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.

One thing he neglected to consider was the ambient lighting under the Keep. He once made his way to the well as a young explorer and realised that the opening appeared more like a starfield than the sun. The moonlight doesn’t reach at all…

He struggled to get onto his feet, with one shoulder visibly lower than the other. He once observed Bertrand take care of a dislocated shoulder under a similar condition. Prior to doing so, his jaw muscles bulged and counted down to three before driving his hard arm into the wall. 

The flash of pain left him blinded, and it continued to throb even after he regained some range of motion. Still, this was an improvement considering the situation. 

“Halt!” someone bellowed.

Committed to this course of action, Marc leapt over the side of the well. He grabbed the rope that led to the bucket and let gravity do the rest. Without thought he held his breath as he plunged into the depths. 

Just above, the sound of the whirring faded until it stopped entirely. The rope went taught and Marc yelled in pain as the impact dislocated his left shoulder forcing him to let go. The scream was soon muffled as water enveloped him. 

Pain focused Marc, but pulling himself onto the wet rocks surrounding the wall proved a challenge with one arm. Still, he managed, and as adrenaline waned, exhaustion settled in.

In the centre of the Keep stood a courtyard and within that courtyard stood the well. At the threshold, he realised the area was empty. So far, my luck is holding out.

Marc made his way towards the well, hugging the outer wall as best he could to remain in the shadow. Once within twenty paces, he faced the well and pushed off the wall to make a run for it?

“Halt!” someone bellowed.