~Zacharias~
I slept a sleepless night last night. Although the bed felt bigger, and significantly more comfortable, the previous day has left me quite weary. The stress is too much, my head is throbbing. I've decided to take part in the investigation at the church today, along with Francis. Perhaps we might have a break through. There has to be something there to help me identify the culprit, we're desperate.
I got up this morning with a groggy feeling in my stomach. I decided that Sebastian wasn't needed as much as usual today. I washed and dressed myself, I even cooked for myself. I readied my own horse and waited by the castle entrance for Francis. A little while later, he arrived on his horse, which galloped its way toward me. He didn't bother to say good morning, and went straight to the point.
"Why was Catherine sleeping in the manger?" He seemed quite annoyed. His blond hair was full of sweat, his eyes were full of fury. His arms were crossed and his teeth were clenched.
"To gain a personality. Why?" I'm quite surprised though. There are thirty-two guest rooms in this castle, and she never listens to me anyway. I had no idea she would actually sleep there.
"That bitch decided that it was a good idea to sleep with the animals. Is it my fault that Zayne here felt no shame pissing on garbage? And get this, the bitch demands money for her soiling her sleeping garments. I blame you, fucking arse. Control your bloody whore." I couldn't help but laugh.
"Actually, this is the first time ever that I felt like I have some control over Catherine. But enough of that, we have work to do." Francis seemed excited to work the investigation with me at a tender age of twenty. He must feel like he finally is making a mark here in the manor. This is his manor too anyway. With a smile on his face, and a sweet tune to his whistle, Francis and I happily rode along to the church, as if we were going on a hunting trip. Inside the safe walls of the palace were airless and suffocating at times. Bursting through the castle gates and riding against the wind was the sweetest feeling that ever touched my tender heart. My horse galloped at a heart rushing rate, and I felt the silent gushes of wind kiss my face. Summer is ending, the frost of fall is in the atmosphere. It's cool, brisk, and fresh. The sun is shining with a great and glistening translucency, and I can hear the soft and susurrus whispers of the trees. It's a beautiful day. Beautiful days are scarce nowadays.
When we got there, it was overflowing with knights. The knights of the church, the knights of inquisition, guardians of defense, every knight with stashes of honor in every color. It inspires me, I train these men, most of them I know well. Some of them were even around when my father was in power. They are true loyal knights.
"Well where do we even start?" Francis says, confused.
"We start by walking inside. C'mon now, hurry." Francis followed me nervously. In truth, I myself am very anxious walking toward the beautiful, intricate building. When I was young, I feared that God was looking down on me from his pedestal, watching me wallow in my shame for my love for which is profane. I was an unholy child, I had greedy desire for money, power, and sexual bliss. Even now, as I step on the careful polish marble, I fear God's hand would smite me down for my hunt for pleasure. But I must maintain my composure for Francis, for this heist, and for myself. The Vatican is relying on me. I am relying on me.
The great wooden doors are open for us, and we enter inside the nave. Our eyes slither up and down the walls. These walls were clothed with paintings of angels and cherubim strumming their harps and tuning their lyres. Stain glass show symbolic images of the lamb, of the cross, and of Christ. The walls were adorned with silver and gold, and even the mahogany pews had a shimmer of gold in their superior design. Beautiful indeed, but it feels much like every other first estate establishment: airless and suffocating. Priests and nuns scurry around among the knights. Francis was eyeing this nun with a pretty face and delicate hands.
"She's a nun Francis."
"So what. Everyone knows that the church is corrupt. Not a rule is heeded, not a regulation heard." Francis kissed his teeth at me and whispered harshly.
"I can't deny that truth. However, it is the church that is corrupt, not us. That's-"
"Bastard tongue. I know." He knew, but he still couldn't take his eyes off of her. I looked at her as well, but something about her was familiar. Although from top to bottom she was clothed, her beauty still shone through. Her eyes were a deep azure blue, and her skin was pale accept for her rosy cheeks. Her nose aquiline and gently hooked, and her lips were a sweet and moist shade of pink.
"She definitely is beautiful, God help her soul." I prayed to myself.
"What do you mean?" Francis asked confused.
