Phantom of Petrus Landebert
Laudine was running.
From her thoughts. From the ghosts of the city. From the endless torrent of horror and dread and guilt that constantly threatened to devour her mind, heart, and soul.
She never stopped running.
She could never stop running.
But she could also never escape.
Her mind, her soul, was an echo chamber of screams that reverberated and grew in intensity with every passing moment. Some were hers, but others weren't. And those were the ones that truly scored the inside of her mind with their jagged claws.
There were moments of lucidity. Moments when she remembered where she was and that everything was wrong. But they were becoming fewer and further in between. There were times that she hated those moments, because they only served to remind her that the madness she was trapped within was unnatural and inescapable. At least when she was lost to the madness, she forgot who she was and that she was more than the mass of unruly emotions that ruled her now.
The haunted, stone city she dwelt within was empty. There had been people before. Nameless faces and wordless howls of horror that she could still feel trapped within her. She thought maybe she recognized them, in her memories, during those lucid moments, but knowing their faces was even worse than not knowing them, because it reminded her of all the things she had done to people she knew and respected a long, long time ago.
It seemed like an eternity. She was having trouble remembering a time before this stone prison that had captured her soul. She knew there was one, but she had lost the fragments of it while trapped in her madness.
Sometimes, rarely now, there were new faces. They came randomly. Night or day. Alone or in groups – small or large. None of them stayed. She got close to them, drawn to them, and their faces would transform into the horrified screams that, like the others, became trapped inside her soul and only served to steal what was left of her sanity.
It was fine. They should run. For what she wanted to do to them, they needed to run.
Laudine couldn't handle the weight of her madness any longer. The burden was too heavy to bear and, even if she was violently opposed to it during her rare moments of lucidity, when she was lost to the madness, she could only think about giving it away.
Shedding it. Unburdening herself. Pouring these emotions into someone, anyone, else. She never recognized their faces anyway. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the swirling eddy of fear, rejection, desperation, and that overwhelming, consuming guilt that built in her more with each scream she brought forth from another mouth.
But she couldn't stay away. Their emotions, they called to her. Determination and joy and loyalty and so many wonderful things she had forgotten how to feel. Warmer than the sun that caressed her face, softer than the water that sluiced across her skin. How could she resist?
Why should she resist?
They should suffer as she should. Why should they get to be happy or hopeful when she was trapped in this prison of her own mind?
Give it to them instead.
Make them drown with it.
Choke them with it.
They're screaming.
Make them stop screaming!
Why won't they stop screaming?!
And she would wake again, once more granted that brief, wonderful, sickening, temporary reprieve when she realized what she had done. Sometimes, the people would have run, trying to escape her and her presence. Other times, rather than survive under the same burden as her, they instead chose to take their own lives.
Laudine wasn't under any delusions. Those deaths were her fault. It didn't matter if she had never laid finger upon them, they died because they couldn't bear the burden that she had forced upon them without warning or preparation.
Seeing their bodies, faces frozen in terror, fresh tear tracks of despair stained down their cheeks, would burn the memories of their screams into her heart where it would blend with the others. Another life. More ghosts. More screams. She could never unload enough of her burden onto those unsuspecting visitors to relieve herself of enough weight to even match what she would gain when their pain joined the others already swirling inside her.
She wanted to die.
She was too terrified to die.
Death was what had started all of this.
She was afraid that death was the only way to end it.
Unable to help herself, unable to to end herself, Laudine instead lost herself in her madness, running from her ghosts, and struggling to keep the wispy fragments of her mind from returning and reminding her of how far she had fallen.
A task that was made that much harder when, without warning, there were more people coming into her stone prison.
There used to be a lot of people here. But as her burden grew, their fear, their despair grew. Which only added to her burden. Which only made them more afraid. Which only added to her burden further. It was a cruel and endless cycle only broken as they began to leave. Driven away by her presence. By the endless torment that she pushed into the air.
She was alone in the silence. She almost preferred it. If there were no other people, then there was no one to add to her burden.
The few guests she had after that always either fled or died.
Until they began trying to rush past her prison. To escape her feelings.
Some succeeded. She could taste their relief as they disappeared down one of the two tunnels that led into her stone cage. She didn't come face to face with all of them. It wasn't like she was actively trying to seek out other people. But everything in this fortress had been tainted by her presence. The pain hung in the air and that couldn't be escaped until they left.
Their visits became more frequent. And that infuriated her.
She wanted her solitude! Was that too much to ask?!
Their emotions weren't always a respite either. Sometimes, they were sickly and demented. Fanatic and twisted. They burrowed deep within her, blending into and further distorting the corruption that was already choking her.
She started searching them out. To unload her burden. To drive them away. She wasn't entirely sure anymore.
She didn't know why she was here. She didn't even think she remembered her name anymore. These nameless faces. These wordless screams. They were her only companions. Misery her only state of being.
Get rid of them all.
Stop coming here and disturbing me.
Just let me be alone!
The angry, mangled thoughts were never clear or cohesive. They were feelings burning deep inside that did nothing more than exist and conquer her entire body.
"Laudine? Is that you?!"
Get away! Leave me be!
She didn't know who was calling her. She didn't want to know. She ran until they stopped chasing her, then hid until she felt them leave.
Their concern burned her flesh like a branding iron. There was a love in that heart that hurt too much to look at. She couldn't be near it.
So, when it came back again – sometime later, she didn't count days anymore – she just ran and hid from it.
That love hurt so much. How could someone love like that? So pure and good and wonderful. It was painful on her raw and torn emotions.
But they weren't alone this time. There were others. People who hurt, but hoped. People who feared but were filled with such wonderful determination. Determination to live. Determination to fight. Feelings that she had long forgotten.
Get them out.
Their beautiful emotions were offensive.
Show them the darkness.
Show them how futile it all was!
They'd flee or forfeit. Just like all the others. Unburden herself on them. Break their beautiful hearts and give them her pain.
Maybe it would stop hurting her so much then.
But before she could finish the job, before she could force it on the one she found, that other one came back. The woman who called her name but bore in her heart a beautiful love that hurt to behold. She couldn't face that. She couldn't break that.
She had to run from it.
She chased her. One of the others chased her.
She fled back into her fortress. Into the walls that trapped her as assuredly as they protected her. The screams were louder here.
But they were familiar. And they hurt less than facing the pain of having them ripped away. Like a scab being pulled from its bed. The fresh blood burned.
