A Royal Kidnapping

 "Triss and I will be attending the ball." Oliver points at you and himself, while he tries to hide his nervousness. "At the same time Graig and Cyal will wait underneath the coat room windows, which I will open to let them in." Oliver continues explaining to the attending group. "In the meanwhile, Triss will continue to charm the king. With the goal to get him away from his guards. Which will work except for his five closest friends" Oliver pauses and checks if Cyal and Graig followed him.

"We all know that Triss is a very skilful fighter, but she cannot take them on, on her own, she must focus on the king. This is why we must take care of them. Triss will knock out the King and lower him down from the windows where Duran is waiting with a horse carriage. You two will be out of the city before they know that the King is missing." Oliver finishes and gives you a shy smile.

"While you race out into the countryside, you will give Gramp the signal to rile up the town folk into a riot. Hopefully by then the three of us are still alive and can use the confusion to get out." Oliver's voice starts to shake a little, so you put your hand on his shoulder.

"May luck be on our sides my friends." you whisper at first, almost getting no air out of your lungs. "I hope it will not be the last time we see each other." One last time you look at the neat little bundle in your hand, before you hand it to the old dwarf. “Duran, could you please refill the bag of marbles?” You ask him with a faint simile, Duran just takes the bundle off you without words and simply nods. With your things now with Duran you look at the others for one last time, before you hook into Oliver's arm and walk towards the ballroom entrance.

In the distance you hear Graig, Cyal and Duran knock their heads together, as is the dwarven custom.

***

Faint music echoes over from the ballroom, greeting you and advocating what is to come. The guards stationed at the gate ask for your invitations, which Oliver presents without a comment, it isn’t even a forgery as the princess herself invited you two. As the guard reaches for the invitations, you notice a slight nervous shake in his hand.

In the meanwhile, two other guards frisk down the two of you, asking for any weapons or sharp objects. Worried you look over to Oliver who mouths GRAMP to you. But before you can think more about Gramps' well-being you feel the guard reaching under your dress up your leg. “I beg your pardon young sir, but this is no place for your hands.” You protest, as the young guard almost finds the dagger you holster on your thigh.

With a racing heart you clean up your dress. Oliver leans over to you and whispers: “You are as red as an apple. Is this your first ball dance you go to?”

You look at him ashamed, “Am I? Oh god, I must say my heart is racing. But no, I did attend other balls. Before I met you.” You respond in a hushed voice as you get closer to the stairs leading to the grand entrance. Slowly the two of you climb the stairs and join the other guests that are patiently queueing to get in.

The women mostly wear colourful tight dresses with ornate hats and hairstyles. While the men all wear their military uniform boasting all their medals on their chests. Yet the occasional simple black tunic is seen as well. Oliver wears a tight-fitting uniform of a Corporal, with at least ten badges.

Scanning your surroundings, you notice a young officer making his way to a guard standing on the stairs, he seems to complain about something and then point discreetly to you two. The guard responds in a courteous manner, you manage to read his lips. “Thank you, Sir. The guests may act as they see fit, Sir.”

As out of nowhere you smile at the officer, as you lean over to Oliver and exaggeratingly start up a conversation about the gardens. Once the officer has left your sight you lean in, to whisper to Oliver what you have noticed.

***

Joyfully you two dance across the floor, keeping an eye out for the officer and for the guards that are stationed around. You laugh and enjoy the dance. Oliver leans in and whispers: “Seems like they are spread thin, every door except one has only one guard.”

Without any notice the music ends, at first you don’t know what is going on. You look in Oliver's eyes for a clue, but he seems not to know what is going on as well. Then the herald's voice echoes over the suddenly quiet room, relieving the tension. “His Majesty the King of Anron and Minron, the Prince of Doranion and the Protector of the Sorion Woods with his sister the Princess Emilia.”

First enters the king, a large middle-aged man heavily leaning on a walking stick and dragging his right lag behind. His uniform fits well and ordains many insignias and medals, the weight of which drag down the cloth.

On his head sits an ornate golden crown with colourful jewels each competing to outshine the other. Next to him his younger sister dressed in a simple and elegant red dress not at all in the current fashion which makes heavy use of the crinoline everyone else wears tonight. Her hair is cut short just like her nails and by her side is a very stunning looking young man in an undecorated army uniform with a decorated sabre at his hip. The princess is hooked into his arm and he caresses her hand.

Each step the trio takes seems to echo through the room, while the masses rush to make space for them. They separate you from Oliver and push you right to the front as the King and his small retinue passes you.

