Huge thank you to Roz for the ko-fi!! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡
Chapter 137:
The Old Man
"Old man, it's Beau. Open up." Deep within the palace, Beau had tucked himself away. Old, hazy memories guided his path forward. Periodically, he stopped momentarily, trying to conjure from the deep recesses of his mind the correct path to follow. His fine-tuned nose did little to help guide him. Dust and mildew were the only thing polluting the still air.
Finally, he had found the door, hardly familiar anymore with age, and knocked, controlling his strength so the door did not collapse with each collision with his fist.
The door to the hidden door in the cellar slowly opened, and a decrepit looking hand, the fingernails, long and pointed, held the side of the door like a cryptic chain. There was a dim, gravelly voice that responded to Beau, motioning for him to come inside as the door was pushed open more with an audible whine.
"You never come to visit me anymore, Beau." The man said with a thing, an indistinguishable drawl. "Unless you need something, that is." The man's hair was long, draping around his face like a limp rag. The upper half of his face was covered by a draping cloak, strangely worn, as if he were standing outside in the sun, rather than in the dark depths of the hidden room.
As Beau entered, the door was swiftly closed and locked behind him, the heavy metal locks clicking into place with sonorous thudding sounds. The wood door was heavy, and Beau used some strength to force the locks shut behind him, as if he had done it many times before. The old man stood to the side, watching Beau with his sunken-eyes, appearing tired. The smile on his wrinkled face was warm.
"Why are you here?" The old man asked, moving across the small room to a dilapidated wooden table, where he lowered himself into a rickety old chair.
"I'm here to get out of here. One of my prisoner's escaped, and now that foolish false king wants my head." Beau explained briefly, standing by the table, staring at the old man with an impatient expression. "I came to you for help escaping."
"You're finally leaving the palace? I'm surprised, Captain. I expected you to die here, just like me." The old man laughed, coughing as he inhaled a cloud of dust from the dusty surface of the table.
Staring at the old man with a frown, Beau reached into his armor and threw a fair-sized satchel of gold onto the table, the clattering coins spreading across the table as the fabric bag fell open. "This should be more than enough."
The old man reached out his hand, stroking the gold with the surface of his hand, his long nails tapping on the coins as he smiled with a toothy grin. "More than enough for me to pass comfortably."
Beau raised a brow, almost hesitant to ask. "You're speaking as though you'll die tomorrow."
"Nevermind that. Come here." The old man stood, using the table to leverage himself up from the chair as his back was hunched. He walked, slowly, to the side of the wall. There stood a bookshelf, where the wood panels appeared nearly fragile on its frame. The old man motioned for Beau to move it, and Beau was quick to move the bookshelf, moving it with little strain.
As the bookshelf moved, stirring up the dust in the room. The wood floors, having already been stained and scratched with wear, showed a worn path, where the bookshelf had been moved many times before. Behind it, was a narrow, dark tunnel. The cold breeze emanating from it was obvious, it was a path that led to the outside.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Beau asked with a face of surprise, staring at the old man as if he had been lied to, "How did you hide this all this time?" Beau was bewildered.
"Don't ask so many questions of an old man, Captain. I don't have much breath." The old man took in a shaky breath. Beau stared at the old man, slowly blinking. The old man scoffed in response, "No care for this old man. Well, that's fine. This is the last thing I can do for you, Beau Laurent." The old man said in his wispy voice, nearly losing his voice as he stared at the thin, previously hidden hold in the wall. It would only be large enough for Beau to use if he contorted his body some. "How does it feel to escape the very halls you've caged prisoners in?"
The captain fell silent, knowing full well who the man was alluding to. "You must have watched that damned Holland Joey escape then?"
The old man shrugged, smiling like a fool. "I do not monopolize who uses these paths, Beau Laurent." Staring at the captain's dark face, he continued to laugh as he added, "He wasn't the only one that traveled these paths. This path opens to anyone with enough gold."
"I knew I should have raided this place." Beau mumbled under breath, staring down the tunnel in annoyance.
"And betray your promise? Naughty child." The old man coughed, his finger shakily pointing down the windy tunnel, "And if you did that, you would not be escaping right now, now would you?"
"What about you, old man? Are you staying in this damn palace, even while it's on the verge of collapse?" Suddenly, Captain Laurent spoke up, staring at the old man he once saw like a strict father-figure. He knew of many people coming and going through the paths, but would he be one to travel through them as well?
The strange old man only shook his head solemnly. "I don't have much time left. Staying to watch the Yursinean monarchy fall will be the highlight of this old man's life." He laughed, his throat airy, making a whistle-like sound.
Beau shook his head, silently marveling at the old man like he was a dusty painting on the wall: long forgotten, but always watching. Beau nodded his head at the old man, taking in the ragged, crooked shell.
"I guess this is goodbye, old man." Beau said, the finality in his voice hanging heavy in the air.