She wasn't sure how long the other woman chased her – she didn't count minutes either. But, at some point, she became aware that they were leaving.
Leaving, and taking their offensive emotions with them.
In the wake of their presence, she felt somehow worse. She didn't think that this bottomless pit could drop her any deeper. But now, with the memory of that love and hope and their damned determination, her chest was hollow and aching.
She wanted that.
But she was terrified of it.
She knew what those emotions led to.
They led to this. Invariably. Inevitably. Everything led to this.
She screamed that night. Her voice joining the chorus of others that haunted her soul until her throat was sore. Until she tasted blood. Until she was dizzy and panting with a need so basic that it, alone, could be felt in the darkness of her torture.
Didn't they hear the screaming? Didn't they feel it? How they could they not see it?
Why would no one help her?
~~~~~~
Gael stood at the bow of the small speed ship, hands in his sleeves that were placed over his chest, closing his eyes, enjoying the crispness of the fresh air as it beat at his face. The winter air was sharp on the mountain he called home. This far from the high city, this low to the ground, no matter that it was winter, the cold air didn't at all bother him.
He rarely got to leave the city any longer. Before Gael had been named the Sacellum Master, he used to be able to leave the capital much more often. Not so much anymore. In fact, not at all. He used to travel with the prince to the war front – acting as a guide, listener, and adviser for the soldiers that the prince commanded.
But Gael was important now, and that wasn't allowed.
Were the situation any less important, he wouldn't be allowed out for this.
As the Sacellum Master, Gael was the guardian of the paladin women of Vasconia. Powerful women that served in positions of authority and military might. There were nine paladins in his age – an unprecedented number. Though, for war times, it wasn't unusual that the Lord would give them multiple paladins to aid and fight for them.
Regardless of the number, they were all his charges. It was odd to him, as some of them were older than him and he had known others for years more as a friend than an authority. The death of the previous Sacellum Master was as sudden as it was tragic. Gael, who had been his protégé for only a few years, took over from him as he intended. Gael had tried to protest, citing his young age and inexperience, but the other priests held a vote and they had refused any other.
With such support behind him, behind his master's decision, how could Gael say no?
It was fine. He could adjust to living in the city exclusively. He would miss traveling, but there were other concerns now. Duty must come first, always.
That was the consideration that made him insist on coming out here.
The paladins were his responsibility now. All of them. Including the lost Laudine.
For years now, Laudine had been in self imposed exile. She had not gone rogue, as the paladin Elaine once had. Going rogue involved using their power as a paladin without the permission of the Sacellum, usually in pursuit of their own desires.
For a long time, Laudine had just been missing. She wasn't working, she wasn't fighting, she was just gone.
The last time anyone had seen Laudine was nearly eight years ago now. She had gone missing after the death of King Robert – ruler of Gascony. She had been the paladin in charge of protecting the royals during their yearly visit to Petrus Landebert – the stone city in the middle of the barrier mountain range that separated the two kingdoms.
It was a mission that she failed. King Robert had died. King Cyrille, ruler of Vasconia, lost his dominant hand. And the peace that had existed between the two kingdoms for so long, seemingly cemented completely by the two, loving brothers that ruled them both, was completely shattered. And now, nearly a full decade later, they were years into a war that had destroyed anything that might remain of those friendly feelings.
In a way, Laudine was the first victim of the war that was birthed the day King Robert died. It didn't matter that the actual first battle wasn't until five years later. Queen Sabine of Gascony was a woman obsessed, desperately in love with her king, and his loss had broken her. She would certainly have waged that first battle that day if it weren't for the actions of the paladins that, even then, tirelessly protected Vasconia.
Including Laudine.
The last sighting of her was from the royal guard of Vasconia. She had been seeing to the safety of the royal family as they were rushed from Petrus Landebert in the middle of the night. It wasn't until the ship was already far from the mountains that anyone realized that Laudine wasn't aboard. By then, it was more important to get the royal family to safety, they couldn't return for Laudine.
By the time anyone tried, it was too late. She was long missing. No one had seen her in Petrus Landebert.
But it was shortly afterwards that the rumors of the ghost haunting the city began. People claimed that it was King Robert. His restless soul lingering where he was so brutally slain. More level headed people called it foolishness. However, the fact that, within a year, Petrus Landebert was completely deserted and the people who had once lived there spoke of the phantom with real fear in their voices, kept the rumors going.
Gael honestly hadn't known what to believe. He really didn't think much about Petrus Landebert or the king that had been slain there. Robert may have been a prince of Vasconia, but he was a king of Gascony, and such a position held no importance to Gael's way of thinking. He served in Vasconia, after all.
Until Addie, the spy paladin, returned from the city with the report that the ghost was, in fact, the missing Laudine.
In hindsight, it was obvious. She disappears, and the ghost of the king appears. Maybe, it was the fact that people spoke of the phantom with such terror that kept anyone from connecting the two. It seemed completely antithetical to everything a paladin stood for to be frightening to their own people.
It also didn't help that very few knew how Laudine's power manifested.
Gael hadn't even known until he had taken the role of Sacellum Master. It was a closely guarded secret as Laudine had been part of the royal guard and, since her power wasn't overtly obvious, it seemed wise to keep it unstated so she would be underestimated.
Master Eneas, the previous Sacellum Master, had kept a journal, as all Sacellum Masters did, and within it, he described Laudine's power specifically so that the next master, Gael, could learn what it was without others seeing.
Laudine was an empath.
She was capable of not only feeling the emotions of the people around her, but capturing them, redirecting them, and influencing them onto others. It was an insidious power that was at once perfectly harmless and dangerously deadly. Most times, empathy was a power that could be used to ease tensions and sooth hurt feelings.
But in Laudine's case, her own power had been her downfall. Whatever happened to her the night King Robert was assassinated had hurt too deeply. The weight of her emotions had gone out of control, and now she was forcing them on anyone who dared step into the abandoned city. Her actions made her an unintentional guard of the tunnels that connected the warring kingdoms, keeping their enemies from coming through, but she wasn't able to discern between friend or foe any longer.
That was why Gael was here, on this ship, leaving the city for the first time in months. She was his responsibility. Not just as a paladin, but as a Vasconian who was hurt so deeply in their mind and soul that they had lost track of themselves. The church tended to the people's souls and hearts and Laudine desperately needed that attention.
