by Louis Emery
He wasn’t about to let this inconvenience get in his way. Turning the corner he saw a ledge that dropped off two stories down to the marble of the courtyard below. Just beyond it was an open air window to allow a breeze through the upper corridors. He quickly jumped on the ledge and began to scale the walls toward the embrasure. Luckily the outlines of the stone gave way enough for grasping hands and foot positioning. Careful not to look down and hesitate, for who knew when guards would come back this way, he edged swiftly to the opening in the wall and swung himself inside the keep.
The slight thud of his feet echoed throughout the nearby halls. As soon as he rose, he felt two hands clamp on the back of his shoulders. He’d gone this far, only to be caught inside. He sighed, waiting to be wrestled to the ground.
“Shall I throw you in irons?” a familiar voice said. “Or just toss you out the window and be done with you?”
He spun around to Naomey’s crystal smile, an alluring contrast to her darker, silky hair. The next instant he plunged his lips to hers, and they kissed for many seconds.
“I must say, Gav, this is scandalous… What if my father finds out?”
“He won’t.”
Naomey glanced over to the double doors. “Why didn’t you enter that way?”
“The doors are locked.” Gav gestured to the window. “I had no choice but to use my preferred methods.”
Naomey walked over to the oaken doors and swung them open. She tested the outside lock.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked her.
“I could’ve sworn these used to remain unlocked so the guards could cross through the keep to the northern side…” Her brow furrowed.
Gav came up to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“My father must’ve given the guards keys,” Naomey continued. “I swear he’s becoming extra cautious as he advances in age. Unlike you!” She spun on him. “You, sir, need to be a bit more careful—avoiding things like scaling keep walls and risking a broken neck.” She jabbed at him and playfully pushed him away out towards the ramparts.
“You there!” shouted a voice. It was one of the two guards from before. They were still together making their rounds and they just spotted him. “Stop where you are!”
Gav gave Naomey an accusatory look. “Thanks to you I’ve been spotted.”
Her hand jumped to her lips, eyes wide. “Come. This way—we’ve got to hide!”
She took him by the hand and pulled him down through the corridor. He could hear the steps of the pursuing guards behind them. The two of them ran down an interminable hallway that came to a descending stairway, leading to the first floor and Lord Androus’s main hall.
Voices echoed toward them, undoubtedly the curses of their pursuers.
“Pity I don’t have anything to fight them off…” Gav said before they stepped onto the stairway.
“You think I’d let you slay two of my father’s guards,” Naomey remarked, hands on her hips. “Are you crazy?”
Gav let out a laugh and felt his arm being tugged down the stairs. Their footsteps echoed and soon mingled with those behind them. Torches adorned the walls, but the way was still dim and filled with shadows. He wondered what it was like in the dark of night. He could imagine not a few besotted keep guests and nobles tripping over themselves in the dark stairwell.
When they’d reached the bottom, they came to the entrance hall. Naomey pressed a hand on his chest to stall their progress as a couple of scullery maids walked by toward the kitchens. When the coast was clear, they crossed the entrance chamber to the main hall. One of the guards called out to them, and the sound reverberated and rose up into the rafters.
“Where are we going?” Gav whispered.
“To the subterranean passages. Regular guards aren’t allowed down there.” Naomey shot him a look.
“Isn’t that near the crypts?”
A mischievous smile molded on Naomey’s face. “Why, yes, it is.”
They passed through an archway leading out the main hall and into an arcade on the eastern side of the courtyard. Birds chased one another as they fluttered about the various fountains and washbasins that dotted the grounds. Their song mingled with the trickling water, and the sun shone down on potted plants and flower gardens emitting tendrils of mist, from the melting morning dew that clung to leaves.
Before the guards could open the outside door behind them, Naomey took Gav around a corner to a new set of stairs that led underground. It was a dark passage, and when they reached an entranceway Naomey lifted a torch from a sconce to help light their way. The ceiling was much lower above them, but still allowed them to walk at normal height. The stone corridor smelled musty and felt damp and cold due to it being a few stories below the keep’s first floor.
