“I need a plan that’ll drive him up the wall…”

Not only that, but Marc needed to find some place where his Father would never look, or dare to. Heading south to Spain was certainly an option, but he doubted their welcome would be as friendly as his uncle. 

However, there was a man his father hated above all else. Where the mere mention of his name warranted the use of profanity. 

“…could always swear allegiance to the King,” Marc said absentmindedly.

“He’d likely drop dead on the spot if he ever found out,” René said.

“No details,” René replied. “The less I know the better.”

Marc nodded. His uncle could not take him in, that much was obvious. However, by the way his Uncle behaved he had something up his sleeve.

“You already know that you can’t stay,” René said. “Doing so would incur that miserable old man’s wrath.”

“To be honest,” Marc replied while mulling over his words. “I was hoping for shelter and time to think, but that messenger killed that plan… I don’t want him to win.”

“That’d be a shame.”

“I need a plan that’ll drive him up the wall…”

“Come here, Marc.”

His uncle grabbed Marc by the shoulder, grabbed his hand, and motioned as though to kiss each other’s cheeks, as was the custom. However, René also pulled him in and hugged him with enough strength to take out the air of his lungs.

“Hopefully you beat some sense into that miserable old man.”

“About that…”

“No details,” René replied. “The less I know the better.”

“Uncle!” Marc exclaimed as René stepped out of his home and into the garden. 

“I should’ve guessed it was you,” René said. “When we got word from your father, we worried you’d be apprehended. You made it here in good time.”

“I did. Having Enfers with me certainly helped.”

“It certainly did,” Renee said before smiling. “The messenger arrived this morning. He had to switch horses twice to get here.”

As he approached, he made out the silhouette of a horse tied up to a tree. It can’t be…

“Enfers?”

The horse responded to his name. While it had a different saddle, the way this steed stood meant it was his mount. It seems I was the one being played…

“Viens,” Marc said after untying the reins. “We need to get out of here, because someone will ask why that man won’t make it home.”

The act of taking a human life made him a murderer, although he suspected that someone would have died regardless. That rogue like that was better off as a feast for the crows, while Marc was nearer to the beginning of his story. At least my mother never lived long enough to find out what I’ve done…

With a pistol at hand, he ventured into the woods. At first he doubted his senses, who would not with no further sounds to confirm his hunch. Up ahead there was a clearing, and what he heard originated from there.

As he approached, he made out the silhouette of a horse tied up to a tree. I can’t be…

“Enfers?”

“He thought wrong,” Marc said.

His jaw muscles bulged, and he remained still for what appeared to be minutes. That is until a sound from within the woods caught his attention.

His eyes flowed over the terrain to that point before the rest of his face followed. There was nothing there but darkness. While he was not afraid of what lurked under this tenebrous cover gave him reason to be cautious. 

He loaded another round into his pistol and shouldered the pouches. The next steps would wait, he would first investigate the sources of those sounds before hiding the body. 

“Plenty of men have hung from their necks for what I’ve done,” Marc whispered.

It was one thing to shoot a hare for food; it was another matter to take a human life. However, as Marc counted down the steps, he knew it had to end badly for one of them.

His finger sat on the trigger, while he did not squeeze, he remained perfectly calm. When the rogue yelled as though this was a berserker headed into battle, Marc squeezed the trigger. His weapon came to life, the bright flash lit up the forest, but even through the purple streaks in his vision, he saw the rogue drop like a stone with a hole through his chest. 

“He thought wrong,” Marc said.

His jaw muscles bulged, and he remained still for what appeared to be minutes. That is until a sound from within the woods caught his attention.

Marc knelt down and reached for the nearest pouch. The coins and food were in the other pouch, but his loaded pistol was in this one. He pretended to fumble around through the contents, his nose pointed at the bag. 

However, his eyes were locked onto the rogue as that smile faded. Leave it to a brigand to assume the worst in their victims.

“I said HA—” the rogue yelled.

By that point Marc had already drawn his pistol. It was aimed at his chest and this time he purposefully aimed lower on account of his shots to land high. The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, unwilling to charge an armed foe. However, that sickly smile returned to his lips and charged. He guessed I won’t be able to pull the trigger…

“I don’t have much on me,” Marc said. “I couldn’t afford to spend the night at an auberge.”

“You’re rather well fed for a pauper,” the rogue said. 

“I never said that I was,” Marc countered. “I have salt pork and bread along with some coin…”

He let his leather pouches drop to the ground as a show of good faith. The man was about twelve paces away, so Marc needed to be ready. 

“You’re hiding something—”

“What would I have to hide?”