Gael wasn't alone either. Laudine wasn't an ordinary woman needing help. She was a paladin and she had a power that would make this retrieval difficult.
Sitting beside the stern, focused on repairing a cloak that had ripped yesterday, was Gosse. He was a complicated person, to say the least. An assassin that had tried to kill the queen, who had succeeded in killing some of the royal guard, now rehabilitated and serving the princess. Few were comfortable with him on this mission, but the princess had claimed him as her ward and he wasn't allowed to be far from her for safety purposes.
His pale, dirty blond hair was always windswept from the journey. He barely spoke, his shoulders were near constantly hunched from the weight of his shame, but he was a hard worker and there was no task too difficult or too menial for him to complete. The cloak he was working on repairing belonged to the princess and he had volunteered to repair the tear without prompting.
At the wheel of the small ship was a strong willed woman named Veva who served as the princess' personal guard and attendant. She was a former military captain, but she had begun working for the princess at her request. Unwaveringly loyal and obviously distrustful of Gosse, she never allowed the former assassin out of her sight for long. If he was around the princess, she would be right there, watching him like a mother hawk stood guard over her nest.
The princess herself wasn't in sight. She was down below, dressing in preparation of their landing. The mountains were high above them now; they would be at the entrance to Petrus Landebert soon. The airship they were on, as small as it was, still couldn't navigate the narrow tunnel that cut through the mountain, leading to the city.
Which meant they would need to walk. Gael was the only one who hadn't changed in anticipation of the trip.
Gael had never met Laudine. She had gone missing before he had ascended to the position of Master Eneas' protégé and he had never had the chance to make her acquaintance. She wouldn't recognize him or the authority he had over her. He honestly wasn't sure if she would even recognize his robes as a priest, he didn't know how far her mind had fled. However, he was hoping that the long, white robes that covered him completely from the neck down would reach her in some way, making her more comfortable with him.
He didn't know exactly how lost Laudine had become, but he was determined to use any and all tricks to get her back. This was his first real test as a Sacellum Master and he had to prove that Master Eneas didn't have any misplaced faith in him.
The grasses of the Great Plains below were monotonous, unchanging, and, as the name would imply, rather plain. The moment something changed, his eyes immediately locked onto it.
At the base of the mountain, a large opening in the mountain led into a black tunnel. Massive wooden doors were pulled open, allowing free access. Part of their mission here would be to make sure those doors were sealed once again when they retrieved Laudine. When she was out, there was no reason to allow possible access into the country through Petrus Landebert any longer.
Gael turned, calling out to Veva that he had spotted the entrance and, not far from it, the dilapidated and aged docks that had probably once been busy and beautiful. Nowadays, however, they were overgrown, infested with insects, and any coloring had been bleached away by the sun. Without someone to take care of them, some of the docks were falling to pieces.
As Veva was pulling the ship in for a landing, the hatch leading below opened and Princess Manon emerged, freshly changed into a pair of sensible trousers and a plain, if rather baggy blouse with sleeves that billowed around her arm. She patted her hair down into place as she stepped forward to stand with Gael and stare at the cave entrance.
Up close, the tunnel was massive, standing multiple man lengths high and wide enough to allow two or even three carts through traveling abreast.
"Been a while since I was here," Manon breathed, frowning at the entrance. "I thought things from your childhood were supposed to seem smaller as an adult, not bigger."
"Do you remember much from that night?" Gael asked, looking to her curiously.
She shook her head. "I was asleep. They didn't even bother to wake me. One of the royal guard just picked me up and started running with me. I remember being so afraid. Trying to figure out what was going on and why everyone was so panicked. No one would tell me for days. I couldn't even see my father. He was too injured and mother didn't want me or Eric to know what had happened to him. It only made me more afraid though."
Her eyes were haunted from the past trauma. It wasn't an unfamiliar look.
Loneliness. Slight rejection. Helplessness. Standard emotions for such an event.
His reaction to them was similarly practiced. He put an understanding expression on his face as he touched her shoulder, looking into her eyes and, in his most soothing and relaxing tone, spoke the practiced words of reassurance.
"There was nothing you could have done then. You were just a child. But you are stronger, older, wiser, and you are helping now."
As predicted, some of the shadows in her eyes diminished as Manon gave him a grateful smile.
"How are you so wise, Gael? You always know just what to say."
He chuckled, pulling his hand back, sliding it into the sleeves of his robes again. "I don't know about wise. All I'm trying to do is be a good friend."
"And you are. The best." Manon beamed at him as the ship rocked. The old stone and wood docks creaked and groaned under the ship's weight. "Shall we?"
"Lead the way," Gael gestured, his practiced, calm smile well in place.
The princess was not the first person to call him wise. So many people praised him on being knowledgeable beyond his years. Gael Lemoine, youngest Sacellum Master in history, yet so emotionally mature. So capable. So understanding.
What would they think if they knew it was all just an act?
A farce.
A lie.
Gael's smile was as practiced as his mannerisms. His words were all rehearsed and crafted out of careful study, as though the human heart were a book. People were easy to understand, and at the same time, their feelings were baffling to him.
Gael often wondered if there was something wrong with him. The emotions that drove people seemed so alien and unknowable to him.
He didn't know why Manon would feel guilty about something she had nothing to do with and couldn't have prevented in any way. Or why it left a mark on her heart that continued to this day. He didn't understand why Gosse felt such grief and shame for his actions. Not to say that Gael agreed with them, but Gosse had allowed himself to be broken down by them and he didn't understand. To a degree, he didn't even really understand why Veva was so loyal to Manon. Not to say he didn't comprehend the idea of loyalty, but he didn't understand how it could be so fierce for a single person.
An idea? Sure. A group? Certainly. But a single person? It was strange.
Most people were strange. But he couldn't let on that he thought that way. It wasn't fitting of the Sacellum Master to be so heartless. So cold. So distant. His persona was carefully crafted from studying Master Eneas and the other priests, and it being there was the only thing that kept Gael from losing everything.
As he stepped from the ship and approached the entrance to the tunnel, he was going through his plan to deal with Laudine in his mind. He had to approach her carefully, because she wasn't just distraught. From the report Addie had sent with Lady Paladin Lea, she was truly lost. People like that couldn't be soothed with a few easy words and a simple touch.
First part of the plan: Get close to her.
