Note: Apologies for the delay. I'm in my busiest period at work. Most likely won't be an update on Aug 27th due to that. I will try my hardest, but my health is suffering from overwork :(
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Chapter 148:
Final Departure
The scent of freshly spilled blood filled the air with tension, and there was little time left to escape the palace before they were found by the knights or other rebels. With haste, Silas hurried to the ground, strengthening his feet with mana upon landing.
"I'm ready! Throw the kids down!" Silas yelled, turning to face the wall as he fixed his landing.
Eloise was the first to go down. Maeir held her up like a log, nearly scaring the young girl into tears, but the moment she saw Silas's open arms waiting below, she opened her arms and let Maeir throw her like a bale of hay. With a short run, Silas ran to where Clarence's sister began to fall and caught her with ease, lowering her to the ground as he took another look over his shoulder, checking for any enemies in the sea of dead bodies.
Hearing the clattering of armor, everyone's nerves grew taut. "Those bastards are coming!" Maeir shouted, grabbing Julian by the front of the collar as she lifted him in the air with little caution, tossing the young boy through the air and quickly down to Silas as a small group of knights approached the escaping group from the stone wall.
Silas bit his bottom lip as he ran forward, catching Julian as he used his mana to strengthen his arms. The ten-year old boy was in tears, clutching onto Silas as though he had been left to fall to the ground. "It's alright. I need to put you on the ground to help your sister, okay?" Silas said in a soothing voice to the boy.
Julian was insulted to be considered as childish as his young sister. "I-I'm fine!" He said with a huff, his legs still trembling as he stepped onto the ground, holding onto Silas to support his wobbly legs.
While Julian was adjusting to the ground once again, Silas looked up and saw a sword slice through the air, sending a splash of blood down the side of the stone wall. A knight's figure flew off the side from the impact, his armor clanging aloud as his body was launched over the side, falling to the ground with an audible cracking smash.
"Go!" Maeir's voice could be heard from above, and another knight fell from above, followed by the sound of armor hitting metal. As the small battle continued, Silas watched as a tall figure vaulted over the stone walling, the scent of mana wafting around them as they strengthened their feet with the clumsiness of a young elf. He stumbled as he landed, using his hands to brace the forward momentum of the jump as he rolled slightly, sweat dotting his brow.
Once Clarence landed, Maeir wasted no time as she jumped down from the side of the wall, the Queen held in her arms in a princess carry. While the queen's expression was full of fear and indignation, her arms wrapped around Maeir's neck like a rope, Maeir had no change of expression as she put the woman down on the ground as they landed, allowing the children to run to the side of their mother, their expressions mixed.
"You okay?" Silas asked, looking over Clarence's condition briefly with an anxious frown. The other man had taken a hard hit to the leg on landing, but he did not appear to be limping.
"Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?" Clarence ignored the dull pain and instead looked over Silas, hearing an affirmative response from him. He sighed in relief, laughing lightly as he kept his gaze on Silas, his cheeks tinted pink on the edges. For a moment, it seemed as though the two were in their own world.
In a quiet voice, Maeir stared at the queen with a knowing gaze, her lips taut as she spoke. "I was not lying, Ecaterina." The way Clarence stared at Silas was obvious, his gaze taken by the older elven man with such an air of clumsy love that it made everyone around them feel nauseous. Even with the light in Clarence's eyes focused on him, Silas did not shy away. He only patted Clarence's shoulder, resting his hand on his arm for more than a moment before he lifted his hand, as if it had never been there at all. Unbeknownst to him, a small smile rested on his lips.
Before the two could continue, Maeir patted her son's shoulder, gesturing to the manure cart a short distance away. "I think it's time that we go." No one was excited for the manure cart, but it was the only way to safely guarantee everyone's departure. Though there were no humans in sight, it was only a matter of time before they were found.
With haste, the group ran as if their trousers were on fire, running past the dead bodies with their heads held high, Silas carrying Eloise as Clarence carried Julian, attempting to hide the children from the bloodshed as much as they could. Julian was embarrassed to be treated like a child like his sister, but the sight of dead bodies was too much for him to admit, and he frightfully held onto his brother as he had many times before.
