Chapter Three:
The Messenger
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The fallen rider was dressed in the scarlet red cloak of a messenger sent from the kingdom of Ecrivenia and the cloak was slowly being stained with the dark color of the man's blood.
Harriet fell to her knees beside him, holding a hand to his wound as hard as she could. Maybe if she could stop the bleeding-
"The king-" the man coughed, cutting off his own words.
"What about the king?" Harriet asked, pressing her hand harder on to the wound while she used the other to brush some sweat-matted hair from his face so she could see his eyes clearly.
"You need to tell King Frederick-" another cough cut across his words as he brought his hand up to cover his mouth and his black beard. Harriet swallowed in fright as his hand came away slicked with blood. "Tell the king that knights bearing the insignia of the kingdom of Carigan have attacked the outer villages, close to the southern mountains. I do not know if-" He gave another hacking cough. "I don't know if there were any survivors, but the outposts need men. The war can no longer be avoided."
Harriet's eyes widened as she listened to the man's words. "The war can no longer be avoided?"
"No. It was a direct attack on unarmed and innocent people," the man explained, his voice cracking with his words. Harriet shifted beside him, reaching for his hand despite the fact it was covered in blood. She didn't even have to put any of her training to use to know that the man was dying, and there wasn't all that much she could do. She had no supplies, she didn't even have a cloak. The least she could do was try to carry him back, but Harriet doubted he would survive the jouncing from the horse's gallop.
"What's your name?" She asked, gripping his hand tightly.
"Daniel Martin," he replied, his brown eyes glittering with unshed tears in the light of the moon. "Please, I have a family- a wife and two children. Please let them know how much I love them. Tell them I didn't suffer."
"But-"
"Please," Daniel said, and Harriet nodded. She never enjoyed lying, but the fact that in his last moments this man had the foresight to try and ease his family's oncoming grief, spoke volumes about what kind of man he was. She had never met him in her life, but her heart clenched at the thought of the grief his wife and children would be subject to.
"I will tell them what you have asked me to," she promised, and the messenger let out a sigh that while rumbling with the sound of fluid in his lungs, told her that he was relieved.
"Thank you, now, please go to the King and tell him my message. I cannot let it wait any longer."
"I don't want to leave you alone," Harriet protested. She had been around enough death in her lifetime to know that no one deserved to die alone, especially when company was so near at hand.
"I will not be alone, not really," Daniel said, his eyes leaving hers to gaze up at the starry heavens, making the small lights reflect on the whites of his eyes. Harriet still hesitated, not wishing to let him pass away by himself but upon seeing her expression he wearily shook his head. "Please, you must go, quickly! Time is of the essence!"
Harriet shakily got to her feet, still staring down at the prone figure of the barely breathing man. She didn't want to leave him, she wanted to wait, but he had asked her to leave and so she would. She gave him one last look, gazing to where he lay on a bed of fallen leaves and moss, before gathering her horse's reins and getting onto his back.
"I will be back," she promised, before nudging her horse into a canter. She left the second half of the sentence unsaid, feeling that it was implied. She would be back to get his body.
Once again, the branches of the trees scratched across her face and hands, and the sap and pitch from the trees caused the cuts to burn. Yet, all the same she rode on.
As the trees thinned out, she could see the sparkling lights of the palace in the distance and she urged her horse onwards. She wasn't looking forward to returning, in fact, it was one of the last things she wanted to do, but Harriet knew she had to tell her brother-in-law of the messenger's warning.
Plus, upon thinking of her sister's words, she had to grudgingly realize that her sister had said something along the lines of "the man we hope you are to marry". The wording more than afforded her the right to a getaway card from her supposed need to marry. He, whoever he was, was merely the man her sister wished for her to marry, not necessarily the man she had to marry. After all, Clara would never force her to marry if she didn't love the man. It went against everything that Clara had ever stood for.
As the horse drew closer to the palace stables, Harriet belatedly noticed how her heart was pounding. This was quite possibly the most important thing she had done since stopping the assassin sent after Frederick all those years ago, and she knew that unlike that time, more than just the fate of her brother-in-law rested on her shoulders.
She urged her horse to a stop, causing its hooves to skid in the mud, but Harriet paid the wet dirt no mind. Not even when it covered her legs and the hem of her dress when she jumped down and started to run towards the palace steps. Her dress was already ruined beyond repair, what hurt could a little dirt do?
Harriet's legs were moving faster than possible causing her to slip and slide from the mud on the bottom of her shoes, but she hardly cared. Reaching the doors to the palace, she threw them open, shocking more than a few of the servants who were going about the business of cleaning up the front hall so it would be clean for when the guests came out of the ballroom.
