Soldiers of the Crown

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “I believe you, because he would not send a couple of untrained boys to frame me,” Thomas finally stated, lowering his sword.

  “Thank you,” Aiden breathed as the tension left the room. “I need to check on my friend, is that alright?” Thomas nodded as Pacian got back on his feet, his hair matted with a surprising amount of blood.

  “Head wounds bleed the most,” Thomas called out. “You’ll be fine. The same cannot be said for my carpets.”

  “How did you get involved in this, and why would they be trying to frame you?” Aiden asked, pulling out some bandages from his longcoat pocket and beginning to wrap them around Pacian’s head.

  “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my brother, Ronald Bartlett, but he is a renowned businessman who operates—”

  “Yes, we met briefly, not long ago,” Aiden interrupted, less than eager to bring up the subject of Bartlett’s death.

  “I see. He was involved with some important members of the Senate, having conducted business with them for many years,” Thomas continued, checking outside the window. “Ron was always very busy, whether it was with the company or meetings with Senator Augustus Johnson, but he would never discuss the nature of their affiliation. I had the distinct impression it was somewhat illegal, so I didn’t press the matter. This all changed when I learned of my brother’s recent death in Lachburne.”

  “I heard about that, and I’m sorry for your loss,” Aiden offered, keeping his voice measured so as not to reveal any diret involvement.

  “Don’t be — the man was a recalcitrant bigot,” Thomas replied without emotion. “As part of the company’s assets fell to my control, it wasn’t long before Senator Johnson came to me and wanted to bring me on board with his associates, informing me it was a matter of national interest and that as a true patriot, it was a duty I could not refuse.”

  “I declined. He told me I would regret the decision, but that he respected my courage to tell him to his face. Johnson really does think a lot of himself, you know, he’s quite an arrogant old toff.” Aiden finished bandaging Pacian’s wounds and helped him to his feet.

  “So, Senator Johnson is this ‘Number One’ chap then?” Aiden asked.

  “No, I don’t think so, but he certainly believes himself equal to whoever is,” Thomas attested. He peered through the window again as he spoke, warily watching those passing by. “Augustus would not be content with following orders for long, of that I am certain.”

  “Are you expecting someone?” Pacian asked, still smarting over his loss to the expert swordsman.

  “I’ve had the distinct feeling that I have been followed since my last meeting with the good Senator,” Thomas explained. “Running into the two of you upstairs took several years off my life, and has forced me to reconsider the level of safety…”

  “Safety of what?” Aiden prompted when Thomas’s voice trailed off. He was leaning against the wall next to one of the windows, and did not answer. Then the window suddenly shattered inwards and Thomas slumped to the ground, a crossbow bolt in his chest and an expression of regret on his face.

  Aiden stepped forward to go to his aid but caught a glimpse of a man in a dark cloak just outside the window with a compact crossbow aimed towards him. He leaped to one side as another bolt went past, narrowly missing his neck and lodging into the wall behind them. Aiden crawled across the floor to Thomas, who was staring up at the ceiling with eyes devoid of life.

  The wound in his chest seemed to be smeared with a foul-smelling black substance, and it didn’t take a vast leap of logic to realise he had been shot with a poisoned arrow. Pacian hurried over to the wall next to the window and cautiously peeked around the edge of the frame.

  “He’s getting away,” he hissed, pushing the window all the way open and beginning to clamber outside.

  “What about him?” Aiden asked, pointing at the still form of Thomas Bartlett.

  “There’s nothing we can do for him now, except avenge his death,” Pacian growled, hesitating no longer as he pushed through the window and landed on the other side. Cursing under his breath, Aiden joined in the pursuit.

  This particular window opened onto an alleyway, and the two boys could see the assassin dashing away from them near the other end of the narrow passage. Pacian was already running, dodging past boxes and piles of garbage, with Aiden following as quickly as he could manage.

