Chapter 69. Still thinking of you.

Countess Anne Van Belsar awoke to the sound of a fist excitedly pounding against her bedroom door, drawing her unwillingly from her dreams to the waking world.

"Mistress! Mistress! We've found him! Our men are moving in to secure the creature!" cried out the voice of Sir Rustin Meers, her newly raised personal knight, and the leader of her household guard.

Ah, that certainly explained Rustin's excitement. This would be the next key step in proving the betrayal of someone she dearly cared for.

Anne was a very accommodating woman. Ask anyone. There weren't a lot of things in this world or the next, or even the astral realm that could make her bear a lasting grudge. Time had taught her how pointless it was to hold resentment against mortals.

But treachery? Betrayal? Such things were unforgivable. Foreswearing an oath sworn to her was something Annesimply couldn't let go of. There weren't many who would dare to cross her like that. The reason being that those who did died terribly.

But there was one.

Her dear husband. Her beloved Marcis. The man who'd looked her in the eye and told her to her face that the deaths of the son they shared and her beloved granddaughter, had been an assassination commissioned by the eastern temple of light.

The sheer arrogance of that fool to lie to her like that. He would pay for betraying her trust. There simply could be no other way. Toying with someone while they grieved for their loved ones was an inexcusable sin. Especially when the one being toyed with was Anne.

Oh, but there was no point in dwelling on the past, was there? She would soon have the evidence she required to prove his misdeeds. From there, it would be a simple matter of correcting his behavior.

Sharply.

It would be an act of love. Anne loved her husband dearly. He fascinated her. Tormented her. Made her feel young and alive. It wouldn't be a lie to say she was obsessed with him.

But all he ever did was disappoint her and trample on her feelings.

She hated him. She wanted him. She needed him. And he knew. Knew exactly how to tilt her emotions; to manipulate her and get whatever he wanted. For too long, she'd been clay in his hands. The dizzying thrill of uncertainty and passion had become a maddening addiction. In his presence she felt…

No, in his presence, she felt.

But no more. Now his cruelty had gone too far. There would be a reckoning.

Anne's servants quickly entered her room to begin dressing her. Her attendants removed her nightgown and covered her with a modest wine-red dress that covered her shapely form but did little to mask the attractive contours of her body, topped with an ash-colored stole draped over her shoulders. She observed herself in the large mirror that stood in the corner of her chambers and nodded her approval of their work. After her hair was brushed and teased into a long braid, she allowed Sir Rustin to place a simple silver circlet over her forehead.

"Have you already seized him?" she asked Rustin as they stepped into the receiving area of the small mansion that she'd been staying in for the past six months. Here, other lifelong and stalwart servants of the Godwell family, many of which she'd known their entire lives, stood at attention and saluted her approach.

"Power to the Godwells!" they cried out fanatically with raised fists.

Anne smiled gently at them and nodded her greetings. She loved these dear children. These devoted and faithful friends.

Many who hated the Godwells, liked to paint them publicly as ruthless and domineering tyrants who imperiously trampled over the dignity of those they ruled. The reality couldn't be any further from the truth. Those who served the Godwells did so willingly. Their bonds with their masters were strengthened with mutual respect and affection. They served out of sheer gratitude.

It was as simple as that.

As Anne approached her chair, armored warriors on either side of her knelt in reverence and held their swords in a high arc. After she took her seat, Rustin said: "No, my lady. We have not yet collected him. We wouldn't dare to deprive you of your enjoyment."

"Thank you, Sir Rustin," Anne said. "Like your father before you, you are a very considerate man."

"You praise me too highly," Rustin said with a blush as he quickly turned his face to the side to hude how pleased her words made him. The young knight revered the memory of his father, Casten Meers, and to have his beloved mistress make such a favorable comparison was a joy to him.

"Not at all, Sir Rustin. Now please proceed."

"At once, my lady!" Rustin quickly waved his hand and two strong men marched forth a large square mirror which they placed before the countess. Next, two women, each a powerful spirit wielder, placed their hands on either side of the mirror and projected their magic into it. The glass shimmered with light, then began projecting the image of a man stepping outside of an old, but well-maintained general store, in a small village to the northeast.