Tearing through the hallways, she came to a sudden stop as she reached the doors to the ballroom. Did she really want to go running into the ballroom covered in punch, dirt, and blood in a dress that ? It took her barely a second to decide that yes, yes she did.
She flung the doors open with all of the confidence and flair that she had previously lacked when she stood above the same doors over an hour ago. Harriet barely noticed the affronted looks she was getting instead making a beeline to where she saw Frederick and Clara standing, both looking a mix of surprised and mildly horrified.
Drawing even with them, she snatched a hold of Frederick's arm before he could protest and started to drag him away.
"Harriet- what- why do you look like you were rolling around in a pig pen? Hold on, is that blood?" He questioned as he tried to take his arm back, but she held tight. His lack of practice over the past few months had left it so they were pretty equally matched strength wise, and Harriet was immensely thankful for that.
"Nevermind that, I have an important message from one of the messengers on the border," she replied, causing her brother-in-law's eyes to narrow slightly.
"How did you get this message? Why could he not deliver his message himself?" Frederick questioned, finally succeeding in pulling his arm away from Harriet's grasp. They were now standing just outside the hallway of the ballroom, and out of the corner of her eye Harriet could see the eyes of several curious gossip mongers focused on their conversation.
"Not here, the walls have ears," she said cryptically, and Frederick nodded in understanding before leading the way to one of the rooms in the hall. It was dark in the room except for the light of the moon shining through the windows and they both moved over to the glass panes so that they could see each other more clearly.
"Alright, no one can hear us. Now, what is the message, how did you get it, and why isn't the messenger delivering it?" Frederick demanded, leaning against the lip of one of the windows.
"I had taken one of the horses- No don't I'll explain that part later," she hurried to say before Frederick could cut in. She could see him grinding his teeth together, but he stayed quiet. "I was in the woods on the southern border of the palace grounds when I came across him. His name was, Daniel Martin."
"Was?" Harriet looked down for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to her brother-in-law's.
"He was bleeding profusely from numerous wounds when I left him. He was coughing up blood as well. He told me to hurry and tell you the message. He- he knew he was dying," Harriet explained before stopping to clear her throat. "He informed me that knights with the insignia of Carigan attacked unarmed and innocent villagers by the foot of the Southern Mountains. He believed it was an act of war."
Frederick was quiet as he seemed to process the information she had told him, his long fingers tapping against the windowsill at a repetitive interval.
"Those were his exact words?"
"As nearly as I can remember them," Harriet said, and Frederick nodded, before turning to walk away from the window and towards the door.
"I need you to inform the servants to gather the war council in the dining room, as well as send a handful of men to retrieve Mr. Martin's body. Did you say whether or not he had a family?"
"He had a wife and two children- but can I go to the war council?" Frederick paused with his hand hovering over the doorknob, and she could hear him take in a deep breath.
"I would rather you help your sister oversee the exit of those present at the ball. We will need them to return to their homes. We can't risk this getting out to the people before we are aptly prepared to protect them."
"But Frederick, I was the one who even told you about it! Shouldn't I be allowed to be at the war council?"
"Harriet, I need you to help your sister. I'll tell you what you need to know about the war council after it's over."
"You mean once you have omitted the parts you don't think I need to know," she snapped, and Frederick turned to her with a stern look on his face, the light from the partially open door lining his face with a slight glow.
"Would rather I told you nothing?" Harriet didn't answer. "That's what I thought. Now, please go an inform the servants of my instructions."
With that, Frederick left the room, leaving Harriet to glare after his figure. She bit her lip for a moment before going off to do what he told her to, but she didn't give up on her irritation. She would hear what was being said at that meeting.
Harriet quickly told the nearest servant of her brother-in-law's orders before going to inform another of the location of Mr. Martin's body. She greatly wished to go with them to retrieve his body, but she decided that finding out the details of the upcoming war was more important. She would have to try and visit his family in the coming days, though.
Ignoring the stares she was still getting from some of the ball goers, she almost dived behind a pillar as she saw Clara turning a corner into the hallway she was in, but Clara frowned at the pillar before clearing her throat.
"Harriet, I've known you your entire life, do you really think I won't recognize you hiding behind a pillar... or the fact there are muddy footprints leading to your hiding place?"
Harriet reluctantly stepped out from behind the pillar, meeting her sister's eyes. However, her sister didn't look angry, just moderately resigned.
"Frederick told me of what you heard from the messenger. Are you alright?" Harriet nodded hesitantly. That was one of those things about Clara. No matter how annoyed Clara might be, she never would ignore someone if she thought they needed help or advice.
"I'm fine. I just wish Frederick would let me go to the war council," Harriet said, her voice almost a mumble by the end of the sentence. She didn't want to put her sister in an awkward position. Clara just gave her a small shake of the head and two raised eyebrows.