As they turned down a new passage, a chamber opened into the crypt vaults. Gav felt his hackles rise as they approached the dark rooms. “You sure this is a good idea?” he said.
“No,” Naomey replied. “We’re not supposed to be down here, but I’ve been here before so I know my way around.”
The crypt vault had pitch black patches in its corners, but a feint light trickled down from above. Some sort of shaft had been dug to allow natural sunlight to seep through and give just enough glow to make out the several tombs. The resting places of Naomey’s island ancestors were made of carved stone sarcophagi with etched gravestones as their lids. Though it was a dark and dreary place, the congruity of the graves and the precise epitaphs gave a certain respectable aura.
Coming to the first tomb, Gav asked, “Are you going to introduce me?”
“This was Emilianne Androus, my great great grandmother. She was as imposing woman to be sure. Though I never met her.”
“Oh? And how did she come to be like that?”
“It’s a long story,” Naomey said, a wry frown on her face.
“I’m patient,” Gav said with eyebrows up.
Naomey laughed, looking back to the epitaph. “When my ancestors first settled here from mainland Redwoodia, there were wars between the newly-arrived clans. Over time, Backlanders like you trickled in, giving the Prestonpan Isles their name and establishing the rule of House Staverly over the islands and fells to the north. We weren’t as accepted in society like settlers coming here from the east. Sure, some of you Backlanders treated us as if we were one of your own. But others treated us miserably. Despite the prejudice of merchants and traders and fiefs and kingdoms, we still carved out a living throughout the Isles.”
“Yes, but your people eventually ended up here, in possession of a lordship,” Gav said, spreading his arms.
“I’m getting to that,” Naomey poked at him. “When the Redwoodians rebelled against their despotic lord, both my great great grandfather Abnar,” she gestured to the next grave over, “and Emilianne fought side by side with the rebels. After the old, tyrannical lord was overthrown, the local Redwoodians were so impressed with Abnar and Emilianne’s leadership they proclaimed them the new lord and lady of the keep, and were granted charter from the then-king in Em Regis, due to the ineptitude and disobedience of the previous Backland lord, and as long as tariffs were paid and help was given in war.”
“So your great great grandmother was a fighter, huh?” Gav said.
“Quite so,” Naomey moved further down the tombs. “Unlike some of my great aunts and other grandmothers along the line. They were more prim and proper ladies, adhering to the conformity of the ubiquitous Rethan ladyships.”
Gav followed her to the end of the tomb vault, as she continued, “If only I were more like Emilianne. She stood up for herself whenever she had to.”
“I can help train you,” Gav said.
“We’ve already done a few sessions and I’ve learned a few things, but unlike my mother, father doesn’t encourage them. He wants his daughter to be a proper lady.” Naomey shook her head. “He’s grooming me for something.” Tears began to well in her eyes.
Gav placed a hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “I
t won’t come to that,” he said. “You can’t be forced to live a certain way.”
“Easier said than done,” she said. “My mother’s a strong woman. And even she can’t sway his mind.”
“Give it time,” Gav said, lifting her chin and meeting her eyes, “You forget that you’re a strong woman.”
Naomey smiled and kissed him. Her lips were cool and welcoming. “Let’s go,” she said. “There’s another room I want to show you.”
“Not more graves?”
“No, far from it. If father caught us in this one, then we’d really be in trouble.”
Curiosity piqued, Gav followed her further through the corridor and down a few steps into an even narrower passage. The walls on both sides were so close together that both of their shoulders brushed along the stone. Patches of feint light filtered through from narrows shafts that led high above to level ground. They came to a giant door of robust wood and thick metal lining.
Naomey tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
“What do we do now?” Gav said, folding his arms.
Naomey’s smile reflected in the glow of the torchlight. “Never go somewhere unprepared.” Out of a small pouch at her belt, she pulled a set of keys. Finding the right one, she inserted it into the lock. Gav heard a click and the handle turned and gave way.
