Arabella was anxious to return to the safety of her home. She wasn’t sure how Governor Knox planned to explain himself to her or anyone else when he awoke, but she didn’t plan to entertain him otherwise. As the coach pulled around the corner to her house, Braxa burst through the door waving a letter in her hand over her head excitedly and pulling a travel trunk behind her. The moment the carriage came to a stop, Braxa flung herself on door of the coach.
“Braxa,” Arabella nearly shrieked as the coach rocked slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Ma’am, you’ve received a most urgent letter!” she blurted breathlessly with a wild look in her eye. “It arrived shortly after you left, it was only the butler that prevented me from running it out to you before you rolled away with that horrible man.”
“There’s no need to worry about Governor Knox any longer. I shall not be entertaining anything else he has to say to me.” she huffed as she pushed on the door to get out. “Johnny is seeing that things are set straight with the Governor.”
“Good, I always liked that boy, he’s always had a good head on his shoulders.” Braxa harrumphed in approval as she released her hold of the door and pulled it open. “It would make his mama proud for assisting you in your escape ma’am.”
Arabella nodded in agreement, a small smile creeping on her face as she slid out of the coach until her eyes caught hold of the letter clutched in Braxa’s hand. She recognized the wax seal as her aunt’s seal and a sense of foreboding filled her.
“You said it was urgent?”
“What?” The hobgoblin tilted her head in confusion before looking at her hand and gasping. “Oh, yes! Yes! Very urgent indeed! From your dreadful Aunt Euphemia.”
“It’s not good to speak of the elderly in such a way, Braxa.” Arabella chided gently as she accepted the letter and held it close to her, though she didn’t disagree with her.
Braxa scoffed, “She’s a youngling compared to me! I’m twenty years her senior in human years, so I’ll say what I want about that dreadful woman.”
“Aunt Euphemia isn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Arabella sighed and was ready to pull her maid inside. “But let’s go inside so I can read the dreadful news.”
“There’s no time, ma’am.” Braxa shook her head and held her hands tightly in her own. “You must leave tonight, or you’ll miss the train.”
“Train?” Arabella blinked this knowledge and glanced at the letter and realized that it was already opened and carefully folded and closed again. Frowning most disapprovingly, she heaved a heavy sigh, “Braxa, did you read my private mail again?”
“The brownies got to it first since the mail arrived so late.” Braxa shrugged, completely unapologetic for her actions. “They were about to hide it into the mousehole in the wall when I came around the corner just in time to snatch it from them.”
It was a likely story. The brownies, while excellent housekeepers when bribed with a proper bowl of cream and occasional cookies, were also notorious for their little pranks. They had on more than one occasion run off with bills and other forms of important correspondence into the walls of the house. Braxa was the only one that could properly scold them and get them to return what they’d stolen.
“You read your letter while I tell the coachmen where we need to go.” Braxa shoved the letter into Arabella’s hands and darted towards the front of the coach.
“‘We’?” Arabella repeated as she grabbed Braxa’s hand, preventing her from darting off.
She shrugged nonchalantly and handed Arabella her handbag.
“Yes ma’am.” Braxa nodded her head vigilantly. “I can’t let a woman of your status and character go to Vandale alone. Now I’ll just be a moment.”
Braxa slipped her hand free and marched over to the coach driver. Arabella couldn’t quite make out what was said, but she heard numbers being thrown at the coachman as Braxa began to haggle a price. Not wanting to waste much more time, Arabella unfolded the letter and quickly read over the contents.
To my disappointing niece,
Upon receiving this letter, you are to leave immediately, do not even consider hesitating a breath longer. You are to join me on a train voyage out West to that dreaded monster filled town Ottilie to see your father. He’s not responded to any of my letters in the last three months and the banks claim the monthly allowance checks he normally sends has bounced. I can only assume that since you’re his dependent you’ve also experienced something similar; if not you must tell me if my younger brother is neglecting me.
I plan to get to the bottom of this myself. I don’t have time to dawdle with lawyers and men of the like who will take too long to provide a proper answer when the entire Edevane estate is at stake.
Before you come to the Edevane Estate, you are to go to Vandale and stop in at the O.H. Pet Shop and acquire the most suitable travel companion that will act as our protection as we travel. You are to pick up a male of an intimidating height, unoffensive face, and lean build so they don’t eat all the provisions along the way.
I’ve already signed and provided a blank check which you are to use to pay. Try to be reasonable and don’t allow the salesman over charge you.
My train car leaves Saturday June 19. If you’re not here, I can only assume that the postal service has yet again failed me in sending my urgent letters in a timely manner, or you are truly a disappointment and have left me to fend for myself.
Euphemia, the head of the Edevane Estate.
Arabella’s lips formed tightened into a displeased frown. Aunt Euphemia was still the same in bitterness, blunt insults and demands. While Arabella wasn’t exactly accomplished like her cousins with secure financial but loveless marriages, being called ‘disappointing’ was a little much, even for Aunt Euphemia. Then again Aunt Euphemia was known for stating her opinions, rude or otherwise, regardless of taking the other person’s feelings into account. The barbed words had admittedly stung and a part of her would almost rather risk traveling West alone, but if this was the letter her father had told her about, she needed to obey her aunt and depart immediately.
