The Escape (Closed)

Closed thread for Bad_Thad and Monique_Minx

Ryk awoke to the stench of vomit, urine and feces. His eyelids fluttered. The dark cell slowly came into focus amidst the gentle jingling of his bound wrists. His weapons, documentation and coin were not on his body. He was left with a miniscule, soiled piece of cloth to cover his rear and member. Glancing across the cell yielded a single broken stool. The roar of a crowd shook dust from the ceiling above.

A faint glow danced into his peripheral accompanied by the metallic groaning of old metal. He looked through the barred square on the door at darting shadows. He shook his head and tried to remember how he had arrived there. A playful whistle broke his focus. He could distinctly make out metallic flapping. A light, no, medium armor. Keys jingled, a warm glow peaked beneath the door. He quickly let his head fall to rest and his body go limp. He kept one eye open by a sliver. The door opened.

"Hey!"

Ryk was jarred by a boot to his stomach. His jawline firmed and he looked up; blue beacons stared at their attacker.

A smile crept across the guards mouth, "Ah, tough one are you?"

He bent down and squeezed Ryk's cheeks together. He rose to a knee, but remained silent. The guard took two brief steps towards the door and then spun. His balled fist sent Ryk's head snapping to the side. Misty spray filled the air; a mixture of sweat, blood and saliva. He crumbled on the ground. His blurred vision faded and he slid his face against the ground. He searched for the guard, but stopped short. A specific part of the floor held his attention hostage. He returned to his feet.

The guard chuckled, clearly amused with Ryk's withdrawn stare, "Now that's a good bo--"

Ryk's hand gripped the guards throat. His tongue shot out in a seizured panic. He tried to step back, only to be spun; Ryk's free hand on his collar. His veins rippled against the rusted chains. The guard tried to unsheathe his weapon in desperation. Ryk fumbled with the unconscious body. Finding the keys he unlocked his right wrist, slowly rotating his shoulder with pained freedom.

A voice echoed through the corridor, "Escorting, coming down! Attention!"

Ryk frantically freed his other hand and stood, turning around crouched, trying to think of his next move. He looked down at the guard lying beneath him. After removing his armor Ryk quickly placed the chains on the dead guard's wrist. The footsteps grew louder. Unable to locate a helmet, Ryk stood at attention behind the main holding cell's entrance.

"Open," bellowed the escorting guard through the door. Ryk swung the door open trying his best to keep his face concealed.

She paced the room, considering all manner of options when she finally decided that a new slave was the best one she could think of. Kathryn loathed coming here, this would not be the first time and probably not the last and she wiped a single tear from her eye quickly.

She was a strong woman but her last slave had run off, left her and broke her heart in two, they had become quite close and she’d been foolish to allow him so much free rein, she had never considered the fact that he was in love with another slave girl.

Her cherry coloured curls cascaded down her back and glinted in the sunlight that streamed through the window of the stone room where she was meant to wait after having sent a messenger down into the depths of the slave quarters. Her Irish skin was a lily white hue and she examined each long fingernail as she reclined in the uncomfortable wooden seat. Her dress was a light shade of blue and tight around her bust, clearly she had leveled breathing skills so she could wear a corset without fainting. Kathryn’s pale blue eyes seemed almost misty with thought as she sat patiently.

She might have seemed innocent for appearances sake but those that knew her were smarter than that, her last slave had hardened her up and made her need to wield a whip greater so now she wanted a stronger slave, one that would be unflinching in her presence. Most were broken and boring, they made her yawn so she had to move from ordinary slaves to ones that were taken prisoner during times of war, soldiers and such who made her smile when she saw their muscled torsos or strength when they were hit.

The Lady in waiting wandered down the stone steps with a guard by her side, she was nervous about entering a room like this and had begged Lady Kathryn not to make her but she did as she was told. She carried a satchel in her arms filled with clothing for the slave and a note for the guard that had a receipt of purchase attached to it. They led Amarantha down into the slave dungeon and the moment she stepped across the threshold, she instantly realized something was very wrong. She wandered inside, leaving the guard by the door and crouched beside the man in shackles.

Amarantha checked for a pulse, the man’s face was blue and she gasped when she realized he was dead. She rolled him onto his back and covered her mouth at the sight, his throat was slit and there was blood pouring down his body. She stepped back from him, shaking her head and crying whilst trying not to vomit all over the floor. She wondered if the smell was the dead body or the room in general, she shook her head again and turned to the guard who escorted her.

“Lady Kathryn is not paying for a dead slave Sir!” Amarantha tried to sound as angry as possible but really she was just terrified, she had never come across a dead body before and holding back the vomit was a task and a half!

Ama--. Ryk squinted, profusely swimming through black and empty thought. Amarantha. This woman's name is Amarantha. Lady in waiting. Amarantha's steps were light and she carried a near flawless posture. Ryk shook his head and concentrated. How do I know her name? Nothing came to him. Does she know me? The escorting guard stopped. Ryk concealed his premeditated attack. What do I do? How can I escape? His racing thoughts halted. They will discover the body.

Ryk looked at the armored guard, ready to unsheathe his dagger. His eyes began to move on their own; sporadic, but with specificity. They fixated with free will, providing him with small packets of information. Instantly processed data. Left-handed. What was going on? The flood prevented coherent thought leaving his native question unanswered. Fair marksman, weak hand-to-hand. Ryk felt uncomfortably safe, smug even. The prospects of his safety were no longer at risk. Mentally flabbergasted, his unsteady hand returned from the dagger's hilt.

The guard, drawn by peripheral motion turned to Ryk. Their eyes met. An image of the squire's face came to the forefront of Ryk's conscious. He looked on, in thought, seeing himself call upon his dagger. He watched himself strafe towards the guard's near shoulder and deliver a quick thrust to his neck. Ryk retracted his blade and put weight into a follow up thrust below the left armpit, exposed by the guard's attempt to bear his sword. He shook his head, searching for reason.

"Lady Kathryn is not paying for a dead slave Sir," yelled Amarantha. Her distress was evident. The quiver in her speech unmasked her angry front.

