The Lady Knight

Chapter XXXVII: Songs and Sketches

Unknown Person

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He heard the sound of his own blood trickling from his head onto the ground below. However, he did not have the energy or the freedom to tend to his numerous injuries.

"Trying to flee the country, are we?" Master's cold, smooth voice filled his ears.

The words tried to enter his fuzzy mind, but for the life of him, he could not reason out where he was, or why was he hanging upside down at the present. Moreover, he also vaguely sensed that alcohol had clouded his mind, for the last thing he remembered was passing out drunk in the taverns on the Monriquan-Osterlundienne border.

"Nay....nay.....nay, Master," he stammered, struggling to keep his eyes open, "I.....was not running away. I swear, Master, I was not running away. I was...serving you like I always do."

He nervously eyed Master, the formidable man who had held the Order of the Serpents in his grip for the last ten years merely by his ruthlessness.

"You lie!" Master roared, flinging a whip hard against his back, "you pathetic little vermin, why have I not been receiving any letters from you regarding their whereabouts and their activities for the last one month?"

He flinched as excruciating pain shot through his body. "I...did send.....you...the letters, Master," he forced out the words, lying through his teeth, "perhaps...they might have been...lost in transit."

Master gazed at him in anger and disgust. At that moment, a chilling, feminine cackle filled the air, as a beautiful, petite figure clad in a black gown glided through the door, and walked over to Master to stand beside him.

"Lost in transit?" she spat, looking very ugly at that moment, "surely you can come up with a better lie, seeing the amount of years you have spent in your Master's service."

Master looked down at the newcomer, and his expression briefly softened. "'Tis a good thing you have come, my love," he kissed her forehead, giving her a side-hug with the arm that was not holding the bloodied whip, "you can help me deal with this traitor." He glared at him.

"Mistress, please...."he begged.

The woman crossed her arms. "All right, then," she stared straight at him, "if you have been doing your duty as diligently as you claim, then would you like to explain why were we not informed that you failed to kill Prince Richard?"

All colour drained from his face, as he tried to lie again. "Prince Richard is dead, Mistress. I slit...Warwick's...throat, and....I set fire to the locked...room...the Prince....was.....held captive in. I swear."

Master grew even more furious, and he began to whip him repeatedly, despite his pitiful cries and pleas. "Lies, lies, lies!" he shouted, "the boy is still alive, and what more, you even failed to kill the Lady Knight that night! If you have been watching the Lady Knight like you were supposed to, then you would have seen her visiting the boy in Limoges time and time again! Right under our noses! But where were you? You were trying to make a run for it!"

His back was throbbing, bleeding and aching to the point that he could no longer bear the pain. Despite his usual sense of dignity, he began to weep piteously, holding his hands to his pounding head.

The woman placed a hand on Master's arm. "Sweetheart, calm down," she murmured, "such anger is not good for you. Why waste your breath on that pathetic excuse of a man?" She glanced at the crying mess in disgust.