  Their target had disappeared around a corner, which they both took at high speed and continued the chase. The black figure should have been easy to spot against the white ground, but the snow was still falling thickly and the assassin was reduced to a grey blur, taking yet another corner in the maze of alleys.

  By the time they reached the point where they’d last seen their target, he was nowhere to be found. Pacian looked about frantically, and then kicked a box of rubbish in frustration. Aiden looked on the ground to see if he could follow the man’s footsteps in the snow, but he couldn’t make them out from all the other footsteps in the area.

  Aiden was silent and outwardly calm, but inside he screamed in frustration at the loss, both of the assassin and a man who had the integrity to stand against the schemes taking place in the upper hierarchy of the Kingdom.

  “We’re done here, Pace,” he told his friend, trying to keep the dejection from his voice, “let’s get back with what we know.” Pacian stood in the middle of the alleyway for a long moment before nodding his head in agreement.

  “I’m going to make the bastard behind this bleed for what he’s done,” he vowed.

  * * *

  The two boys made their way through the back alleyways of Fairloch. Before they emerged onto the main streets, Pacian spent a few minutes cleaning the blood from his head wound with some of the freezing cold water on the ground. He was still a mess under his cloak, but hopefully the City Watch wouldn’t notice.

  Fortunately, the City Watchmen posted at the main gate between the Market and Senate Districts had their hands full arguing with a brash young woman with long dark hair who was protesting the confiscation of her property. Aiden suddenly realised it was Kinsey’s agent Kara, who was creating a diversion to allow them to make their way back to the Fair Maiden without attracting the attention of the City Watch, and he was silently grateful.

  The warmth of the inn was as inviting as ever when the two boys slumped through the door. The crowd at the inn had thinned out since they had departed, and it came as no surprise to Aiden that Mister Kinsey was seated at a table near the door, patiently awaiting their arrival.

  “You seem to have a nose for finding trouble, Mister Savidge,” Kinsey remarked as they gingerly eased into the available seats. “Perhaps one day we will be able to engage in discussion without your blood dripping on the floor.”

  “You have a strange way of greeting people,” Pacian replied warily.

  “Duly noted,” Kinsey replied curtly. “Now, please explain to me why the two of you appear to have been in a life or death struggle on what was supposed to have been a simple investigation.” Aiden glanced at Pace, who merely shrugged back at him. There was no avoiding the truth — it would only be a matter of time before Thomas Bartlett was found dead, so it was probably best to be straightforward about this delicate issue.

  Aiden went on to explain everything Thomas had mentioned, including the contents of the note, Senator Johnson’s direct involvement and that Thomas had no real affiliation with the conspirators.

  “Show me this note,” Kinsey instructed eagerly.

  “Unfortunately, we ran into Thomas and there was a struggle, during which he managed to take the note from me and throw it into the fire, before we could explain our presence in his house. He claimed it was false, planted there to implicate him and destroy his reputation. He was then shot with a poisoned arrow, dying almost immediately,” Aiden concluded grimly. “We gave chase, but lost the culprit in the back alleyways.” Kinsey remained silent, appearing thoughtful for a long moment before responding.

  “They have
covered their tracks well, though it is unfortunate that Mister Bartlett himself disposed of the note, for now we have no evidence aside from your word. I will have one of my men investigate the body, as a poison that kills that quickly would be a rare and expensive thing and that in itself may help us narrow the search. Despite implicating Senator Johnson, your word alone is not enough to conduct a full investigation of such a high-ranking member of society.”

  “We covertly investigated one man based on the word of a known criminal,” Aiden retorted. “Why wouldn’t we look a little closer at this senator in the same manner?” Kinsey looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment and then slowly stood up, leaning heavily on his cane.

  “I will speak with Sir Godfrey. If I can persuade him, together we will have a better chance of convincing the duke,” he told them, though with a noticeable lack of conviction. “I suggest you get your rest, gentlemen, as if I am successful we will need to move quickly. I will send word via one of my associates as to the outcome of my request.” Kinsey hobbled away through the crowd and Aiden finally relaxed.

