North America / Kingdom of Yorkania (Olden Lands): January 3rd, 1518.
It was an ugly night for the world. The moon was hidden, the trees were wet, and the old road beneath the roots smelled like treason, damp stone and secrets that should have rotted before any man was stupid enough to use them again.
(John's POV)
John crouched above the old stone tunnel and listened.
Voices.
Wheels.
Metal.
Too many men moving too quietly.
The forest was still around him. Not peaceful. Not empty. Still in the way a blade was still before it slid between ribs.
Behind him, six shadows waited in black cloaks.
No one breathed loudly.
No one moved without purpose.
Their cloaks blended into the wet trees so well that any normal man would have mistaken them for darkness itself.
Below them, lancelot's secret route opened like a wound through the old lands of yorkania.
A cracked stone mouth sat half buried beneath moss, roots and black mud. Vines hung over it like hair over a corpse's face, but beneath them was movement.
Catholic soldiers moved through it in lines.
No banners.
No songs.
Only boots, crates and whispered orders.
John's cold eyes narrowed and said softly "Count."
A cloaked woman behind him leaned forward slightly and said with a whisper "Thirty eight already passed. More inside."
"Crates." Asked john with cold eyes.
"Seven visible. Two heavy enough to need four men." Said the cold voice of the cloaked woman.
John's gaze did not move.
The soldiers below wore rough brown cloaks over mail and leather. Their crosses were hidden beneath scarves. Their swords were wrapped in cloth so steel would not shine in torchlight.
Cowards pretending discipline was humility.
John lifted two fingers.
The shadows vanished into the trees.
A voice below said calmly from out of nowhere "Careful with the torches. These roots are older than your grandmother's sins and less forgiving than your wives."
Lancelot.
John's eyes narrowed even further.
The duke of brooklyn stood near the tunnel mouth in a velvet cloak dark enough to swallow light, his beautiful face lit by torchfire, his styled hair untouched by the damp, his smile soft enough to be mistaken for harmless by fools.
Beside him stood a catholic captain with a scar across his cheek and a steel helmet tucked beneath his arm.
"Your grace, the coastal landing failed." Said the captain with a serious look in his eyes.
Lancelot's smile did not move.
"Failed is such an ugly word. Let us say rome introduced itself poorly and all because you are not intelligent.l Said lancelot calmly with a chuckle.
The captain's jaw clenched and said calmly with narrowed eyes "The queen mother was present."
Lancelot's smile widened and said "Of course she was. Morgan loves appearing where men hoped she would not."
John lowered himself silently behind the roots.
A shadow beside him asked with a whisper "Do we strike."
John watched lancelot closely while saying softly "No. We listen."
The captain unrolled a map on top of a flat stone. Two soldiers held torches low while he pointed to the lines marked in red and said "The second force moves through here. Once we exit near the western grain road, we burn the storehouses and split toward the inner villages."
Lancelot tapped the map with one jeweled finger and said with a amused look on his face "Do not burn everything. Hunger must breathe if it is meant to complain."
John's face went colder.
The captain frowned and said "Rome wants the villages broken."
"Rome wants too many things. Broken villages are quiet villages. Hungry villages speak. Hungry villages beg. Hungry villages accuse their crown for failing to protect them. That is what we need." Said lancelot with a lazy wave of his hand.
The captain stared at him.
Lancelot's eyes opened slightly and said with his finger pointing at the captain's face "Do not confuse slaughter with strategy, captain. Any beast can make corpses. It takes art to make doubt."
The tunnel went quiet.
John's fingers slowly tightened around the dagger in his hand.
A soldier below said with a mutter "The queen mother will answer."
Lancelot chuckled softly while saying "Yes. She will. That is the beauty of it. Morgan always answers. She cannot help herself. Touch her roads, and she will look there. Touch her grain, and she will look there. Touch her people, and she will burn the sky trying to find the hand. She is a infestation that won't stop growing. It is in her blood as it is in mine."
"And while she looks north." Asked the captian with squinted eyes.
Lancelot smiled and said with one eye opening subtly as the other remained closed "Brooklyn opens south."
John's eyes sharpened.
Suddenly a branch cracked.
*CRK*
Everyone froze.
Lancelot's eyes moved upward.
John did not move.
For one long moment, the forest forgot how to speak.
Rainwater dripped from leaves.
A horse snorted below.
One catholic soldier slowly lifted a crossbow toward the ridge.
John's breathing did not change.
Lancelot stared into the black trees.
Then he smiled.
"My little queen's shadows." Said lancelot softly.
John stood.
The shadows rose around the ridge.
Bows aimed down.
The catholic captain drew his sword.
Lancelot sighed as if disappointed by poor dinner service and said "I was hoping for galahad. He is more handsome when angry."
John stared at him.
"You have betrayed yorkania." Said john coldly.
Lancelot placed a hand on his chest and said with a sigh "What an ugly accusation. I prefer diversified loyalty."
"Cute but the facts are in your face." Said john with a cold tone.
The catholic soldiers moved.
Too late.
*SHK* *SHK* *SHK*
Arrows fell from the trees.
Men dropped.
One soldier fell backward into the tunnel mouth with an arrow through his throat.
Another tried to scream, but only blood came out.
The tunnel erupted into chaos.
Boots slipped in mud.
Torches fell.
Crates crashed against stone.
John leapt down from the ridge.
His cloak opened behind him like a black wing.
His blade flashed once.
*SPLAT*
A soldier's throat opened.