Like everyone else, you bow and look at the floor as they pass. This is when you hear a slight cough and then the steps stop right in front of you. “Duchess of Arigon, what a pleasure to see you here.”, the young princess greets you with a kind voice. “Please forgive me, last time we met you, you were dressed quite differently. I’ve designed this dress in your honour, do you like it?” Before you can answer she continues, “how rude of me. Brother dear, this is the lady that saved me from those nasty bandits. She and her companion, where is he?” Now the King seems to be interested in you as well and steps forward. “Rise! My sister's saviour ought not to kneel.” he commands in a stern voice. “Accompany us. My sister seems to enjoy your presence.” As ordered you get up and notice the king's breath smells of booze.

”Thank you, your majesty.” as protocol demands you bow and fall in line behind them as the King now continues his procession.

***

After getting peppered by the Princess's paramour about your fighting experience, the King asks for a private walk in the garden with you. Surprised at how easy your part of the plan seems to be, you accept, but your mind immediately wanders to Oliver, Graig and Cyal, who must be currently sneaking around the palace grounds.

As the two of you stroll through the garden the king starts the conversation, “I must admit. I am glad, I finally have the chance to thank you personally for your valour.” The king says as he breathes heavily, “When I heard of your deeds, I sent out messengers immediately, requesting your attendance at court. But alas none could find you.” he confesses.

“My apologies, your majesty,” you start your response, “I enjoy the countryside. It becomes me better, but it makes it harder to find me.”

“It is rare to see a noble woman, who is so close with her subjects. I am sure they love you very much and who could blame them?”

You blush a bit and try to hide it behind your fan. How can he show such vulnerability? This, after all, is the man who gave the order to pillage and burn hundreds of villages, selling the survivors into slavery.

But here he stands in front of you showing compassion and fear for his sister. Before you can linger on this thought you hear a distinct call of a wood owl. At first it surprises you. Only to remember this being the agreed upon call sign. In response you step closer to the King with a faint smile, yet you notice the guards seem on edge scanning for the upcoming threat.

The two accompanying guards will surely strike down your friends, you must create an opening for them. Not finding anything better you intentionally trip and grab everyone's attention. “Ouch, how silly of me.” You start your scene, holding on to your ankle. The guards are about to help you, only to be interrupted by Graig swinging his massive club right into his first victim's face, knocking him down to the ground. The second guard notices Cyal sneaking up to him, he grabs his knife hand and throws him over his shoulder, drawing his sword and in desperation searching for a way to get past the two assailants towards his king.

Feinting support, you draw the king’s sword from his hip, slip out of the shoes and step between the king and your friends. “Dear Sir, would it be possible for you to take care of this unruly rabble. I will take the King to safety in the palace to your brethren.” At first the guard is sceptical of your help until the King commands him: “Do as the Duchess says! She showed her valour before in the defence of my sister. I am in capable hands!” Then the knight starts to smile viciously as he switches from an offensive stance to a more defensive stance to face his opponents now on equal ground.

You only hope that your friends will not get hurt in this duel of theirs.

***

“What is this about?” The King demands, while you hold his sword against his throat. You push away some wet hair from your face. Without honouring him with a response, you kick him and gesture to him to move down the side of the palace through the shrubbery.

Duran must be here somewhere. You think to yourself, slowly losing hope and worrying that the plan might already have gone a miss. Yet still you fight your way through the shrubbery, keeping the fence to your right. With dark thoughts starting to cloud your head, you start to think of other ways to get the king out of the garden. The fence is too high, there is no way you could throw him over the fence. He is too fat for him to climb over it. Not having any better idea, you keep going on.

In the distance you hear a commotion going on, as the guards spread out to secure the premise. There is not much time left.

The relief comes around the next bend. Durans pokes his nose out from a barrel he picked as a hiding spot, continuously looking left and right missing you with every glance.

Only when you whistle does he notice you behind the fence. He climbs out of his barrel, knocking it over in the process. “So, the plan met first contact then?” he comments with a smirk, “I keep telling you, planning is no use, they never work.”

“Could we please just get on with your part?” You repose agitated, knowing the danger the others are in. “Can you make a hole? I doubt we can throw it over the fence.” you whisper through your teeth kicking the King as to gesture what you mean with it. Before the King can respond Duran reaches through the fence and shoves his used handkerchief in his mouth. “You should have gagged him earlier, here is some rope to tie him up like a festive pig, don’t want him to run away. I’ll be taking care of the bars. If I were you, I’d turn around until I tell you it is safe.”

Without a word you take the rope from Duran and start tying up the King, starting with his hands.

While you are busy you hear some cloth being torn up and then some water splashing on the ground. After some time, you start hearing the bars creak and Duran starts to groan as he turns on a piece of wood entangled in the cloth pulling the bars apart.

“What do you think will happen?” You ask Doran. “Kinda …. busy… right … now.” he presses out as he turns his piece of wood.

