And so, Chestnut passed.

  It was a beautiful scene: together with his short-known but stalwart steed, Niks had colpsed into a weary slumber beneath a singur tree that shaded a rare, small patch of flowers, brightly colored with shades of pink, and purple, and blue. He had id back upon the belly of his fallen beast of burden and immediately fallen into a deep and restorative slumber, but wherein he was troubled most terribly by dreams of being chased unendingly by a hoard of dead men riding upon skeletal horses, these specters crying out for recompense for his part in leading them to their violent ends. One man in particur rode faster than the rest and appeared right at Niks’ side, a crude knife embedded in his throat, and he wept his menacing curses right in the young Count’s ear.

  He awoke at some point when the sky was still cloaked in the thick darkness of night, sitting up in a rush as he perspired heavily and gasped for air, as if he truly had been running in his sleep! As he caught his breath and looked about he realized again where he was: ying coddled within the legs of his horse like her child, with her looming head hanging protectively over him. He soon fell back into slumber once more, but this time, it was a rexing one filled with much more pleasant dreams.

  When he awoke again it was dawn, and a noteworthy break in the otherwise constant cloud-cover allowed the rising sun to beam down upon him warmly. He was still curled up in the patch of flowers, wrapped in Chestnut’s embrace.

  “Hey girl.” He said aloud, reaching a hand up to touch her face. “We should wake up, we’ve got to get going…”

  But then his eyes widened as he felt her cheek, and he quickly freed himself from his bnket and leapt to his feet! He stood there for a moment, staring down at her in silent shock, but slowly his shoulders sank and he allowed the breath that he had held to slowly release. For she had been cold to the touch, even as she y there comfortably with a most rexed and peaceful expression. That night, the old girl had raced along on pure adrenaline, to the point where it had drained the st bit of life she had in her, so that no sooner had she come to a trotting halt than did she fall comfortably into her final slumber, cradling her companion while surrounded by flowers and shaded beneath a pleasant young tree.

  Niks could not help but be moved to tears, but he withheld them with a valiant effort, scrunching up his face as he sniffled and stood dutifully upright before her. He had only known this mare for a few days, but strangely enough, he now felt as if he had just lost a lifelong companion.

  He announced, with many pauses to swallow heavily and snort breaths through his rapidly-clogging nose: “You are the first person… to ever sacrifice their life to save mine.” He spoke aloud in a trembling voice. “I shall make you… the first of my Knights! And when I have an Order of my own… they shall be named in your honor my–my friend.”

  Then, after putting his hands to his sides, he bowed deeply towards the dead horse, before turning on his heels and marching away back down to the road to continue on his lonesome journey. Perhaps, normally, he might have felt hungry or parched with thirst from his tumultuous journey, and thereby would’ve been hesitant to continue on his way so soon, but there was a determination rising inside him now as he marched along the road, a feeling which likely would not have allowed him to sit still for longer than a few minutes regardless.

  The hours passed slowly, and the road was so long as to seem unending. Niks’ emotion-fueled enthusiasm steadily faded as he walked alone down this somber and lonesome road. The break in the clouds from that morning had not sted longer than an hour, and the clouds returned quickly, bringing with them a moist and hazy fog which was thicker than was usual, even of this dreary nd.

  Niks found then that he could not see in further than thirty or so meters in any direction. One does not realize how surreal it can be for a person whose senses are suppressed, or even taken in their entirety, until they are forced to move in the moment itself. As he trudged step-by-step through this concealing fog, with no ability to see his surroundings or know where he was going besides the lesser-used dirt path beneath his feet, some part of Niks’ mind wondered if he was even still in Petrice, or if he had in fact accidentally wandered into Purgatory itself… But regardless, all he could do was continue on just as he had been doing.

  How close am I? How far do I have yet to go? It was several days' walk from the Castle to Coronton, so how long would it take at a full gallop...?

