At precisely eleven o'clock at night, a shadow leapt from the second floor window of the Gensweathe residence, landing softly on the lush grass, and bolted in the direction of the Willdyer manor.
The moonlight was her guide amongst the inky sky. As Merry hid behind illuminating lamp posts and slipped into secluded alleyways, she kept her breaths short and silent to avoid attracting attention. Of course, it wouldn't be peculiar to stumble on a noble wearing a long coat, gloves and hat meandering through town this late into the night—but if that noble was underage, then there would be a problem.
Her nose wrinkled in disgust when she caught a whiff of alcohol from a bar nearby. Raucous laughter and shouts penetrated her ears, and Merry was bewildered at how they could be enjoying this moment when the town governor's son was to be killed a week later.
Two drunkards waddled out of the bar, clinking their bottles together and downing the liquor. Merry was about to carry on, when she had an idea.
The men had finished every last sip of their alcohol and discarded the bottles on the streets, waddling away once again to where their subconscious will take them. Merry picked up one and smashed it against the curb, satisfied when her eyes glossed over the jagged edges.
She continued her journey, not stopping for a breather until she reached the gates. They were tall and stretched across the estate, with stone as their frame and iron grills on the inside. Merry threw the bottle over the side, aiming for her favourite spot on the walls of the manor.
Crash! The sound of glass crinkling and shattering shot through the air as Merry heard the hurried footsteps of gatekeepers and guards approaching the scene. Triumphant, she gripped on the iron grills and swung herself up, nimble and agile like a thief.
She went around the compound and stopped at Careth's window. Merry rubbed her gloved palms before repeating the same routine, except this time she had to wedge her fingers right in between the cracks of the walls in order to heave herself up. She paid attention to where her foot was this time, as the last slip-up was something she didn't want to experience ever again.
When she was finally eye-level with the window, Merry knocked with her forehead, and finally entered the house when Careth let her in.
—
At precisely eleven o'clock at night, Careth got up from his bed and opened the cupboard, removing the fake board and retrieved his book sack.
"Clothes... map... the note and book... money..." He went through every single paraphernalia again and again, to ensure nothing was left out. Now, all he needed was abundant amounts of food, a handy weapon, and he was set to venture for Accruxia on a mission to find Dotilda, and most importantly, get away from this forsaken place.
He had already returned all the storybooks back to the library except for one. It was the book that had the note left it in, and Careth believed that it would be good evidence to Dotilda when he explains his circumstances if he finds her.
If not, it'll just be something to accompany him.
Careth exhaled a long breath, focusing. Merry is to arrive soon, and once she's here, they will begin to scavenge. In truth, Careth could hear the blood pound in his ears and he felt adrenaline creeping up his veins. No matter how much he tries to suppress his anxiety, it always bubbles back up more intensely. So, he took the initiative to set up his bed, putting a pillow under the sheets and hoped it would fool the servants for even just a second.
A hard banging on glass startled him and he swiveled around to find Merry hitting her forehead on the window. Careth rushed to let her in, rubbing her sore spot worriedly. "That must hurt. I'm sorry I didn't notice you."
Merry coughed awkwardly and said hurriedly, "It's fine. Come on, let's get going."
He tied up the sack and left it below the windowsill, grabbed an additional bag, before heading for the door. With a deep breath, Careth unlocked it and the children went their separate ways, hoping to reunite once again at midnight.
—
Merry had already memorized the path she had to take in order to get to the armory. Although she wasn't good at memorizing, for example the steps and ingredients needed to make casserole, she found out that if pressured enough, one could memorize anything quickly and efficiently. In this case, her best friend's life was on the line, so it was a pretty stressful situation.
Her steps were light as she ran down the corridors, keeping an eye out for the guards. Thanks to their previous escapade, she knew about the intervals and when they would come around the corner, so she had a better time slipping out of sight.
Merry finally found the entrance to the armory and took a hair pin from her coat. She picked the lock, doing her best and hoping it would give in. To her utmost gratefulness, the lock clicked open and the door sunk inwards.
She closed the door and switched on the lantern, hastily grabbing a pistol, sufficient ammunition and a satchel to store the items in. Merry dumped them into the satchel and clutched it to her chest, all the while oblivious to the footsteps outside the armory.
As she switched off the lantern and exited the room, Merry was about to break into another run, when a damp cloth covered her nose and mouth and her arms were caught from behind. She squirmed, but to no avail as the scent of a drowsing drug made their way into her systems, and eventually, her body went limp.
—
The dining hall entrance was not locked, and neither was the left door beside the mantle. Careth instantly had a bad feeling due to the incredible luck he just encountered. It was not strange for the entrance to be unlocked, as Master Willdyer would sometimes come down for a late night supper alone—but for the left door to be open, that was concerning.
Careth had discovered that the door actually leads to the pantry one afternoon when he was having a chat with the chef. That explains why the servants never entered through there, because it was just a storage room for foodstuffs. Nevertheless, he went on with the plan and began stuffing his bag with vegetables, fruits and canned foods.
His bag was almost filled to the brim when he heard the dining entrance creak open, and Careth froze. A shadow covered his squatting figure as the boy turned to look behind him, and the only thing that went through his mind was the curse Rian had introduced a few hours earlier.
"Are you hungry, little Careth?" Sir Felluor said, a sadistic smile on his lips.
Careth wanted cry. He wanted to just pinch himself and wake up from this horrible, awful nightmare, but he knew he wasn't dreaming, because the pain he felt from his nails digging into his skin was very, very real.
"Y-Yes, sir. Grandfather. I'm- I wanted to, um, cook something myself."
No one would've believed that, and he knew. Sir Felluor dipped down to his height and chuckled, fully enjoying the show and absolute desperation of his grandson.
"Cook? Well, I don't see why you need to do it outside when you could just use the kitchen next door."
For a second, Careth was confused by his statement. But when Sir Felluor produced a sack and poured its contents out, and Careth saw that it was his clothes, map, note and book, he had lost all will and hope to retaliate.