A month ago
"A pleasant weather, indeed." Countess Daisy Douglas stared up at the sky as they ascended the hill.
"Wish the occasion was just as pleasant." Kiara mumbled back to her mother from behind.
The Countess could do nothing but sigh. She twisted her head back to see her daughter sat atop the white horse, face twisted in an pained expression. She faced forward, eyeing the top of the hill, where the body of the deceased was taken to be preserved until the funeral.
"You have been here before, sweetie?"
"Yes, ma."
"How long till we reach the hilltop?"
"At this speed? A whole day."
"Matthew was riding like a madman. He must be there already."
"Yes, ma." She nodded but then looked sharply at her mother. "But we are not rushing. We will not be rushing. Neither we will ride in the night. This forest can be dangerous. We will set up tents if we do not get there by dusk."
"As uptight as your father." Daisy rolled her eyes at her daughter.
"You are too reckless."
"Somebody in the household needs to possess a strong liver."
"Need I remind you how you trembled at the sight of a bug last summer during our excursion to the western forests."
"Bugs could be poisonous."
"It was a ladybug."
"Ladybugs can be poisonous."
"...no?"
"Yes. Any evidence you have that can prove otherwise?"
Kiara shook her head. There was no point attempting at convincing her mother. She was a renowned prosecutor for a reason. They carried forth in silence. After a while, the sunlight began reddening as the sky dimmed.
"I will ride ahead," Lady Kiara said to her mother. She turned towards the guards and her lady in waiting riding behind them. "Lea, Al- you both will stay behind with the Countess. Jenna and Annette, come with the hay and ropes."
The three charged forward, leaving the group behind. Soon, they found a relatively flat land. By the time the rest of the group arrived at the spot, fire was lit and hay heaped for the horses to feed. They spent the night beneath the canopy of the forest. It was a familiar place for Lady Kiara. She had taken part in many excursions and operations in this area and the surrounding mountains.
Changes, she thought to herself, so sudden.
She was sitting below a cedar tree. Her back resting against it's trunk. The fire burned few feet away in front of her. Soldiers and maids were fast asleep inside the tents. She could hear the snores. As loud as they were, Lady Kiara knew not to blame the poor horses for them. Lea was infamous for the hellish sounds and smells she generated at night.
Just a week ago, I was surveying alongside Duke Charles. She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, I would be attending his funeral.
A lump formed in her throat. Her chest tightened. She breathed in shakily and—
Something was behind her.
Lady Kiara tensed. She kept her eyes closed, so as not to give away that she knew of the presence behind her. Hands crept inconspicuously, inching towards the sword on the ground, beside her legs. The twigs snapped couple of feet behind her and she wondered if it was an animal or some other being craving it's demise. Her grip at her sword tightened as she readied herself to unsheathe it at any moment—
"I would scold you for being out in the cold, if it did not so happen that you were in a bad disposition." Her eyes flew open at her mother's voice. Startled, she sat straighter before relaxing.
"Ma?" She questioned and breathed out, exasperated."What have I told you about startling me?"
"Nothing?" The Countess cocked an eyebrow. She settled down beside her daughter and ruffled Kiara's tangled hair.
"It is way past your bedtime, young lady." She butted the side of Kiara's head with hers.
"Sleep would not come tonight."
"A fair argument."
Silence stretched between them for a while. The pockets of the quiet, melancholic night were filled with the soft cackling of the fire and chirping of crickets.
Making herself comfortable on the grass, Lady Kiara had put her head on her mother's outstretched thighs and closed her eyes.
"You will catch cold," Daisy chided but her hands moved to caress Kiara's head, urgently and lovingly.
"Will not," Kiara mumbled.
"One sneeze in the morning, and I will chase you with a broom," she scoffed as she looked down upon her daughter's face. Her eyes were closed and her grasp around the hilt of her sword loosened.
Countess Daisy poked Kiara's cheeks. She did not budge.
"Charles, you were a good man," Countess Daisy whispered to herself when she was assured Kiara was asleep and dreaming away. Tears brimmed her eyes upon remembering the grey haired, reckless bastard of a Duke. It always had been the three of them- her, Matthew and Charles. To think one of them is gone forever, that one of them was presumably murdered in cold blood- the thought invoked nothing but maddening, heart shattering pain. Loosing Duke Charles Louise was a great loss— personal as well as professional.