  “That went well,” he remarked.

  “I think I should get my head looked at,” Pacian said, gingerly touching his scalp underneath the hood of his cloak.

  “That’s a good idea,” Aiden answered casually. “You should also get your injury checked out too.”

  “You’re hilarious, you know that?” Pacian muttered. Looking around, he spotted the distinctive white clerical robe of Nellise sitting at a table across the common room. Her hood was up, but it was impossible to completely obscure her striking looks so easily. Gesturing for Pacian to follow, Aiden walked across the room. She was talking with Sir William, and the two of them went quiet as the boys approached.

  “I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Aiden greeted them. “Pace could use some patching up, if you’re okay with that.” Doubt entered her golden eyes as she looked up at Aiden, but she nodded silently and gestured at the empty chairs.

  “Gentlemen, please join us,” Sir William said cordially. He stood from his chair and offered Aiden his hand, which he shook firmly.

  “I wish to offer my congratulations on our stunning victory last night,” he continued as they took their seats. “I regret that I fell for their bait and took off after the rest of those assassins, but I was well-pleased to finally see that you had taken down that reprehensible Holister. Stirring work indeed, sir! Not just as a service to the crown, but to avenge my own failure to catch that scoundrel many years ago. I consider myself in your debt, Aiden, for bringing her to justice, and finishing the only meaningful contribution I have made to the Kingdom in my long decades of service.”

  “Praise should go to Nellise, Sir William,” Aiden corrected, looking at the young cleric as she retrieved a crystal from her pouch and began whispering soft prayers. Within moments, he felt an invigorating sensation sweep through the air, and Pacian’s wounds began to heal over.

  “Is that so?” Sir William asked, raising an eyebrow. “It was our lovely young priestess who told me of your triumph this morning and she neglected to mention her role in it.”

  “We were on the verge of defeat when she stepped into the room and challenged Holister personally,” Aiden explained. “Certainly, Sayana and I helped, but it was Nellise who struck the final blow.”

  “It wasn’t all that final, as it happens,” Pacian remarked bitterly as his wounds were also mending. “She had the opportunity to finish her off properly, but went kind of soft at the end. That’s the reason Holister is still alive right now, instead of being food for worms.”

  “What you call softness, I call strength,” Sir William told Pacian firmly. “She has not abandoned her ethics as readily as you would like to believe.”

  “I’m getting pretty sick of your superior attitude, Willy,” Pacian snapped. “This world is a nasty place, something you failed to learn in all your long years.”

  “Easy Pace,” Aiden warned, seeing a potential for unpleasantness growing.

  “Why were you passed over for higher titles I wonder?” Pacian pressed, ignoring Aiden. “Dozens of knights serve the king, moving up the through the ranks to become counts and earls, and yet here you sit as the lowest of the nobility, complaining about a life wasted. You want to know what I think? It was your vaunted ethics that got in the way, and those who would do whatever it took to fight bastards like Holister were promoted and celebrated as heroes, until the king eventually stopped calling on you altogether.”

  Sir William’s expression was unreadable, but instead of the outburst of anger Aiden had been expecting he merely drew Solas Aingeal from its sheath and placed it on the table in front of him. Nearby patrons blanched at the sight of a drawn weapon in the common room of an inn and backed away. Pacian himself flinched visibly as he glared at the weapon, but he held his ground.

  “I serve a higher power,” the knight spoke quietly but firmly. “Long have I waited for the chance to aid King and Country, but lately I’ve come to see that I have always, first and foremost, been a servant of God. Despicable men are moving through the world seeking to twist the glory of our civilisation to their own ends. I would not sacrifice our ethics in order to thwart their plans, for that would make us no better than them. If you truly think your ways and means are right by God, then take up my blade and mete out whatever justice you see fit to those deserving of your wrath.”