She likely hadn't had human touch in a long time. A simple touch wouldn't do anything here, but an embrace could be powerful if used properly. People enjoyed being treated like a scared child when they were on the brink, or even over it. He could do that.
Second part of the plan: Get her to start talking.
He couldn't do anything with a blank wall. He needed her to spill her thoughts to him. All of the emotions that were tangled up inside. He had also found that, like a sickness, emotions were easier to deal with when you vomited them up.
As for her empathy? That ability of hers to break a person down was formidable to be sure, but Gael felt more prepared for that than anything else today.
"Remember, no one get too close to her," Manon was saying, completely counter to his personal plan as they started to walk in. "Her power is stronger with proximity. The feelings she'll put on you aren't real. Don't let them break you down."
Veva, who had a weapon and was standing between the princess and Gosse, nodded her head as she held onto the hilt of the sword with steely determination. Gosse appeared uncertain about going inside, but he didn't let his hesitation stop him from following.
Gael remained completely calm, walking by the princess, slightly ahead of the other two, as he looked forward to the end of the tunnel.
It was long, straight, and pitch black within. They could make out the brightness of the other side where it let out, but it was a mere dot in the distance. They had to be careful walking through, unable to see the ground at their feet and what might be littered there, waiting to trip them up. The last thing they needed on this journey was an injury.
The four of them were silent, focused, as they crossed the tunnel. Maybe because they were hyper aware of their own emotions, but they all shared a look the moment they felt the sense of strange heaviness beginning to weigh them down.
They were about two thirds through the tunnel when Gael first noticed it. It was subtle, easy to dismiss only as a slight discomfort with the darkness, the enclosed tunnel, or even just knowing that they were crossing to an abandoned, haunted city.
But Gael wasn't one to be taken in by such flights of fancy. Neither darkness nor enclosed spaces bothered him at all and the city might be abandoned, but it wasn't truly haunted. So, he had no reason for his belly to clench then tilt or the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
It had to be her.
Her power was felt even all the way out here? Even if she was standing right on the other side of the tunnel opening, that would be impressive. More likely, she was in the palace, which would mean she was halfway across the city, and that made it stunning.
And if they could noticeably feel it from this far, it must be oppressive up close.
Gael could practically see that thought crossing the princess' face. However, when he suggested that they turn around and let him continue alone, she denied him. They would be stronger and better able to resist her influence if they were together.
Before Gael could argue his case, they stepped from the tunnel and into Petrus Landebert.
The Stone City lived up to its name. Every building within was made of the same gray stone of the mountains that surrounded it on all sides. The valley between the mountain range was natural, though it had been expanded by human hands. The palace of Petrus Landebert was built into the mountain on the west side of the valley. The city spread out in front of it, the streets twisting, turning in a maze-like fashion that had no pattern that could be discerned, even standing above it.
There were two tunnels leading into Petrus Landebert. One from Vasconia and, directly across from it, one from Gascony. Both entrances let out onto a wide landing that connected to a long stone staircase that led down to the city below.
Petrus Landebert was an eerie combination of untouched and abandoned. The location deep within the mountains meant that few, if any, animals had snuck into the city. Similarly, there was almost no plant life to grow through the stone streets. Distantly, Gael could hear the rushing of the Jordain River that cut through the mountain range, though he couldn't see it.
The city was picturesque, even abandoned. It should have been beautiful.
But the atmosphere was downright chilling.
Gael's skin broke out in gooseflesh, briefly fascinating him. He was tempted to push up his sleeves to investigate the reaction, but did not do so. He merely touched the bumps along his skin, curious about the reflexive reaction.
Was this fear? Or despair? Maybe anger? It was powerful, whatever it was.
"I really don't like this place," Manon said, wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers.
"I feel so miserable," Veva agreed, rolling her shoulders. "How could anyone cross this place if this is what the entrance feels like?"
"The truly determined can block out their emotions," Gael said calmly earning three pairs of eyes that all stared at him like he had grown a second head. "What is it?"
"Are you okay?" Manon asked, holding herself. "Do you not feel it?"
"I am. And I do." Gael gave the three a small smile. "But it's not so bad."
They just continued to stare.
Oh, dear. Maybe that was the wrong answer. He probably should act like he was more affected by the emotions that seemed, to him, just to be an interesting sensation. Maybe not a pleasant one, but not one that was capable of overwhelming him.
Clearing his throat, he gestured to the steps. "Shall we continue then?"
Manon gave him an odd look but didn't protest when he took the lead, starting down the long stairs and into the city.
Every step forward increased the pressure of the foreign emotions. A chill swept across Gael's body, joined quickly by a tightening in his belly. His heart beat harder against his chest. Sweat beaded on his temple that had nothing to do with the stairs he descended.
Fascinating. Such visceral and real reactions. He didn't think he had ever felt such things. At least, nothing this powerful.
He almost wished he could slow down and investigate the physical manifestations of the emotions that were not his.
And they were definitely not his. He was as aware of them as a foreign sensation as he was of a touch he couldn't see from another. Just because he couldn't see it, didn't mean he wasn't aware that the feelings weren't connected with his own.
However, the others were here, and they all had grim, tight expressions on their faces, telling him that this was affecting them much worse. They weren't able to cut themselves off from the feelings, to recognize them as something beyond themselves.
"I can't believe Lady Lea walked through this," Veva said between gritted teeth. "If I were not forcing myself, I would have run long before now."
Manon nodded before turning her gaze past her. "How are you handling it, Gosse?"
"I am fine, your highness. Don't worry about me," Gosse said, inclining his head towards her. They were the exact words Gael would have expected from him, but the way he had hunched even tighter around himself spoke of his discomfort.
"Lea told us that Laudine was near the palace," Gael said, his voice unaffected, still containing that peaceful, ringing quality he worked so hard to cultivate. "We should go that way."
"Does anyone know their way around here?" Manon asked hopelessly, but still looking at the three, giving them a chance to speak.
It was Gosse that responded, pointing down a street. "I think I came from that way when I crossed the city before, your highness. I think. I cannot be sure. It has been some time."
"Better than walking in circles," Veva admitted, glaring at Gosse as though annoyed he had the audacity to be helpful at this moment. Her distaste for him was never subtle.
"Let's go then," Gael said, strangely excited to keep going.
If he got closer, would Laudine be able to pull even more, visceral reactions from his body? He was curious. Fascinated. Like watching a building burn, or an airship crash, it was terrible, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
What other horrors could she inflict on him? How bad could she make it? Exactly how much could he tolerate before it became too much?