Once they cleared the open space, the group stopped at the manure carriage, anticipating something they would not enjoy to be next. Maeir had already formed a plan for the group, but it would be difficult to know whether the queen and the children would agree to it or not. They had never suffered such grievances before, and it would be difficult for them to adjust.
"Here's what we'll do. We'll place these burlap sacks down here, sit you out of sight in front of the manure, and escape the area. Silas, Clarence, you two ride on the front of the carriage with me." Maeir delegated the plan, her face full of fatigue as she stared over the group, prepared to end the final stretch of the journey and return home to her own family with Silas.
Staring at the manure, appearing still warm from its freshness, there was a flurry of nose curling. "I refuse to touch it!" The queen said indignantly, her nose curling from the stench of fresh manure. "Is there any other way we can do this?"
Silas passed the children a burlap sack from the pile on the cart to cushion their bottoms. "If you don't, you'll never make it out of this area alive." His words were chilly, but they were frank, and the children held onto their sacks with little reluctance. Even Julian, with his bitter expression, held back the few tears he refused to shed as he stood straight up, holding the sack near his chest in his hands. "I promise you you'll only be here for a moment."
With the threat of approaching soldiers, everyone was quick to agree and prepare for a hasty departure. Fortunately, there was a pair of gloves near the manure pile, and Silas donned them without complaints. He swiftly dug through the loose manure and helped lift the children into the divots he carved behind the coach bench, covering what he could with the burlap sacks. The queen, however, was placed just behind the seat, facing Clarence in the middle. All three were placed behind the coach's seat, sitting on the manure. Though they were unhappy with the arrangement, they did all they could to hide in front of the mound of feces.
It was all they could do. Maeir did not have the heart to tell them that they could be struck by arrows if they were seen on the back of the carriage. As the queen was settled in behind Clarence, Silas was standing to the side of the cart, donning a sword with his bare hands in case of approaching enemies. Without a bow and arrows, he felt powerless, but he could only stand tall, watching as another wave of soldiers came their way, noticing the movements by the cart.
"It looks like more knights are coming this way, go!" Silas shouted, staring over his shoulder with concern. Maeir urged the horses forward as Silas quickly lifted himself onto the cart from the ground, nearly landing into Clarence's shoulder as he stood tall, looking over the manure pile towards the running knights, who held swords and bows, preparing to attack at any moment.
"Yah!" The two horses, already having been startled by their sudden appearance and manure-shuffling, neighed audibly as they stomped forward, lifting their legs with haste as Maeir urged them forward again, thrusting them back into the very forest they came. There were no movements from in front of the manure pile, only the sounds of stifled breaths and fear.
"Get down!" Silas shouted, deflecting a stray arrow that began to move towards the front of the carriage.
Still using the mana stone to transform his appearance, Clarence carefully moved behind Maeir and covered the other half of the carriage, lifting his sword with careful movements, protecting his family the best he could. Many of the oncoming arrows missed, but it was enough to make them on edge. As the arrows flew, many missed, while others nearly grazed Silas and Clarence.
One arrow in particular flew at Silas's head, nearly piercing his skull. However, with a swift wave of his sword, Clarence annihilated the arrow before it could pass through Silas's hair. Watching the arrow shatter and fall to the ground, the prince's darkened expression calmed slightly, but the tips of his fingers still trembled, and he felt regret, watching as Silas parried another arrow with a fierce wave of his weapon.
"At least they were busy in the palace for a while." Clarence said, attempting to lighten the tight atmosphere as he stared towards Silas, who stood tall on the manure pile, appearing much like a farmer.
To Clarence, even if he stood in a manure pile, Silas still carried the pure energy of the martyr he once admired, even if he was too foolish to realize it in the past.
Once the arrow was redirected, Silas laughed to himself as he responded to Clarence, "That's true. We must be lucky for once." There was a note of sarcasm in Silas's last words as he shot a smile towards the distant soldiers, watching as their figures gradually grew smaller in size as they tried to run and follow the carriage on foot.