She was desperate to get out of her dinner dress and into something much lighter, especially since she was certainly overdressed for the ride to Vandale, but she supposed it would suffice so they could depart quickly. Even if it was late in the evening, Aunt Euphemia wasn’t one to wait for anyone, especially not Arabella. She carefully refolded the letter and the check with a sigh and slipped them into her handbag. She wished this could have waited until morning.
The clacking of Braxa’s heels made Arabella turn and she was more than surprised to see her travel trunk packed and ready for her. She did remember Braxa dragging it behind her when she originally climbed the coach but seeing it in the lantern light somehow solidified the face she was leaving.
“The driver’s got the address, ma’am,” Braxa said with a disapproving look as she bent to pick up the travel trunk. “I already took the liberty of packing your trunk.”
Arabella silently nodded and against her better judgement she climbed back into the coach and Braxa took the seat across from her. As the coach pulled away, she stole a long gaze at her mother’s childhood home she had the sinking feeling that she might not see it again. She prayed to the gods that she would be able to keep it out of Cousin Leroy’s hands.
OCTAVIUS
It was a particularly busy day in the pet shop, which was most strange. On average the bell above the door would only ring three times at most, but today the bell ran an incessant amount. Octavius could only assume that there was some sort of sale going on, especially since the storekeeper had upped the output of the herbal incense puffing in all the holding cells to keep everyone docile. He had kept his eyes closed in a vain attempt to ignore the noxious herbal incense puffing on his face and choking his lungs to keep him weak. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the incense or stares and commentary from the customers. None of them were worthy of note and had nothing interesting in their minds to listen to as they explored the wares.
Whatever the sale was, it must have been good to keep a constant flow of traffic in the shop. Normally the shopkeeper doesn’t allow more than five customers in the shop at a time due to the limited spacing in the shop. After being here long enough Octavius could assume it was that time of year when the Orion Hunters were auctioning off nonhumans to make room for the new stock. Enough of the others were gone by the time there was a lull in business that Octavius could see the Orion Hunters had made a small fortune today.
It made his inner beast more irritable than usual, scratching at his sanity to escape and howling madly as if to seek something out. Staked immobile in his cell he itched to stretch even his fingers or wiggle his toes. His throat burned for just a drop of blood to ease the need for his thirst. The conglomeration of humans traversing the shop only heightened the need for his thirst to be quenched.
The bell chimed for what felt like the twentieth time today as new customers entered the shop to gawk at him and the beast harrumphed in disappointment and curled in on itself back in the recesses of his mind. The gasps and low murmuring grated his nerves, and he wanted nothing more than the usual silence to pretend to sleep. Their commentary on his rarity and steep price was enough to make him open his eyes to cast a glare at them. Their faces blurred together beneath the swampy green haze that shrouded his holding tank and reeked of money and ill intent.
A hand slapped on the glass and the store manager’s chortle guided the people away from Octavius’s holding cell and warned them of his biting habit. Octavius was the center display piece in the store to draw in the customers only to be at such a high price that they were forced to purchase someone else. After all, what was as intriguing as a drow turned vampire? He was a novelty, coincidentally exotically alluring as he was dangerous, and his very nature drew wealthy fools to him like moths to a flame.
The store manager was wise to make his price so incredibly high as Octavius was currently the only one to have returned to the shop twice for the same offense. He had drained his previous owners dry with no regrets and was tracked down by the Orion Hunters before he could escape the city. The fools that purchased him were for their own ill-gotten gain and deserved their deaths. Had they considered keeping him in a gilded cage like some sort of pet, perhaps he would’ve given them the chance to live longer; then again perhaps not.
In his first year of being in the shop, his first owner was some sort of wealthy railway owner who was expanding towards the west of the continent. He had multiple crews working night and day to accomplish this. It was the first time Octavius had ever been on a train, and for how thrilling it was it came to an abysmal end the moment he stepped off the train. His first owner originally wanted Octavius to punish the night workers who were shackle bound moth folk who were too frail to lift a hammer over their heads to pound the large nails into the ground. A moth child had been thrust at his feet, and he immediately turned on the humans, causing an outbreak and freeing most of the moth folk. In his bloodbath he’d turned on his master and quickly found himself staked and back in the shop. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed returning to the shop, but setting some of the moth folk free had been worth it.
It wasn’t even two months later after his return that his second owner hadn’t minded the manager’s warning and bought him for a trade to the red-light district to make up for his deep debt. While the Tiefling madame of the house was most intrigued by him, she had a sharper eye for the danger that followed Octavius and wisely rejected the offer. His owner didn’t take the rejection well and immediately pointed a gun at her. Octavius couldn’t explain the compulsion that had come over him to take the bullet for the madame, but he had and with the pain of the bullet he allowed the beast’s bloodlust to devour his owner. In his bloodlust haze he vaguely heard the madame offer to assist him in his freedom if he killed a few more of the less than wanted customers. He had too readily agreed and caused too big of a scene that he was hauled back to the shop.
He was admittedly all too eager to drain a third just so he could be put on death row and end this miserable life he was forced to live. If the calendar behind the register was correct, it had been a little over five years now since he last had an owner. Given how dutifully the manager worked to draw customers in and then deter them, he was certain he wouldn’t have another owner until a generation had passed so time could forget him. However, the beast within him felt a strange call deep within his soul that was certain he would be purchased today. Octavius knew better than to hold onto a false hope, but with the foot traffic that came in, he found himself rousing every now and then to see if his third owner was arriving today.
