ralph," the Count looked over at Henry, "you know what I'm saying, Henry?"
Henry just nodded. Face still as stone, no emotion. The count got closer to Ralph, leaning back against the desk, staring at Ralph.
"The good news is, I've decided I'm not through with you yet."
Ralph couldn't help but be a little encouraged hearing that. Maybe the count was willing to show him some leniency. "Yeah, boss, I can still be useful. I'll find a way to make it up to you, I swear." Ralph told the count.
With a speed Ralph wasn't prepared for, the Count spun the knife down and drove it through Ralph's hand into the chair arm he was currently seated in. As Ralph was about to scream, the count pulled another knife from his jacket, "You scream, I'll put this knife in the other one."
Ralph bit back the scream that was desperately trying to come out.
"Don't go far, I will call you when I have need of you."
The count reached over to the knife still embedded in Ralph's hand and pulled it back. Taking a cloth from his pocket, he wiped the blade, before spinning the knife one more time and tucking it back into his jacket pocket.
"You're free to go," the count said. "And you might want to get that hand looked at. Looks pretty serious." And then he smiled.
Ralph stood, grabbing his bleeding hand, not wanting to turn his back on the count, he slowly walked backwards, bowing before the count as he made his way towards the exit.