"Goodbye, Beau. Take care of yourself. And enjoy the freedom of the outside for me!" The old man cackled again, "The air tastes much sweeter as a free man!" The old man slowly turned away from Beau, hobbling back to his rickety seat. Beau watched the old figure, one that once stood so tall and imposing in his knight's armor, one that made everyone around him tremble, even a young Beau, who was fearless in front of everyone else.
"Goodbye."
Beau entered the narrow space, nodding towards the old man one last time before he disappeared into the darkness of the hidden tunnel. Once his figure completely disappeared, the other man watched the tunnel for a bit longer, straining his hairy ears for any noise from his once young, small mentee.
"Good luck, child." The dim light in the room slowly faded, all but the small halo of candlelight shining.
Though he could not see well, Beau lifted his hands and felt his way forward through the narrow passage, stepping with careful trepidation, knowing that soon, he would be out of the palace, and on his way to freedom.
The only thing I need to do now is escape alive. Beau thought with a determined frown, waving away a cobweb that had nearly brushed across his face. Then I will figure out my next steps.
…
The anxiously awaited tea time had quickly arrived after a night of sleeplessness for Philomena and Charlotte. There was a trace of tension in the air, knowing that there was a possibility of escaping the Yursear palace right before their eyes. There would be no more palace politics, no more worries of rebels invading the palace, only a rapid trip out of the Yursear Kingdom and back to safety, back to where they belonged.
But, even in the lingering excitement, there was always the concern of being caught by Malcolm. Charlotte woke up slowly, pondering this thought as her maids tended to her, her eyes dim with sleepiness as they helped her dress for the day in a simple floral printed, gown, the train light and embellished sweetly, barely long enough for her to hold in the crook of her arm.
"Summon Lady Philomena." Charlotte said to her maids as she finished dressing for the day, her eyes narrowed as she thought of what the day had yet to bring.
After Philomena's arrival, the pair quietly discussed the deal the strange man had made. Philomena, worried for Alywin's safety, believed they had to take Alywin out immediately, but Charlotte was still weary, looking to hear more about the proposed escape before she could agree.
After all, there was a chance the man was a spy sent by Malcolm. They could never be too careful.
Time felt as though it were passing slowly, but very soon, Charlotte and Philomena, accompanied by Basch, arrived at the tea room, the tea and cookies having already been prepared for their recurring visitor. As the door was shut, Charlotte's personal guard standing watch, the painting on the wall moved again, and out stepped the dark figure, dressed in traveling clothes, appearing as though he was on the move himself.
Stepping down from the portrait and onto the ground, Theo dusted off his pants with a wave of his hand, his eyes narrowed with a smile. "So, I take it you've thought over my offer?" He asked, staring at the dark circles under Philomena's eyes.
"Let me ask this," His gaze moved to Charlotte as she stared at him, speaking in a low tone, "You said you would take us out of the palace. How do you plan to do it? Malcolm may catch us if we try to leave, after all."
Expecting such a question, Theo reached into the satchel behind him, closely watched by Basch, as he unrolled a large piece of parchment, the words written in a language unfamiliar to them, but Theo read it as though it were simply laid out in front of him.
"My plan for you all is this." He brought the parchment to the table and laid it out for them to see, resting to the side of the uneaten cookies and tea that had been carefully prepared. "First, you bring the contents of the letter up to Malcolm directly, and gauge his temper. He won't want to sully the good relationship between the Bethellian Kingdom and the palace, so we will most certainly let you go." Theo paused, nodding his head as he continued. "Once Malcolm clears you, you'll prepare to leave as normal."
"Then?" Charlotte asked.
"Then," Theo let out a small laugh as he explained, "You and your ladies in waiting will enter the carriage. Once your servants have finished packing your items, you all will leave the palace, and follow the designated route I've set. Malcolm's men will without a doubt lose track of you once you leave the palace."
Basch listened to the plan wordlessly, as did Charlotte, pondering Theo's words as she spoke. "What about Marquis Cyneric? You said he would be joining us as well."
"You'll have a servant in the carriage." Theo said seriously, "We'll dress Alywin as one of your maids, and then place him in your carriage, and-"
"Pardon me?" Philomena suddenly asked, her surprise filling her face. "P-putting Marquis C-Cyneric in what?"
"A maid uniform, of course."
The room fell silent for a moment, leaving an awkward pause to hang in the air as Theo stood nonchalantly, as if what he said were natural.
Charlotte rested her head in her hand as she said, "Do you think the marquis would wear that? Why should we humiliate him like that?"
Theo shook his head. "They won't search your carriage, but they will look into it. If Alywin were to go as he is now, they would never let him out of the palace." Charlotte stared at Theo, noticing the change in expression as he spoke about Alywin. Theo paused, rephrasing his words as he continued, "Don't worry about Alywin. He'll do as I ask."
Philomena nodded her head vigorously, tears nearly dripping from her eyes. "If it means saving Alywin, I'll do anything to help." She stared towards Theo, her eyes sparkling.
"If you agree, then in three days a carriage will be prepared. Marquis Cyneric will meet you that morning in servant's clothes at the gate, and your luggage will be stocked by the time you get there. Once the three of you are in and the guards check the carriage, you'll leave. Is that enough?"
