Chapter 13; Granted
Chapter 13; Granted
/Rolan Manor
A great victory had been achieved.
A great failure had been obtained.
Her father—against all odds—had decided to let her run her group of spies. But, it couldn’t be independent of the kingdom’s official involvement. He now knew that Muriel just used her spies to inform him about all affairs even though he used to claim his sources were from within the spy group of the kingdom.. Any useful Lord should have gotten to know if someone pulled a conniving lie under their noses like that, but her father just happened to be the stupidest of them all.
All he did was give advice to his children and drink. It was rather exasperating.
But, he did let her continue her operations with Rean.
As for her father’s stance on Muriel, he was actually quite impressed. Although Muriel lied to him, he was very effective in his work. She was impressed with him as well—now that she’d come to make sense of it. Her independent group of ten—well now nine—spies couldn’t really do much themselves concerning action on whatever they sought out. Almost all the discoveries they did make went to Lord Rolan anyways, but Theren thought that Muriel took that information to him as an honourable Knight, not a coverlord. And that too she thought he’d only do so with her permission. Perhaps a large error of judgement on her part is the simplest way to put it.
Then again, heading Rean made him a coverlord as well.
She sat up and blinked, sitting on her bed. There was a ledger by her side.
Come to think of it, she wasn’t very disappointed in Muriel. Instead, she was actually intrigued by his motives, which seemed oddly unselfish. But now, whatever happened, she thought was irrelevant because Isolde dismissed him from his duties permanently. She had already asked him to join back, but he had refused.
His help in planning the proceedings and training the spies had really been one of the most helpful tools in building Rean for Theren. Regardless, the last few days had not been easy days for her; first, the whole deal with the vicers. Second, finding out they’re in the Bremingade, third, meeting Altheas—all of it—just stressed her out so much.
And she began writing. She wrote all of her problems. Everything. Her chamber door was locked, and the corridors empty—just a guard at the gate. She wore a silk bathrobe and was relaxing in her room after a day she’d call hard enough. she hiked for more than a sixth all the way to Jutei, and to top it off that insolent grin Altheas showed her—it was unbelievably displeasing for her. His careless grin was her momentary depression.
She felt like he didn’t even acknowledge anything that happened in the past.
She lowered her head and pinched her eyes, tears flowed out of them like a dripping stream, but she shook her head and began writing again.
She finished, and put the leather-bound notebook aside, and for a minute just sat there, looking at the wall decorated with the painting of a river across a field, without end. So many thoughts flooded her mind—so many worries. Now that Rean would tie up with the kingdom’s spy group, how would she ever get to command it or even be a part of it? She had herself rescued these men and had them trained, and spent time with them and taught them the ways of a spy. And what was she to do with Shen? He just disappeared as soon as they reached the hut where Altheas was staying. Why had he done that? She’d have a talk with him soon as well.
Great, another thing piled onto her checklist.
I have to get out of here. She thought, going to her bathroom and changing into a silken red dress and a pair of sandals. She walked towards the door in a fast stride, unlocking the bolt and swinging the heavy door open.
She startled as she saw a maid of hers over there. She hadn’t realised that someone had been waiting there.
‘Oh my! I’m so sorry m’lady!’ She stood, a tray of liquids and silverware fallen in front of her toes. She fumbled, trying to quickly pick everything up, a nervous tick every now and then, and she cleared up a small area for her to walk where any sort of liquids weren’t spilt.
Theren watched her, and blinked.
‘I’m sorry m’lady, I’ll clean this up right away!’
‘Oh no, that’s no problem, thank you.’ Theren said, bending down and helping the servant clean up.
‘Oh really, m’lady there’s no—’
‘It’s alright, there’s a lot on the floor. Can’t just leave it for one woman’s picking, can I? Got to take some for myself too.’ Theren said smiling. The maid nervously laughed and continued to clean up.
‘There you go.’ Theren said.
‘Thank you, kind lady.’
Theren politely smiled at her and began walking towards the corridor gate.
‘Are you going somewhere m’lady? I can ready the carriages for you.’
‘Oh that won’t be necessary.’
‘No, please, m’lady, it’s the least I could do for this mess.’ She said, shrugging her shoulders and looking sympathetic.
‘Alright. Draw up only one carriage—no guards,’ she sternly instructed, the maid nodding, ‘and let them know I’ll be visiting the jail.’ She said, deep in thought.
‘Right away, m’lady!’ The lady began running in tiny strides towards the gate, and informed the guard standing there. Crisply dressed in a green uniform and a small winter cloak to warm him from the cold of the night, he rushed along with her.