Inside the fire glow illumined boxes of gold bullion, their lids slightly askew. Stacks of several wooden boxes and trunks sat in heaps in the corner, undoubtedly filled with more currency. “Your father’s vault?” Gav asked.
“The main one, at least,” Naomey replied leading him inside.
The room was massive, but the majority of the wealth lay on one side. In some of the crates and boxes, Gav could make out currency bricks and coins of silver and copper as well as a stash of jewels. The opposite end looked bland by comparison. There were a couple of large trestle tables with folios and scrolls scattered about with the odd ink pot and quiver sticking out.
Gav’s attention caught the jewels again. “What are those for?”
Naomey moved closer to a lidless box of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. The gems reflected prisms of glaring light as the torch flames danced. “These are form old mines and have been passed down my family through the generations,” Naomey replied, “Worth more than much of the gold that surrounds us. My father uses them as a reserve—in case of emergencies.”
“Emergencies?”
“In case his venture’s fail or his ships are hit by pirates or rival navy. He needs reserves to pay his creditors and keep his loans going—not to mention, pay his taxes to Lord Staverly and King Greenvale.” She gestured to the gems.
Gav and Naomey were entranced by the illuminated colors. Naomey picked one of the rubies up and handed it to him. It was the size of his hand and quite heavy. He replaced it and followed Naomey to another stack of boxes. She removed the lid of one. Inside lay a menagerie of diamond and gem carved jewelry of pendants, brooches, rings, bracelets, and necklaces.
“Oh my,” Naomey gasped, lifting a string of pearls, spangled with intermingling crystal clear diamonds. “This is quite nice.”
“Let me guess,” Gav said. “More reserves?”
“A shame,” Naomey said, now holding an emerald necklace up to her neck. “I would die to wear this. Of course, father would kill me first.”
“That green suits you,” Gav acknowledged. “It’d look lovely on you amidst the island jungle near the Cylarnti temple.”
Naomey smiled, replacing the jewelry to the box and setting the lid on top. She sighed, looking around longingly. Then her face changed, an expression of confusion forming.
“What’s wrong?” Gav inquired.
“This room used to have more.”
“More what? Gold?”
“Everything,” Naomey scanned the great room, walking past the boxes and trunks. She looked over to the opposite side with the tables and parchment. “The stacks of gold and silver used to reach these tables,” she pointed with her finger.
“You think your father’s profits have fallen?”
Naomey shook her head. “You don’t understand. These funds include his reserves. He hardly moves the wealth down here. Unless…”
“Unless…” Gav prodded.
“Unless we have trouble paying our tariffs.” Naomey scratched her head. “We’ve had problems paying our liege lords before, but never this bad.”
“Doesn’t your father collect taxes from his buyers and handful of vassals?”
“He does… but the majority of them are stingy and not very trustworthy. Many of his serfs have been struggling to feed their families, let alone pay my father. And his contracted merchants have been raided on land and sea alike, their inventories being depleted.”
“Hasn’t been a good year for him.” Gav acknowledged.
“I guess not,” Naomey glanced around, unable to grasp the change in the great room. “Well, I guess we best head back up to the keep. We can take this back door which leads up to the southern entrance.” She turned and headed towards the end of the chamber.
Gav moved swiftly and hid behind a stack of boxes. Realizing he wasn’t behind him, she called out. “Gav, you there?” In the dim light he could see a smirk on her face. “I know what you’re up to… You just love to play games, don’t you?”
She moved closer to the stacks of boxes, peering around their corners. He skulked behind her, following the glow of the torchlight, careful not to let his footsteps give him away. She turned and headed down another row of boxes, heading in his direction. He cut in between the rows, passing quickly so she wouldn’t see him. As she neared the stacks of jewelry boxes, he popped out in front of her.