Ryk and the squire spoke simultaneously.

"Sir."

"Explain yourself guard!"

Ryk looked on. Should the guard discover the identity of his fallen comrade he would need to act swiftly. He closed the distance with a step, his metal sole echoing against the stone floor.

"The prisoner had feigned illness," Ryk continued, "I felt it necessary to assess his well being. As I neared him, he attacked me and I was forced to defend myself." Ryk stiffened his body, "Sir."

The guard cursed under his breath before barking, "Why did you not send word?"

Ryk hesitated. Strike him down? Run?

"Sir, I was but in flight when you arrived." I'd never make it.

The guard turned back and spoke to Amarantha, "My Lady, the slave to be sold has apparently met an unfortunate demise." The guard spun around, "Take care of the corpse and stop standing around," he yelled.

Ryk gathered all the dextrous mobility belonging to his body. He moved the best that he could in the armor. It was heavy, awkward and lacked the sensation of flexible limbs.

The guard returned his attention to Amarantha, "Please send Lady Kathryn my condolences. Take your choice of slave to be had. I'm sure Sir Welch would insist that no coin be exchanged. I must tend to this-," said the guard. He fought his temptation to turn and strike the impotence from Ryk. He kept his gaze on Amarantha, "I bid you good day."

"See to it that Lady Amarantha finds a suitable slave," said the guard.

"Sir."

He tried to side step the advance but failed. Their shoulders collided. Ryk momentarily stumbled. His lips tightened and he bore his teeth with restraint. The guard continued on with nothing but a breathy growl to show for it. The large metal entrance opened and closed.

Knowing the answer Ryk still chose to ask, "Are you well My Lady?"

He raised a hand to comfort her, but stopped. Her face was stained with tears and she was visibly shaken. Don't touch her. His posture stiffened. More guards will be sent soon. Take her hostage? No. Ryk took a deep breath. I don't have time for this. He didn't know what to make of the sensation. Lady Amarantha's eyes widened. The guards hilt connected squarely with the base of his neck. His limp body crashed to the floor, wavy dark brown hair falling across his face.

Amarantha gasped, shocked at the brutality the other guards would take on one of their own and she watched the man collapse to the floor. The guards all swarmed, the dead body dragged from the room while the unconscious man on the floor was shackled with haste.

“What are you doing?!” Amarantha demanded of them, her crystal blue eyes leveling with the guard's dark grey ones as she wanted to know just what the hell was going on!

“Our apologies My Lady but it seems this is not one of our guards, he has murdered one of them instead.” He gestured to the body disappearing from view up the stairs. “Please return to Lady Kathryn and tell her that her slave will be delivered to her, you should not have come down here, we’re very sorry.”

He didn’t sound at all sincere but seemed rather angry more than anything, Amarantha shook her head with a sigh; how incredibly complicated this simple task had become! She dropped the satchel of clothing; it held a pair of britches and a plain white cotton tunic.

“He’s to be dressed in these when he’s presented to Lady Kathryn…” Amarantha frowned, he seemed familiar…she shook her head; it had been an arduous day after all!

She turned on her heel, her blonde tresses flicking angrily as she wandered up the stairs and back through the stone maze into the waiting room where Lady Kathryn was growing impatient, pacing up and down. Amarantha gulped and wandered over to the Lady.

“Where have you been? How long does this simple task take?!” Lady Kathryn scolded.

“I’m sorry My Lady, the slave caused some trouble but the guards assure me he will be delivered to you.” She had barely finished her sentence and Kathryn already looked livid.

“Trouble? What trouble?” Kathryn’s voice fell quiet, her tone dangerous and edged with fury.

Amarantha gulped and hurried to answer her Mistress, “He killed a guard…the other guards had to knock him out…”

Lady Kathryn looked surprised for a moment and turned away, she wondered about this slave she had purchased and a smirk bowed her lips; so he has fire indeed…she was delighted by the prospect, it proved that the slavers had not just been rambling on and telling her what she wanted to hear. She moved back to her chair and swept her skirt out as she sat down and nodded to Amarantha.

“Then we will wait for him…” Lady Kathryn said very quietly as Amarantha nodded and moved to take a seat of her own, hoping the guards didn’t dally about!

Kathryn shifted in her seat and crossed her leg, revealing a sly slit in her dress; it ran all the way to her hip though it was cleverly concealed from those that might think she was improper in public. Her leg exposed to Amarantha’s eyes, clearly Lady Kathryn was not in any mood for proprieties today!

Cold stagnant water splashed across Ryk's face. He folded over onto his side. The guards laughed. Green lacey algae clung to his skin. A soft weight fell upon him. Why are they giving me clothes? The folded cloth was a comfort from the evaporation on his skin. He kept the folded dry cloth from falling off his form. Where is the girl.. Amarantha? He slowly sat up.

"Morning scab," uttered a guard.

A guard rolled saliva at the back of his throat, hurling it through his lips with blow gun accuracy, "Get up and put the clothes on you sorry excuse for a mongrel."

Ryk wiped the wadded filth from his cheek. Still dazed, he was unable to retaliate. His hands worked the folds from the clothing, his glaring hatred fixated on the guard. The warmth of clothing was a brief grasp of civility. Ryk turned his hands palm up to a faint jingle of chain.

He presented the rusted bindings on his wrist to the guard, "Were it not for these, Friend, you most certainly would have faced an", he paused, "unfortunate end." Move! Instinctively, Ryk swung his head and shoulders to the side; dodging the phlegm.

The guard rushed forward, another worked to restrain him, "Easy, easy, don't be putting him off so soon."

Ryk allowed a side of his mouth to curl, "Tis a tradgedy your accuracy fails upon a conscious target..."

"Enough Slave, you will watch your tongue," turned the guard restraining his fellow man in arms.

