Chapter Eight
Dr. Harten rode his horse through the hills down to Brixley Road. The road had been under construction for a while due to political squabbles between the oligarchy system and the parliament. The Volga household found itself caught in the middle. Harten suspected that Frederick's gambling habit was to blame for the road's five-year stagnation, and he feared it might also be the reason for the disappearance of his newborn infant.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as the only thing that made sense to his world was gone, and he couldn't bear losing their female child too. He rode swiftly, cutting through the drizzle of the rain. Arriving at the tee junction, he relied on his gut feeling, and a remote view of the location guided him to the left.
As he rode like a madman, he navigated the next turn sharply, only to spot a familiar carriage with its distinct stale green hue that had recently passed by the house. He eased his pace upon seeing it parked at a nearby bar.
Dismounting his horse silently, he tethered it to a post around the corner and observed his surroundings for a moment. Noticing that the bar also doubled as an inn for travelers, he ventured inside. Stepping through the door felt like entering a different realm altogether, as the atmosphere was heavy with dullness and the stench of stale odors permeated the air.
Harten noticed the barman, who appeared indifferent to his surroundings, and took a seat at one of the stools. He cleared his throat to signal the barman's attention, prompting the latter to approach.
"Have you seen a man in an ox-blood waistcoat carrying a package pass through here?" Harten inquired politely, wiping sweat from his neck with a forced smile.
The barman met his gaze with dead eyes. Harten understood their unspoken communication and discreetly slipped a wad of cash, but the barman remained unmoved, continuing to polish his tumbler.
Harten added more cash, yet the barman remained stoic. Feeling his frustration rise, Harten begrudgingly added even more cash. The barman twirled his mustache, pocketed the money, and pointed upstairs, handing Harten an extra key with a room number.
Harten ascended the stairs to find multiple rooms, each lacking numbered placements on the doors. Suddenly, the piercing cries of a baby and the sounds of a woman in distress echoed from one particular room. Harten cautiously approached, realizing both sounds emanated from the same place. Just then, the door across swung open, revealing two men exiting. Harten quickly averted his gaze to avoid detection by any known dignitaries.
Once the coast was clear, he burst into the room to find his infant, whose eye color matched his own and whose hair resembled her mother's. However, to his dismay, he discovered the same man he had witnessed at the castle, now choking a woman to death – or perhaps it was their twisted form of intimacy. Without hesitation, Harten scooped up his child and fled before the assailant could intervene.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harten spotted the man advancing towards something. With swift determination, Harten darted through a nearby passage and leapt down the stairs in a flurry of movement.
The man, still unclothed and armed, noticed Harten and opened fire. Harten sought refuge behind a table as the assailant continued shooting. Fortunately, fate intervened as the woman he had seen earlier plunged a dagger into the man's back, saving Harten from certain peril.
Harten realized the commotion had subsided and stood up, observing the chaos caused by the man's misguided shots, one of which had struck a bar patron. Hastily, he fled outside only to find the police already en route. In a panic, they opened fire, prompting Harten to dart around a corner. Running down the street, he felt the searing pain of a bullet wound.
Seeking refuge, he ducked into a nearby building under construction, collapsing to catch his breath and check on his child, who thankfully appeared unharmed amidst the chaos. "You seem to thrive in chaos," he murmured to her.
Retrieving a letter from his pocket, left behind by his wife, he read its contents through tear-filled eyes. Determination fueled him as he rose from his temporary respite. "I'm bringing you home, Ariella," he whispered, steeling himself for the journey ahead.
Evading the police, he navigated through the town, his path obstructed by more law enforcement. Noticing the authorities questioning the barman and the hooker, Harten's presence was betrayed when the latter pointed him out, alerting the police. Despite the pain and exhaustion, he pressed on, his bleeding legs weakening with each step.
As he continued running, breaths ragged and heart pounding, Harten narrowly avoided being struck by an immaculate carriage adorned with intricate golden designs. A voice called out to him from within.
"Harten, Harten, what are you doing?" It was Princess Bianca of Crimelan. Pulling up beside him, she observed his disheveled state with concern, initially mistaking him for a specter until she recognized the harsh reality. Without hesitation, she opened the carriage door for him.
Meanwhile, the police approached, only finding trails of Harten's fading blood, washed away by the earlier rain.
Inside the carriage, Harten struggled to catch his breath, wrestling with the urge to hide despite knowing he shouldn't have fled from the police in the first place, fearing the potential damage to his reputation. A fleeting smirk crossed his face before he turned his attention to his precious child, finding solace in her presence, though he could sense the princess's fear.
"What trouble have you found yourself in, Harten? I saw you just moments ago," Princess Bianca pressed, her concern evident in her persistent inquiries.
"It's a lengthy tale, and I lack the strength to delve into it," Harten grunted, his voice strained with pain. Bianca noticed the severity of his injury, commanding the carriage rider to divert to the hospital.
"No hospitals," Harten interjected firmly.
As the carriage passed by two policemen, one spotted the bloodstains and sounded a whistle, alerting nearby officers. The carriage came to a halt.
Anticipating the confrontation, Harten entrusted the baby to Princess Bianca along with the letter. As the police approached, he seized the princess, simulating distress, before swiftly exiting through the opposite door.
"Stop now!" the police commanded, but Harten had no choice. They opened fire, bringing him down.
Shocked by the turn of events, the princess instructed the rider to depart immediately, as per Harten's plan to safeguard the child. Holding the infant in her arms, she pondered her next move.
As the early evening shadows crept in, Viscount Frederick played a twisted game of hide and seek, his gun firing sporadically. Terrified maids scrambled for cover, while Tesh, strangely unaffected, gazed with innocent amusement at the bouncing bosom before him.
Cornering one of the maids, Frederick delivered a harsh slap and leveled his gun at her trembling face. "Where's Harten and the baby, you insolent fool?" he demanded, his voice dripping with malice. The maid, paralyzed with fear, inadvertently wet herself, earning a harsher blow from Frederick's hand.
Meanwhile, the maid holding Tesh made a break for the door. Frederick's grin turned sinister as he aimed his gun at them, only to discover it was empty. With a cruel laugh, he dropped Tesh onto a nearby rug before being assaulted by the courageous maids.
Transforming into a beastly figure, Frederick fought back ruthlessly, treating the women as though they were men. After subduing them, he callously lifted his grandchild onto the balcony railing.
"You little devil, you and your father took my Marina away from me," Frederick spat bitterly, his grip tightening on Tesh. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he released the baby, ignoring the horrified screams of the maids below, and walked away from the balcony, devoid of remorse.
Frederick's grin widened as he approached the maids, loosening his belt from his waist. But their screams of terror quickly turned to awe as they witnessed the inexplicable sight of the baby floating in the air. The Viscount, realizing their attention was not on him, turned to see the child performing this miraculous feat, causing him to faint.
The maids, shocked and bewildered, began to make the sign of the cross, but Tesh's cries pierced the air, prompting one of the maids to rush forward and retrieve him from his airborne state. With tender care, she cradled him, soothing his cries with gentle words and comforting gestures.
Meanwhile at the royal institute the bitten apple that was used for the scientific presentation began to grow back into it original form without anyone there to trigger the cause.