The silence of the night was voiced by the gentle gushing of the flowing stream over the cold stones that aligned its path. The wind brought along a subtle creaking of wood swaying the reminder of the crickets' secrets resonating throughout the forest, undecipherable by all.

Communication came much easier with nature, unlike the two cloaked figures navigating the forest with only the cracking of twigs beneath their heels to justify their presence.

The taller one owed her height to the ornate black hat, adorned with black roses and a veil surrounding the woman's silhouette as it dragged by the hem of her dress, on the forest floor.

The shorter one had her hand clasped to her hilt, eyes aglow with vigilance as she covered the veiled woman's front — as if her blood stained gloves would have been visible from a mile away, in the dark and beyond the veil.

They moved with haste yet the winds slowed around them, hindered by their elegance. The bridge was within sight and beyond it laid the enormous castle walls — frowning in displeasure at the escaped residents making their way back from a hidden entrance.

The crickets must have shouted in warning but they'd never know.

The shorter of the two was about to step over the bridge when a whispered, "Stop!" made her feet halt and blood curl. She unsheathed her sword, waiting for her mistress' approval.

The crickets sighed to a silence for a human had done their work.

The veiled woman turned her head just enough to spot a child by the bank with a jute basket worn as a bag. She was miniscule enough to have been missed by their vigilant eyes.

"I wouldn't walk on it if I were you," she whispered, staring at the shorter and more visible of the two.

The woman stared back, stunned by the ambiguous nature of the kid's words and tone.

"I don't know why you're trying to sneak inside the castle but I know the secret to a peaceful life is to not be nosy," she announced with a small smile gracing her bony face. "And I am not trying to be nosy, please, I am just trying to help you."

She pointed a bony arm at something under the bridge.

"The Kingsmen brought their saws this afternoon and cut just enough to sabotage," she explained, pointing at the supporting pillars of the bridge, "If you walk on it you'll end up breaking the bridge, fall in the river and probably get captured."

"And you saw all of it?" The shorter of the women asked, eyes narrowed at the pillars under the bridge. There was something sincere about the girl's words that she couldn't help but trust, against her better judgement.

"No," the girl replied and pointed at the other side of the stream, "the grass is badly crushed and the flowers have been trampled. It's all good this side. And if you hear it, there's a creaking noise in the air."

The three of them stayed as still as stone and the subtle creaking of the bridge was amplified by the winds. Nature was conspiring in their favour tonight.

"Also, the stones are all messed up," she pointed at the other end of the bridge where the ground was devoid of stones for at least two feet.

"And why are you telling this to us?" The shorter woman asked, her suspicious nature getting the better of her.

The girl held out her hand and turned to face the veiled woman, making unbreaking eye-contact to where she thought her eyes might be.

The woman nodded and a small pouch was dropped in the little girl's palm. She grinned with her teeth out and hastened to shove the pouch in her jute basket.

"I'll show you the way," she skipped over the wild undergrowth with a giggle. "It wouldn't be nice if you kill me halfway through so I will not tell you where it leads to," she said.

"Why should we trust you?" The shorter woman asked.

"You don't have to. Take a chance on the bridge," the girl snickered.

"One smart move and I'll have your head, kid," the armed woman scowled.

"Wouldn't bring you any good," the child pressed her lips together and walked on.

The veiled woman gave her servant a nod to follow the girl.

"What is your name?"

"It's more polite to tell your name before asking someone else's," the kid shrugged her shoulders.

"I am Matilda," the armed woman stated.

"I am Daisy," the girl replied without looking back. She hopped from a smaller stone to a bigger stone and everyone in proximity knew that everyone lied.

She stopped over an elevated ground with dense overgrowth and her eyes scanned the surface. She ran over to a pick up a thick piece of wood and used it to stab the fabric of her dress and tear open a good amount. The veiled woman raised a brow as the alleged Daisy wrapped the fabric over the wood and rummaged through her basket for a can in which she dipped the log and fabric ever so slightly.