"Everyone knows that it's a sin to be beautiful in the world of the corrupt." We saw her give eye contact to me, and there I saw it. Those eyes, so bold and fearless. The eyes that defied me. My eyes grew wide and I was short of breath. "Noel?"
"Did you say something Zach?" Francis asked. She suddenly disappeared behind the corridor, but not without shooting me one last icy glance.
"...Nothing." I carried on through the nave, past the many pews. I reached the crossing, where the Archbishop stood, waiting for us. Archbishop Julian Servais, at seventy-one and still kicking. He had an ugly mug for sure, ugly and quite frightening. I've been told that even in his youth, he was a frightening man. However, he knew his job and responsibility to the church and the Vatican. Or at least, so I heard from my late father. I knelt down in front of him and kissed his ring. When I rose again, he gave me this grumpy look, as if he was disgusted with me.
"Father Servais, many greetings. I hope you had a splendid trip home from the Vatican." I said politely.
"Splendid? Don't make me laugh boy. Because of you negligence, the Pope is furious with this crime. You had better stop this madness soon or the Vatican will have your damn head on a stick. You and your whore of a fiancé." He wobbled out into the hallway. Hmph, at least I have something to fuck, you damn hob knocker.
"Bastard thoughts are just as bad as bastard tongue." Francis reminded me.
"Bastard penis is worse." He giggled to himself.
We followed in the Archbishop's footsteps through the hallways. My foolish, feeble, and ultimately futile attempts at conversation were shot back into my mouth. I surrendered. Francis walked along with me and we came across this door, which was heavily guarded by knights of the church. We were let through, and inside the room was an astonishing sight. Every wall, every table, every square inch of space was covered in riches. Silver necklaces and golden chalices, gold bars and polished gems. Francis's eyes grew wide as he examined the walls and tripped over gold. I sneezed. The atmosphere was airless, suffocating, and on top of that, it was dusty.
"Zach, have you ever seen so much gold in one place?" Francis asked me in awe. I used a handkerchief to wipe my nose.
"Yes Francis, every time I look up and see the blasted sun. Let's get to the investigation please. Father, an approximate amount of ten thousand pounds was stolen yes? Was it ten thousand's worth of gold?"
"No it wasn't actually," he led us further into the center of the room, "The paper money is kept in this box. The pounds were stolen from here." He showed us a box, however it was against protocol to let anyone see the contents, even the Lord such as myself.
"That is odd. Gold, silver, rubies, and diamonds and the bastard took the bloody paper? Why?" I thought out loud.
"Think serf Zach. Just because one is a thief, it doesn't mean he's greedy. If I were a humble serf, forced to take things into my own hands, I would take paper money, which I could use to provide for myself and my family."
"So the thief had no need for riches, they only needed the money." I nodded thinking softly to myself. "But what makes you think that this serf is humble." Francis shook his head at me and rolled his eyes. "What?"
"You really can't think serf at all. Well I'll explain. Being a bastard for so long, I've learned things about serfs. Mainly, and most importantly, I've learned that your knights are not the only ones with a code of chivalry."
"The serfs have their own code of chivalry? Ha! Well I wonder what that could be." I laughed at the idea, but Francis frowned, giving me a disappointed look. I stopped laughing and ultimately felt guilty. I cleared my throat and motioned for him to speak.
"Well they have a basic rule. Among their kind, they could lie, cheat, and murder. But the one unforgivable sin of a serf is to steal from his own."
"I don't understand."
"Well how could you? You have everything. Think about it, it's indeed cruel of a serf to steal from another serf who has next to nothing. It's also about honor and loyalty. Serfs have to band together in order to survive. They have to help each other, not harm each other."
"Hmm. I see." Somehow, I felt rather stupid. I know it sounds foolish, but I never figured serfs to be, well, civilized.
In the corner, I saw something that didn't fit with the rest of the room. It looked rusty and made of cloth and thread. A little black bracelet it was. I went over to where it was and picked it up to examine. It was ordinary, a little black bracelet. Embroidered in the cloth was a small yet intricate design of the sun. On the back there was writing sewn in. "Her Sun" it said. It wasn't worth the dust on the bottom of my shoe, but it was filled with a warm sentimentality. I traced the letters with my index fingers. An amateur made this, maybe a young girl. In its own unique way, it was beautiful.
