P. Power - Knight of the Realm

Count Ward and Smythe worked in tandem, visiting each of the downed assassins, quickly using a cutter to remove their arms and legs, then healed them. Then they moved to the next. It was insane. Barbaric.

Sensible.

All those things at once. Oh, Tor got it. The Larval were just that tough. Take them prisoner, even not healed, and they'd probably escape in minutes if not sooner. Most likely killing people along the way. Now they couldn't. Not easily at least. Tor rubbed at his neck, feeling weak and expecting pain, but it was just a neck. No wounds, no blood… His hand came away red making him flinch, Tor tried suppress his reaction, but Trice looked at him and shook her head.

“No wounds now. It's done. You're fine and safe.” She hugged him, her own white clothing going red where she touched.

“You're alright. You stopped them. Everyone is alive.”

Thank the universe.

Not that the universe cared about such things, he knew. He'd felt it a few times, a touch of the infinite. The last being only minutes before. It was much too big for any of this to be important or even noticed. That could have been a bitter thought, but why bother? Complaining about what couldn't be changed just ruined your day and didn't fix anything at all.

Getting up he headed to the outdoor shower under the house he'd set up, the one for people to use before they climbed in the tubs, so the water would stay nice longer. It was warm and had temperature control sigils, so he turned the heat up, trying to cook everything away. Sara came over and filled him in on what was happening while Trice helped with the prisoners, who now that they were all healed… laughed. They wouldn't speak, it was just identical, maniacal and annoying. In perfect unison. Who got their arms and legs cut off and chuckled about it? And Trice had called him a moron?

Sara stayed by him, touching him every few seconds.

“Sorlee got everyone she could into the transport and took off. I'm not sure, but I think she's headed for the Capital. We should get in touch with them if we can and give them an update. We… should just stay here for a bit. They have a man coming to take care of the limbs. I don't want to see that really.” Her voice broke on the last line.

He didn't want to see it either really. Gross. Limbs just lying around like that.

Tor washed and had Sara scrub him until they were both sure he wasn't hiding any blood outside his skin and then did it all again. It was too much washing, he knew, but his friend didn't hesitate, even though it had to be boring by that time. They scrubbed and rubbed, lathered and rinsed. He shook the whole time, like a little dog, he was sure.

Tor had been so scared.

Even when he'd crawled into that well and it collapsed on him he hadn't felt fear like this. Everyone had almost died and it was all his fault. Tears ran down his cheeks and he sobbed. Quietly though. No need to advertise his weakness to the whole world. There were spies watching after all.

Without saying anything he turned, still naked, wet and crying a bit, and walked up the stairs to his room. He hit the sigil on his clothing amulet, which dressed him as he had been, except clean and fresh. Everything was damp, but that didn't matter, not yet. Next to his bed he found the communications device and without thinking hit the sigil for the palace and waited. It could take a while for someone to notice the bright blue glow. It wasn't that late, ten or so, but everyone would be at dinner still. Nothing happened for several minutes, then a young male voice spoke tentatively.

“Hello? This is the palace? Can I help you?”

“This is Tor, I need to talk to… Everyone. Can you get them for me?” He didn't know who this was, but it was important, so anyone should do.

“Um, I don't think so… I'm… just the boy that washes the floors sir. I don't know that anyone will listen to me…”

Fair point.

They should listen, but nobles could be snooty about rank. As if the kid that washed the floor wasn't just as good as anyone else when it came to delivering a message?

“Right. What's your name?” The immediate danger was probably past, no need to alienate this kid if he could help it. After all, in that moment, this boy was as close to being the most important person Tor knew as anyone in the world.

“Um, Kenner sir, Kenner Thorgood.”

“Oh, I know a Thorgood, She's the Countess, very nice lady.”

It turned out that he wasn't close enough a relative of Ursala to know her by name, but it was said, by people that didn't matter much at all, the boy made sure he knew, that they shared a distant ancestor. He was ten. Kenner did know which dining room the family was in that night however. The smallest. Normally he'd have been scrubbing that room first, but not that night, they had only a few guests and they were people close to the family.

“Good. Kenner, can you pick up the plate in front of you? There should be latches at the corners to keep it in place, can you get it free? Just slide the brackets to the side.”

“Yes, sir, but I'm not supposed to touch anything magic. It could e'splode. Or cut me in two. Or get the floor dirty…” The boy was scared, rightfully so even, but with a combination of bribes, and a promise that if there was a punishment Tor would take it himself, even if it was a whipping, Kenner agreed to walk the device in. The money and magic devices he offered, which Tor called bribes flat out, too shook up to think of them anything else, were nice enough.

“Presents,” Sara mouthed at him, looking slightly embarrassed. Well, too late now, bribe it was. They were to be delivered within the week. Though Kenner offered to give him more time if the beating was too bad.

Nice of the boy really, Tor thought. He thanked him for the consideration, and meant it.

It would probably be a double beating when they found out Tor bribed the boy after all.

Two guards tried to get in the boys way, but Tor rather gruffly told them there was an emergency and if they stopped Mr. Thorgood people could die. It probably wasn't true, but who knew what else was happening? What if other attacks were planned or going on at that moment? Tor still shook as Sara watched him closely. Like she was waiting for him to weaken so she could pounce. That's what it felt like. It wasn't fair of him to think that way though.

At the door of the dining room the guard became far more stubborn and wouldn't let them past. Jerk. Doing his job too well and all that… Tor just started yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward! Larval assassins. Larval assassins. Prisoners taken. Prisoners taken. Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward!” He kept going until the guard, freaking out a bit, if in a subdued, Royal Guardly fashion, opened the door so the people inside could hear him. Tor felt like a moron, but kept yelling at the top of his lungs anyway. His pride could take the knock of looking stupid.

A male voice, larger, deeper and louder than his own, boomed, “Situation report!”

Tor shorthanded it first, all alive, the Larval assassins, numbering seven, taken prisoner. The Countess Ward possibly incoming to capital with non-hostile… Tor didn't have a word for it. Group? Cohort? Team? It all sounded too military for a bunch of refugees fleeing attack.

“Retinue.” Sara added helpfully.

“Right. That's Sara Debri, one of the spies you set to watch me, oh, this is Tor. I'll let her talk now.” His voice still shook, worse now that he could relax and turn things over to more responsible people.

The blond next to him stared, and couldn't speak for a second, her mouth working, but nothing came out. Tor blinked and then put it together, he'd openly announced her as one of the King’s spies. Didn't she know he knew? Really? He would have laughed, but found he just couldn't. Shock, probably. He felt cold and light everything was buzzing under his skin, just a little.