Ryk's eyes slowly shifted to him. There are too many. Easy, you're not endangered, yet. He stepped towards the guards slowly in an effort to display submissive intent. Ryk admired the morality of the restraining guard. He almost thanked him. Brace! Ryk's attempt to side step was nullified by proximity. Almost. The hilt of the steel blade landed. The entire breath of Ryk's lungs fled his body. Unable to accept air he croaked with each inhale.

The guard laughed, "Landed there didn't it?"

They led Ryk up the stairs; initially dragging him while he fought for oxygen. Where are they taking me? He thought about the roar of the crowd. Something's wrong. The sensation before losing consciousness. It ebbed. With each step however, it lost it's rigidity. They entered a fairly large room. Garnered with chairs, various paintings and, Her. A new sensation entered Ryk's mind.

"Kneel Slave," commanded a guard.

Ryk saw Amarantha on her left, but this woman sitting, he couldn't place his finger on it. She is.. A boot to the back of his calf brought Ryk to a knee. He shot the guard a stare.

"Your Slave, My Lady."

He stood at attention. Ryk's head slowly turned to the woman. The blue velvet of her dress was darker, much darker in fact, than his own eyes. It juxtaposed her fair skin. His eyes walked upwards along her body until they met with Cherry strands that curled. Each curl dared Ryk to continue the ascent. She was indeed beautiful and of significant class. Who was she?

Lady Kathryn rose elegantly. Her steps were measured and unconsciously perfect. She rounded him once, and then again. Ryk felt her eyes upon him. He did not raise his own to meet her. Why I was brought here? The foreign sensation still lurked in his mind. Do I know her?

Circling him a third time Ryk whispered, "My Lady, you are far too close to be free of danger. What inspection could be worth one's life?"

Lady Kathryn paused, a smile creeping across her lips. Lowering herself from the hips she bent towards Ryk, "Slave, you present me with such a threat," her fingers delicately stroked him from cheek to chin. She held his gaze between her thumb and index finger, "yet your eyes do not consent."

He could feel her thumb now running across the stubble on his chin. Was she not scared? Ryk looked into her misty pale blue eyes. Not in the slightest. Intoxicated by the mystery woman's assessment, Ryk found himself unable to muster any form of response. Who is? What does she want with me?

She stood and removed her hand from his cheek, taking a perfectly graceful step backwards; her eyes never left his. Lady Kathryn looked him over with intrigue, he would not lie down and beg like so many, he would not kneel easily and he was not afraid of her. She had not reduced him to a whimpering mess with her words; instead he looked similarly satisfied with her.

Kathryn’s eyes ran over him, again and again as she assessed him, his body and his body language alike. She was most pleased with what befell her sight, his inner strength was solid and he would be resilient and fight her for the right to have him. He was not there of his own choice, that much was entirely obvious to them both. She liked a slave to respect her and similarly, she would find respect for them if they had earned it so she would earn his as he would earn her’s. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she preferred a slave that didn’t fear her, Kathryn didn’t much care for the feelings that gave her and she did like a slave with a mind of his own.

She snapped out of her daydream like haze and studied him sharply with the ferocity of a lion stalking prey as she went over the things that would have to be adjusted to suit him in her mind and the things he would have to change to please her better.

Kathryn took a clipboard from the guard and looked puzzled for an instant before she handed it back, she wandered back to Ryk and knelt before him to bring her opaque gaze level with his once again. She didn’t have to raise his chin, it was as if he knew that she wanted him to look her in the eyes…that or he was just being a cocky bastard…it didn’t matter…yet!

“Ryk is it? Why don’t you tell me how you came to be here Ryk? You tell me your past and I shall tell you your future…” She whispered softly so that only he would hear her.

Amarantha moved to Lady Kathryn’s far left side, staying well back from the scene between Mistress and slave, it wasn’t her place as she was only there to care for Lady Kathryn’s appearance, run her errands and learn what it took to be a Lady. She even took French lessons from Lady Kathryn but she was entirely convinced that she would never learn a word beyond ‘Oui’ and ‘Le Tableau’. Not that ‘yes’ and ‘the table’ would ever get her very far but they seemed to be the only words her mind could absorb of the language.

Amarantha’s eyes wandered over Ryk and her face creased with concern and confusion, she knew him; she knew she did but from where? Why? And above all how could she possibly know him; know a slave?

Lady Kathryn circled Ryk. She has a great confidence. He continued to look into her snowy winter eyes. A chill remained atop his skin when their eyes parted. He was conscious of her attention. After all, he was the meat up for inspection; the livestock to be bought. His eyes meandered down to the floor. The emptiness of thought gave way to the woman studying him. The more he assessed her, the more Ryk found his interests perked. Powerful. Graceful. He could still feel her gaze. Fierce. The sound of Lady Kathryn's footsteps broke their circular routine. He looked up. Lady Kathryn momentarily paused, clipboard in hand. Indecision? Uncertainty? It was faint. She returned it to the guard before walking towards Ryk. Her long steps masked beneath gliding midnight velvet. She lowered herself to his eye line with graceful fluidity. Eyes of frost battered his comfort and fought for his confidence. Ryk was unaccustomed to feeling vulnerable.

Lady Kathryn's lips stirred and her voice whispered, "Ryk is it?" Calmly, firmly, her footsteps strolled about in his consciousness. They stopped and demanded his full attention, "Why don't you tell me how you came to be here Ryk?"

Ryk fortified his demeanor with a clenched jaw. It was a wall he could hide behind. There was no warmth. Can I trust her? Everything about her called for suspicion. It told his instinctive guard to remain steadfast. With each second he was being mentally and physically dissected. His outward front provided a weak enclave to seek refuge. For how long? There wasn't enough time. There's no way to be sure.

"You tell me your past and I shall tell you your future," whispered Lady Kathryn.

Ryk thought she had inched forward. The movement was subtle, not even he could be sure of it. Her soft whisper teased and reassured him equally. It spoke to him on a subliminal level, Tell me your secrets, tell me everything. But, Ryk couldn't. I do not know how I came to arrive here, My Lady. The only thing I presently know is that my name is Ryk. He was sure it wouldn't go over well. Ryk's mind grew tired. He hated the necessity of analyzing every one of his reactions, movements, or spoken words. In this, he felt some of his strength and self liberation return.