As daylight faded for the evening to take over, the flow of customers slowed to a dull pace to the point where the manager muttered something about closing early. Whatever hopes Octavius had faded away with the day. Ready to resign to his fate, Octavius closed his eyes and tried to settle in for the night when there was a sharp pull in his chest. It came so hard and fast he thought the wooden stake had been ripped from his chest. His eyes snapped open in anticipation, but he saw nothing. The beast within him, however, grew restless once more and pawed impatiently at his chest, howling even louder than before.
Suddenly, the bell rang and soft dainty footsteps entered the shop. For some strange reason it had him wanting to twist about to see who had entered as the beast crooned approvingly. This was too strange, he’d never once felt like this before, yet as he heard the store manager speaking to the customer, a strange anticipation filled him.
Friend, bestie, bestie, friend….you mentioned you have orc ocs? I am intrigued
I do have orc OCs. And half orcs. And many, many other OCs that are not orcs (don’t get me started on my drow and deep gnome characters, I will not shut up).
I think I might write about some tbh. Not sure if anyone here is interested in getting to my orcs, most who come here for orcs are looking for Warcraft orcs. But I might write about them regardless.
Anyways…if y’all are interested in “getting to know” some of them, I’ll be happy to write about them, maybe make an introductory post. I might even use the trusty BG3 character creator to give you all a visual (since I am NOT drawing all them right now, I love them but my carpal tunnel says no. I’ll get to drawing them eventually but I can’t do it in a hurry).
The continuation of the monstrous romances in Drusilla. This time we see the story from Bethea’s perspective as she is forced into isolation to watch the world she knows and love come crashing down and rely on her friends to somehow fix this perilous situation.
LOCATION: Village of Drusilla
TIME: Medieval Fantasy of sorts.
Female Human Reader x Male Drow (both cis).
As if being scolded by Mother Superior for sleeping in that morning hadn’t been enough of a punishment, God had a sick sense of humor about sending another wave of the oh so holy Holy Knights to pass through their humble village; Bethea should have known then that it was going to be one hell of a day. When she saw the Holy Knights arriving during the wretched prayer time, she did not bother trying to quiet her anger nor her cursing; it was her first strike of the day. She had hoped that as the day progressed things would somehow miraculously improve, and though the small few hours out in the garden to pick flowers for the church and herbs to put into the evening stew had been a small reprieve it was not enough to get rid of the boiling anger within her as she learned that the Holy Knights were to be staying in the church; her second strike of the day.
Bethea and Liddy stood at the town square listening to her pompous father introducing the Holy Knights and Bethea simply wanted to scream. Unlike Liddy who would have much preferred to be in the back to listen, Bethea just had to get towards the front to at least give her father controversial looks. Although Liddy managed to pull her back to the third row, Bethea was able to see over the heads of the people and see the large party crowding on the platform. The Holy Knights stood in their glimmering white armor, a sign that they were fresh from the church and had yet to truly fight in their wretched holy wars, a small band of fellows in blackened armor really caught her attention. Dark Knights, more or less glorified mercenaries but ten times more deadly as well as rare as there were so few who were willing to sell their lives to the darkness and the power that lay there. What would the Dark Knights be doing here in Drusilla? Surely her father couldn’t have afforded them, not with his gambling problem.
No, they must be on their way to the Drow and Drider war that lay outside their endangered village; not that her father truly believed that they were protected by the Royal Driders. Lord Colquet even claimed to be a nephew or some sort of descendent of the wonderful and beautiful witch Drusilla who gave up her life in return for the protection of her small village. If they truly were descendants of Drusilla’s bloodline and Bethea surely would have had some sort of magical ability, she would have used it against her father ages ago. Although she did not possess any magical abilities, Bethea had received a higher education that provided her with the capability of having an open mind to think not only for herself but of the betterment of her people of Drusilla which resulted in pointing out her father’s many follies in his lordship over the village; which only grew each day.
There was no telling how much this whole ordeal with the Holy and Dark Knights was going to cost the village this time. The thought alone was enough to make her regret joining the church to get out of a marriage; but she would have been unable to do anything in a marriage to a man who only wanted to breed offspring as terrible as he. She was shamefully lucky that the blacksmith married the poor widow Lorelle, but she would not wish that fate upon anyone, but the poor widow could not feed her daughter on her own; not in this village. Bethea only wished she could have somehow helped out the poor mother more than just giving her and her daughter a bigger helping of food when they came for dinner. It seemed such a tragic fate that kind women somehow ended up in the shackles to cruel men. For as long as she lived, Bethea would never understand why her mother married such a man as her father, God rest her soul; but she would always be thankful that she looked like her mother and the only thing she inherited from him was his stubborn temper.
The leader of the Holy Knights, Sir Harold, as they were formally introduced, stood in front next to a very dashing Drow in Dark Knight armor that instantly caught her eye. Silver moon white hair, skin of gray stone and eyes like pale blue moonbeams locked with her lilac eyes and a cheeky smirk quirked on his face and caused a heat to build within her. Although the Holy Knights looked holy, there was something about the dashing Drow that made her bite her lip and almost forget about her anger; then her father walked in front of him and blocked her view. She did not hide the snarl that escaped her as the fat and squat man with a balding head and rat-like nose known as the lord of Drusilla stood front and center to distribute his weight, so he didn’t fall through the floor.