Gael wouldn't call himself a masochist, but he was curious about how much pain she could place on him before it became overwhelming. He sought it out almost too eagerly as he now led the way through the abandoned streets, following Gosse's half remembered directions, trying to always make their way to the palace which stood high over their heads, even when they were lost in the maze of seemingly endless twisting streets.
Petrus Landebert had been abandoned in waves. Slowly, deliberately, at first, then in panicked throngs as the feelings in the air became too much. Some houses were carefully boarded up and cleaned, ready for new owners to claim them. Others had been left with doors hanging open, forgotten possessions strewn around. A cooking pot, a child's doll, discarded and filthy clothes that had been ravaged by insects and weather.
Even more fascinating.
Gael wanted to study this place. To see what people left behind when they believed they were running for their lives. To see how carefully someone left when they felt like they were in control to what they were willing to sacrifice when they weren't.
Petrus Landebert was sealed in various moments in time and painted a portrait of humanity when they were driven mad with grief, fear, anger, and betrayal. All the things that continued to linger in the air even now.
So much he could learn of people and how they reacted. But he couldn't stop and examine everything when the others were so doggedly determined to just get in, accomplish their mission, and get out as quickly as possible.
He almost regretted leaving it all behind, but it wasn't like he had a choice.
Duty first. Duty was always first.
Gael might be a heartless bastard, hiding his inability to feel and understand feelings under a air of studied kindness, but he always did what he was supposed to do.
Even without Gosse's, admittedly spotty, memories of being through here before, they could always tell their direction just in the heaviness of the air. The closer they got to Laudine, the more her feelings beat down on them like a hammer constantly pounding at their back.
Gosse was the first to admit defeat. As they turned onto a street and finally caught sight of the town square, with its dry fountain surrounded by open space, he hit his knees. Tears pouring down his face, shaking his head wildly.
"I can't!" He gasped, falling forward onto all fours. "I just can't. Please, kill me. I don't want to live like this anymore!"
Manon frowned and even Veva looked uncomfortable.
Gael approached him, still smiling as he rested a hand down on his shoulder. "It's all right, Gosse. You don't have to keep going. Veva, if you would be so kind as to escort him back to the ship? You don't look well yourself."
Veva's jaw tightened. Not at the request to take Gosse away from here, but at the suggestion that she wasn't capable of continuing on.
"I must protect my princess," she said, her voice tight. But her face was pale and she kept touching her sword like she was one moment away from yanking it free and falling upon it. If she had been in Gael's Sacellum with that expression, the first thing he would have done would be to take away anything she could use to hurt herself.
"I'll be all right," Manon promised, offering her a shaky smile. "Gael is with me. And apparently Gael is immune to Laudine's power."
Again, three sets of eyes stared at him. He should probably act disturbed by the reactions in his body or they might start asking uncomfortable questions.
As it was, he merely offered them a calm smile. "I am well trained by the church to shoulder the bad feelings of others. That is all."
"I don't think you're human," Veva grumbled, rubbing the tight muscles of her neck. "All right. Gosse and I will wait at the tunnel entrance. If you need anything, princess, just yell."
"I will," Manon promised.
Gael needed to help Gosse to his feet, then put one of his arms around around Veva's shoulder so she could half-carry, half-walk him back the way they had come.
Interesting. Gosse already carried a great deal of guilt and shame over his actions. Perhaps he was more susceptible to Laudine's influence because of that? Or maybe he was simply weak willed, weak hearted, and that was what made him drop to his knees.
"Ready to keep going?" Manon asked, looking to him as Veva and Gosse turned a corner and stepped out of sight. "How are you holding up?"
"It is not without effort," he assured her, more because he knew she would expect to hear it than because it was true. "Yourself?"
Manon grimaced, rubbing her chest, as though her heart hurt and she was trying to massage away the ache. "I can understand why Gosse dropped. I kind of want to do the same. It's like... all the happiness was sucked from the world, you know?"
He did not. Was that what this was like?
But he nodded sagely, a crafted, sad smile on his face. "Yes. Like it never existed."
"Exactly!" Manon beamed, obviously happy he understood, though the expression didn't actually loosen the tightness around her eyes. "All these feelings... It's every negative emotion you could feel, just coiled up and twisted together and laid out like a quilt of thorns and nettles that takes away your warmth instead of giving it to you."
"My, what imagery." Gael offered her a smile. "You missed your calling as a poet."
"I suppose it's not too late to change my focus." Manon gestured with her head. Her voice was strained now. "Are you okay to keep going?"
"Allow me to lead the way." He stepped ahead of her, looking curiously over the empty town square as he stepped through.
The gates leading into the palace were hanging wide open. He wasn't sure if Laudine had opened them or if they had never been closed after the last servant left. Whatever the case, it appeared the metal was rusting in place and likely couldn't be closed at all anymore.
Manon crept forward cautiously, eyes roving quickly, shoulders squared, like she expected to be attacked at any moment.
Gael walked normally at her side, looking around curiously, like a tourist who was only mildly interested in their surroundings. Which, he supposed, wasn't exactly untrue. This palace was quite beautiful. It was a shame it had been abandoned.
"How are you so calm?" Manon whispered with a hiss. "Do you know how hard it is not to run right now? And you're just walking around like this is normal."
Gael offered her a smile. "I volunteered to come in by myself. You were the one who insisted that it would be better for us to tackle her as a team."
Manon grumbled something under her breath that he didn't catch. Though, considering how unhappy the words were, he also didn't think he was supposed to catch them.
So, he pretended as though he hadn't heard as they began walking across the courtyard. Their footsteps were echoing loudly off the stone of the wall that surrounded the palace. The massive double doors were slightly ajar. Just enough for a single person to slip through.
"It might be easier to find her if we split up," Gael said, looking at the gap in the door. He supposed it would be too much to ask for her to just walk through as they approached. Make their job easier, somewhat.
"Don't you dare leave me," Manon said, grabbing his wrist. "You being this calm is the only reason I've not already run off, screaming at the top of my lungs."
Her grip was painful. Her nails digging into his flesh. He neither flinched nor pulled back. He doubted she realized that she was doing it.
Instead, he just offered her a smile before leading her forward.
He had already resigned himself to trying to figure out how to search an entire palace with only two people as he slid in through the small gap.