It seems to take an eternity at first, they must be coming around the corner any minute now. As you get more and more nervous you grip the sword in your hand so tight until your knuckles get white.

“So, push that squealing pig over.” Duran announces proudly, relaxing you in an instant.

Rolling the king over some tulips right by the fence and handing the rope that holds the King's feet and hands together to Duran. As the dwarf pulls on it you two hear the King trying to scream in pain but the tissue gag prevents it. “What a shame, “Duran starts with a wide smile, “I really liked that handkerchief. Haven’t washed it for weeks now.” he looks at you, waiting for a chuckle, but only earns a disgusted look. “Tough crowd he? Well at least go into that alley there, the wagon is ready there.” he concludes his little stand-up routine pointing at the alley next to his barrel.

***

Again, you step through the fence, after you’ve exchanged the dress with some dark pants and the tight corset with a more comfortable light leather jacket, making wielding a sword much easier.

After throwing away the dress in the bushes you climb on the wagon filled with pigs and put on a traveller coat which you tightly wrap around you. All the while you hear the King squealing like a pig as Duran loads him on the wagon cursing in any language, he knows kicking the King in frustration from time to time. “Would you mind?” he starts sounding annoyed. You simply answer that request with a smile and a faked puzzled look. “Would the lady mind helping the poor servant to load up the cargo?” he squeezes through his teeth, while pushing his heels into the ground as he pushes up the fat King into the wagon.

You decide to be so kind and jump onto the wagon and pull on the rope, earning a muffled painful scream from the King.

With the King loaded up you two settle down in the front of the car and start driving off. In the meantime, the city has gone crazy. Constant screaming and shouting reach you from the other side of the palace and a raging fire lights the night sky.

“Gramp must have been more effective than he thought.” Duran jokes as he navigates the streets towards a postern gate. “I am not sure if this is all Gramps,” you look back at the palace worried about your friends, “there might be someone else involved.”

Duran tries to comfort her. “Stop worrying, it makes you look old! They are fine, I haven’t seen any more skilled fighters.” - “If I were you, I wouldn’t comment on age.” You repose with a forced smile “Your beard is as white as the snow of the mountains.” In response you earn a joyful answer in his native tongue, which you don’t understand. As you want to ask him about it, you are interrupted by some soldiers setting up a checkpoint behind a corner.

You jump into the back of the wagon; Duran then leans back and whispers: “I’ve stashed the weapons in the box behind the seats under the blanket.” As you get to the back you throw some hay on the king and start agitating the pigs. As the first soldier addresses Duran, you pull up your hood and sit down with the back to Duran.

“What is your purpose?” The soldier asks while his mates walk around the wagon. “We’re returning from the palace kitchens. The commotion in the city made us rethink our stay for the time and would like to flee the mayhem. Maybe we can sell our piglets somewhere safer.” Duran recites his story, trying a bit too much to sound scared. He never was a good actor, regardless of what he claims.

“The palace is the safest place to be right now.” The soldier states stoically. “Out there might be bandits or roaming bands. You and your companion will fall prey to them.”

Visibly agitated, Duran rises in his seat. “Are you saying that I,” he strongly emphasises the I, “a dwarf of 254 years of age, who has fought in more battles than you are old. A dwarf of the high mountains, who has seen more horrific creatures than your wet nurse knows about! Will be held up by some pesky little brigands that barely know with which end of the spear they should poke me with?” Constantly increasing his voice as he talks and smashing his fist against his chest. All that is missing, you think, is that his head starts to turn red and steam comes out of his ears. You suppress a little chuckle as you innocently look at another soldier, who is currently looking in through the back of the wagon.

“Well then, it is your loss.” The soldier says and steps back from the wagon, only to get interrupted by a man in an ornate breastplate. “Hold up a second.” he states in a commanding voice. “If you are from the kitchens, you must have papers. Can we please see them?” he holds out his hands with a smug smile on his face. Your hand slowly slides to the box behind the seat. Well, concealed by a blanket spread over it. The guard that walked to the back is now looking in the back side, checking the cargo. At first you think he is about to notice the king, but the squealing pigs seem to do their job.

The guard also notices you in the back of the cart, you simply smile at him, playing with your dagger hilt only to hear a commotion roaring out from the streets. A few seconds later people storm out of the alleyways into the street, torches, spears and pitchforks in hand. Trying to alarm the others you scream in dismay, “there is the mob! They are coming towards us!” The soldiers jerk out their weapons and their commander seem to lose interest in the papers on the spot. Not taking any chances, Duran drives on the two horses pulling the wagon past the checkpoint and hurrying them on further.

***

With the checkpoint behind the two of you, you climb on the seat again. “That was tight.” you state, while your heart beats all the way to your throat. “Was?!” Doran responds in dismay. “I would argue it still is! We are not out of the woods quite yet.”