After some time in silence had passed, the queen, stuffed between Maeir's back and the manure pile, watched her son's bashful expression with disbelief, her eyes nearly widened beyond their sockets as Maeir sat forward, hurrying the horses along as she acted as if she heard nothing from the two goofy men.
"Are they dropping off finally?" Maeir asked, keeping the hastened pace for the horses as they continued to cut through the growing foliage and into the wooded area surrounding the palace.
Silas lowered his sword, staring off at the empty distance as he said, "I don't see them anymore. What about you, Clarence?"
Clarence shook his head. "I don't see anything."
"There's no guarantee they won't follow us into the woods. The palace may be in shambles now, but there's no telling what will happen when the king's knights make their rounds. We'll have to wait until the news of the rebellion has spread to know who has won." Maeir spoke her thoughts, guiding the horses forward at a steady pace. "I'm afraid of what will happen next."
The group fell silent, some of their gazes falling on Clarence, the most recently outed elf in their group. Thinking of her own son, the queen found her courage to speak again. "Where are we going after this?" The queen probed, stroking Eloise's head with gentle movements as the cart gently swayed. "Staying in the woods won't keep us safe forever."
Clarence turned towards Maeir, holding back his own thoughts as he stared at the older woman, hoping she would not send them all away together. Feeling the prince's gaze, Maeir finally said, "We'll need to regroup with the rest of the rebel leaders. Right now, we're far from safe. With the Yursear royals with us, we're sitting ducks as it is."
"Wasn't Holland's group supposed to be in this area?" Silas asked. "If we can find them, we can plan our next steps from here."
Julian and Eloise heard the unfamiliar names, still huddled next to their mother, and began to ask in quiet voices what was going on. The queen's expression fell as she stared at the group. her eyes fell on her son as she asked. "What will happen to us from here? And what group are you talking about?"
"You can trust them, mom. That's the group that helped me after I escaped the palace with Silas and his mother." Clarence would not let his family die. He had already begun to repent for his sins and attempt to fix his past mistakes. He could never fully repair the damage he had caused, and the hurt he had inflicted, but he knew if he was able to take responsibility for his actions, his mother would soon follow. "Let's try to find them. Once that happens, we can figure out more from there."
As Clarence spoke, his words grew quiet, until they were almost a whisper. He stared at the side of Silas's face as he fell silent. He always knew he would eventually find his family, and that they would want to split off after they were rescued.
But the thought of separating from Silas again made his stomach fall, and his palms sweat. He had already chased Silas this long, following him for what felt like an eternity. After feeling the sensation of holding the man in his very grasp, he never wanted to lose it again. He was addicted to Silas, down to his very bones, so much so that he refused to let anyone else take the place beside him.
Now that he experienced what Silas had, he felt an even closer connection to the elf, so much so that he wanted to use that path to draw himself closer to Silas. Slowly, Silas had become receptive to him, and so did his mother. With his family safe, maybe he could convince them too how important Silas's existence was to him.
If I can drag out this journey a little longer, at least let me stay by Silas's side just a moment longer, please. Clarence prayed to himself, feeling the sobering worry of separation fill his beating heart.
…
Much like the palace, Theresa's brothel was in very poor condition. After nearly an eternity of banging and smashing sounds, the damage began to subside, and the sound of stomping slowly came to a halt, and Malcolm returned to face Theresa, his expression creepily placid as he looked over the woman his beloved considered a mother.
"Where is he, Theresa?" Malcolm stood in the wreckage of Theresa's, standing over the pieces of shattered glass and wood shards from the broken fine furniture. He kicked the pieces of splintered wood like flecks of dust, unimportant under his heavy, golden gaze. Under the madness in his eyes, there was a desperate longing lurking in his gaze, much like the prince she had seen before only a year ago, dwelling in her very brothel.
Again, that damn royal family. I never should have gotten involved with them. I never should have let them take Alywin. Dammit. Theresa's thoughts were bitter, but her expression remained flat, hiding the concern she held for Alywin and the princesses.