But it wasn't necessary.
As he walked forward, he pulled up short as he realized that the large room they walked into wasn't empty.
Two long, curving staircases led up to the third level of the palace, sweeping up and around each side of the rounded room. From above, a crystal chandelier was hanging, dusty and dim, but its tiers still impossibly delicate and beautiful. The potted plants that had once decorated the room had long died from lack of care, their woody corpses surrounded by dried leaves that were scattered around their decorative pots. The large, intricate, gold and red rug in the center of the room had a beautiful, hard edged, geometric pattern that was almost dizzying to look at.
And crouched in the middle of the rug, legs splayed out on either side of her, rocking slowly in place, a young woman with long, snow white hair, was muttering softly to herself. She gave no sign that she heard them enter. Her back was to them. Her feet were bare. The threadbare, plain, cotton shift she wore was tattered and stained.
Gael had never seen her in person, but this had to be her. Laudine.
Though he hadn't seen her before, he had seen her official portrait. And that woman had been a very pale blonde, but she hadn't had completely white hair. It was admittedly, dirty, matted, and greasy from lack of care, but it was still obviously white.
Gael and Manon shared a glance before looking back at the slowly rocking woman.
Manon's claws dug deeper into Gael's arm. Then again when he started walking forward. He made no effort to hide the sound of his footsteps – though Manon did – but it didn't matter. Laudine just continued to rock. To mutter.
As they started across the rug, Gael picked up a few of the words.
"...stop...why...quiet...scream...scream...screams..."
Gael cleared his throat gently.
She didn't respond.
He tried again, more forcefully this time.
Nothing.
He looked at Manon again. The princess had tears pouring down her cheeks. She wasn't even looking at Laudine. Gael didn't think she was even aware of what was going on anymore. She was only here because she was clinging to him and he was here.
Very well, by himself then.
"Er, excuse me, Lady Laudine?"
Laudine stopped rocking. A shiver went through her body. She turned her head slowly, the movement harsh and stuttered, like she had forgotten how to do it properly.
One bloodshot eye peeked out from around the head of matted, white hair. She stared at Gael. Then down to Manon. Back to him.
He offered her his best calming smile. "Lady Laudine, hello. My name is-"
She shrieked.
He winced. The sound of it echoed off of the circular chamber, bouncing back and assaulting his eardrums from every direction. Laudine screamed until she ran out of breath. Took in another. Then continued. All the while she crawled backward, staring at him as though he were a monster that had come to attack her.
"Wait," Gael tried to call to her under her screams.
It didn't work. She jumped up and ran away. Through an open door at the back of the room. Down a hall. Her screaming faded away. When Gael tried to follow, he found he couldn't do so. Manon had collapsed to her knees, but hadn't released her grip on Gael. Her nails had scraped down his arm, breaking the skin in some places.
Gael didn't realize until he looked at the princess that Laudine hadn't just looked at them. She had been blasting them with the full force of her power. Gael hadn't noticed a difference. But Manon was pale, shaking, tears pouring down her face, her mouth open in a silent scream of horror.
Unable to chase after Laudine for now, Gael lowered himself and touched Manon's hand.
"Your highness? Can you hear me?"
A strangled sound of fear forced past her lips. She gagged. Nearly retched. Collapsed in around herself crying out like she had been mortally wounded.
Gael shook his head. He knew he should have insisted on going alone.
Slipping his arms under the princess' small form, he pulled her into his arms and stood. She was already curled in on herself. Made no attempt to hold onto him. Just shuddered and trembled, breaking apart internally, as he turned to walk with her from the castle.
Manon was completely unresponsive, unmoving as he took her from the palace and walked her back through the town square then down the streets. She didn't weigh very much – in fact, he was startled by how light her body was – but he still got tired as he was walking through the city.
He resisted the urge to set her down. She was hurt by proximity to Laudine. Therefore, the way to fix it was to get her away.
Pain was transient. It didn't matter. He could handle pain. His muscles burned and the cuts on his arms from her fingernails were bleeding. He could feel the wetness of his blood smeared across his forearm even as he held her up with it.
Gael didn't mind pain. He had learned early on how to tolerate it.
He was about halfway through the city, walking at a brisk pace, when Manon finally began to stir. She sobbed, covering her face with both hands. Gael looked down at her then quickly away. A few more streets away, she lowered them again, taking in a stuttered breath.
"I'm okay, Gael. You can... You can put me down."
His walk slowed but didn't stop. "Are you sure? I don't mind."
She nodded. Eyes closed. Jaw tight. Obviously struggling to hold herself together. Even when Gael gently set her back onto her feet, she clung to one of his arms. Her legs shook but held her up.
"Focus on your breathing," Gael recommended, petting her hair down. "Deep breaths."
Manon did as she was told. He continued talking her through the simple breathing exercise until she could finally open her eyes on him. She smiled gratefully, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break down like that."
Gael shook his head, gently pulling on her hand. "Let's keep walking. The sooner you get away from her influence, the sooner you will begin to feel better."
Manon nodded in agreement, walking behind him. He didn't ask her anything but, after a moment, she started speaking.
"It was like... I was gone. I couldn't remember where I was or why. Or even my own name. I just wanted to die. To end it. But I was also so broken that I couldn't even remember how to move my arms. Were you screaming?"
"No, that was Laudine."
"Oh." She blew out a long breath. Shook her head. Trying to fling away the feelings. "Was I screaming?"
"No."
"Oh." She said again. "It sounded like more than one person."
"It was just Laudine. Can you describe exactly what she did to you? So I know."
Manon gave him a wide eyed look of shock. "You didn't feel it?!"
"I was focused more on her than her power, I admit."
"How?!" She reared back. "Gael, are you even human?!"
"I believe so." He chuckled, turning them down one of the many twists in the convoluted streets. "It is all a matter of control and willpower."
"Willpower? People call me the most willful person in Vasconia, and I couldn't breathe!"
"I don't think that's exactly what they mean when they say you're willful." Gael chuckled. "I'm used to tolerating bad emotions."
"No, you're used to hearing about other people's bad emotions. Not feeling them." Manon shuddered even just remembering what had happened. "It was... I don't know."
"You were a poet earlier. Has she stolen your words so quickly?"
"Yes! She took everything that makes me, me, and just turned it off. Like, I was in there, but I was just dead inside. All that was left were all these negative emotions that were just beating at my heart until I thought it had to stop beating. And every time it kept going, I was angry at it. How can a heart keep beating when it's in such pain?"