The village of Anders.

"So, this is him" Anne said. "He doesn't exactly look like a harbinger of a great disaster to come. He appears to be a simple farmer's son. What did our mysterious informant say his name was, again?"

"Samuel Bellweather," replied Sir Rustin. "The son of a farmer who claims to have survived being seized by demons of some sort. He disappeared for quite some time only to recovered safe and sound."

"That's quite the miracle, isn't it?" asked Anne. "Demons that manifest into this reality aren't known for sparing the lives of their victims. Their recorded preference has been to devour them."

"I find his story doubtful as well, my lady."

"Well, we'll soon know the truth of his claims. Our men have been told the importance of taking him alive, correct?"

"They will not fail you, ma'am," Sir Rustin assured her.

"I have faith in them," Anne replied. "What I find more important is putting the words of our informant to the test. If what they say is true, something terrible has been happening in this kingdom. Something dangerous to its continued existence that's powerful enough to destroy everything we hold dear. How it escaped our notice for so long is chilling."

"Have no fear, ma'am. The Godwells will always triumph."

"Nothing is assured in this life, Sir Rustin," Anne gently admonished him. "You must only have certainty in what can be proven. Anything beyond that is just arrogance."

"Of course, ma'am. You're absolutely right," Sir Rustin said with some embarrassment.

"Life's lessons are endless, young Knight. Be grateful that we have many opportunities to learn them," Anne said to him with a smile.

"As you say, great one. Would you like our men to proceed with the capture?"

"Please do," Anne nodded.

Samuel was carrying a large red bag filled with various sundries to a small cart parked in front of the store. After loading up his purchases, he slid onto the seat of the cart and prepared to depart. Before he could, however, a large black coach came thundering down the road, pulled by two large and aggressive looking horses that cut across Samuel's cart and frightened the two mules that pulled it.

From the coach, emerged four large men dressed in matching black uniforms, each bearing the scarlet seal of house Godwell on their right arm. One of them tapped a cudgel against the side of Samuel's cart and said, "Hello, there," in a deceptively friendly manner.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" asked Samuel angrily.

"Please step off the cart, sir. We'd like to have a word with you if that's all right?"

"Who the hell are you?" Samuel said angrily.

"Are you offering resistance, sir? Don't do that. Please step off of the cart. I command you in the name of the Godwell family."

"Why don't kiss my ass, instead?" Samuel huffed.

"Well, that's a shame," said the enforcer. "The hard way it is."

With lightning speed, he reached upward, grabbed Samuel by his hair, and pulled him from his seat and face first into the dirt road. He did it with such force, that Anne heard an audible thud when Samuel smashed into the ground.

All four of the Godwell men surrounded Samuel and began beating him with their batons, while he huddled on the ground, trying to protect his face.

"Had to be a tough guy, didn't you?" asked the first enforcer.

"What did he say?" asked the second one between swings.

"Told me to kiss his ass."

"What? And after you did him the favor of saying please and gave him the implied option of surrendering unharmed? That sort of response is completely uncalled for!" fumed the third man.

"I don't think he cared. He was pretty upset."

"Well, fuck him anyway! We're only doing our sacred duty. There's no reason for him to take his anger out on us!" the second one growled. He set aside his baton and began kicking the cowering Samuel in his ribs with his steel-toed boot. "Words. Leave. Wounds! Make better choices!" he yelled, with spittle flecking from his lips as he stomped away at Samuel.

"What are you people doing?" cried out a beautiful woman with bright golden hair. "By what right are you assaulting that boy? Samuel is that you? Get away from him!"

From her chair, Anne's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the interloper. She knew that woman. She knew her! She'd wanted her, yearned for her, and foolishly let her walk away, a mistake she'd regretted for years. But now, there she stood in the flesh, lovelier than ever. Seemingly untouched by time except for the silver rimmed glasses she now wore.