“Hello, fellow countrymen.” The whole village quieted as he opened his mouth to speak, but Bethea could not help but roll her eyes at his attempt of a formal and eloquent speech. “As we have more Knights passing through our humble hamlet, they have thus volunteered to help us with our Drider problem.”
“What?” Her outburst came out louder than she meant as her father smirked and looked down at her. Her hands balled into fists and they shook with fury. “It has already been decided?”
“Bethea.” Liddy reached for her hand, but Bethea shook her off as she did not want to last out at her as her temper rose.
“What drider problem?” One of the Brislin boys spoke up, and Bethea was ever so glad he did. “We’ve not had any problems with driders!”
She looked in the direction of his voice and saw it was the oldest, Jayroe who spoke up. His bushy brows were so furrowed in indignation and confusion it looked as though a caterpillar had stuck to his tanned forehead. Although Bethea hardly ever spoke to the Brislins like Rheda did, she was thankful to see that someone else of their generation was not so easily blinded by the bigots.
“Ah, shut the lad up!” The butcher spat as he and the blacksmith sat back snickering to one another. Bethea could just barely hear farmer Brislin trying to take his son back, and though the boy very obviously did not want to, he did it for his father’s sake. The greasy butcher scratched his large belly while the black smith uttered something in his ear to make him laugh.
“If you silence him, I’ll speak on all our behalf!” Bethea barked and heads turned her way. Perhaps she wasn’t so glad that she received her father’s temper Afterall, because she spoke without speaking when her temper rose. She could feel Lidwina wanting to flee from this scene as Lord Colquett’s black eyes glowered at her in warning; but Bethea was not afraid of that man. “How dare you say that we have a Drider problem when it was your very aunt that went to the Driders for help and protection!”
“Bethea!” Liddy hissed and grabbed her arm to pull her away, but Bethea would not be silenced nor moved. All eyes were on her, the greasy butcher, the sweaty blacksmith, the beady eyes of Father Isaac, her father’s black eyes and were all pointedly against her, but there was a flash of piqued moonbeam blue eyes that somehow gave her courage to speak.
“No, the Driders have protected this village from all the vile creatures that rise up from the Violet Oaks!” Her temper burned into passion as she pointed a finger at her father. “If you blame this problem on the Driders then you will doom us all!”
Laughter burst from all the nonbelievers in the crowd, the bigots and the Holy Knights, but the Dark Knights tilted their heads in curiosity at her while her father practically fumed at her challenging words. Bethea wasn’t sure what she was expecting, she knew better than to expect her father to wake up and realize the truth in her words, but the condescending laughter all around her hurt her deeply. She thought they knew her better than that, that they knew her father better than that. He knew that she was right, he knew of the travesty that would befall this village if he angered the royal Driders, he knew and yet he would rather remain in the favor of the people than to do them a favor. If he was truly there the day his aunt left the village like he always claimed, then he should know what happens when the royal Driders are angered; it was why they were fighting with the Drow recently. Cold black eyes stared down at her, and if he could punish her without leaving a mark on her she knew that he would; but she would just have to suffer the church’s punishments instead.
“As I was saying,” her father cleared his throat, as if brushing a fly away, and the laughter died down while a scowl seemed to be permanently placed on her face. “Sir Harold here and his party shall assist Brislin and his boys in setting a trap to rid us of our Drider problem once and for all!”
Whatever else spewed from her father’s mouth never reached Bethea’s ears as she glared at him. She stared up into the faces of their village, the men who were supposed to be the leaders, and no matter the glares that lingered on her, she could not help but see how weak they were. If they were not going to listen to reason, then she would simply have to take matters into her own hands. Before a plan could formulate, though, Liddy grabbed her hand and gave it a severe tug that caused her to twist around and look at her. Anxiety was written as clear as the sun in the sky on her face and Bethea knew that she messed up. Lidwina hated being the center of attention and hated getting in trouble for the littlest of things, she was undoubtedly very uncomfortable with this current situation and wanted to leave. “Bethea,” Liddy said in a shaky voice, “you need to leave, now.”
“But - !” Bethea wanted to argue, to prove her point to the fools that stood preaching to more fools, but it would be pearls spent on swine and a complete waste of time.
“Bethea,” Liddy spoke more firmly as she tilted her head in Father Isaac’s purple face as he glared at her; she must have hit her third strike of the day. “You are already in enough trouble as it is.” Before Bethea argued, Liddy rushed, “Yes you can fast for a single night, but you are most unpleasant to be around when you’ve not eaten in days.”
Bethea’s face warmed as she knew that her friend was right and that was what had made her anger so strong today. Even knowing that, she at least wanted to stay and give her father a piece of her mind. Liddy must have sensed this because her voice became more pleading. “At least go back to the convent to avoid a more severe punishment and I shall tell you what their course of action will be.” Bethea couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the bold notion her friend made to her. “I will stay here and tell you and Rheda things when I return.”