You laugh. “To hear you using the woods in an idiom, is quite a surprise. What is next?” - “Next you get out those weapons, I don’t want to get stopped another time. Also, I feel much more comfortable with my old Rita in my lap.” He argues as he keeps driving on the horses. “Why must you idiots always give your weapons names?” you sight as you lean over the back and throw the blanket to the side. In it you find your trusty daggers and rapier, slender dexterous weapons made for your statue. Next to these elegant weapons you find a clunky war hammer made from some kind of stone. Duran keeps refusing to say what stone it is, as he broke many shields and armours with it, without leaving a single scratch on the stone.

With both hands you heave the hammer out of the box, requiring all your strength to even lift it off the floor. This whole ordeal makes it even worse as Duran takes it with one hand with almost ease and lays it on his lap without breaking a sweat.

“Thanks Triss, now remember, we should find my boy at the gate, he will open it but you will have to close it and ride after us.” He explains again. Then he takes a quick look at her. “Don’t wait for them, we will group up at the Old Oak.” You smile at him. “Keep an eye on the road, old geyser, I haven’t forgotten the plan. I will close the gate and follow you on horseback.” You assure him, trying to hide your worries.

After some time, you reach the postern gate, where his boy is waiting and opens the gate as soon as they see the wagon racing through the streets. Yet it all seems too quiet.

Doran halts the wagon in the gate, for his boys to climb on. “Hey Dad!” the younger shouts in excitement. “Be a bit quieter, Salan! We are trying not to get caught!” Duran puts him in place, only for the king to start squealing, the dirty handkerchief doing its job. The desperate attempt to get attention to him only earns him a kick from Salan as he makes his way past.

“Be easy on him.” You try to help. “It is his first time. You properly were excited the first time you were sent out to fight too.” Before he can answer you nimbly jump off the wagon and slap the horse on the butt to get it to move, not wanting to hear the old dwarf’s answer.

 

Just as you lead your horse through the gate and get ready to close it you see half a dozen riders gallop down the street. At first you hope it is your friends, but then you recognize that arrogant officer from the stairs.

Not able to close the gate in time you start thinking. If you flee you endanger them finding Duran and the King.

You must stop them.

So, you change the plan and let your horse go free outside the wall and run back inside. You scan your surroundings and decide to run up the stairs of the wall to the left.

Two steps at the time you charge up the stairs. On a little platform above the gate, you find some crates behind which you try to hide.

Desperate to calm your breathing you force yourself to take in deep breaths, while you have your back against the crate.

As usual you run through your pre battle routine; you check for your rapier, you check for the two daggers in your belt; you check for the dagger in your left boot, then at last, you take out your lucky dark green ribbon and tie back your hair.

By the time you are done you hear the hooves of the horses getting closer and one of the riders’ shouts: “Halt! She hasn’t left the city!” You recognize the voice as the officers from the stairs.

Another rider responds in a lower voice: “We’ve seen a rider galloping away from the gate. He must be near the woods by now!”

“First of all, he is a girl! Second, I've seen her running up these stairs. So, follow me or go back and face your judgement after I am finished with her!” The officer barks as he draws his sword. Followed by the others he walks towards the stairs.

Not taking a chance you push with all your strength against the crate pushing it over the edge. The scraping alerts the men below and you hear some inaudible warning shouts and then a crash followed by some moaning. Yet you do not check and start running up towards the gatehouse tower. Soon after you hear the officer shout after you: “There she is! After her!”.

Your hand slips into your pouch and you pull out some marbles which you drop right at the top of the stairs. Only having two choices, either the wide walkway or the tower, you decide to bolt for the door.

While you open the door you hear one man behind you cursing as he trips and falls to the ground alerting the others about the danger you’ve left them.

The room you find yourself in is dark, so you run your hands across the door and the frame to find the cross beam and slam it shut just in time for before your assailants reach the door.

You take a few steps back, as they try to break down the door with ferocity, but it holds steadfast. Having some time to breathe you look for some other exit. As your eyes adjust to the darkness you see the outline of an empty room furnished with a table and some chairs for the guards to pass their time, on the other side the room is another door. At first you walk towards it, only to notice a murder hole in the ground, just big enough for you to slide through.

You unbuckle your belt and throw it down while hearing the others trying to break down the door. Before you slide down the murder hole yourself you have one last look at the door that is still holding steadfast.

Nimbly you land in the gateway, grabbing your belt and rapier again, while orienting yourself. These idiots seem not to be too bright; you think to yourself. As they left the horses unguarded. Deciding to take that gift, you jump on the officer's horse and chase off the others.

You’ve made it, without a scratch even. That could have gone a lot worse! You think to yourself jubilantly, as you make your way to the Old Oak.