Charlotte listened quietly, pondering to herself before she finally nodded in agreement. "I'll accept on one condition." Charlotte gracefully sat back in her chair, her eyes resolute, "Tell me your name."
"I'm glad you accepted, Princess Charlotte." Theo said, staring at the princess with a testy smile. "My name is-"
Before Theo could finish his words, there was a knock at the door, alerting the group someone had arrived. The knock was not loud, signaled from Basch, but it was enough to stop their conversation where it stood. They were unsure who stood at the door, but it was time for the meeting to end.
"Three days, then." Theo left after the plans had been discussed, disappearing again into the wall like a snake. The painting barely moved, as if it had not moved in the first place. Charlotte and Philomena adjusted their sitting posture, prepared to greet the unexpected guest if necessary.
As Basch allowed a maid into the room, Charlotte returned to her previous thoughts. Marquis Cyneric would be a much stronger ally in the future, after the fall of the current royal family. Attempting to placate Malcolm would be a losing move, and Charlotte was prepared to do anything to maintain her stronghold within the Yursinean nobility. She could only agree, knowing all that was at stake
It would be an interesting journey.
…
On the other side of the kingdom, night had already fallen, and two figures were laying in the same bed, their expressions full of fatigue after a day of testing mana garments and assisting with the last of the war preparations with Angeline. Silas, laying on his side, stared towards the prince, who was laying on his back with his eyes closed, looking unable to fall asleep as his expression continued to grow awkward as he felt Silas's green eyes staring at him.
After finding out Clarence was an elf, Silas felt a mixture of emotions, predominantly a sense of irony, having hated the elves for as long as he did. However, he did feel sorry for the other man, so full of hatred for so long, caused by race and a meaningless war he would soon hope to end within his lifetime.
Dazed, Silas felt his eyes falling on the side of the prince's head. His hair seemed limper than usual, almost as withdrawn as he had been all week after discovering he was elven. It appeared as if Clarence had given up on taking care of himself as of late. His clothes were wrinkled, as if hastily worn, and his hair was duller than usual, as if all of the prince's energy had been spent.
Without thinking, Silas instinctively reached out his hand, taking a small piece of Clarence's hair between his fingers. Clarence opened his heavy eyes, his blue eyes locking onto Silas's with a mixture of bewilderment and excitement, the tips of his cheeks flushing pink.
Silas scoffed, pulling his hand away as if he had just touched a searing hot pan.
"You need to wash your hair." Silas said abruptly, turning his back to Clarence as a flood of red washed over his embarrassed face.
He could not believe he was just touching Clarence's hair.
And he got caught.
Silas bit back a groan as he brought his hand up to his red face, the same hand that had touched the prince's hair.
"Do I?" Clarence asked softly, his voice heavy with exhaustion, "Sorry, I've been trying to figure out how to do it properly, but it seems I still mess it up. The maids at the palace made it seem so easy."
Silas paused, staring at the prince's drooping expression with a frown before he said, "Tomorrow, I'll help you wash your hair again. Maybe you'll remember how to do it properly this time." His voice was low, but it carried a note of doting under the heavy sarcasm.
"I'd like that." The prince let out in a small voice, his face beaming red as he turned away from Silas, the thoughts crossing his mind nearly too embarrassing for him to face the other man.
In truth, Clarence had dreamed of the time Silas helped bathe him before. Embarrassingly, it was a repeated dream for him while he lay in bed, resting at night. At times, within the dream, Silas would not speak, only gently running his fingers through his hair as he did before, other times, he would speak in a gentle, caressing tone. He would speak into the prince's ears, his face dyed red with the flush of the warming water as his hands caressed Clarence's bare skin, snaking below his waist and-
While Clarence turned away, attempting to sleep his embarrassment away, Silas's face carried a tint of red as the room grew quiet, feeling almost ambiguous as the room had a trace of warmth, reminiscent of two people discovering love for the first time.
Why did I offer to help him again? Silas pondered to himself, feeling as though his recent fatigue had driven him insane, speaking such strange words. What's wrong with me?
It was only a matter of time before the two came to their senses and uncovered the thinly-veiled feelings they shared. If only one of them could shatter the glass screen between them.
…
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And we're back :D Thank you all for your continued patience! My store will be opening this week (I can't believe it), so I've been finalizing stuff with my florist/ contractor. I'm working on getting some YMtK merch, specifically prints, up on my etsy store as soon as I sort my legal stuff around. It's much harder than it looks :)))))) Fucking tax forms
But, we get more crossdressing, more naughty thoughts (Clare!), and an impending war >y< The main story is wrapping up~~ I just adore Silas and Clare's parts ;u; They give me warm fuzzies.
Apologies for any errors in advance, as I'm using my bum laptop (visiting home for mother's day :D). I'm working on getting another video up on my youtube as well for Bekkouame, so if you were following that, it'll be up soon! Thank you all again for the lovely support, and we'll be seeing you all again soon ;y;