"My Lady, I have no past."

Amarantha moved to the far left wall. The movement stole Ryk's attention for a moment. It was dark all around him now and he saw her face, lit by a held flame in her hand. He blinked and was back, "At least, none that I can remember. You may not believe it. I have no other reason to speak of such things."

Ryk watched the smirk slowly birth at her lips. She rose, her eyes remained upon him. Does she believe me? Is she insulted? The foray into her thoughts yielded no answer. He couldn't read her. He watched Lady Kathryn walk back to the guard. He strained to make out the words being exchanged. What is she saying? The ache from kneeling on the stone floor pulsed. He moved an arm to steady himself. He briefly glanced at Amarantha, then returned his attention to Lady Kathryn.

Judging from the scars that littered his body, Ryk was most certainly not of the same social class. The lost connection haunted him. I have to know them. Kneeling in his humble garbs Ryk was the center of attention. But from where? The eyes around the room were gathered upon him. They inspected him. They were figuring him out. Sadly it was he, that could not gain any distance in the pursuit of his beginning.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she listened to him declare he had no past, did he have amnesia? Or was he taking her for a fool? It did not matter she decided as she rose and wandered over to the guard, one way or another she would have the truth about Ryk and if he was lying he would pay for it dearly.

“Is he being honest?” She asked the guard in a hushed tone of voice.

“We don’t know My Lady, as far as we can tell yes, he is. He has never been able to tell us what transpired before his arrival and we’ve had little information sent to us with regard to it either.” The guard spoke gruffly and she nodded in thanks to him as she stepped away.

Kathryn regarded Ryk for another long moment before finally she turned to Amarantha, “Fetch the carriage dearest, we’re leaving.”

Amarantha nodded and hurried from the room as Kathryn turned back to Ryk with a smile, “Don’t worry, you’re coming too but I warn you here and now against testing me. You’ve caused me more than enough trouble already and we’ve not even left yet.”

Kathryn guided him up with a hand under his chin and motioned for him to walk ahead of her, “Where I can see you Ryk.” She said firmly, not yet trusting this slave and unsure if she ever would but unwilling to take the chance just yet.

They made their way to the door and exited into the street where Kathryn placed her hand gently on Ryk’s arm as a precaution though he’d be foolish to try anything as the carriage pulled up surrounded by her personal guard. Amarantha opened the door and Lady Kathryn stepped inside, a guard pushed Ryk towards it and she watched him as he got inside followed by Amarantha who seemed to take her time as though she was nervous or something. Kathryn motioned for Ryk to sit on the floor by her feet while Amarantha sat opposite her and the carriage finally took off.

There was silence for awhile as Kathryn seemed near lost in thought as she stroked Ryk’s hair before she finally asked him, “What do you remember Ryk?”

Amarantha edged forward in interest, she wondered what he would say it seemed and she smoothed her dress out nervously. He always seemed to stare at her, it was unnerving and she wondered why.

"Fetch the carriage dearest," said Lady Kathryn to Amarantha, "we're leaving."

Amarantha left the room.

"Don't worry, you're coming too," said Lady Kathryn, her voice gently commanded Ryk's attention, "but I warn you here and now against testing me. You've caused me more than enough trouble already and we've not even left yet."

Ryk stared at Lady Kathryn. Going where? Surely we're not leaving? He looked at the two guards in the grand chamber. It'd be far too easy to escape. He began with the nearest guard. No problems there. His eyes moved to the second. A light pressure presented itself at the base of his chin; a feathery fingertip. Four more soft, pale, digits accompanied the first. They asked him to raise in compliance. He obliged, unsure of the repercussions, or the reasoning, behind the gesture.

Lady Kathryn swept a graceful hand towards the opened door, "Where I can see you Ryk."

From the chamber Ryk could make out the busy city street. It was fresh with the chatter of conversation and alive with the coming and goings of the townsfolk. Finally, his chance. With each step towards freedom his eyes grew tighter, until he stood squinting beneath the risen sun. He held his anxious jubilation closed to the world. He paused, overwhelmed by his bustling senses. The sound of cobbling hoofs surrounded him, an oaken wheel beneath a carriage groaned in rotation, the smell of fresh bread; a wavering in symphony in his conscious. Enthralled, Ryk couldn't find the sanity to flee. Not yet.

"Don't get any ideas," the guard's eyes beckoned his attention to the leather wrapped hilt of his sword.

Ryk scoffed with a smile, his fleeting eyes contemplated escape. He could dive beneath a passing carriage? The adjoined rooftops across the street undoubtedly accessible via the many doors and unlocked gates. A swift lunging elbow to the guard, followed by an inside-out blow to the kneecap could provide suitable distance. Easy. He looked to his left. The alley was also a viable option. It most likely had the odd door to duck into, or a wall to scale, low traffic and low visibility. The options were endless, and present. He was home free. Ryk felt a hand glide lightly over his forearm; a paintbrush through his thought. He re-focused, determined. The next carriage.

To his dismay, the carriage that followed was not of a normal variety, but rather adorned with painted crests and glinted, gold trim. A single knight accompanied the driver up front and four were mounted at the rear of the carriage. It stopped. Amarantha opened the door. Ryk felt Lady Kathryn's hand leave his arm. It wasn't nervous. It was almost playful in retreat, or invitation, depending on intent.

They're well trained. He could distinguish the ink of royal guard beneath a knight's shoulder plate. He began to step towards the carriage. A firm shove nearly sent him headlong into the steps. Regaining his balance he cracked his neck with ravenous bared teeth. Ryk eyed Amarantha on his way inside. Lady Kathryn motioned him to the floor. He would have adamantly objected if not for the squire still smirking outside the door. Ryk felt his brain burning the face into his memory. He smiled back at the guard. Wait, Friend, said his sapphire eyes. Amarantha broke their line of sight. She sat on the rest opposite of Lady Kathryn, who ran a hand through Ryk's hair. The slow deliberate strokes grazed his scalp before escaping, strands of his dark hair falling from the valleys between her fingers. Ryk felt an odd combination of shame, disgust, and contentment. He let go of the world passing through the window and turned to Amarantha.