With reservation, Theresa's expression remained stoic, her eyes full of lingering anger and frustration. "I already told you, Malcolm, I don't know." Her tone was growing heavier by the minute, nearly a growl from the base of her throat as she glared at the young man she had little respect for. "You've already destroyed my brothel, and now you're stomping around, asking questions I have no answer for. Do you have no shame?"
A guarding knight stepped forward towards Theresa, his expression threatening. Theresa stood still, her eyes resting on the much taller man with no change of expression. Malcolm raised his hand to stop the man, his smirk full of taunting.
"Your majesty, we've found something." There was a voice from another room, and by the echo of the hall, Theresa was well aware what they could have found. Using the entirety of her will, she kept her face still, holding back the fear that began to climb out of her chest and to her eyes.
Stepping into the room, there was a rug half-covering the floor, a noticeable spot in the ground where the wood had changed color from traffic. The wood appeared flimsy, as if it could have been torn off of the ground with a little bit of strength. With a wave of his hand, Malcolm sent a knight forward to inspect the flooring, and the heavy-armored knight stepped forward. As the man's boot came in contact with the edge of the damaged flooring, his foot fell forward and down into the floor, causing his body to half-kneel at an awkward angle on the floor, his voice cursing out aloud with vulgarities unfit for anyone's ears.
"What the fuck is this!?" Theresa's eyes widened, but she maintained a steady pace as two of her girls followed her, leaving the other girls to stay behind in the safety of the lobby. As she approached the room, she saw Malcolm staring at a non-descript part of the floor with a chilling interest.
Malcolm laughed, his eyes full of dancing lights as he said. "I know where he is." He sang in a sing-song voice, his low voice taunting the taut nerves of Theresa and the girls. He stared over his shoulder at the woman, his eyes bent like crescents. The golden glasses chain he wore glittered around his heightened cheek bones, giving him a refined image compared to the deformed smile he wore. "Move the rug, now."
A set of knights diligently moved the rug to the side of the room, and soon, the floorboards were exposed, showing nothing out of the ordinary. Malcolm, however, stared at the floor with a strange fixation, as if attempting to find something, anything at all, that stuck out of place. It was not until Malcolm poked the edge of a floorboard with his leather shoes did he stop suddenly, the smile on his face widening.
"It's been so long, I nearly forgot. Here it is." Malcolm stepped back, adjusting the gloves on his hands as he lowered his spine, his right hand brushing against the floor with a gentle drop of the hand. His fingers probed the edge of a floorboard, dancing around like a dangerous taunt.
Contrary to his soft movements, however, it took only a moment for his hand to grip the floor with enough strength to make the floorboards creak. With a ferocious tug, he pulled back an entire piece of wood, exposing the darkness underneath. Throwing the piece of wood aside, Malcolm continued to keel, lowering his hand into the empty space before it came in contact with something. Laughing to himself, Malcolm spoke again.
"I know where he is." His golden eyes gleamed as he spoke in a song-like voice. He had found the scent of what he was looking for.
Never in her life had Theresa seen something so horrific. She watched as the man, still donning his regal attire and leather gloves, tare apart the floor like an animal. The pieces of shattered wood and whole planks were thrown to the side, causing soldiers to step aside to avoid the flying pieces of Malcolm's rage. The wood was thrown in a disordered fashion, discarded away as the furniture blocking the trail came into view. Theresa shielded her girls behind her, receiving a heavy hit from one of the wood planks in the center of her back.
"Theresa!" One of the girls attempted to help Theresa, but the older woman shook her head, carefully touching the tender skin of her back that would surely bruise. Staring over her shoulder, her once neatly-styled hair disheveled and spilling out of her bun, she made eye contact with Malcolm, who smiled like a demonic being dragging an angel straight to hell.
It was not until a small sliver of space was exposed in the floor did Malcolm stop, his bangs full of sweat, his mouth full of moist pants. Pushing back his dampened hair, Malcolm stood with a wicked smile, his eyes dancing over Theresa dangerously, as if proving his intelligence to the woman who thought she had outsmarted him.