  These questions sprang up one after the other in Niks’ mind, creating an internal cacophony of uncertainty that moved too fast for him to even focus on. The silence was so deafening that he reached up and covered his ears, hoping to find some small comfort in the sound of his own heartbeat, but it was to no avail. His ears felt hot as he touched them. He quickly moved one of his hands to his forehead, and found it was hot as well.

  “Oh bother!” He cursed as he was reminded of his frail constitution.

  He knew not for how long he walked. At first his feet had begun to ache terribly, but as he continued forward the rest of him began to ache as well, the pain spreading up from his ankles to his legs, then to his hips, and then continued all the way up to his shoulders. Soon enough, so much of him ached that no one part of him ached any worse than the others, and he found he had become quite numb to the sensation. For much of his travels the light, or what amount of it there was to be seen, stayed much the same. With his steadily growing fever and the unchanging weather both working to cloud his senses, he could not even recall if he had walked for minutes or hours. Only when the sun finally, mercifully began to set, and the sky glowed faintly orange, did he have some indicator of the time.

  Only when the bottom of the sun touched the tips of the distant mountains in the horizon did the heavy fog finally subside, and before him then appeared the image of his home–the Castle Petrice, its ominous spires gilded with the final rays of sunlight, loomed up welcomingly close over him. He was almost there! And up atop the battlements of the Castle, just above the gate, stood a rge and dark figure, her distinctive silver mask gleaming like a beacon in the twilight as she stared down at him. He tried to take another step forward, his spirits bolstered by the nearness of his destination, but when he moved again he found his head had become too light, and his vision faded quickly as he crumpled down to his knees, his head and shoulders hanging low as he slumped forward. The st thing heard as he drifted off into unconsciousness was a blurred commotion of shouting voices, far too many of them to be originating from just the servants of the Castle and its Countess. As everything finally went dark, he wondered what was going on...

  “How is he?”

  Hearing this, the medical officer, who had just shut the door to the Count’s quarters, stumbled backwards into the wall with a fright! It took him a moment to realize that it was none other than the Countess who had accosted him, rather than some rge and ferocious beast roaming the halls of the Castle. He cleared his throat to buy a moment to settle himself, tugging on his colr to set it to rights before he spoke his reply.

  “He–the Count is fine, and he is resting now. He appears to have colpsed due to a combination of exhaustion and overexertion.”

  Uldred narrowed her violet eyes down upon him as she listened, but said nothing in response. She turned her head to look over her shoulder just before the distinct ccking of footsteps upon stone could be heard approaching up the narrow spiral staircase. The officer looking past her, visibly settling with some relief, as coming into view beyond the bend, was the Lady Mayor Merida.

  “A-as I was saying…” Continued the medic, “...the Count likely fainted due to complications with his constitution. He should be fine after a little bedrest and nutrition.”

  “There are no other serious injuries?” Asked the Mayor as she now strode up to stand beside the two of them.

  “Nothing serious. He has some minor injuries here and there, a couple of scratches and bruises. The most notable is probably his right eye, where he appears to have been struck, for it is undergoing extensive discoloration–bruising, that is–and is swollen shut.” At that st part he peered up nervously at the Countess, unsure as to how she would react to this news.

  Uldred appeared unaffected at first and did not outwardly react, but the Medic made note of the slight sound of creaking leather, and with a gnce down he saw that the rge woman’s fists were clenched and shaking with rage. As subtly as he could, he took a small step back and away from her.

  “For the Count himself to return in such a state…” Lady Merida murmured to herself, stopping then and peering over at where her niece stood beside her, an unsure look writ across her face. “You said he departed for Coronton on horseback several nights ago. Why would the Count return alone, on foot, and in such a state besides..?”

  Uldred did not reply again, leaving Lady Merida to specute alone. Desperate to escape, the Medic cracked the door open with his hand and slipped back inside the room under the guise of waiting on the Count, leaving the two women in the hall.

  “Even if the County had no men to spare to accompany him as an entourage on the road, it is only right and customary for Coronton to return him with at the very least a single guard.”

  After voicing her thoughts, Merida pced her thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and lowered her gaze to the floor, still deep in contemption.

  “Could it have been Bandits..?”