As much as he insisted to take risks in his younger days, he had matured as a man. Daisy did not knew what cause that. Nevertheles, though it irked her— gaining another critic that is; more so the kind who was once a partner in crime— Daisy had always been and will always be proud of the man he had become. Who shouldered his responsibilities with such intellect. Who bore the pain with such grace. Who managed his family and Dukedom with such balance.
"Ma."
Kiara was looking up at her with a frown. A stray tear had trailed it's way down from the side of her eye and disappeared into her hairline.
"Hmm." Daisy wiped her tears, then proceeded to wipe Kiara's. She let her hand rest on her forehead and starting patting it.
"You should sleep, brat. We are supposed to be up early in the morning." Daisy flicked her forehead.
Kiara flinched and scrunched her nose.
"Do you think the witches did this? Bit off the hand which was always there to lift them up?" She asked, rubbing her forehead.
"I can not tell for sure, Kiara." Daisy sighed heavily and she suddenly looked ten years more her age. Her brown eyes dulled with misery, tanned skin blotchy after the secret mourning sessions, grey hair in the mass of brown ones somehow more visible now, fine lines of wrinkles evident on her face. Past few days had seen her ageing more than the past years, Kiara noted. In some years, I would look much more like her then I already do, an arbitrary thought flashed in her mind.
"Papa is convinced."
"He is revengeful and that is it."
"You are not?"
Daisy did not answer.
"We will have to stop him from leaping into action without conducting proper investigation," Kiara said after a stretch of silence.
"Yes. But there is no point talking to him," Daisy answered with a sigh, tired and spent.
"I will be leaving right after the funeral. There are some matters which require my immediate attention." Daisy rubbed Kiara's shoulders and continued, "Our villages bordering Sorraine have been in havoc as of lately. Lots of children are reported to be missing. "
Kiara sat up. "The local administration?"
Daisy shook her head. "Nothing. All of their efforts have proven to be futile up until now."
"Want me to go and rattle some bones?"
"Why would I pass on the golden opportunity to you?" The Countess snorted and Kiara pouted.
"That is an off putting face." She twisted her mouth at her daughter, "Besides, there is something else which you must do on my behalf here."
"I am all ears." Kiara nodded.
"Tomorrow, after the funeral, you will have to go and discuss the situations with Windsor. For all I know, he might be more unreasonable. However, his shoulders— as young as they might be— bear the weight of this Dukedom. He must keep his biases aside and move the investigation forward without any prejudices. We need to convince him. We have to. Before the situation blows out of proportion."
"Consider it done. Will that be enough to stop father?"
"Not in the slightest. He will employ different means. But once Windsor is on our side, this will buy us some time. I am sure I can talk him out of this stupidity."
--------------
A single glance. That was all it took for Daisy to break down into sobs and cries.
Kiara sucked in her lips to leash in the whimper threatening to break loose out of her lips. Her eyes served a blurred vision of her mother on her knees beside the wooden box containing her beloved friend.
She looked down and tears spilled out of her eyes. She quickly wiped them. Putting a hand on her mother's heaving shoulder, she braved a look at the cadaver and flinched.
Her beloved uncle, her ever so lively guardian— he had been mauled beyond recognition. His pale skin, dipped in medicinal oils to prevent from rotting, was merely put together. His limbs were shredded and detached from the body. He was missing an eye and good part of his nose.
Fury pumped her veins in place of blood. She clenched her jaw and looked away. Her eyes met her father's.
No wonder he is murderous.
Far away in the corner, Count Matthew Douglas stood. His face shadowed and expressions lacking but she could see his tormented soul and shattered heart.
Funeral proceeded shortly. Other Counts and Countesses, along with their family, planted themselves in a semi circle while the saints chanted and offered sacred prayers to Goddess Rik on the raised altar. The Douglas family sat beside the Duke, along with few Marquesses and Marchionesses, at the front of the altar.
There were not many guests from the other dukedoms, most of them visited the Late Duke's abode in the capital where his body was kept for the final visits for the commoners of Rotheward as well as guests of other dukedoms.
