Shackles Of The Past

Chapter 30- A way to be welcomed

Death is certain,

but the hour is uncertain.

~Ancient Latin Proverb.

***

"Have you heard?" Esther whispered towards Medusa. "The Lord's celebration is tonight and the whole castle will be distracted. So far, the entire castle is crowded with guests and a great number of guards.”

Medusa was peeling vegetable when she heard her say. But she didn’t reply.

“It's a perfect opportunity for us to sneak into the other wing of the castle. I've been watching the guards too. They seem to be following the same pattern as last week with a bit diversions due to the celebration.” Esther took a glance at the sizzling lobsters and the capons roasted, before watching the fireplaces at each end. She then refilled the drink tray on her hands, and continued. “I have been watching them for a while. They change shifts at midnight. We can slip in then. And with the celebration, anyone will be too busy to notice."

And the guests will be too drunk to care, Medusa thought.

“What's the plan when we are inside?”

And Medusa paused. She had been evoked in her own world planning every contingency if things might go wrong. But every ideas and thoughts which ran through her mind were safe and precise making her certain about this midnight and surprisingly hadn't thought of Esther's appearance until now.

Medusa sighed. She had forgotten about the deal of the other night and her eyes locked on Esther’s. 'I find the stone, you create a diversion- we met back here in the kitchen.’ She was precise when she moved her hands to say. ‘We need... be quick and quiet.’

Medusa had found a better way to communicate through her fingers, a method suggested by Esther. She didn’t realize what the purpose was until she started putting it to practice.

And along those times, she had learnt a few basics but wasn’t too frequent with the moves, but her mistakes and short misinterpretations were still understood by Esther.

But when she tried the method with others, like Mr. Barnes for instance, she remembered the confused look on his face as he watched the weaving of her fingers, dumbfolded.

Ever since then, Medusa either nodded or kept mute to whatever instructions she was given, due to her inability to speak, but she couldn’t keep conversing words through people’s mind and sought for the latter option.

Only when they were in a secluded place, Medusa mind-linked through Esther but when in a formal gathering and an open space, she had to use the finger method to speak.

And this time, Esther frowned. "Are you sure you can handle it alone? He's not a man to be underestimated. I have heard rumors about that tower…”

'I have been planning... I know his schedules, his guards, and his addiction. Blood, I heard. I've been gathering information from the other slaves. I can handle myself. Just focus on not raising suspicions.'

"But what if anything goes wrong…”

'Then don't follow.’ This time, Medusa spoke through her mind, without looking at her. But the look on Esther's face caused her eyes to divert. ‘We won't get caught. Now, let's focus on the timing. We need to be in position as early as possible.’

Medusa felt something slip into her pocket. It was a bit heavy. "I managed to get the key then. He would be out sooner or later." Esther looked at her. "Take the back route and meet me at the oak tree. I'll create a diversion near the east wing. You slip into the tower from the west. Then we come back here. It's much safer. We would know what to do next from there." She grabbed the tray. "Before that, wait till my presence,” And she passed her a knowing look.

"Are you meant to stand there and fiddle with the drinks or move and serve the waiting guests?”

Esther bowed at the fury head cook, and left immediately after passing a quick look at Medusa. As she left, Medusa could feel the burning gaze of the cook on her. A small sigh escaped her lips. Seems like another derives pleasure in watching her keenly.

***

"Give way for the King of Dragsholm, Fourth of his name, Guardian of the mighty House and Protector of the Land, King Walter Hawthorn."

A tall young man dressed in an unmistakably powerful aura marched into the hall in an impeccable clothing of black and gold, that his strong charisma lured the pull of everyone eyes on him.

His steps were strong and guarded, although heavy and light all at the same time, as he walked in with a natural expression. His strong yet handsome face caused the expectant faces of few ladies in the hall to flush, and some even had to fan themselves to ease their excitement and add their decorum. It was no news that the King was known not to enjoy celebrations and events as exposed as this, but just political-related. And with the few noble ladies who have rarely seen his face, except been feed by rumors and gossips, caused another explosive reactions.

As this was a celebration hosted by the royals and invited with the high and middle class, majority of noble men and women, with or without title, was present. Of course, celebrations like this without the exclusion of no title men and women, it was once in a blue moon.

He walked under an air of authority, followed suit by his Lords and Advisors. His movements were precise, but heavy with authority and elegance. He sat on the high throne, power illuminating from him like the chandeliers shimmering at the ball room, as he watched his people under him. His poise screamed elegance and yet again, power.

And he listened to his Lords feeding him with information, but his eyes at the women trying to impress him. No one could tell if it was interest or lust, or perhaps… something else.

As the banquet had long started, the table was filled with half eaten foods and glasses with liquor and few barrels of ale. The celebration had long started and the merriment where soon coming to an end, but still, the Lord hadn’t shown.

Moreover, with the people present decked out in their full glory, looking prideful and disdainful but also anxious of the person's arrival. Some had anticipated seeing how the Lord looks would be; skinny, pale, swollen eyes, since it had been up till a month he had woken.

"The Lord of the Manor, Arthur Hawthorn has arrived!"

The large double doors opened inwardly as all sounds silenced in the room. No one dared move their lips to make a word. The hall was as quiet as a graveyard, and the music that once filled the room seized to a stop.