"Hold it, will you?" She looked up from the ground with expectations in her eyes.

Matilda sheathed her sword and stepped forward to help.

The girl rummaged through her bag again and the veiled woman noticed that Daisy was as big as the basket she had been carrying. She was small, bony and invisible enough to see all and never be noticed — the scariest of people to have as one's enemy.

A spark distracted the woman's line of thought and before she knew it Daisy had made a torch.

"Keep holding it, please and come closer," she climbed higher on the surface and Matilda's flame lit up her line of sight. Her small hands felt over the leaves until her scrunched eyes and biting lips relaxed into a wide smile.

She used both her hands to pull something open and Matilda almost gasped because they were now on the head of a tunnel.

"I'll go in first so it'll be easier for you to follow along. Close it on your way in, please," she clarified, taking the torch in her hand and stepped inside the underground tunnel.

Something irked the veiled woman's heart, to see a little girl holding up a torch as big as her torso and braving the darkness — unknowing of the true nature of her company.

Kids could be so innocent some days.

"Ma'am," Matilda held out a hand for her mistress to take. The woman held out her gloved hand instead and Matilda pulled her by the wrist.

The kid waited at the foot of the steps, patiently, as she and Matilda made their way inside. The maid closed the door behind her and Daisy's torch proved to be highly useful in the fogging darkness of the underground.

"I'd recommend you pick up your hems," the kid grinned as the stench around them began to make more sense. From what little they could see and hear, the concrete tunnel had a drain flowing in the very middle.

"Your brought us to the underground sewer system?!" Matilda gasped, quite appalled as she gathered her gown in her arms.

"Better safe and stinky than captured and stinky later," she giggled, quite proud of the way she used her words. "If you keep walking straight, you'll end up where you want to," she pointed at the unending path that laid in front. "Take it," she offered the torch to Matilda, "For I need to go this way," she pointed at a further left turn.

"Won't you be afraid in the dark?"

"The dark has no monsters, it's the humans who are scary," she shook her head as if Matilda uttered something beyond her stature and expectations. Absolutely disappointing.

Matilda scoffed in return.

"But where does it lead to?" She asked again, whilst taking the torch in her hand.

The kid stared at the older woman and held out an expectant hand. Matilda rolled her eyes and flipped a pouch in her palms. The girl grinned and rummaged through her bag only to take out two small vials.

"It'll help with the smell," she shot them in the air and Matilda caught them by instinct.

The red liquid of the vial glistened under the flames as the kid jumped over the dirty drains and turned round the corner, to wherever she was going.

"What an encounter," Matilda sighed, eyes still stuck on the girl's retreating back.

"She's a kitchen slave," said the veiled woman, "She's hiding her mark with that bag. The maids have quite a system going on."

"Everyone needs to strive for themselves."

"And so must we," she took off her gloves and held them out. Matilda lent them fire and as the blood stained fabric crippled under the heat, the woman flung it in the drains.

After missing several curious turns the duo arrived at their suggested end. Matilda pushed open the cover and climbed out whilst the other woman shoved the torch in the drain and held Matilda's hand to be pulled out.

As Matilda was pushing the cover back, the woman scoffed at their surroundings.

"I never knew the founder's grave was so shallow...yet so deep."

"One of the many wonders of our lives," Matilda grinned as they stood peacefully on the stone grave's lid and let the cold wind blow their stench away.

The gravestone read : Romerius Quill, an adventurer, an explorer and a father to all but one.

Matilda popped open the vial and a scent of fresh roses engulfed them. She sprinkled its contents over her mistress' dress whilst the taller woman wondered — How'd a slave child get her hands on perfume? The most precious imported good on land.

"The kid must be a regular at it."

"The founder's grave is the least guarded of all checkpoints. I wonder where the rest of the paths led to," the woman sighed.

"I didn't even know we had a sewer system," Matilda tsked.