"What do you remember Ryk," asked Lady Kathryn.

Ryk found himself again in the dark. It was a tunnel, with the Lady in Waiting Amarantha. He could see her. Her steps and turns were nervous. The low, growling whoosh of her torch, accentuating the tight tunnel she was navigating.

"My Lady, as I have told you, most regrettably, my memory does not serve me past my name."

"No recollection at all?"

"None."

Ryk stared at Amarantha.

Kathryn sighed and sat back as Ryk told her he remembered nothing, she rested her chin in her hand and contemplated his honesty in silence. Amarantha tried to look everywhere but at Ryk as he persisted in staring at her through the remainder of the carriage ride home. It made her terribly uncomfortable and what was worse – he knew it too.

When they finally arrived, the Knight had stepped down and opened the door with two wary and trained eyes on Ryk especially though he did manage to give Kathryn a fleeting smile as she stepped out. She continued to walk into the house, leaving Ryk in Amarantha’s charge for the moment. She stepped from the carriage and the Knight watched carefully as Ryk followed her out. She looked up at the large castle spread before their eyes and sighed softly – it was her home for now but not for much longer as she could expect to learn from Lady Kathryn and be married off in short order.

She turned to Ryk with a pained expression, “look, I have a job to do and I’d really appreciate it if you did two things for me. One, stop staring at me like that! It’s creepy! Two, just behave yourself please? At least while you’re in my charge?”

Without waiting for an answer from him she turned up the path towards the kitchen entrance, the portcullis was lowered and Ryk wasn’t going anywhere unless he suddenly sprouted wings. Her lilac gown rustled as she stepped inside the bustling kitchen and gave a curt nod to the chef who was a large fat man with a sprinkling of grey on his chin. He smiled in return though raised a brow at Ryk’s appearance in the doorway and Amarantha shook her head as if to say ‘don’t ask!’

She wandered through the kitchen to a small wooden table with two chairs and pulled one out for Ryk, motioning for him to sit down. Amarantha moved away, carefully avoiding the dozen or so people rushing around the large kitchen as she grabbed a tray laden with various foods the chef set down on a bench, she took it to Ryk and placed it on the table before sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I trust you remember how to eat?” She asked in a sarcastic tone of voice before handing him some utensils, “Lady Kathryn only gives what she gets in return Ryk, you can see this is the kitchen and he” she pointed to the chef, “Is Gregorio. While you live here, no one walks through his kitchen without getting stuffed to the rafters!”

She smiled and shifted slightly in her seat before pushing ahead, “After you eat I’ll take you to get properly scrubbed up and find you a room. I know the castle is fairly large but you’ll learn your way around quickly enough. Oh and there are enough Knights guarding this castle to ensure you don’t do anything stupid so before you think about it, don’t.” She warned him firmly; almost seeming annoyed at having this duty thrust upon her but relished the time spent away from Kathryn who was always in a foul mood lately.

A few of the maids stopped and stared at Ryk, it was obvious that they’d not seen a newcomer in a long time but a stern glare from Amarantha quickly had the females moving again however a few blushed at being caught leering so obviously. Amarantha rolled her eyes and sighed, it was going to be a long afternoon if he kept drawing so much attention!

Alive with summer bloom and healthy rainfall, the blades of grass leaned at the wind's suggestion, the scattered mounds of green stretched to sight's end. The common road, spoke of where horse and wheel had last traveled; a trail of dust which split the countryside in two. The carriage hiccuped. Ryk's head and shoulders bobbed with the jostle. His eyes remained on Amarantha. For most of the journey, he had tried to massage the visions of her, in his mind; kneading them to speak further about their origins. It had proven futile however, his eyes; the North sea, hers; a smooth rock, skipping infinitely off it. The carriage neared the caste's entrance. He shifted his attention to the wrestling chains, watching the portcullis fall heavily to the ground. He cursed silently. His hopes for escape were dashed, his freedom, locked on the outside of the black metal grill. He wondered if they would ever reunite.

The carriage slowed to a halt. A knight opened the door and Lady Kathryn was the first to exit. Amarantha followed close behind. Ryk locked eyes with the Knight awaiting him outside. He stepped out and tilted his head at the armored guard, he would not look away first. Crouched upon knees for the entire ride, he could stand to stretch his limbs a bit, should the Knight be so inclined to aid him. It was after all, a single knight. He frowned sarcastically in victory, the Knight's stare broken by a smile sent to Lady Kathryn. Ryk refocused his eyes on Amarantha. Unsure of what to do he looked on, hoping for instruction.

She quickly spun, "Look, I have a job to do and I'd really appreciate it if you did two things for me. One, stop staring at me like that! It's creepy!"

Like what? Taken aback, his head retreated at her tone.

"Two, just behave yourself please? At least while you're in my charge?"

She walked up the cobbled stone path towards the kitchen before Ryk had a chance to reply. He wouldn't have been able to muster a retort anyway. The initial shock slowly gave way to anger. Just behave yourself. He considered attacking the guard, who was chuckling at his right, the victory grin, now atop his expression.

"You are both happy and lucky." Ryk headed towards the kitchen, "It must be a good day for you."

Ryk could feel the pang of hunger in his stomach, the scent of bread, cheese and cooked meats propelled him towards the bustling kitchen. He neared the busy room and made out at least 5, or 6 bodies, before reaching the entrance. He spotted Amarantha and headed in towards her. She bowed. He turned to her recipient and spied a chubby man, donned in a white chef's hat. He raised his brow at Ryk. You have a problem? He stared back. Amarantha shook her head at the chef and moved deeper through the sea of bodies clamoring about the kitchen. Ryk gave the chef one more glare before following her. He wondered where she was leading him. Barely finished with thought, Amarantha pointed a firm finger to the chair next to him, instructing her dog to sit. He plopped down. He watched her navigate over to a table, removing a tray littered with sustenance and color. She placed the food in front of him and sat down.