No matter how much Bethea wanted to stay, she released a heavy sigh and at the bequest of her friend, chose to leave. She stole one final glance over her shoulder to try and see the dashing Drow, but her fat father was determined to prevent her even an ounce of happiness. Bethea could have cared less about the Knights, Holy and Dark, passing through to go to the Crusades and wars if it didn’t cost the entire village of Drusilla a month’s worth of food for the winter every time her father decided to display the village’s bountiful supply of food that they were blessed with.
Drusilla was a strong village that worked with one another rather than against, the taxes were low, the people for the most part were pleasant, but her father Lord Colquett had a way of literally throwing his weight around and making people’s lives miserable. Each day she prayed that the man would quit his drinking and his gambling and finally be a man to take care of the village, or have him lose so badly that it would cost him his life for everything he wasted and squandered in the capital. Love was nonexistent between them as he did not care for her as she was a female and his only heir, and she did not care for him for the way he treated her deceased grandparents and mother and part of her knew he would pay for it tenfold when karma finally caught up with him; it was only a matter of time.
Bethea had gotten so wrapped up in anguish filled thoughts that she did not hear Father Isaac calling and chasing after her. It wasn’t until he snatched her back by the arm and turned her around to face him did his quivering voice reach her ears.
“If I would have known you were going to be this problematic I wouldn’t have let a foul wench like you into my fold!” Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough down the road before Father Isaac managed to catch up with her. The skinny and shaking man sweated profusely and looked as though he were going to pop a vein. “If it weren’t for Mother Superior, I would have married you off to the butcher when I had the chance!”
Her eyes widened at this sudden revelation as he glared down at her and shook her by both her arms. “Father Isaac –”
“What were you thinking speaking out against your father and the entire safety of the village?” He slapped a hand to his bald head. “Are you trying to ruin the church?”
“It was for the safety of the people that I both thought and spoke out against my father!” She stomped on his foot and freed herself from his angry hold. He released her, but the steam seemed to billow from his ears with how angry he was.
“Your father is the lord of this village –” He tried to raise his voice at her, but she was always louder than her own father when they started arguing.
Bethea’s face burned with anger and indignation as her voice grew louder. “And I am his daughter and have the right to speak out against him!”
“You had the right!” He corrected with a vengeance and Bethea could see the vein in his forehead nearly ready to burst from his half-shaved head. “The moment you joined the church was the moment you threw away those rights!”
Bethea never wanted to physically hurt a man of the faith more than she did in this moment. This coward of a man who avoided conflicts with those bigger than him and preyed on those smaller and those he deemed weaker than himself dared to try to silence her with his ‘right of power’ all because he was some priest. If she wanted to live under a sexist pig she would have stayed with her father or married the butcher.
“If you think you can lord over me,” she began to jab her finger into his chest to get him away from her, “because you’re the priest –”
“Bethea Gloria Colquett,” Bethea froze and glared at the only offender who would dare use her full name; Mother Superior.Mother Superior’s voice rang loud and clear as she stood at the top of the hill. “That is enough!”
Bethea turned to argue with her, but a frown deeply etched into Mother Superior’s face and she held her tongue as she glowered at Father Isaac.The old nun more than likely saw the whole thing and waited for the perfect moment to step in; she always had perfect timing.
“Mother Superior, thank the heavens above that you’re here.” Father Isaac’s shoulders relaxed by a hair as he thought he was to receive support from his sister in the church. “This woman –”
“I have both seen and heard what this child of the Lord has done.” Mother Superior answered coolly as she descended down the hill to stand beside Bethea. Bethea visibly gulped and she felt the weight of the world weigh down on her shoulders. “I have also seen and heard of what you have done, Brother Isaac.”
Mother Superior’s words seemed to sting him and fling him away from her as the air of confidence around him quickly diminished. He pointed at her and spat on the ground, his bald head began to turn red and more blood vessels seemed to sprout.“Father Isaac to you!”
“I will call you by your appropriate title when you act like it, Brother Isaac.” Those sharp brown eyes narrowed at him. “I will handle things from here, Brother Isaac, you may return to the church.”
“Don’t try to undermine me!” The fool now stood far too close for a man of God to be standing next to a woman and tried to make himself bigger than she, but Mother Superior merely tilted her head at him like a wolf would when a rat bit its toe.
“You may return to the church, now, Isaac.” Her words were deathly enunciated as she stood tall with her shoulders back proving that she was neither afraid nor intimidated by him; oh, how greatly amusing it was to see the tables turn. “Your services are no longer required here.”
His mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe above water before he made a whimpering noise and marched up the hill to return to the church. Both women watched the man leave in an eerie silence. Bethea wanted to laugh at the great show that played out before her, but she knew to hold her tongue for soon she would be the one under the scrutiny of those brown eyes. Mother Superior did not turn to look at her nor did she ask if Bethea were alright, but instead gave a simple command as she took a step forward. “Come.”
Bethea grimaced as she knew this punishment would be far worse than the last and wordlessly followed the woman up the hill, through the halls of the church, and down the corridor to her office. As Bethea was the troubled child in the church, this was not an unusual scene for her to be in Mother Superior’s office. The silence that lingered as she followed her, however, did unnerve her more than she cared to admit.