  “Pace, back off… right now,” Aiden warned. Pacian turned and casually walked away from the table without a second glance, ignoring the dangerous look Sir William levelled at him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I am losing patience dealing with that one,” Sir William muttered, sheathing his sword once more.

  “I’m not going to defend him this time,” Aiden grumbled, “but I do apologise for interrupting your talk with his nonsense. I give him a wide latitude due to our long friendship and the fact he doesn’t have much else in the way of family, but my patience with him is also wearing thin.”

  “What have you two been up to, Aiden?” Nellise asked curiously. “Those wounds weren’t from last night.”

  “Pacian and I did some investigation earlier,” Aiden confided, rubbing his temples. “Before that I had an interesting encounter at the University. It’s been an eventful day, to say the least.”

  “By ‘eventful’ I must assume ‘dangerous’, judging by Pacian’s injuries,” she remarked.

  “Tell me, Nellise,” Sir William asked, “that issue Pacian hinted at concerning dangerous men. To what was he referring?” Nellise lowered her eyes and let her hair fall before her face. Aiden suspected she was in no mood to talk about the incident in Akora, but was surprised a few moments later when she quietly began to relate the story to the old knight. Her voice fell to a whisper in a few places but she didn’t stop until she had finished explaining the tragic event.

  When she was done, nobody at the table spoke for nearly a minute. Sir William seemed to be thoughtful, although his moustache quivered with barely controlled emotions held just beneath the surface.

  “You have spoken to the clergy of this, yes?” he asked of her, receiving a timid nod in reply. “Did you find no solace within the halls of the Church?”

  “I was counselled briefly, but my other transgressions took precedence,” Nellise replied, her voice conveying a feeling of disappointment rather than anger.

  “I know that it’s been hard for you, having to work your way through your problems while dealing with everything else,” Aiden offered, lightly touching her hand with his own to comfort her. “But we’re always here to support you, should you need it.”

  “Thank you, Aiden,” she answered quietly. “Though you dispute my claim of being an angel, your words and actions continue to prove otherwise.”

  “I sensed that something was amiss from the first day we met,” Sir William said slowly. “I now understand the source of your pain madam, for you are doubtless finding it impossible to resolve your newfound
desire to fight evil with the peace and tranquillity you have known through your contact with God.”

  “‘All men are brothers, all women are sisters’ the Codex says,” Nellise stated, “but I have encountered men whom I would scarcely call human, let alone my own brother. It is far easier to strike them down than to try and help them see the lost divinity within themselves.”

  “They need not be separate ideals,” Sir William stated, drawing curious looks from Aiden and Nellise. “Your hatred and fear of such men is what is causing the distance between you and God, for such feelings are antithetical to the divine light that flows through all things. But I will tell you something now that I suspect even the Church does not know — there is no evil. At least, not as we think of it.”

  “I would beg to differ on that point,” Aiden replied dryly.

  “Darkness is merely the absence of light Aiden, not a force in and of itself,” Sir William proclaimed. “So it is that evil is merely the absence of good — those we fight may act out in terrible and destructive ways, but we should remember their actions and thoughts have closed them off from God, and while they may be alone and afraid, they are not truly monsters.”

  “Are you saying we should take pity upon them?” Aiden asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “No, merely consider them as misguided,” Sir William continued, directing his remarks at Nellise, who watched the old knight intently. “They lash out at the world, attacking people with swords, or words, or other unspeakable acts to try and deal with their pain. But it is a lie that they have been told, or they have told themselves for nothing is truly separate from the divine.”

  “We should not fear them or become angry with them for their actions, for they are like angry children, striving for attention from a universe they believe has turned its back on them. Hold on to the purity of your spirit and hear the sadness and rage of their empty existence echo in your soul, and allow their hatred to pass through you unheeded. You will weather their intemperate nature and remain strong, bolstered by the knowledge that you walk in the light, even in places of utter darkness, for at no time are you ever separate from God.”