"Serf's bracelet!" I called out to Francis. He appeared at my side and I gave it to him to examine. He carefully admired the craftsmanship.
"It's beautiful." He tried it on himself and admired it some more. "Her sun," he whispered to himself. I wonder what it means... Zach look! On the inside!" He flipped the bracelet inside out and showed me a dry red stain. I held it up to my face and the scent tickled my nose.
"Blood. The thief's perhaps?"
"Oi! What's going on over there! Hurry up you useless bastards." The grumpy old man said in the corner. As soon as those words escaped his lips, the large doors that allowed us entry swung shut. The loud sound startled the old man to death, but I won't deny the eerie feeling in the room and the uneasiness inside me. I took deep breaths and tried to remain calm as Francis and I walk up to the door. I rested my hand on the handles and pulled. It wouldn't budge. I pulled even harder, and it just wouldn't move.
"It won't budge." I said out loud. Francis tried not to panic, but I could see some fear in his eyes. He grabbed one handle and I grabbed the other. On the count of three, we pulled with all our might, but it didn't move. "Guards! Guards! Open this door this instant!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, while pounding on the door. Then, the slit in the door opened, revealing nothing but two eyes. Two blue and strikingly beautiful eyes. They stared at me, I stared back, and we were in silence until Francis interrupted it.
"What is the meaning of this, who are you?" Francis demanded answers. But those two eyes did nothing, said nothing, they just stared. All I managed to whisper was the name. The name I just can't seem to get out of my mind.
"N-Noel?" I whispered softly to her. Her eyes gently closed, as if to say goodbye, and then she closed the slit. "No wait! Noel! Don't do this please! Let us out!" I banged on the door some more. I kept on banging and calling her name, over and over again. I yelled until I heard a horrifying scream behind the door. It was a man, screaming on the top of his lungs.
"Ah! It burns! Christ it burns! Help me! Help me!!!!" He cried. I was swallowed by the shock and horror. I backed away from the door until I backed myself into a wall. I heard the screams of many men crying bloody murder, like wolves howling in sorrow for the moonless nights. They were like wailing ghosts rattling their chains and begging God for damnation. They echoed through the walls. It was then I smelled it. Fire and blood. Then I heard things smashing against the walls. I flinched and cringed at every sound. Francis stood by the door unable to move a muscle. We must not have noticed, but the old man fainted.
And suddenly all the noises stopped. There was an eerie silence throughout the room. Francis turned around to look at me, fear and shock was written on his face. His eyes were wide with horror and his lips were chapped. He was dreadfully pale. I just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Or rather, I was too afraid to let words drip from my lips. He took deep calm breaths and regained his composure and grabbed the handle this one last time. With all his strength, a little too much strength I may add, he swung the door open. And we came across the most horrible and sickening sight. My heart fell from my chest and gushed into my stomach, I felt my knees give way. My voice cracked as I muttered the words. "Dear God!"
The guards that gave us entry just a moment ago. The knights that were living and breathing just a moment ago. All that was left of them was a large heap of two broken, burned, and destroyed bodies. Their bodies, twisted and thrown together like garbage to be disposed of in the morning. What was once a face was now a skull. Their eyes melted from their sockets, and you can see the liquid ooze down its cheekbone. I found an arm all the way in the corner of the hall. I saw scattered remains of burnt flesh and bone.
Slowly I rose myself up onto my feet and ambled across the room. Francis puked on the ground before him. Slowly, I tried to walk around the dead corpses. However, as I walk down the dreadful hall, I stepped on something. I go to look down and I puked as I see that it was a burnt and bloody ear. I lose my balance and I fall down. So I continued crawling, until I reached the nave. What I saw was the most terrifying and horrendous thing I've ever seen in my life. The wooden pews were burnt to a crisp. Blood was splattered on the walls and spilled on the floor. Stain glass windows were broken and the smoke polluted the air. My lungs were overcome by the toxic oxygen as I puke even more at the sight of ever more burnt corpses. However, what I feared the most, was what was written on the wall behind the grand alter. It was Latin, I knew it well. "Qui esriens in rapinam, Et in corruptum ardere." Let the hungry prey, let the corrupt burn.