A trail of blood red water flowed down from where he stood. Without a blade he had to get creative, but nature often provided in times of need. He found several frangible rocks that left behind sharp edges when broken. It was work to skin, and dress the hare, but now it was cooking over an open flame. 

Now that his hands were free of blood, Marc ran his fingers over his knuckles. The wound from last night had dried leaving thick scabs. At least there’s no pain.

When his hands were free of blood, the young man ventured back to his campsite. Enfers appeared entirely content to be here… or is it fear on account of what I did to the hare.

This time Marc repeated the steps in reverse. He carefully set one foot ahead of the other to avoid anything that would make noise, like crackling dead leaves, or snapping a twig. He would freeze on the spot if the hare moved unexpectedly. Pistols were notoriously inaccurate, which meant he needed to get close. A lot closer than the fifteen paces taken in a duel. 

There were risks of him getting too close, while slow and steady had gotten him this far, his presence alone might spook it. Alas, the longer he took, the more likely it was that the hare would hop away in search of more food. 

Once he was under twelve paces, he raised his arm and aligned his body perpendicular to the hare. With his head turned right, his dominant eye focused on the single bead at the tip of the pistol.

Next he grabbed his pistol, readying both barrels with powder, and a ball while using his horse as cover.

He knew the steps well, Bernard had seen to that. At the thought of the man, Marc paused, took a deep breath through his nose with closed eyes and let it all out through his mouth. I hope he’s alright.

After pouring in two seconds worth of powder, Marc returned his focus to the hare. The woodland creature was still there, nibbling at the bark off of a tree. So he capped the horn and placed it back into the saddlebags. 

Next came a wad of cloth, and a lead ball, which he rammed into place using the one attached to the barrel. After the barrel was loaded, he rammed the ball into place, he added a bit more powder to the flash pan, and brought back the flintlock’s hammer.

Marc dismounted from his horse and stretched out his legs. He patted Enfers on his side, holding his hand in place long enough to get a feel for the steed’s breathing. The laboured breaths made it obvious they would need to rest for a while. 

After a search through his saddlebags he found his horn and pistol. He smiled at his luck. A pistol may not have been as useful as a musket for hunting, but firearms would deter those seeking to do him harm… long enough for them to come back in greater numbers. 

Other than the weapon he came up empty. It came as no surprise that there were no provisions or supplies. They were meant to go on a day trip, not a journey to find a sacred ring.

“No one planned for this,” Marc whispered.

This was the crack of dawn and brought the promises of a beautiful day considering the cloudless sky. Still, that meant the world would still be asleep for a while yet. He suspected his father would send guards into those tunnels in a couple of hours. Around noon they would return empty-handed to the Comte. Fear of his wrath would ensure they were thorough in their search.

Assuming they missed the grate he tampered with, the guards would begin an extensive search of the Keep and grounds. While his ability to travel distances at night was limited at night on foot, and no one would suspect he had Enfers with him. That meant he was at least a half-a-day ahead of his potential pursuers… That doesn’t answer my question.

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Marc took in the view of where he was. Trees, shrubs, mountains, and a creek were the only details that popped out. It was not all that different from the terrain near the Keep. Still, it was not familiar to him.

When he looked over the horse’s flank, he spotted what appeared to be a well-travelled road. That implied this was an established trade route. I just need to make sure that I don’t go the wrong way and end up in my father’s tender gasp…

The wind picked up as the sun peeked over the mountains. He shivered from the cold, but Enfers did not appear concerned. His horse was too busy drinking water directly from the source. He must be exhausted.

Marc awoke when his Enfers came to a stop. Once all that adrenaline tapered off, the warmth of the horse and rhythmic footsteps put him to sleep. 

There was drool on Enfers’ mane, while Marc’s cheeks reddened at the thought of someone seeing him, he remembered there were other priorities. Where am I?

That was the first pertinent question of the day. As was the custom, one that did not come with an answer. Nor anyone to tell me…

Eventually he went under one of the bright sources. As judged by the odour of wood smoke, and cooked meat, he concluded this was the kitchen.

Marc slammed headfirst into a solid object. Before he let out a scream, he covered his mouth to muffle the sound, even as something viscous and hot ran over his fingers. That really hurt!

When the bleeding subsided, Marc prodded his nose, and while sensitive guessed it was not broken. He clenched his jaw in frustration, and probed the shadows ahead. He found the offending object, a solid steel rod.

Marc grabbed it, realising that it moved without resistance and pulled it out of the water. The object had a smooth shaft, originate handle, and something resembling a fleur-de-lis at the other end. A fireplace poker? Not something you’d expect to find down here. Unless…

With that problem out of the way, Marc did an all around search. He half expected to see nothing but darkness, unable to move and left to rot down here until someone took pity on him. Instead, there were traces of light, from the candles, torches and fires in the rooms above the grates.

“I can work with that,” Marc said, ignoring the gooseflesh covering his skin.

Even with some light, Marc did more stumbling than progress. Eventually he gave up on walking on his two feet. Instead he crawled on his hands and knees. It was slower, but avoided falls, which might alert the guards of his presence.