Bethea stood before her desk as she quietly waited for Mother Superior to at least walk around the other side of her desk. She licked her lips nervously and tried to appear calm when she was nearly boiling over inside. Mother Superior merely took her seat and kept her eyes closed, as if contemplating the severity of this punishment, before resting her elbows on the desk and lacing her fingers together. Crackling brown eyes met nervous lilac and with the quickest glances to the seat behind her, Bethea took her seat and waited for Mother Superior to speak first. “Bethea.”
“Agnes, it isn’t what you think.” Her hands rested on her knees and tightly dripped the fabrics of her skirts. “I swear I wasn’t trying to cause trouble –”
“You never do, dear.” Mother Superior gave her an exhausted smile. “Much like your mother, it just comes naturally to you I’m afraid.” Her hand pinched the space between her brows as she released a heavy sigh. “Would you like tea?”
“Yes.” Bethea’s brow furrowed as Mother Superior stood and went to the corner of the room where a small pot of tea waited. “This isn’t about me, Agnes.” She pressed as Mother Superior set a jar of honey on the table and silently prayed she would understand. “This is about the village! My father hired Holy Knights and Dark Knights to come here and claimed they are here to get rid of the Drider problem.”
“What news is this? Your father is the biggest fool that I know of.” She groaned as she brought the small kettle over and set two cups down. “I have been fighting with that man since I was brought here by the Driders themselves.” Placing a hand on the top of the kettle she carefully poured the tea into the cups. “No one is more aware of the man’s cunning tricks and forms of blackmail than I am.” Brown eyes flicked to lilac, “It is how I lost your mother, and if you’re not careful it is how I will lose you as well.”
“Lose me?” Bethea’s brow pinched as she shook her head in confusion. “Because I speak out against my father?”
“Yes.” She huffed as she took her seat slowly. “By now I’m sure you’ve already started plotting some sort of terrible way to get back at your father for his own stupidity,” she gave Bethea a knowing look, “and you’ll undoubtedly drag Rheda and Lidwina into your little scheme.”
“I do not drag them into anything.” Bethea quipped as she stirred honey into her tea. “I never force them into anything, they always come of their own free will.”
Mother Superior rose a brow of disbelief and for the briefest of moments a smile peaked before her mouth tightened into a straight line. “No one loves this village more than you, Bethea.” She sighed as she reached for her own cup. “I, more than anyone else in this village, know how important this place is to you and all you want to do is protect it, but if you keep acting as childishly as you have been I’m not going to win the argument over with Isaac about keeping you here.”
“You would send me away?” She gasped and slammed the cup down on its saucer.
“Of course not, child!” She snapped and a fire lit in those tired brown eyes. “Do you really think I fought for your place in this church for nothing? Do you really think that I would have fought so hard to prevent the tragedy of a marriage to the butcher if I was merely going to send you away? Don’t be absurd”
Bethea bit her tongue and looked askance. Mother Superior always took care of her, even if Beteha was constantly in trouble, and though Mother Superior tried to act fierce and icy, Bethea knew of the goodness in her heart. Only people with a good heart could have befriended her mother, at least that was what her grandparents had always said. Besides, if Mother Superior was going to send her away, she would have done it long before now. Mother Superior was the one that nearly killed Father Isaac for trying to deny her admittance into the church after he blessed such a frivolous marriage proposal to the butcher. No matter how much trouble Bethea always had, Mother Superior was always the one to punish her for she knew that if Father Isaac punished her, she would have starved to death or would have been beaten to death by now. Mother Superior rubbed a hand to her wrinkled brow before dragging it down her face.
“No matter how strong of a presence I hold here, child, I can’t save you from everything.” She warned as she brought the warm cup of tea to her lips. “I can intimidate Father Isaac because he is too cowardly to oppose me again after his first attempt, but I can’t intimidate the entire town in the same way. If you keep acting so irresponsible you will get yourself sent away from here and lose all chances of saving this godforsaken village.”
“Do you expect me to just. . .” Bethea shook her head as she tried to find the right words. “Take it lying down and let my father win, Agnes?”
“Of course not, child.” Agnes rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You’re much smarter than that, and I would be severely disappointed in you if you took it like a dog, and you know it.” That gave Bethea a small amount of relief, but she knew that her aunt Agnes wasn’t finished yet. Mother Superior exhaled sharply through her nose and sat up, “No, as hard as it may be, I expect you to stop acting out on your tempers and use that head of yours, Bethea.”
Bethea winced at her words and knew that Agnes was right. Bethea was always a fighter and not a thinker, which was what got her into so much trouble in the first place. If she was going to get a handle on things and finally find a way to kick her father out of his place in this village, she would have to be much smarter and wiser than she was now; especially if she was to come up with a plan to prevent the bigots from succeeding against the Driders.
“Now, since you’ve stirred up so much trouble in town,”Mother Superior glanced over the top of her tea. “I’m sure you know what that means.”
Bethea’s nose wrinkled, as she knew of her repeated punishment already. “Isolation.”
“Aye.” Mother Superior nodded her head. “Two weeks, a week longer every time I catch you out.”
“Then I better not get caught.” Bethea couldn’t help but smirk, and Mother Superior reflected that smirk. It was always a strange game they seemed to play and it was what made Bethea’s reputation in the convent so terrible.
“No, you had better not.” She agreed. “Each time I catch you, it’ll be another week.”