"Keep them all here. If I return with him, arrest them." Malcolm uttered, jumping in the hole before anyone could respond. With rapid movements, he ran down the path, his steps nearly frantic as his figure disappeared into the unfamiliar darkness. Once the sound of his steps disappeared, the knights surrounded Theresa and the girls that followed her, keeping her still in place, allowing no one else to escape.
Upstairs, out of view from the hall, the corpse of a knight lay hidden in the shadows of Theresa's unlit office. Their throat was marked with dark bruises from rope, his sword laying on the ground next to his dead body. A figure stood over them, staring down at the dead Yursinean soldier with no pity.
"It's time to hunt Malcolm down." Theo said, his eyes glittering with determination as he stepped over the dead body, wiping the blood on his sword onto the pants of the dead man with a cold expression. "Alywin won't be safe from him unless I kill him."
Malcolm thought he was all powerful, surrounded by knights as he attempted to recapture Alywin. Time and time again, he attempted to capture what little joy he had in his childhood and push it upon Alywin. Unfortunately for Malcolm, he did not realize that Theo was still alive, and still protecting Alywin from him. He was, and never would be, a match for Theo, and neither would the knights. He had spent too many days preparing for this moment, the moment that he could kill Malcolm with his two bare hands. There were still soldiers throughout the brothel, and it would be difficult to enter the hidden path without being seen, unless he were to wipe them out.
I have to hurry. Alywin and the girls will be caught otherwise. Theo thought to himself emotionlessly as he swiftly moved to the door, the hood on his head still covering his face as he stood by the door frame, watching as a soldier passed, holding his sword in his scabbard. Once the man passed, Theo lifted his arms, creeping out of the doorway as he covered the man's face, stuffing his mouth with a cloth as he dragged the struggling man inside the room swiftly with little noise. Once the man was in the darkness, no more sounds could be heard from the outside, bringing a strange sense of calm to the deserted upstairs space.
Waiting for Malcolm in the downstairs lobby, a small group of knights surrounded Theresa's girls like a pack of hyenas, their expressions disgustingly familiar to the group of women as they stared forward, their expressions mixed between bitter, fear, and rage. They were well aware of their positions and how the knights viewed women like them. They were cattle, commodities. Their usefulness would be short lived to the pig-like men.
As if reading their thoughts, one of the knights, watching their expressions shift, laughed aloud, his smile wide and prideful. "You all may as well turn yourselves in now. Maybe if you surrender, we'll be merciful." The other knights laughed with the speaking man, their thoughts full of ill intentions.
Theresa's girls stood gathered together, their eyes gleaming dangerously as they stared at the knights standing around their establishment, preparing to fight to keep their matriarch safe and sound regardless of Malcolm's intentions. The small group of knights, if quickly disarmed, would easily be killed if attacked correctly. If they did not take action soon, even their lives would be at risk. They would not allow their hard work to be erased in vain.
Yet another body was added to the pile upstairs by Theo. Soon, more blood would stain the aged floorboards of Theresa's.
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Strangely still getting used to calling the queen Ecaterina. Still will most likely call her "the queen" out of habit :l
Hi all! God, I'm exhausted ;; between my work trip last week and this week of prepping for the semester to start, I'm completely drained. The business trip was tough, and I got a good roasting in front of the big bosses no less (mix between humble brags about me from colleagues to jokes on my flakiness at my own expense as I sat there).... It's frustrating seeing people treat me like an idiot, but I don't say anything, because I need my job ahaha. My accolades speak for themselves ;)
I work in higher education administration, so it's pretty cutthroat, like this latest chapter of YMtK! Though it took me longer than usual to finish this, I actually enjoyed this chapter. I had to cut a good chunk out due to not flowing well, so it severely slowed me down. Clare-bear is still obsessed for Silas, but I can't throw it around much when they're fighting, you know? I feel like he stares at Silas lovey-dovey yandere-ie when we're not looking ... hm.
Anyway, thank you all again for the lovely comments. I haven't had time to respond, but y'all are gorgeous little beans. Much love from me! Thank you always for reading!