Lyona? She thought to herself with numb surprise. Then she began to grow excited.

Lyona!

"Walk away, lovely, this has nothing to do with you," said Enforcer four.

"Hey, don't call her lovely, that's belittling her for no reason," said Enforcer one. "Although, I admit, she is very attractive," he said a moment later.

"I apologize. I think I'm still angry for this idiot's disrespectful words."

"Well, don't take it out on her. Just kick him a little harder. We're professionals, you know."

"Leave him be or I'll call for the town guard!" yelled Lyona. "I'll do it! You have no right to treat that boy like this!"

"Ohhhhh, she'll call the town guard," Enforcer three repeated mockingly. "Hey, guys, Get a good look! It seems we have a heroine straight from the sagas standing before us. Interfering in Godwell business. And she's going to call the town guard. What to do, what to do…"

"The Godwells?" Lyona asked, stunned. "Anne?"

She thinks of me, Anne thought excitedly. She remembers me as I remember her...

"Mikus, don't go overboard," said Enforcer two, in a voice that was half-command, half-plea. "Let's just collect this fool and leave."

"Yeah, we can do that," said Enforcer three, or Mikus, as he was apparently named, as he drew a sword from the scabbard at his waist. "We can definitely do that. He then pointed his blade downward and plunged it into Samuel's leg. The boy screamed in agony as the blade easily slid into him.

"Oh, gosh, whoopsies!" continued Mikus. "Whomp-whomp-whoooooomp."

"By the gods" Lyona shrieked. She turned to run away, but Mikus easily caught her and dragged her by her hair to where Samuel lay screaming. "Do you see this, woman? Huh? Do you? I'm sooo curious."

"Let me go let me go let me go," Lyona begged, sobbing. "Please stop this!"

"I will. I will. But first I want you to feel something. Look at that. Look at that," he said. He grabbed Lyona's wrist and squeezed it until the pain forced her to open her hand. Then he pressed hand against the traitor's wounded leg and held it there until her palm was red with his blood. Then he grabbed her other hand forced her to smear her hands together.

"Do you understand? Hmm? Do you get what that means?" he asked her.

"What? What does it mean?" she cried.

"Oh, you're so smart, I thought you could figure it out. His blood is on your hands," he whispered into her ear. "All because you had to be a concerned citizen. Hmm? Do you see what that gets you? Nothing but shame. You're a weak bit of nothing, woman. And now you know it. Don't ever forget your place. If you do, there's always room in the carriage for one more."

Behind Mikus, the other three lifted the screaming Samuel and threw him inside a sealed section of the carriage, slamming the doors behind him and locking it. Then, he pushed Lyona to the ground, doing it so forcefully that her glasses flew off her face. Before he walked away, he stepped on them, grinding the lenses into utter ruin, and shattering the silver frames.

"Oh, nuts. Sorry," he said.

He then entered the coach as it swiftly pulled away. The mirror faded out, as Lyona lay there sobbing tears of humiliation and pain.

Pale as she was, Anne had slowly grown paler as she silently watched that confrontation. Her displeasure seemed to manifest into a foreboding chill that now saturated the atmosphere of the room.

"That was…remarkably intense," Sir Rustin said carefully.

"How long until they return?" Anne quietly demanded as she rose from her seat.

"Within three days, ma'am," Sir Rusten said.

"Contact Pride. Inform her that we've obtained the creature and are prepared to make good on our end of the bargain."

"Of course," Sir Rustin said with a bow.

"Have Mikus sent to my chambers as soon as they arrive. I would like to have a word with him about his behavior on duty."

"Y-yes, ma'am," Sir Rustin said reluctantly.

"You disapprove of my command?" Anne asked him.

"Mikus was serving your interests, great one," Rustin said.

"I shall take that into consideration, before I begin flaying him," Anne coldly responded. Then she departed for her quarters, strangely elated to see that Lyona was alive and well, as well as furious for how she'd been treated by one of her own men.

"Power to the Godwells!" her men cried behind her.

This time, she didn't hear them, lost as she was in her thoughts.

Lyona.