“I’ve been in there for months before,” Bethea tried to shrug it off, but in truth she hated the isolation. It reminded her of all the times her father would lock her up in the attic when she annoyed him and would leave her in there for hours. She hated being alone like that and it was more torture than the lashings Father Isaac would rather her have.
“Let’s not repeat that though.” Mother Superior tutted as she set her cup down. “Especially if you want to be the leader of this village.”
Those brown eyes could see through all her plots and ploys, and she prayed that with this one she wouldn’t. Once Bethea left this office she would have no choice but to be in her isolated confinement, besides she still had to wait to hear from Lidwina about the Knight’s plans to come up with a proper plan to foil it. “R-Right.” She gulped and gave a nod.
“Now, finish your tea and be off with you.” Mother Superior shooed her with her hand. “All your belly aching and yelling has given me a headache that I know won’t leave me until this is all over.”
Not wanting to waste her time, Bethea took the rest of her tea like a shot before bolting from the office. The moment she flung open the door, though, Father Isaac was waiting to enter. They scowled at one another as Father Isaac stepped aside so she could leave and Bethea moved quickly to pass him. Knowing better than to linger and eavesdrop, Bethea hurried down the halls and corridors to her own room on the second floor.
The moment she opened the door, the windows were closed, and the curtains were drawn, and she immediately knew that Rheda was there. Because of her high sensitivity to light, Rheda often did not leave the church during the day and stayed inside her own room reading from her bible as she currently was on Bethea’s bed. Rheda had brown hair that fell around her face like a veil and pale gray eyes that darted back and forth as she read the words on the page. Her friend Rheda was brought to the church as an infant when her parents went to go excavating in the Violet Oaks, but they never came back. Although she hated the circumstances that brought Rheda to Drusilla, Bethea was never more grateful to have her in her life. They had grown up together when Bethea returned to Drusilla and they knew each other so well they were practically sisters.
When the door clicked closed behind her, Rheda finally looked up and smiled at her. “Oh, you’re back.”
Bethea let out a long sigh as she rested her back against the door, “Yes.”
“I heard you got in trouble again,” she spoke in a melodic teasing voice as she closed her bible and set it on the nightstand. “Apparently you caused quite the stir.”
Bethea snatched the veil and coif from her head and pushed herself off the door to sit beside her on the bed. “Don’t I always?”
“What’s the ultimatum?” Rheda asked as she began to comb her fingers through Bethea’s blonde hair and weave it into a braid.
“Isolation.” The word echoed like clattering chains clinging to her soul and sent a chill down her spine.
“Again?” Rheda peeked around her shoulder.
“Two weeks.” Bethea covered her face in her hands. “A week added each time I’m caught.”
“Well, two weeks isn’t very long.” Rheda hummed as she unraveled the braid and started again. “Then again, for you, that is nearly two months of a wait.”
“Do not mock me, Rheda.” Bethea puffed up her cheeks as Rheda’s fingers went through her hair again. It was soothing, but not soothing enough to calm her raging thoughts. “I spoke out against my father; again.”
“Again?” Rheda repeated with a groan.
“He wants to get rid of the Driders.”
“What?” Rheda squawked as she released her hair so Bethea could sit up and turn around.
“He has hired this whole hoard of Knight, Holy and Dark,” Bethea rolled her eyes, “he’s trying to pass it off that they’re here for the Crusades –”
“They could be.” Rheda offered.
“But they’re not.” Bethea rejected. “Holy Knights normally aren’t willing to travel with Dark Knights, nor are Dark Knights willing to put up with the ever I am holier than thou speech the Holy Knights give them!”
Rheda’s left brow rose in disbelief. “You’re certain of that?”
“Yes.” Bethea lied quickly. “But that’s not the point. Right now, my father is trying to get rid of Driders because he thinks we have a problem, or an infestation.”
“He does know that it is nearly impossible for mere humans to take down a Drider, right?” Rheda grimaced at the news. “Even if there are Holy and Dark Knights, it still won’t be enough to take down a sane Drider, let alone a feral one.”
“But there aren’t just humans in the Dark Knight party,” moonbeam blue eyes came to her mind as she thought of the Dark Knights. “There are Drow and Orcs.”
“How interesting.” Rheda hummed as she gave up on braiding Bethea’s hair and settled on just combing it with her fingers. “Even then, I don’t think they’ll be strong enough to take down a feral Drider on their own.”
“I am aware,” Bethea huffed and stood to pace the floor to burn her growing angst out. “But my father does not believe in them, nor that this village has been protected by them.”
It seemed that only the old and the few who had ever seen a Drider were the ones to believe the protection that they provided the village. Most people made the stories out to be myths and rumors, but even Lidwina who had only been here for a few years had been saved by a Drider. Hell, even Mother Superior believed in the Driders and the protection they provided the village, why couldn’t the others?
Bethea rubbed at her face irritably as she tried not to give into her tempers again. With a soft hum Rheda looked back to the door then to Bethea.“Where’s Liddy?”
“She’s still at the town square.” Bethea raked her hands through her hair. “She’s going to tell us what their plan is.”
A quick knock came at the door before Lidwina shuffled inside and panting heavily. Her brilliant red hair poked out from under her veil and coif and her cheeks were red like she ran the whole way here.Both Bethea and Rheda hopped to their feet to go over to their gasping friend. “Liddy!”