"That is not actually the first time I've heard that question," he murmured, pausing at a turn as he tried to remember which way they came from.
Manon continued like he hadn't spoken. Her eyes wide, but her gaze unfocused as she relived the memories. "There were these screams. Just endless screams. Echoing in my head. Like razors across my brain. And this... I don't know hot to explain it. Like this feeling of cold emptiness that just permeated everything. The kind of cold that steals your breath and numbs your skin. Like I was constantly trying to die, but never being able to actually die. Trapped in this unspeakable in between place that I couldn't escape."
Gael didn't interrupt. Letting her purge the poisonous emotions from her system. Not just to help her, but to help Laudine as well.
Laudine was projecting the things that she felt right now. Everything that Manon was describing was just a reflection of the woman it came from. If Laudine wasn't able to tell him herself what she felt, then he needed to learn it from the next best source.
As they turned onto the street that led to the tall staircase, Veva caught sight of them. She rushed down, leaving Gosse standing alone at the top. He looked down at them, concerned, as Manon forced herself to finally release Gael. It was one thing to show him such dependence and weakness, but she wouldn't display such things in front of others.
"You're back?" Veva looked between them quickly. It was obvious, just by looking at Manon, that something had happened. "Did you find her? What happened?"
"We found her," Gael said easily, gesturing towards the steps. "Let's leave the city and get back to the ship for now. We need to get out of the tainted air."
Veva nodded and took her princess' arm, escorting her up herself. Gael followed behind them, casting one last look over the city as he crested the top.
Petrus Landebert was a city frozen in time. Multiple times. Like a cascade of trauma and pain all originating from the palace and spreading out from there.
And all of it was reflected in the woman who kept this place that way.
Turning away, he started into the tunnel.
The walk back was quicker. The others were eager to escape. They weren't talking. Struck dumb by the emotions they hadn't been prepared to experience, no matter how much they tried to brace themselves beforehand. It gave Gael the chance to focus on his own body, the reactions of it, as they walked away from Laudine's influence.
The hair on the back of his neck flattened. His gooseflesh smoothed. His belly eased from its tight, rigid coil. The chill he hadn't realized had settled over him faded.
Fascinating.
Gael was the last to leave the tunnel. Gosse was already hurrying to set up a camp. It was obvious that they weren't going to be getting Laudine out of there before tonight. That had been the most ideal situation, but they hadn't actually, reasonably, thought it would happen. So, they had brought all of the supplies they needed to stay for up to two weeks.
If it took longer than that to get Laudine?
Well, South Gate wasn't far. They would simply get new supplies and keep trying. They couldn't leave Petrus Landebert without her.
The others were talking about everything they experienced. The boiling, twisting, unbearable emotions that had been forced on them. Even Gosse was putting in his experience. They compared notes and experiences.
Gael couldn't really contribute. He silently set up his tent then got a bandage out of their supplies so he could wrap up the scratches Manon gave him. Once that was done, he started on preparing food to put on the fire that Veva had started.
"Gael?" Manon called to him as he was cutting up carrots to put in the pot.
Stew was the standard campfire meal. It was a good way to make few ingredients go far and it was easy to make. He looked up from his task to find all three of them staring at him again. He had tuned out their conversation – it had gotten rather cyclical – so he didn't know exactly what they had said last before giving him that look.
Though, since he had gotten it multiple times today already, he had a good idea what it was about.
"It's not strange that I can handle her emotions."
"It definitely is." Manon said, both her brows going up. "Are you serious? Gosse almost killed himself. Veva almost killed all of us. I was unable to think or move. But you just walked through it like it was nothing."
Maybe Gael shouldn't have tuned out. He hadn't heard Veva admit that she wanted to kill everyone in the blackness of the reaction.
"I told you all to let me go alone," he repeated, tossing the carrots into the pot. "I maintain that it's the best way to handle this situation."
Veva frowned. "Master, I don't know that it's wise to let you go in without protection."
"I am quite capable of protecting myself," Gael assured her, smiling peacefully. "I train with the warrior priests a few times a week. And I am stronger than I look."
"I'll say." Manon agreed, leaning back on her hands. "You picked me up like I weighed nothing."
Gael frowned. "You do weigh nothing. It's a bit concerning, actually. You need to eat more."
"What are you talking about? I'm not skinny." Manon frowned at her body. She had developed some feminine curves recently. Though they weren't terribly exaggerated, they did banish the last of the last of her childlike features. And it was true that, looking at her, you would never accuse her of being unhealthy.
But that didn't change how slight she felt in his arms. Maybe her baggy clothing was hiding her true figure. It was something Gael would need to think about later. They certainly couldn't do anything about it out here. But he was going to make sure she ate tonight.
For now, he returned the subject back from their tangent. "Anyway, Laudine didn't try to attack me, and there's no one else there. If anything, I think she was frightened by me."
"All the more reason to be careful," Veva insisted. "If she's afraid of you, she's more likely to attack you."
Gael shook his head. "That is just a chance that I will have to take. We can't be afraid of Laudine. She will sense that fear and it will only make her worse."
Manon frowned. "I didn't really think of that."
"Please, princess, let me go in myself. I assure you, I will get better results that way."
Manon frowned. "You know you outrank me, right? You can just say you're going to go in by yourself and I can't actually stop you."
Gael smiled calmly. "That is hardly how teamwork functions. I would prefer your support in what I plan to do. Gaining permission to do things makes doing them significantly easier to do."
Manon grimaced. She didn't miss that little dig at her. Manon had a habit of doing things against permission and tolerating the punishment later.
"All right." She nodded, sighing. "You can go in by yourself tomorrow. We'll follow you to the entrance of the tunnel. Just in case you need us."
Gael considered that a fair compromise. The entrance of the tunnel wasn't outside of Laudine's influence, but it was far enough away that they could tolerate the feelings.
So it was that, after a night sleeping in a tent on the Vasconian side of the mountain range, Gael started down the steps back into Petrus Landebert. Manon, Veva, and Gosse remained standing at the top, spread out over the landing. They would be listening for him to shout for help or some sign that he needed aid.
Not that he thought he would need it.
The look on Laudine's face when she realized he was speaking to her normally hadn't been a hostile one. It had been terrified. Uncertain. She had screamed and struggled to get away from him because he had said hello to her like a normal person.