She handed him utensils, "I trust you remember how to eat?"

He would have remarked with salt from the sea if it not for such a splendid assortment of nourishment.

"Lady Kathryn only gives what she gets in return Ryk, you can see this is the kitchen and he,"

Ryk was already prioritizing the first items to be devoured. The steaming bread, with chowder resting warm and thick at it's center was first. He forced himself to follow Amarantha's finger. His joy ended with the fat chef.

".. Is Gregorio,"

Ryk smiled apologetically, with each uttered word from Amarantha giving way to a grimace. Would he ever taste the chowder? He mentally readied his hands to scoop and eat before they removed him from the kitchen.

"While you live here, no one walks through his kitchen without getting stuffed to the rafters!"

The chef nodded softly in acceptance. Ryk eagerly reached for a spoon and took a scoop of soup to his mouth. It was delightful. He broke a piece of bread from a stray loaf and dipped it generously. It was the fastest way he could eat, without breaking proper eating etiquette. He didn't want Amarantha to scold, or nag him about anything. Not now!

“After you eat I’ll..."

Ryk was barely listening. Tastes that he'd never dreamed of joining, met in oral unison inside his mouth.

"...properly scrubbed up and find you a room..."

Bread, chowder, tomato, orange, the first mouthful of food to be swallowed, with aid from a swig of milk. It's creamy aftertaste reintroducing itself to his senses.

"I know the castle is fairly large but you’ll learn your way around quickly enough."

Ryk nodded to let her know he was listening. He wasn't. He eyed the chocolate cake. It looked so delectably tasty. He took a bite. And light! He slid the fork beneath the remaining 3/4th's, balancing it into his mouth. He concealed his stuffed cheeks with the napkin, his head lowered, nodding instinctively, chewing voraciously.

"...Oh and there are enough Knights..."

His attention perked.

"...guarding this castle to ensure you don’t do anything stupid so before you think about it, don’t,” finished Amarantha.

He wouldn't attempt to escape today, he reasoned, the allure of food still fresh. He tried to keep tabs on the people observing him, but was far from precise. His guard was down, but he didn't feel he was at risk. It was great, to be free of suspicion, instinctively indulging his want through the various assorted delicacies littering the tray.

With a full stomach Ryk, leaned back in his chair. Some meat-fat, a grape stem, a particular cheese that didn't quite fit his fancy and cracked egg shells were all that remained. He had over eaten. Clearly. Slightly nauseated he ran a hand over his stomach attempting to comfort himself.

"And are you finally done?"

Ryk opened his eyes, "I am." A belch echoed through the room, "My apologies."

It was the most sinful apology to have ever escaped his lips. Amarantha summoned two female servants with a clap of her hands, leaning in, she whispered to one of them. The woman nodded.

"Follow them up to bathe."

He resisted the urge to follow Amarantha with his eyes. Her previous comments stung fresh, stop staring at me like that! It's creepy! Already in agreement with himself to play along for the day, he rose and followed them through the kitchen's exit and around a corner. They began up the castle's staircase. Without turning, he made out the clang of metal boots.

Ryk stopped. Even for a guest's washroom, it was far more luxurious than anything he had seen. It spanned at least 25 feet a side. A generous bathing barrel stood at it's center, the wood floor surrounding it was worn, but smooth and without mold, or fungi. A good many hands a day to keep. The wall that the wash bench was attached to was made of stone at the bottom. Most likely granite. The upper half was a windowed construct of glass and metal. It was of beautiful design. It allowed the day's light to warm the otherwise dark room. The architect obviously intent on fully utilizing the scenic face of the rooms outer allure. More woman gathered. They bucketed water into the barrel.

When all but 2 women remained they gestured for Ryk to approach. A small white object rested on the bench. Ryk smiled. Clearly the estate was extremely well off. The woman exchanged the odd shape between themselves, rubbing it between the wet cloths in their hands.

Ryk sat on the bench and reached over, his hand extended to a cloth littered with suds, "Thank you, My Ladies. I can do the rest."

He took the cloths from the two woman and squinted against the day's bright presentation. He placed the cloths back on the bench, admiring the scenic landscape through the clear glass. Unable to hear anymore exiting footsteps, he removed his tunic, tossing it aside. Hushed giggles echoed from the entrance. He remained leaning, in follow-through; frozen. He turned his head. The entrance was dark through his sun-altered sight. In time, he was able to make out three woman locked in each other's arms.

He reached for a cloth, "I guess you were ordered to stay?"

One of the servants nodded, she turned to the woman on her left, they giggled.

He began running the cloth over the back of his left leg, body still turned away from their view. There are worse things to fear. He rotated his attention back towards the sun. He looked down from the glare, pausing briefly.

"If you must stay, you're welcome to return."

He was after all, playing along today.

Footsteps approached from behind him, he turned and sat on the wash bench. He followed their eyes back up to his, handing each of the two returning women their respective, moist, soapy rag. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the stone, inhaling at the damp cloth gliding across his skin. Their fingertips tentatively explored the muscular crevices of his arm and chest. He couldn't recall the last time he had been with a woman, their touch and wet massage a foreign call to excitement.

He turned his head to the left, "My Lady, what is your name?"

Her eyes met his, "My name is Laila, Sir." She returned her focus to his outer thigh, he could feel her hands shyly distant from his pubic area.

"And yours, My Lady?"

"Aceline, Sir."

Her strokes were bolder than that of her counterpart, straying far more dangerously. He liked that she was fearless, brazenly tempting his lust. He placed his hand on hers, removing the cloth. He stared into her unwavering emerald gaze. She was very attractive. A truly handsome face.

"My back if you would, Laila," said Ryk, gently pulling her to stand.