“NEws!” Lidwina gasped. “I have. . . news!”
“My god, woman, we weren’t going anywhere.” Bethea chided her and patted her back. “There was no need for you to run.”
“Why did you run Liddy?” Rheda pulled Liddy over to the bed and ushered her to sit down while Bethea went to her pitcher and poured a glass of water.
“Give her a second to breath, Rheda.” Bethea swatted her arm before carefully handing the cup over to Lidwina. She took three deep swallows before her breathing calmed down a level
“T-They’re –” she gasped for air and pressed a hand to her chest. “They’re planning to use a cow.”
“A cow?” They questioned together.
“As bait.” Liddy nodded her head and sat up to finish the rest of the water. “They want to lure a Drider out to kill it.”
“You can’t be serious.” Bethea’s hand went to her hairline. How was it they were stuck in a village full of idiots?
“As the plague.” Liddy nodded her head at the severity of the situation.
“Are they trying to add another war into the mix of things?” Rheda shuddered at the thought. “Even if they have Dark Knights, it still won’t be enough to take down a full grown feral Drider.”
“I believe that we and the Dark Knights are the only ones that seem to understand that.” Liddy’s breathing got under control and she finally removed the rest of her veil and coif from her head. “Even though Sir Harold made a huge announcement about it in the square, the Drow and the Orcs did not seem to agree.”
It was good to know that not all of the Knights seemed to be foolish in wanting a slow and painful death by the hands of a Drider. “How do they plan to use a cow as bait?” Bethea asked with a tilt of her head.
“They plan to tie it to a post out in Brislin’s field and wait.” Liddy’s hands fell into her lap in defeat.
“Poor Aisley.” Rheda cooed and cupped her hands to her cheeks. “She must be so distraught!”
“Did my father come up with that? That is such a ridiculous idea it sounds like something he would say.” Bethea grimaced at the foolishness of such a plan. “What if it draws out more than one?”
“I have no idea.” Liddy shook her head with a grimace. It was a thought none of them truly wanted to think about. If it attracted more Drider then their village would surely cease to exist and everyone with it.
“What happens if nothing shows up?” Bethea asked quickly as a plan began to formulate quickly.
“Then . . .” Lidwina’s brow furrowed. “Then the Knights will stay for a few days to make sure it wasn’t a fluke and will eventually leave.”
“Then all we have to do is make sure that this is a failed plan.” Bethea spoke quickly as the plan came to her with each reasoning.
“What do you mean make sure it is a failed plan?” Rheda repeated.
“We just have to draw the cow away from its post and return it to the farm.” Lidwina said thoughtfully. “It shouldn’t be too difficult, I even could do it.”
“I completely agree.” Bethea said cheerfully and decided to latch onto that wonderful bit of information. “You could do it, Liddy.”
“Oh no.” Rheda placed her palm on her face and groaned. “Now you’ve done it.”
Lidwina jumped up, the blood slowly dissolving from her cheeks. “What?”
“Liddy,” Bethea grabbed Lidwina by the shoulders and beamed at her.”You could save the cow!”
“What?” She shook her head and her green eyes blinked in surprise. “I can’t do it –”
“You just said it would be so easy that you could.” Bethea urged and released her shoulders to hold her hands. “I would do it, but I’m stuck in isolation for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Lidwina winced at the news. “That’s so long, Bethea.”
“Not long enough.” Rheda sighed.
“Hush.” Bethea swatted Rheda then smiled at Lidwina. “Liddy, will you do it?”
Lidwina turned her face away from her eager friend. “I-I don’t know, Bethea.”
“I’ll give you my boots!” Bethea insisted.
“Bethea.” Rheda snagged her by the hair and pulled her aside. While Bethea groaned in pain at having her hair pulled, Rheda sat on the bed next to Lidwina. “I can go with you, Liddy.”
Lidwina groaned and let her face fall into her hands again. “You too, Rheda?”
“As much as it pains me to agree, I think Bethea is right.” Rheda spoke gently. “If the Knights succeed in drawing out a Drider, the last thing we need is for them to be the ones to anger the royal Driders and then they swarm the village.”
“If we did nothing to prevent a tragedy from befalling this village,” Bethea joined Lidwina on the other side of her and squeezed her hand, “it would be on our heads.”
“Bethea, don’t use guilt, you’re supposed to be catholic not Jewish.” Rheda scolded and swatted her hand away from Lidwina and replaced it with her own. “Liddy, I promise, everything will work out and I will even distract the Knights so you can go out into the fields and get the cow.”
“Mary Frances, Judas Priest,” Lidwina groaned and let her head fall back against the wall. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the one out of the three of us that stays out of trouble the most.” Bethea encouraged. “So no one will be looking for you like me and Rheda.”
“I resent that.” Rheda frowned at her with a warning look. “But I am friends with Aisley, so it would make more sense for me to go and pray for a hedge of protection around the cow. It would ease their mind about the fate of the cow.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” Bethea’s nose wrinkled in disgust at Rheda and earned a challenging scowl from her. Sadly, she knew that she wasn’t and that it would be the perfect ploy to get into the Brislin household without cause for alarm.
Squished between her two pleading friends, Lidwina sighed as she stared out the window and resigned to her fate. “I’ll do it. . .”
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
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