That told Gael that she was far more lost than he had anticipated. If even the sight of a person who wasn't driven mad by her was such an anomaly that she didn't know how to handle it, then he had his work cut out for him.
The city was more peaceful without the others around him. Their fear and discomfort with the city had made it worse for him. Not to say that Laudine's power didn't affect him. He still had all the same reactions – hair raising, gooseflesh, twisting guts – but he actually had the space and privacy to focus on them.
He rubbed the back of his neck, surprised by how stiff the hair felt there. It wasn't just a figure of speech to say they were standing on end. That was interesting.
Not nearly so interesting as the gooseflesh on his arm. He pushed up one sleeve, only about halfway up his forearm, so he could see them. He rubbed his finger along the skin. It was even more rigid than the hair standing on the back of his neck.
What was the point of that? So strange. The human body did weird things when it felt emotions. He wasn't more or less afraid for having hair sticking upright.
Once he had exhausted his curiosity with his bodily functions, he continued towards the palace. It was easier to find today than yesterday.
The gates were still open, but it looked like someone had tried, and failed, to close one of them. The rusty hinges had resisted all attempts at movement, though they had left marks along the stone where the metal had scraped and left gouges.
Laudine had tried to close the gates to him. There was still something in her that was capable of recognizing others, recognizing threats, and she had attempted to protect herself. That gave him hope that she could still be reached.
It didn't occur to him until she screamed and ran from him that it was possible that Laudine simply couldn't be helped. Sometimes, people just became lost to their madness and, no matter how good your intentions or how hard you tried, they couldn't be recovered.
But the signs of the gate having been tampered with eased that concern.
Gael stepped through, more determined now. He wasn't expecting to find her as easily today as he had yesterday, and he was right. When he pushed open the castle doors – she had succeeded in closing those, but not locking them – the entrance hall was empty. One of the potted plants had been knocked over and he could see her footprints in the dry dirt.
This was going to take a while.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and got to work.
It honestly wasn't difficult to find the places that Laudine frequented. The rooms she had claimed for her own were the only ones without sheets covering them. The furniture was clearly used, a bit abused, and dirty because she didn't have the presence of mind to clean up after herself. The lack of dust also helped guide him along the floors.
That's how he found the room she used to sleep. The messy bed with pillows tossed into the corner, forgotten, the blanket a messy nest pushed along one side. Then the bathing chamber that she must only use when she had the clear head to do so, as it was the cleanest room he came across. Like she made an effort within.
He also found evidence in the palace kitchens that she used to prepare her food of the brief moments of lucidity she must still have. The area wasn't that clean, but there were clear stacks of food in the pantry that she could grab and eat without needing to prepare it.
She was lost to her mind. But she still had the presence of mind to prepare for the moments when she couldn't take care of herself.
Even more fascinating. Gael really hoped that she wasn't truly lost. He would be interested in learning about her. Someone so swayed and controlled by their emotions, to the point that they had to learn to cope around them, was fascinating.
After checking in the areas he could tell she lived in, he started branching out from there. He started with the rooms immediately adjacent with the rooms she used. He checked under sheets, in closets, in armoires, under beds.
Nothing.
It had been a couple hours since he had started searching now. He was beginning to think that he might not find her today. It was a big palace. And, honestly, he had no proof that she even was in it anymore. She had an entire city to hide within.
Gael frowned thoughtfully as he returned to the entrance hall. Not in her usual places. Not in the places immediately nearby.
He stopped in the center of the rug. Right where she had been rocking and muttering yesterday. His eyes followed the path she had taken. Up. Back. Into the palace. She had tried to close the gate. Failed. Then closed the palace doors instead. But didn't lock them.
She had the presence of mind to close the door, but not lock it?
He turned, looking back at the doors. The massive gates had an equally massive lock. A large deadbolt that required two hands to shut. Unlike the gates outside, it wasn't rusted. When Gael crossed the room and tested it, it turned in his hands.
He stopped before he locked it in place and returned it back to position.
Unlocked. But lockable. From someone who still knew how to preserve food and take care of themselves, at least when they were at their best.
Gael took hold of the door and pulled it open. He stepped back out into the light and looked at the gate that hadn't closed. The door that did close.
Gael started down the steps His eyes moved around the courtyard.
The stony city didn't have much in the way of greenery. Instead, there were rock gardens with sculptures placed in pits of sand that, Gael imagined, once had been the setting for sand sculptures and patterns. Though, now, they were mud pits overgrown with weeds and dirt. Any delicate creations had long been beaten away by wind and rain.
There were dozens of places to hide out here. Storage sheds. The security towers that stood at the corners of the walls. Even just behind one of the many statues and boulders.
The search was much faster this time. Not just because there were less places to hide out here in the courtyard, but because he found his target in the first storage shed he found.
Laudine had managed to wedge herself underneath a gardener's workbench. She had the broken off head of a sand rake in her trembling hands, her knuckles white with the force with which she held it, her eyes peeking up from behind knees that she had crushed against her own chest.
Gael approached her with the same slow ease that he would a terrified animal.
"Hello, Laudine," he greeted, smiling at her as he came down on one knee. Both hands out and visible so she could see he held no weapon.
Her bloodshot eyes, already wide, somehow widened at his calm words. She was staring so hard, he thought she might be trying to set him on fire with her gaze.
No, she was trying to overwhelm him with her emotions.
He turned his focus, just for a second, off of her and onto the physical reactions of his body. The rolling nausea. The distant screaming in his head that wasn't his own. The curious sensation of claws digging into the back of his eyes. His entire body had broken out into gooseflesh. Every hair was standing taut, nearly perpendicular to his skin.
Fear? Dread? Anger?
It was such a potent cocktail of different emotions that he honestly couldn't put a clear label on what any of them should be individually.
He accepted them. He took them into himself.
And he buried them down deep as he smiled as Laudine.
"It's all right," he promised, scooting in just a bit closer. "My name is Gael. I'm the Master of the Sacellum. I'm here to help you."
She breathed something. Her mouth moving. But her voice was so weak that he couldn't make out the words.
"What was that?" He asked, using the opportunity to press in a bit closer.
She struck out with a cry, attacking him with the rake head. He dropped back, avoiding the wide, messy blow. Giving her just enough to time to jump out from under the desk and jump over him, running past him and out the door.
Gael turned over and jumped to his feet, wasting no time in giving chase.