Chosen

Within the room, hidden deep underground, Arthur had grown comfortable in the welcome light of candles that illuminated the table. Littered with notes, tomes, jars full of powders and other ingredients, his workstation had also become the normal haunt of this alchemist. Though working for the order of paladins, ordained by the church and by the king, had its own rewards as well.

Poring over his latest project, the sudden knock on the oaken door to his right shocked the dark haired introvert. “Come,” he called out, straightening in the wooden chair.

Groaning in protest, the heavy barrier opened to reveal the familiar visitor clad in the black and gold of their order who grinned as he stepped in. “You have a visitor,” Kurt stated as he glanced at the disorganized mess. “Though I understand your reluctance to leave your cave, other than for food once in a while.”

“This cave,” he pressed as he rose, “Has supplied you and your fellow paladins with healing potions and other things that’s kept you alive.”

“I know a few clerics who would argue,” the knight grinned. Backing into the hallway once more, he motioned. “He’s upstairs in the keep’s entry.”

“Who is it,” Arthur inquired, closing the door behind him and then moved to follow.

“Not sure, someone from Carbost.”

“Hmm,” he mused aloud, now curious.

“He just mentioned that it was urgent and he has a baby with him,” Kurt nudged the alchemist. “Was it that blonde that you told me about?”

Arthur slowed his pace, now eyeing the knight of Arhus. “What? You’re not serious.”

Kurt grinned, wagging a brow.

Hurrying upstairs, through long halls and passed various rooms, he made his way into the busy entryway. Sunlight pouring in through the open, small gate illuminated younger squires unloading a wagon as Arthur’s eyes fell on the familiar face now eyeing him quietly. Baby cradled in his left arm, Kavayen’s demeanor wasn’t one welcoming a potential son-in-law.

Nodding, Arthur slowed as he glanced to the beautiful little face peeking up through the white blanket, then back to her grandfather. “Who’s this,” he asked, though already had a suspicion.

Brow furrowed angrily, the man glared for a long moment. “Your daughter,” Kavayen stated, handing her to him, albeit reluctantly.. “Take care of her.”

“Wait,” Arthur took the bundle. “What happened to Bianka?”

A quiet pain in the man’s face told him all he needed to know. Turning, Kavayen left, leaving Arthur holding his new daughter. A responsibility that he had no earthly idea how to raise or care for. Glancing back down to her, she quietly eyed him and the innocence brought a smile to his face. One that he hadn’t felt in a while, not since Bianka and her parents left Laksay nearly a year ago now.

Turning, he carried her to his room, downstairs.

**********

Herblon glanced about the neighbors and merchants moving up and down the main thoroughfare, some eyeing the priest and then to the sheriff knocking on the door to the carpenter’s home. Grinning to each, he did his best to ensure that they had no suspicions about what was going on. Rumors would spread later anyway, but the truth of this matter was far worse, he mused.

Leaning in, he whispered to the sheriff who appeared about ready to break the door down. “We can say nothing about their daughter’s missing body.”

“I know,” Sir Michael nodded, glancing at him with a look of irritation. A responsible man who also felt helpless about these past events. “They just…,” he continued as the door opened, revealing Elizabeth. “Madam, sorry for the hour but we need entry. Now.”

“Of course,” she backed, concern on her face as she eyed the priest and then the other armed men now following into the modest living room.

“Where is she,” Sir Michael inquired, determination in his tone.

She closed the door and eyed him, then Herblon. “Gone.”

A word that stopped them all in their tracks as Herblon spoke up first. “Gone? Where?’

“I don’t know,” she replied, sighing. “I woke this morning and she was gone. Kavayen’s left to try and find out what happened to her,” her account seemed off as her hazel green eyes darted between them.

“Why didn’t your husband let me know,” the sheriff asked, aggravated. “That’s why I’m here.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “He’s been...very upset, as are we all, about what happened. He left in the night without saying anything. I’m just waiting for him to return,” hands wrung together as she spoke.

“Alright,” Herblon’s calm voice seemed to bring peace to the room. “Please, let us know when he returns.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “Hopefully it’ll be soon.”

Herblon eyed the sheriff who seemed unconvinced as the knight motioned to his men. “Search the house.”

Having no say in this matter, Herblon stepped out of the way and next to Elizabeth as they watched the four men begin opening cupboards, boxes and then headed upstairs. “Please be respectful,” the priest implored.

“As always,” Michael replied, though the middle aged servant of Yaeby knew better.

Glancing to the tailor, “This won’t take long, I promise.”

She eyed him in return, nodding. “It’s alright.”

Watching her closely, he knew certain things about people that most missed. Subtle tells that people who had never been taught properly how to lie gave away. There was definitely more to this story, he mused, though kept his peace. A part of him sympathized with what she had been going through, now to have to stand by as the sheriff and his men sifted through her belongings. An indignity that only criminals should have to endure.

Soon, they returned downstairs and the sheriff eyed the owner. “Your husband normally take his weapons and coat when he’s in a hurry?”

“Depends,” she replied. “Sometimes his sword is the first thing he grabs, especially after something kills my daughter,” her voice rose in tone with each word.

Herblon placed his hand on her forearm, as much to comfort as to warn. “We’ll be going. Again, please let us know when Kavayen returns.”

Nodding, she sighed, eyeing him. “Of course.”

Moving toward the door, the sheriff led his men out as Herblon moved to follow. Quietly, he exited and pulled the door closed behind him. Tension in the air, Michael climbed into the saddle of his horse, “She’s lying.”

“That’s quite an accusation,” Herblon warned as he stood by his own mount, rather than join them. “She’s still grieving the loss of their only child. Our search needs to broaden for the one that killed their daughter. I have a feeling if we find it, we’ll find the little girl as well.”

Pursing his lips, the sheriff nodded reluctantly. Reining his horse around, he spurred it on as the four thundered away, parting the crowded street full of merchant wagons and locals. As he watched them ride off, the lingering question still in the back of his mind was: Why this family?