He raised off the bench slowly and turned to Aceline, his eyes whispered down to her all the many ways he would take her. He grabbed her neck, pushing back until her head was against the wall. A rushed breath escaped her lips on impact. Unflinching, she continued to look up at him. Although familiar, a nearest occurence of such intensity and merit was beyond his recollection. Laila began to stroke his back. He slid his hand from Aceline's neck, holding her face between his hands. He repositioned himself slightly, the tip of his cock inches from her lips. Her warm breath panted on it's head. Her lips quivered.

He bent down to whisper in her ear, "Tis our misfortune, My Lady."

He took a second to imagine with closed eyes, the savory delight of her hungry mouth, holding her watch in his grasp, inching deliciously deeper, until the tip of her nose burrowed to stop against his hilt. His eyes opened.

He removed a hand, and reluctantly raised her by the chin until she stood. He kissed her roughly with all the wasted passion of day. Pulling her open mouth away by her hair, he selfishly took in her heaving breasts. Indeed a shame.

"My Good Lady, do you wish to watch for all eternity," echoed Ryk, turning his head to the wash room entrance and releasing Aceline's hair.

Amarantha left Ryk in the care of the two maids who were ordered not to leave him alone as Lady Kathryn would surely have her head were anything wayward to occur. She saw them off and knew Ryk was fighting the urge to turn around and look at her again but managed well enough. She took a deep breath and stalked off to report to Kathryn.

Lady Kathryn sat in her study, a large oak desk was the main attraction of the room and she sat behind it, pooling over parchment and supply matters for the castle. It was unusual that a Lady such as herself would run such a place alone but her husband had been killed in battle and as a favour to the Lady who was a dear friend of the Royals; she’d been allowed to run her spread alone. She looked over the figures and knew they didn’t add up; much like Ryk as her mind continually strayed to consider him. She sighed gratefully at the knock on her door which gave her a reason to take a break from such mind numbing work.

“Enter.” She said quietly and looked up as Amarantha wandered in and curtsied.

“My Lady, I’ve fed your new slave and Laila and Aceline are bathing him as we speak.”

Kathryn nodded, pausing a moment before she spoke again, “He concerns you doesn’t he? The way he looks at you?” Amarantha’s shocked expression brought a smile to the Lady’s lips, “You should know by now that nothing escapes my notice Amarantha.”

“Of course my Lady and yes he does, I don’t know why he stares at me so but something tells me it is not for my beauty or else he would stare at you.” She blushed a brilliant red as she spoke and dropped her eyes.

“Do you think so Rantha? I don’t. I’m rather intimidating when I want to be and to stare at me so would give me reason to retaliate thus he looks upon you in such a manner. I don’t know why yet but I will.” Kathryn moved to stare out the window, clasping her hands behind her back and Amarantha nodded; knowing she was being dismissed.

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, making her way down a flight of stairs and back to the bathing square where she would find Ryk and the two maids. As she walked, she considered both Ryk’s words and Kathryn’s, she had a feeling that perhaps they had a history that neither was willing to share with her and her paranoia was starting to well up. What she stumbled upon at the entrance to the bathing room shocked her thought process into submission and she near gawked at the sight of the maid in a passionate kiss with a very naked Ryk. Her eyes consumed the sight before her and she openly stared, quite forgetting herself for the moment.

"My Good Lady, do you wish to watch for all eternity?"

She blinked, shaking her head and snapping herself out of it as Ryk broke the kiss and turned to her. She blushed and looked away before summoning her courage and gazed at the two maids, avoiding Ryk at all costs.

“Out, now.” She ordered quietly, her voice hinting at anger and yet remaining flat. The maids wasted no time in scurrying from the room as Amarantha took up a white towel and threw it at Ryk. Finally she looked at him but worked hard to keep her eyes trained to his and whenever they strayed she would flush red and blink quickly, obviously unused to such things in her presence.

“To answer your question, I don’t wish to watch at all because that shouldn’t have occurred. They know better and you will learn so don’t let it happen again. Kindly dress and I will take you to find a room.” She took a deep breath and turned her back on him to allow him to dress without her having to employ so much self control and red stained cheeks coming up every five seconds.

Even as he dressed she found it so very difficult not to turn around and decided to satisfy her curiosity on another level, on another matter, “Ryk…why do you stare at me so?” She asked softly, still fighting the urge to turn around and look at him.

"Out, now," spoke Amarantha.

Ryk's attention shifted back to Aceline, their eyes met. Ending her glance with a subtle grin, she and Laila strode out of the wash room. A white towel fluttered at him, it's tight folds, no longer in place, flew open; it's momentum stalled. He snatched it.

“To answer your question, I don’t wish to watch at all because that shouldn’t have occurred. They know better and you will learn so don’t let it happen again. Kindly dress and I will take you to find a room.”

He sincerely hoped that Aceline wouldn't find harsh punishment awaiting. Her lingering grin crept across his thoughts while he wiped dry. The image of their bodies; sweaty and entangled in passion. He paused. A travesty, such soft and flawless skin, a mere lash away from torment.

Amarantha's eyes wavered. They traced his shadowy, chiseled figure. The thought of her comments about the "creepiness" of another's unwanted, and unrequested stare, passed over Ryk's lips. She turned away. He finished dressing and began towards her. His steps were soft on the damp wooden floor. A growing sense of pride stemmed in him, from her previous inspection and defensive posture. Every time his eyes had sought her out to question, she had been evasive. What are you hiding from me?

"Ryk…why do you stare at me so?"

The coincidence of the comment stung him, Why had she stared at him? He brushed the fresh smirk from his face. He knew why. He switched mental tracks and contemplated whether or not to confide in her. She would only relay the information to The Lady. He pondered the possibilities with each step across the cold floor. He didn't understand the visions himself. Let alone feel comfortable enough to share them with her. Her momentary, visual exploration of his body, in all likelihood, a simple disguise. He stood to gain absolutely nothing, possibly throwing away what little leverage he had against them. He couldn't play the amnesia card forever. He needed options. Fast.

"You remind me of my wife. I've had memories slowly return to me, during our journey back to The Lady's estate. I gaze upon you with the concern I have for her" His paces continued until he was standing in front of her, watching her expression, "I do not know of her safety, or any other information aside from our current separation and tie through marriage."