Windsor Louise stood through the whole process with a sombre mask of determination, his blood red eyes zeroed to his father's body. Lady Kiara saw it from where she sat. However, when the saintess declared the body to be pious enough to return to the earth, a crack appeared in his facade. Kiara clenched her fist and gripped the arm rest of her chair to get up and reach out to him. But soon she found his hand being grasped by another pale palm.
This was the first time she took notice of the man sitting beside him.
A tall, pale man with eyes red as ruby and hair dark as moonless night. Grey sky bestowed them with rain drops and the man resembled death, oddly. His grip only tightened around Windsor's fist while the latter looked down and shivered.
"A moment, please. Let him get a hold of himself," the vaguely familiar man said, his deep voice reverberating throughout the vicinity while Lady Kiara slowly pieced his identity together.
Marquess Edith Monroe, suddenly it clicked and his eyes met hers, as if he had heard her say his name in her head.
Lady Kiara nodded at him and he nodded back. This was the first time they ever acknowledged each other since he had not been a Marquess for long and was particularly reserved.
She looked away and towards the saintess standing at the altar, throwing worried glances towards Windsor. By the time the funeral rites came to an end, everyone was exhausted. Kiara stared at the ground where the Late Duke's ashes had been buried while her parents met Windsor. She saw her mother hug him and heard her father offering him to stay with them for a while until he is officiated as the Duke, to which he readily agreed.
With just her family and few close relatives staying behind, Windsor allowed himself to drop the ruse and let his shoulders sag, back hunch.
Is this a good time to discuss the witches situation?
She returned her attention to the grave in front of her.
No. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will talk to him.
"We are leaving for the fort, Kiara." Windsor's calm voice rang in her ear. He came and stood beside her. Blood red eyes squinted at her. He swept his blonde hair with his fingers as he placed his coat on her shoulders."You will catch cold."
"Everyone keeps saying that." Kiara smiled lightly. "I am sure I would not." She shrugged off his coat and put it back on his shoulders.
Windsor arched an eyebrow, but then shrugged and wore it back. Gesturing for her to follow him, he lead her to the carriage.
"You can—"
She sneezed before she could complete her sentence.
"Do not." She raised her finger as Windsor chuckled, "It is not cold. It is— it is just sneezing."
"As you say. " He shrugged again and offered her his hand to climb into the carriage. They sat on across each other. Kiara succumbed to a sneezing fit and running nose on their way back to the fort they would be temporarily residing in for the night.
"Who do you think did this?" He asked out of blue, surprising Lady Kiara. She searched his face for any expression— rage, melancholy, regret— but only found thoughtfulness.
"I do not know," she replied honestly, gauging his expressions and sneezed again. He only sighed and offered her his handkerchief. She slapped his hand away and grumbled about having her own. He shook his head and turned it to look out of the widow.
The clouds still barred the moonlight from lighting up the surroundings. The only source of illumination in the carriage was an oil lamp dangling between them from the ceiling.
"They are saying that you are behind this."
Windsor snapped his head to look at Kiara, bewildered.
"What—"
"Yes." She leaned forward and tilted her head to the side. "They are also saying that it is my father's doing. They also believe that uncle had an illegitimate son who is thirsty for revenge—"
"Kiara—" Windsor's mouth hung open. "Illegitimate son! How dare they accuse my father of such—" his voice raised along with his rage.
"Calm down." Lady Kiara took a hold of his hands and rubbed them. "These are rumors. There are many rumors running amok. All I am saying is, whatever you do, do not believe unless you have conclusive evidence."
"Illegitimate son..." he whispered to himself.
"Do not get hung up on it. You can not—" she cut off in the middle by a sneezing fit and made a mental note to hide away all the brooms in the fort if she sees any, just in case. "You can not shut everyone's mouth, until you present them with the truth." She continued.
"Truth—" his jaw locked and fists clenched, "Your father believes—"
"It is the witches." She nodded, "I would not be surprised. Prima facie, that is what it looks like. But as I said— conclusive evidences, Windsor, conclusive evidences."
"About those—" he licked his lips. Ruffling his hair, he sighed. "We might have found something."
Kiara sat up straight and listened attentively.
"Something is amiss in the villages located near our borders with Sorraine—"
Missing children...
"And according to Marquess Monroe's reports— it has it's origins within the Mansion of Count Monroe of Johannes."
A/N: This one was a long chapter. Any theories about what do you think is going on?