"You won't be going?" Clara asked, placing a hand over her round belly absentmindedly. "Well, I'm sure you'll find a way to hear about what goes on in the meeting somehow."
"You wouldn't be upset if I went?"
"Has anyone ever been able to stop you from doing what you want or what you think is right?" Clara gave her a smile as she took hold of Harriet's arm and started to lead her down the hallway. "I know you might not be too happy with me right now, but remember, just because I think you would go well with someone, doesn't mean you have to marry them. It has always been up to you."
Clara let go of her arm and left Harriet standing by one of the pillars close to the dining room. Harriet watched as her sister walked (or rather waddled) away, and she couldn't help but shake her head. Sometimes her sister confused her. Looking around where her sister had led her however, her eyes widened as she realized where she was.
Years ago, right before the whole assassin debacle, Mark had shown her a passageway to a room that was hidden behind a painting that hung in the dining room. The very same dining room where the meeting was currently taking place. Her face stretched into a smile. Clara was far more subtle than Harriet had thought she was. She had practically escorted Harriet to the answer to the problem of how she would hear what went on during the meeting.
With a grin, Harriet pulled on the wall sconce sticking out from the wall and slipped into the passageway that appeared. It had been cleaned up since the first time she had been in it, she and Mark had seen to it. After all, they had spied on the occupants of the dining room a number of times since.
She hurried along the inside of the passage, watching her step as best as she could until she was standing by the part of the passage that opened up to a small window that one could see into the dining room from. As she opened it, the sounds of men talking drifted through the opening.
"...And you are sure this information is from a reliable source?" One of the men asked, Harriet watched as her brother-in-law sent the man a look.
"Yes, I would trust the source with my life," he said replied coolly.
"Well, that's all very well and good but surely you should tell someone else so we all know-"
"I am aware of the identity of the source," a deep voice cut in from beside Frederick and Harriet's eyes darted to take in the appearance of King Leopold of Marenta standing beside Frederick's chair. "They can be trusted," he said firmly, his voice allowing for no argument as the subject was dropped.
"Then we are left with no choice. It can no longer be ignored. War with Carigan is inevitable, the question is what are we going to do about it?" An older gentleman asked, bringing up the thought that was on everyone's minds.
"I suppose a draft is the most reasonable choice. All able-bodied men from the ages of twenty-one to forty-five will be called upon to serve their country. King Leopold, will Marenta be taking similar measures?"
"Marginally similar. All those from our draft will have to go through a month worth of training before they are allowed on the front lines."
A sharp laugh could be heard from across the table, and Harriet watched as both Leopold's and Frederick's attention snapped to the owner. "I don't see what it so amusing," Leopold said, his voice dripping with barely hidden scorn.
"Do you really think a month of training will save those farm boys from what they will face? Hardly any of the possible recruits will have seen battle. They will have no idea about what is waiting for them."
"Would you rather I sent them completely unprepared? I can assure you the only thing that will be gained is time for Carigan to rejoice in its victory. It will be a difficult fight as it is, without training it won't even be a fight. It will be a slaughter," Leopold snapped, and Harriet found herself agreeing with him. Barely five percent of the population of Ecrivenia, and she assumed Marenta as well, knew how to put on armor let alone pick up a sword. They would need all of the help they could get.
"Our recruits will also be subject to training," Frederick said, speaking up in the wake of his best friend's sharp words.
"But sire-"
"No. I will not send our men off like pigs to the slaughterhouse. Leopold, is there any way we could give them more time to train?"
"Other than separating them based off of skill and giving those who need the most help the majority of the training, I don't think there will be anyway to give them extra time. We need to get this done before winter is upon us. A winter fighting in Carigan will be the death of our men," Leopold stated, before walking towards the door of the dining room.
"Sir, where are you going?"
"To go and inform my people of the upcoming war. They deserve to be told it from their king in person, not from the heralds. Goodness knows that all of the people of Ecrivenia, Marenta, and even Carigan, are in for a rough few months."
With that Leopold swept from the room, leaving the room in shock in his wake. However as the meeting drew to a close, Harriet felt more than shock. She felt a sense of anxiety and anticipation. She was one of the best knights within the palace walls. There was no way that she would not be fighting on the front lines.
Harriet's dream of becoming a knight could very well be coming true. She just wished that it was under different circumstances.
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Surprise update! Do you think Harriet will be allowed to be a knight? Do you think that Clara and Frederick will be alright with it? Even though she is a girl and only twenty? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter, and don't worry, there will still be an update on Friday! Also, this chapter is dedicated to rosina608 due to help on a title for an upcoming story that is unrelated to fairytales!
Note: This chapter will be subject to editing as I have neither the want or the time to edit it currently. It will be edited sometime around 9 o'clock EST.