He looked down and forced himself to emit a wounded and sorrow-filled existence from his being. He wanted her sympathy, her lowered guard, her confidence, and he needed them all before The Lady pressed into him, with her barbed questions.

"Your room is this way."

Her tonal inflection was on par with someone who was comfortable, at ease. She began down the hall. Her lilac gown flowed with reserved control. Her steps began up the stone staircase, consistent. But with her back to him, namely her eyes, he wasn't able to ascertain her verdict. She stopped after forty eight identical paces.

"Your room."

She left him without another word.

As Amarantha left Ryk, she thought over his words with careful consideration. She’d refused to get emotional and she wondered if he’d lied to her a little but at the same time she couldn’t help the compassionate sadness that welled up inside as she made her way to Lady Kathryn’s study again. She was told to enter and pushed open the door to find the Lady curled up on her leather couch with a book but her eyes were very far away as if she was turning pages without actually reading them.

“My Lady? Ryk is in his room, I’ve given him one not too far from yours just as you requested so that you may keep careful watch…” Amarantha mumbled with a troubled expression as Kathryn looked up and regarded her suspiciously.

“What’s wrong Rantha?” Lady Kathryn asked firmly.

“It’s nothing ma’am.” She dropped her gaze and Kathryn stood up quickly, throwing her book aside.

“Lie to me again Amarantha and see what happens to you. I ask you for the last time, what is wrong? Look at me and not the floorboards.”

She looked up quickly at that and wrapped her arms around herself protectively, “Ryk said to me that he’s been remembering images of things…I asked him why he stares at me and he told me it’s because I remind him of his wife.”

Kathryn’s lips curled into a smile, “Oh he did?”

Amarantha nodded and Kathryn dismissed her with a wave of her hand, when she’d left; Kathryn started to laugh softly, “Very nice Ryk, very nice…I can see I shall have to watch you very diligently!”

She swept her skirts up and exited her study, making her way upstairs quickly and before long she was standing at Ryk’s door. She didn’t bother to knock as she pushed the door open and walked inside the small room. It had a bed and a dresser full of clothing for him and nothing more. She folded her arms and tapped her foot, arching a brow with a sarcastic look on her face.

“Kneel Ryk.” She ordered quietly, confidently as she waited for him to move.

Ryk examined the room. Except for a lone window, a dresser and a bed, it had no other decor. It was simple and cozy; inviting. An afternoon marmalade beamed through the window, draping itself against the hard niches of the walls. The day's events had a great strain on Ryk and the soft comfort of a tidy bed called to him. He sat at the edge, wavering between conscious thought and the temptation to fall back against the dark, silken spread. He could no longer hear Amarantha's footsteps, but he could see her. Traversing into a subconscious daze he watched and listened.

"Have you found no intruder yet," she asked, "Guard!"

The guard turned to attention, "No, My Lady," he titled his head towards the ground and adjusted his previously tense voice, "We searched all of the interior, and have dozens of units still scattered outside."

A rhythmic, deliberate pace slithered; distant, in the hall. Heel to stone, footsteps neared. They weren't Amarantha's. He wondered what The Lady wanted from him, or wanted to ask of him. Her timing was poor. Fresh on the trail of substance, he had finally felt he was getting to the root of their previous acquaintance. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. His body, gaze and head, slumped in frustration. The door creaked. She entered the room and drew nearer to him. He could feel her stare and heard her foot tapping against the floor, each tap, quicker to stone, than the previous had fallen.

"Kneel Ryk."

The tone of smug confidence gingerly slapped his cheek with repetition. It echoed in his mind. She was beginning to unnerve him. He could feel his teeth, start to bare. He composed himself and his lips, concealing his grinding, white anger. What was she was thinking, he wondered. Did she want him to kneel in practice? Subservience? Did she indulge her ego with his displeasure; the thought of him adhering to her spoken word, despite the prominent discomfort of his body? His eyes began to rise, to meet hers; to ascertain her desires. They retreated before asking. Instead, choosing to follow her smooth azure velvet to the floor, with a lowered head. He knelt.

"When I enter a room and you are present," she paused briefly, "I should expect you to greet me, as you are now..."

He could snap her neck with a simple squeeze of his hand. Squash the life with a single clench around her mushy, vulnerable throat. He knew the expression that would plant itself in the fleeting moments of her life. Those eyes, so unlucky to be stuck in her skull. They wanted to run, but yet, couldn't help themselves; locked with death, filled with panic.

"... kneeling. Do you understand?"

He waited, unsure of what, or how he would respond.

"I understand, My Lady."

He wanted his voice to tell her who he could be. Death. He wanted his voice to put a hand on her shoulder and whisper in her ear. Do you understand?

Kathryn eyed Ryk warily; something in his tone as he responded told her that he was not thinking much of obedience at this point. Still she made note of it and kept it to herself, letting the silence fill the room for a few moments more before she broke it.

“It’s time for a few ground rules slave,” She used the word with slight menace in her tone to let him know of his place within her household, “The first of which is kneeling when I enter and with that covered we move on to rule number two; you are second to all within this castle, my castle until you have earned more than that.”

She circled him and let it sink in a little before she continued, “Thirdly; lying to poor Amarantha will not be tolerated.” She smirked at him, “A very beautiful attempt though, having one as innocent as her to take pity on you because she reminds you of your long lost wife.”

If Kathryn knew more than this; she wasn’t saying anything but she let it hit him with full force as though she did in fact know something about him.

“Fourth, I can only guess what happened in the bathing square with the maids dear Ryk but you have not received my permission for such…occurrences and it will not happen again. You will learn in time that nothing you do will ever bypass my notice.” She paused and let him take it in, “Do you understand me?”

The pale shade of blue that glinted in her eyes matched her rustling dress as she clasped her hands behind her back and continued to circle him slowly.

“I also want you to tell me how you find my home Ryk?” She grinned almost viciously as she asked him, “Comfortable? Foreboding perhaps? Do you find me generous thus far?”