Chapter 15; The Visit

Chapter 15; The Visit

/Hal’s Prison

/Kenneth

Muriel made way for Theren to enter the steep stares of the prison, as she fumed with anger staring at Muriel in disappointment and rage.

She turned around and saw a long, narrow corridor leading to another door guarded by three men in slate green armour. The walls were plainly brown, with occasional crocodilian sigils carved into corners of the walls here and there. The men stood with their spears surfacing tall and the spearhead pointed upwards.

Lady Theren carefully made her way up, a flood of thoughts flowing through her mind. Seeing Altheas again, Muriel surprising her here, it was all very sudden and caught her off guard though of course, in the last four years of her life, she’d seen more than enough for this to be too much of a surprise.

‘I am sorry, my lord. Forgive me for my rather… impertinent behaviour.’ She said, facing Muriel.

‘Oh, my lady—it is merely your place to apologise!’ Muriel said.

She eyeballed him from head to toe, judging him on the form of his drooping gown, and his manner of posh and ironically polite manner of talk. Though, this time, he legitimately seemed troubled.

Theren looked at Muriel, he stared back at her, once or twice flickering his eyes to see her lovely red dress—perhaps something other than that as well—but they maintained serious eye contact.

She sighed heavily in regret and held a slight look of sadness on her face. 

‘Why won’t you come back?’ She asked, begging for his forgiveness, in a way to say the least. ‘What is it? What has driven you to make such a decision?’

Muriel rubbed his nose, dispassionately staring at the ground.

‘Forgive me, my lady, oh but it is merely my place to be making decisions in despair or impulsiveness, but it is your commander—no—your lover that has made this decision.’

Theren strongly felt an urge to roll her eyes, but refrained as she saw Muriel awfully distraught, and so she composed herself.

She sniggered slightly, seemingly offended, ‘My lover? Isolde is no lover of mine—’

‘Or is your lover the man behind these bars?’ Muriel said, pointing towards the door.

Theren took a deep breath and once again gathered her calmness, as she flustered about the ground trying to keep the bottom of her red dress straight.

‘Sir Muriel Andorn, Knight of the Lord, Spy of  The Kingdom; I can bother you with plenty of titles, but please, I need you back. Our team strategises and organises themselves upon your command and without you we could be in shambles!’ Theren said, weakly quavering.

Muriel smiled at her, and again put on a distraught expression. He looked down at a small table, few ornaments kept in a decorative fashion on them. Muriel picked up a small white die, of marble, and fingered it.

‘My lady, a soldier is only as good as his armour, a farmer as his crops, a spy as their hearing. Yet the deceitful are as good as all the qualities in the world.’ He said, meekly staring at her. ‘You are no mere soldier, no mere farmer, no mere spy. You are deceitful, be deceitful, and take what is yours. You deserve more than to be just a spy. And now is better than any time.’ He said, oddly so. ‘I’d be pleased if you could excuse me, My Lady.’ 

Before she could fully process what his intentions were, he bowed and walked out. 

Take what is yours? He believes that I should… She thought.

But why did he come here in the first place? 

She stared back at him as he exited, a last time he turned, ‘I’m merely leaving you to your privacy, my lady.’ And walked right off, as if he’d expected her to be offended and offered her some kind of odd justification.

The guards soon opened the gate for her, offering their regards, and she walked straight in.

It was a majestic prison. Strangely, the symmetry and organisation of the sleek silver jail cells impressed her. The bars were woven with both wood and steel. 

‘He’s in cell number twenty, M’Lady.’ The guard said politely, holding his spear proudly.

‘Thank you dear. Tell my carriage rider to pull the cart up in just a few minutes,’ she turned around towards the guard, who felt flattered to even grab her attention, ‘I won’t be long.’ 

She held a small beacon in her hand, lit at the end to illuminate her walkway.

‘You have great things in store for you.’ A rough, croaky voice said.

‘And you did as well, yet not anymore. You are locked in my prison,’ she sternly said, ‘stripped of your mace and rendered powerless.’

She walked around the cages as if they were mazes, trying to find him. She brushed her fingers against the rusted bars, as the thought came to her mind to have them replaced.

‘Oh my lady you and I both know I can fekhin leave however and whenever it pleases me.’

Theren hated this feeling—this feeling of inability. She knew that this was a man that she could not control, a man armed with no weapons who could decimate all guards in this barren prison at his command, and even as his former lover, she could do absolutely nothing about it. The panning out of this situation was completely up to Altheas, and him alone. And so that led Theren to understand that it was his will to end up here the entire time. She just had to figure out why.

‘But, my beautiful, fair lady, I have not.’

And that was when in an instant she was able to locate him. After everything—all the sufferance he’d caused her, she would still feel a moment of happiness upon dawning her eyes on his; and as they did, she smiled—momentarily so—until she brought herself back.

‘What… Why are you here?’ She asked, quavering again. She was far more fragile than she was made out to be by her spies and family as well. Underneath what seemed a tough armour, was a fragile soul.

‘As I have said, to merely conduct business,’ Altheas said, ‘Forgive me, my lady, but it is not a matter of love. Nesse and Qar have come with me as well. We are not threatened by your family’s ability to lock one of us in a cage. I am merely here to negotiate terms of peace.’
Something about everything Altheas was saying felt like he was trying to cheat her in some way or the other. She was called the greatest spy in Loazer by her men, yet she couldn’t even get a read on him.

‘If it was peace you want, why has your wretched council not sent Lord Emran? He negotiates all your peace treaties.’

‘Because this time, I need to convince you, darling, with a personal touch.’ He said, almost jokingly so.

He flung his hair across his shoulder and gently smiled at her.

‘I still love you, you know.’ He said, quite flatly.

Theren tenaciously breathed in and began walking away, refraining from tearing up.

‘If the job was to convince me, they’ve sent the wrong person.’