The night inside the castle walls was way different from the one outside. There was no silence or the nature conspiring for them. Instead, there was a hustle and bustle as humans conspired against them.

Their heels clicked over the stoned path as they made their way to— and they were surrounded. In front of the Queen Dowager's castle, Kingsmen circled around the two women with their sowrdpoints shining against killing spots.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?! LOWER YOUR SWORDS IN FRONT OF YOUR QUEEN!" Matilda roared, her neck straining, but the soldiers did not budge.

Her mistress held up a hand to pacify her maid, lest she start taking on people beyond her calibre.

"Where have you been?!" A cold voice questioned. From amidst the stiff silhouettes of the soldiers emerged the vast muscled torso of the King. His sharp eyes glaring at the Queen Dowager, harsher with every step he took in her pursuit.

"I see the sun is shining at my castle, past its daylight hours," the Queen Dowager commented with an unsurpassed calm and grace — unbeknownst of a person who walked through the castle's sewer system to get here.

"The sun is shining indeed but don't make it burn too much for it's moon is missing," he uttered through gritted teeth.

"Then it's shining at the wrong place—"

"—Mother."

The Queen Dowager snapped her mouth shut because the King was standing right in front of her now, with an unsheathed knife pressed against her gut.

"My Queen is missing, do not let me repeat my concerns," he all but spat in a whisper.

"Your Queen is none of my concerns and so are yours," she replied with an annoying layer of calmness.

"Where have you been?!"

"I find it no—"

"Speak." He growled in her ear, forcing the knife harder.

"I was mourning the late king."

"All day long?" The new king let out a breathy laugh. His big silhouette engulfing all of her with darkness.

"In the rose garden," the Queen added. An image of serenity.

"I surely do hope so. I'd hate to kill you, mother," he spat out the last word, "if there's even a hint of connection between you and my wife's disappearance."

"You're acting pathetic in front of your subjects," The Queen tsked, her eyes rounding up the still faces of the soldiers. "Your father would be so disappointed."

"Sleep with one eye open, you witch," the king growled and took a step back, hiding the knife in his sleeves again.

"Threatening me will only bring you more losses," the Queen shrugged and gestured Matilda to follow her as they made their way out of the armed circle.

The King stared on with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

The inside of the Queen Dowager's castle was a dreary mess of isolation and lack of priorities. Darkness engulfed the high ceilings, homing insects which spied the royalty's movements but also communicated in a buzz of accompaniment.

One could never be too lonely.

The foyer led to a long flight of stairs and entering her main chamber, the Queen Dowager was greeted by a sight that reflected the grimness of her surroundings. Her room was vast, its high ceilings reaching towards the heavens like skeletal fingers clawing at the darkness above. The meager light filtering through the narrow windows casted long, haunting shadows across the cold stone floor.

In one corner of the chamber stood a small kitchenette, its rusted pots and pans bearing witness of neglect and disuse. Nearby, sat a bathtub, its polished surface raising suspicion towards its use and the budgetary constraints of the castle.

Matilda reached for the Queen's hat and veil, taking it off to reveal blonde curls clustered up in a neat bun. They stepped behind the ornate dressing screen and Matilda loosened the ties of the Queen's dress. It slipped to the ground, revealing a bronze suit of armour pressed tight against her body.

Matilda's hands moved to unclasp it only to be stopped by the Queen.

"Leave the armour," she all but choked out a whisper, "Leave yours on as well."

Matilda walked around to stand in front of her mistress and the Queen wrapped her arms around her maid's small frame. Her big frame bent to a crumble and her hot face found solace in her friend's neck.

"Did it hurt?" Matilda asked, rubbing a soothing hand over her Queen's armoured back.

She sniffled, choked, coughed and cried, nodding furiously in the crook of her neck.

"It's okay, we'll hurt him more."

"Cassie, ca-ssie, i-if only Elliot was here..." The Queen dragged through breathy gasps, "He— us, we could live. We could make it w-work."

"We will, my Queen, we will."