John stepped past the falling body before it touched the ground.
The captain rushed forward with a roar.
John ducked under the swing and drove his dagger into the man's ribs.
*SHK*
The captain gasped.
John twisted.
The man fell to one knee.
John leaned close and said coldly "Wrong kingdom."
Then pulled the dagger free.
*SHK*
The captain dropped face first into mud.
A catholic soldier swung from behind.
John turned, caught the wrist, broke it.
*CRACK*
The man screamed.
John shoved the broken wrist upward and stabbed under the chin.
*SHK*
The scream ended.
The shadows moved through the tunnel mouth like death had learned discipline. One cut hamstrings. Another slit a torchbearer's throat. A third kicked a crate into two soldiers and drove her blade through the first man's eye.
Lancelot watched from the edge of the route, smiling.
Still smiling.
Too calm.
John's eyes moved toward him.
Lancelot clapped once, softly while saying "Beautiful. Morgan trains even her dogs with elegance."
John started toward him.
Lancelot stepped backward.
The ground beneath him opened.
John's eyes widened.
A hidden trapdoor.
Lancelot waved his pointer finger slightly with one hand behind his back and said with a chuckle "Tch…tch…tch. Tell morgan I adore her timing, but not enough to die for it."
Then he vanished below.
*BOOM*
The trapdoor slammed shut.
John sprinted forward.
Too late.
He drove his dagger between the wooden seam and stone.
Nothing.
The tunnel beneath the tunnel was already sealed.
A shadow landed beside him.
"We caught the maps." Said the woman in black.
John looked down.
A bloody catholic soldier still held the rolled parchment against his chest like paper could save him.
John crouched, took it and opened it.
Old roads.
Storehouses.
Village names.
Crown school locations.
Road warden stations.
Signal bell towers.
Names of teachers.
Names of village watchers.
Names of children chosen for crown schooling.
John's eyes hardened.
"They knew too much." Said the woman softly.
John stared at the parchment while saying coldly "Yes."
A wounded catholic soldier laughed weakly from the mud.
John looked at him.
The man's teeth were red.
"Rome sees all." Said the soldier weakly.
John walked over slowly and crouched beside the man.
"No. Rome pays men to look through dirty windows and calls it sight." Said john coldly with a snicker.
The soldier spat blood.
*SPLAT*
John grabbed him by the hair and asked with a cold tone "Who gave Lancelot the school names."
The soldier smiled.
John's dagger touched the man's tongue.
The smile vanished.
"Who." Asked john again with cold eyes.
The soldier trembled.
"A clerk. In the education office. Paid through Brooklyn." Said the soldier quickly.
John stared at him and said "Name."
"I do not know. I swear." Said the soldier Immediately as something wet formed on his pants.
John's expression did not change.
The soldier shook while saying Immediately "He wore a blue seal. Blue seal. That is all."
John released him.
"Bind him." Said john coldly.
The shadows moved.
One of them kicked open a crate.
Inside were oil jars, dried meat, rope, folded priest robes and small bags of coin.
Not yorkanian.
John looked at the coins.
Jersey marks.
Scratched badly.
Not badly enough.
Another shadow opened the second crate.
Books.
Not prayer books.
Ledgers.
Copies of route schedules.
Tax routes.
Grain ledgers.
Road warden payment lists.
John's jaw tightened.
"This was not only an attack." Said the woman in black with a cold tone.
John shook his head while saying "No. It was preparation."
The tunnel entrance burned brighter as one of the fallen torches caught the dry roots near the old stone.
A shadow looked toward john and asked with a n emotionless tone "Sir. Orders."
John looked toward the sealed trapdoor where lancelot had vanished and said calmly "Burn the tunnel."
The shadows moved.
"Sir." Said one.
John's eyes stayed on the sealed route and ssid coldly "Not all of it. Leave enough for her majesty to understand where to hurt him."
The first fire was lit properly.
Oil was poured.
Rope caught.
Smoke began crawling through the old road.
Catholic soldiers still alive were dragged out and bound. Those dead were searched. Rings removed. Teeth checked. Boots cut open. Papers taken from mouths, sleeves and false hems.
One soldier had a tiny wax capsule hidden beneath his tongue.
John crushed it beneath his boot before the man could swallow.
*CRK*
The man wept.
John did not care.
The flames grew.
Orange light crawled across the wet trees and turned the old tunnel into a burning mouth.
John stared into the dark and thought calmly "Run, Lancelot. Run beautifully"
The woman in black came to his side and asked with a cold tone "What do we tell her majesty."
John rolled the map and slid it into his cloak while saying "Everything."
"And lancelot." Asked the woman with a cold tone.
John looked at the sealed trapdoor.
Smoke slipped through the cracks.
"He escaped." Said john calmly.
The shadows went silent.
John's eyes were cold and said "For now."
The fire climbed higher.
The old road hissed.
The roots cracked.
The tunnel groaned like something ancient had finally been forced to confess.
John turned away and said coldly "Move. Her majesty needs this before dawn."
The shadows disappeared into the trees one by one.
Behind them, the secret road burned.
Not completely.
Not enough.
Just enough to bleed light into the wound lancelot had opened.
John walked into the black forest with the captured maps beneath his cloak and blood drying on his dagger.
"Her majesty likes hunting things that think themselves rare" Thought john calmly.
The flames grew behind him.
And somewhere beneath the old lands, lancelot was still smiling.
For now.
…
THE END…