The room’s atmosphere shifted subtly, like a cloud crossing the sun, as laughter instantly died, and every eye flicked towards that door.

Two liveried footmen appeared first, walking to the sides of the large opened door, as their heads remained lowered to the floor and their hand with sword left half sheath to their sides.

But as few minutes passed, and they peered to the door, it was darkness they saw. Not a sign that a figure would walk out anytime soon. It was unlikely for the host to summon an event, and have the guest waiting. Rather it was rude and also disrespectful too.

But they know better than making a word.

As the clock kept ticking, time flees, and yet no sign of the lord. One of the council members who felt annoyed by this delay couldn't hold his words to himself and then said, "Is this some kind of trick to check if we are still humans that cannot have back ache or slightly tired of staying in a particular spot for so long?" and he huffed in arrogance.

With his gestures and his words spoken, he was obviously prideful. His gestures were more refined, and had a habit of stroking his beard when he spoke. It was strange to them that the Lord would save time to himself. Was he dressing or staying in his chamber resting? Or perhaps eating so as not to show how skinny he looked?

At that thought brought satisfaction to few.

The words of the man brought few murmurs and talks to the once quiet and dangerous room, basking themselves in his audacity. Or will they say stupidity?

“I wouldn't say that if I were you,” Someone had said before twirling the drink in his glass without an expression behind that mask of his. But the darkness emanating from him was suffocating.

The council member turned to look at him, confusion and slight annoyance lashed with those eyes, as he eyed him at the interruption. But he didn't have the time to go through those words when the unspeakable happened.

A sword had divided the head of the man who spoke those words, sending gasps to meet with it and shock through every bone. Each body was in cold, as they looked at the divided man’s slit neck and his head separately on the floor. The blood of the man had few of the guests closer to him, stained and splashed to either their dresses or their faces.

What in the devil's…?

"AH!!!" a lady cried at the sight of the man blood wet on her face, as she trembled in shock and disgust, pulling the people off their trance. This got the people in the room radiating in burning talks.

The King almost got up from his throne at the shocking sight but regained his composure and sat still, in pretense as though this was highly expected, but there was anger hiding firmly behind those looks and eyes as he clenched his fists.

"And that's why.” The masked man who spoke earlier added, with humor in his tone, as he left the spot with his cloth stained and smeared in the victim's blood.

Then he appeared. He was magnificent. From his gestures to his unsmiling lips, he moved to impress. His looks had again shocked them.

It was different. As though he wore a mask. The mask that seemed to emanate darkness that was intoxicating. But as he approached closer, they got the better look of his face. It was no mask. His face chiseled and strong was a canvas of black markings, resembling the intricate patterns of snake slithering across a stone wall. And it brought loads of loud murmurs around the room.

But even though his face carried those ugly markings that seemed terrifying, it couldn’t hide the beauty beneath it. If thinking he was worse than the beauty he carried before slumber, it would be a bloody lie! He looked strikingly captivating to the eyes, his beauty as dark as hell and as beautiful as a god himself. Behold was Arthur that wore the auspices of power with a majesty that matches with the King, both entrancing and daunting.

Beauty was an understatement. His sharp jaw and manly shoulders spoke of the strength and bone-chilling aura he carried. The darkness that groomed around him was dark and powerful. It was like an addiction, a hypnotizing drug they inhaled.

If something were to be noticed from his features, it was his hair. His ink dark hair that had grown so long, longer than before, reaching his shoulders and upper back and his exposed skin was a bit pale. His pupils were mismatched, his left pupil was almond- which was normal- but his right was eerie. At one point, it was orange, like flames, at another point; it was scarlet, like blood. His features, especially that orange eye that burn like embers of a flame and the scarlet eye as thick as blood. But those eyes had no light in them. It was as cold as ice.

Like the other men, he also wore a black robe, but it was covered with golden and red markings- there were obviously embroidered. His frame was lean, not too thin, and not too muscular. His body structure was both manly and enthralling. And his very existence, covered in mystery.

The sight of him stole few breaths away. It was at that moment, they totally forget the scene that had happened earlier.

The banquet had then continued at the announcement of the Lord, when Medusa peeked through. She secretly looked through the open, where everyone she sighted stood in daze, she assumed the Lord had arrived. Her eyes searched for Esther in the crowd, and watched her from afar as she frowned occasionally and chatted with a guest, with her eyes sparkling with forced merriment.

Esther was stuck, unable to leave the guest's side without arousing suspicions. Medusa sighed as she realized their plan was compromised. She had to act fast or risk everything at no cost.

She made her way through the crowded hall, dodging servants and guests with ease. She tried approaching Esther, to meet her eyes, but the guest’s back whom she had been engaging in a conversation, blocked her view. With the look on Esther's face, Medusa could see the hidden grimace under her smile.

Medusa had already imagined the words of Esther if she had gone without her, if she hadn't aborted the plan, but she could care less. This was her only chance to hatch one plan before the other and she wasn't going to risk this.

And she went back into the kitchen, but slipped out without anyone's notice. Into the darkness, her steps met under the shadows of the night and away from the crowd, ready to devise her own plan. Her own plan, that the wind itself carried a bare warning.

***

A/N: Dear readers, kindly leave comments and reviews by the use of the tags #Medusa&Medyse, #twosouls, and #aceisbackatit at the end of your speech. Thank you!

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