Accession || Ongoing ||

Twenty-Two: That's It, I'm Cutting You Off

°• Farron's POV•°

Farron stared mutely at the ceiling as he lay down in his royal-family provided hammock suspended high in the air. As with most things in this place, the level at which their hammock was placed depended on their seniority in age, which meant that his hammock was just diagonally below Beau, who occupied the topmost spot.

What happens if I fall off? Farron puzzled as he flipped onto his stomach to peer down at the intricate web pattern that the hammocks formed. But as he observed, he already knew the answer; naturally, the positioning would mean that he would end up falling on a lower hammock, likely waking the occupier as a result. He gripped the smooth cotton fabric of the hammock to prevent himself from falling over.

As he adjusted himself, he couldn't help but notice Alyxia dozing just two hammocks below him. In the moonlight that creeped in through the high windows, she seemed peaceful, pure and innocent. It was as if the events of the past month or so had never happened.

Farron squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as he gingerly got to his knees. You can look at her some other time. For now, you've got something to do and somewhere to go.

As quietly and slowly as he could manage, he crawled his way towards the end of the hammock which was attached to the wall. It's simple enough, he convinced himself. Just hold on to that end for dear life and get your foot onto the ladder without waking anyone or falling down and breaking your neck. Your shoulder's already busted; you don't need another injury.

His hand instinctively went to his right shoulder right near where the neck met the back. During the chaos at Sylvie's place, he'd sustained a knife wound to the area, but hadn't done anything about it so far apart from using a rag from his shirt to stem the bleeding.

Easier said than done, conscience mine, Farron griped to himself as he gripped the end and silently swung himself to the bottom of the hammock, hanging on with his hands and ankles. He used his arms to propel himself towards the wall, and then let himself be suspended in the air by his hands for just enough time to get a foothold on the ladder that leaned against the wall. He winced at the additional pressure on his injured shoulder, but tried his best to pay it no mind with gritted teeth.

He carefully placed one arm on the wall to stabilise himself, then the other. He was surprised that no one had woken up from how loud his heartbeat was ringing in his ears.

He was just about to breathe a short sigh of relief when a quiet, low voice queried, "Where do you think you're going?"

He whipped around to find the source of the voice, nearly falling off the ladder. "Aren't you supposed to keep an eye on the princess?" The voice came again. Beau, no doubt about it. He remembered his voice from the low conversations they'd had during that mind-numbing banquet.

"I need to find Reiley and report to her," Farron breathed. "It's urgent."

A moment of silence. "I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth. You know better than I do that if you take a single bad step, you're toast."

Farron nodded, but then remembered Beau couldn't see him and hummed in agreement, mumbling "You don't have to remind me." When no further conversation ensued, Farron started to clamber down the ladder, his heart in his throat. Finally he felt his feet sink into the soft carpeting, and knew that he had succeeded.

Slipping out of the room was a simple enough matter; he managed to prise the window open and tumble into the bushes that sat outside without much commotion. Farron made his way through the snow-covered flower-bed and into one of the open passages which connected the wings of this massive mansion.