  “There are no Bandits in Petrice.” Replied the Countess, finally breaking her silence.

  “That may be, but there are Bandits in Coronton. Recently all kinds of ne'er-do-wells are coming in from over the border from Otkorn to take up residence there. As of te, Mayor Borney has been quite x and irresponsible in preventing this.”

  “For him–for the Count to race off so suddenly in the middle of the night… has something greater happened in Coronton?” Uldred wondered aloud.

  Lady Merida sighed with resignation and shrugged her shoulders. “I supposed there is no way for us to know, at least not until the Count awakens. But who knows when that will be..?”

  Then she shot a sharp gre up at her niece, who could not help but startle at her sudden scrutiny. “But! Now that he has returned, you had best prepare yourself for the Moot. He is most disliked by the commoners, and they will likely push you to begin as soon as he does awaken, if not before. They hold no mercy in their hearts for him, and if you are not ready they may take you down along with him.”

  Uldred growled at the thought, csping a hand at the side of her head in frustration. She was dreading the coming event more and more with every passing day. She already experienced a great deal of discomfort when interacting with a single person whom she did not know well. The thought of engaging in a heated argument with a gathering of hundreds left her with an inescapable, sickening sensation in her gut, and she was quite ready for it all to be over and done with.

  Having delivered her warning, Lady Merida began to descend the spiral stair leading back down to the main Castle, but briefly stopped to turn back over her shoulder and impart one st request. “Notify me at once if the Count awakens.” And with that, she finally disappeared beyond the bend, leaving Uldred alone in the hall with only her thoughts to occupy her.

  The past few moments had seen Niks’ bored breathing calm somewhat, which caused the Medic to put down the little book he had been reading and to lean over the slumbering Count in anticipation. The young man’s eyes slowly cracked open then, and he peered around in obvious confusion. He found that he was in a familiar room, but had an unfamiliar face hovering over him. His eyes struggled to adjust to the light, and his vision swam as he tried to regain his bearings.

  “My Lord, are you well? My name is–” He heard, but the voice speaking to him began to muffle, and his head suddenly became light. It was a few moments before his vertigo ended and his senses returned enough that he could make out words again. “--about a day and a half now. My Lord?”

  “W-water…” He mumbled weakly, causing the Medic to scramble to the small table at his bedside and retrieve a goblet of lukewarm water. He quickly held it up to Niks’ lips to drink from, pcing his other hand behind Nikas’ head to gently lean him towards it.

  “Luckily, it appears the worst is behind us.” The Medic said, pcing the goblet back in its original pce once Niks had drunk his fill. “Your fever has subsided, and with a little more bedrest, you should be well again.”

  Finally aware enough to wonder at the man’s identity, Niks peered down at the tabard he wore; upon it y a set of four squares, the top-right and bottom-left of which were checkered in bck and white, whilst the other two featured a galloping deer set over diagonal stripes. The man noticed his Count’s gaze, gncing down at his tabard and then back up at him, where their eyes met.

  “Why is there a man of Stoppridge in my home?” Niks asked in a voice still rough from sleep, his tone more quizzical than accusatory.

  The Medic smiled back at him, but it was a nervous smile, one that communicated that he did not want to be the one to inform his superior of something that was both most important and unpleasant. “...Let us worry about that ter. For now, just know that I am a trained doctor, and if you follow my instructions you’ll be back on your feet by tomorrow!”

  The man then stood up and made his way over towards the door. “I will go down now to notify the Countess and Lady Merida of your recovery.” He decred. “If you need anything, or if you feel unwell, feel free to ring and I will quickly return with your servant.”

  With that he departed, and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Niks on his own. He reached over then to retrieve a hand-mirror from the drawer of his bedside table, using it to examine his reflection. He noted that the swelling in his eye had reduced enough by now that he could open and shut it with ease, although the terrible, dark bruising around it yet remained.

  The memory of Mayor Borney and the Seal came to him then, along with a sharp bolt of anxiety, and Niks curled in on himself in the bed as he thought of what may happen when he told the Countess.