She yelped and fell back losing her balance. Realizing his error, Gav reached out to grab her to prevent her from falling hard. In her fall, Naomey knocked down two stacks of boxes with the gold and silver bullion. The contents of currency and splintering wood crashed to the flagstone with an echoing boom.
Naomey sat on the floor, giggling, but caught herself. “Gav!” she whispered harshly. “We’re supposed to be quiet down here. We can’t get caught, remember?”
“Sorry, milady,” he said, with an outstretched arm to help her up. “To remedy the situation, perhaps I can offer you this,” he held out the emerald necklace.
“As lovely as that is,” she said, “I’m afraid it’s a vain attempt. It has to stay down here in the vaults.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips to finalize the issue.
With a frown, Gav replaced the necklace. He helped Naomey restack the fallen boxes, which were heavier than he thought they’d be. Their work done, they headed towards the back door that lead up to the keep level.
Naomey opened the door and then paused. Gav’s eyes met those of the man standing on the other side, his dark skin blending in with the dimness of the hidden stairwell. He wore full plate of armor and carried his customary halberd, and he looked perturbed. It was Ser Pemberly Defior, Lord Androus’s personal bodyguard, and behind him were the two turret guards who had previously pursued them.
“I must say, father, I’m grateful you haven’t had us plead our case in the main hall like your normal subjects.” Gav knew Naomey was upset that she couldn’t talk Ser Pemberly out of bringing them to her father’s meeting chambers. But then, the knight was his lapdog and her sneaking around the vaults and Gav’s sneaking into the keep would not, no, could not go without report.
“Come now, Naomey,” Lord Androus spoke, his hands steepled on the enormous oaken table in front of him. “You know not to go down there—it’s dark, smothering, and dangerous. And you need a key… how did you get it? Gavin, was this your doing?” Her father’s head spun to her right where Gav stood.
Naomey interrupted before he could reply. “It wasn’t him, father. I swear! I took the key from the storeroom. I’d seen Advisor Johan put it there before. We just wanted a bit of fun.”
Lord Androus grunted. “You think our livelihood is a bit of fun?”
>
“No father, I…”
“Look, Naomey, any one of the servants could have seen you go down there. Any one of the contractors from the township could have followed you two down. It’s not that I mistrust everyone that walks these halls, but all it takes is one to let leak where we keep our reserves—one disloyal criminal to conspire and deplete the very gold we use to keep Backland tariff-collectors off our backs, to keep the capitol from seizing our businesses and skilled laborers in recompense for failure to pay our fair share of taxes.” Lord Androus’s face was always dour, but Gav thought that now it appeared even more so.
“Alright, father, I understand.” Naomey stepped closer to the table, placing her hands on the ledge. She glanced back at Gav and Ser Pemberly. The two turret guards were still waiting by the chamber door. “We won’t do it again.”
Her father squinted his eyes skeptically, and then turned them back to Gav. “And what have you to say? You think it wise to scale my walls and break into my keep?”
“Father—” Naomey began.
“Quiet, girl! Let your friend here speak for himself.”
Gav stood straight and rubbed his goatee before replying. “I wanted to surprise Naomey, my lord. It was just a flight of fancy.”
“If you weren’t a Cylarnti, boy, I’d have you flogged,” Lord Androus spat. “Since you’re the same age as my daughter, I’ll give you leeway—though you should know better. Your risky ways haven’t dwindled, it seems. I would have thought, being the son of a customs agent and a Cylarnti, you’d have more discipline than to go against my wishes of frequently sneaking in to my keep.”
“Father, this is unnecessary!” Naomey pleaded.
His head spun to her and he narrowed his eyes. “He has to learn, if you two are to continue your… friendship.” By the look on his face, Naomey held her tongue for fear of further spurning her father’s notorious ire.
“I’d forbade you and Gavin meeting in this place. You two can ride horses in the fields and orchards and jungle paths, traipse the town center, or visit the player’s guild that you love so much.” His eyes darted back to Gav. “Watch the mummers and actors all you want. But I don’t want to see you in these halls. Is that understood?”