Theren walked to the gate, and three separate maids holding their cleaning equipments all rushed in.
All of this service for just a small fumble and a request, she had to give hats off to Muriel. He outdid himself again, with the kind of squires and maids he was able to provide to the Rolan manor.
He most definitely is the richest Knight in Loazer. Theren shrugged her shoulders in thought.
Moments later, she was downstairs and out the grand Rolan manor. A carriage awaited her. A woman was talking to the carriage driver—she seemed to be slightly distressed—
‘I’ll inform him right away!’
Mumbles from the carriage-rider.
‘No! It’s quite alright; he’ll be informed—’
She looked at Theren with big wide eyes, but shook her head and politely smiled, ‘M’lady, as you requested.’
‘Least you could do…’ She whispered to herself, curious.
A Croc rushed to her aid, and opened the door for her.
‘M’lady, shall I inform lord Keran that you will be visiting the cells?’ The Croc said.
‘No! Most certainly not.’ She said, realising that’s what the maid may have been telling the carriage rider as well.
‘And, please rush and stop my maid from doing so as well.’
He nodded, and off he dashed.
Since it was this deep into the night, extra servants weren’t there to help her onto her carriage, which annoyed her.
The door swung shut behind her, and she sat on a soft velvet couch. The carriage-driver whipped his horse, and the carriage got going.
Great.
She got out of the manor to stop being alone with her thoughts—not minutes later there she was again. Complete solitude, with no one but herself to keep her company or the next few minutes.
Nowadays, most of the time she had to herself she hated—dealing with all the problems she had to.
She was not the strong boulder of a woman everyone thought her to be.
Instead, she was a weak human being with all power that was once there, completely sucked out of her, leaving an unworthy substitution. Or at least that’s what she made herself out to be.
But then again, these thoughts were only to herself. Her work with Rean, keeping the heritage of the name up, and to all others, she seemed strong and she did strong things. The only difference was that years ago she truly was.
But it wasn’t only the stress she had been going through—it was the misery of knowing that her actions to come were going to affect her emotional well being, tremendously. And the worst part? She had no choice.
A forty-eighth later—a quarter hour—her carriage arrived at the gate of a prison. It was just outside the small town of Kenneth, in Onsroad, where Pires lived.
Meagre in strength, Theren assisted her legs as she stepped onto the muddy ground, which was the foundation of a grand building. A building of no design and of grey common stone, but a building of majestic quality. It was called Galathground, better known as Hal’s Prison. A memorial to her dead uncle—who was killed here. He was the only Rolan that stuck by father during his revolt.
The prison was three sharp, triangular shaped buildings rising to the sky, like three giant, opaque prisms, found on muddy ground, grass sprouting across the corners of the compound and along the edges of the buildings. The sight was spartan, but beholding.
Theren stepped foot into the compound, and felt a chill around her, a change of atmosphere.
It was a ground where people weren’t welcome. It was a ground where people were beat, treated horribly, tortured, and chained like animals, treated like animals, made into animals. Men here turned into much less refined versions of themselves, to say the least.
Everyone here, including the extremely stern guards were vile, loathsome, and selfish.
There stood Muriel. Quite aptly so.
He seemed to be trying to unlock the door, a key held in his hand, the door being opened with his other hand.
What in Krilin’s hell was Muriel doing here?
But, putting the thought of reason aside, she realised that this was the perfect opportunity. Theren could console him and inveigle him in person, at this romantic—well as romantic as it could possibly get in a place like this—setting and try, just once more.
Muriel opened the door and began walking in.
‘Muriel!’ She called after him.
She started running, but almost tripped on her dress, as her guard reached forward slightly to help her, but retraced his hand as he saw her help herself up.
She held up the bottom of her dress, and began to run towards Muriel, and, with a distressed, vulnerable facial expression, called after Muriel once again. Her guard followed her, putting aside his keys, as the door was already unlocked. At night, the guards inside wouldn’t open the compound for anyone at all if they didn’t have a key, it would only be opened for Keran.
The guards made way for Muriel, but he turned around as he heard Theren’s voice. He tenaciously gripped onto the doorframe and helped himself down the steps, and assisted Theren.
Once they entered the complex, Theren eased, and thoughts of what to say flooded her mind. How was she going to be able to convince Muriel? Reverse psychological treatment, maybe making him feel guilty? Whatever she had to say, she had to say it with a very careful and subtly structured—
‘WHY IN KRILIN’S HELL WONT YOU COME BACK?!’
That ought to do it.