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The Crime Lord Bard - Chapter 117: Nine
🕑 Added 2025-06-14 00:06:12 +0000 UTC"I got two carriages ready," Thomas announced. He pointed toward the waiting vehicles just outside the castle. "I wasn't sure how many prisoners we'd be taking."
"Excellent," Jamie replied, his gaze sweeping over the carriages. As he did a quick headcount of their group, a frown creased his forehead. "Where's Holz?" he asked.
Thomas's expression darkened. "He's in the first carriage," he answered. "His wife... she's shaken and beaten. We've done what we can for her. Thyra did some first aid, but without a cleric, there’s only so much we can do out here."
Jamie sighed, running a hand through his hair. The irony wasn't lost on him. 'It's a cleric who caused all this,' he thought bitterly.
"All right," he said aloud, his tone firming with decision. "You and Holz take the first carriage along with anyone else we've freed. Head back as soon as you're ready."
Thomas nodded. He turned and climbed into the driver's seat of the first carriage. The horses stamped and snorted as they prepared for their departure.
"Thyra, Alonzo. I'll go with you in the second carriage. Gather all the prisoners inside," Jamie continued, gesturing toward the other vehicle.
Thomas snapped the reins. The first carriage rolled forward, disappearing down the path.
However, before Jamie could leave, there was one more task. Jamie turned to face the lingering flames that licked at the edges of the nearby fields. "Thyra, Alonzo," he called, "can you put out the fires?"
The blaze near the crops was almost over, but he wouldn't take any more risks.
Thyra pressed her lips together, her eyes thoughtful. "I can't extinguish the fire for sure," she admitted, "but I can summon a snowfall. It should help suppress the flames."
"Same thing. I can conjure rain again," Alonzo offered, his voice steady. "It won't be a downpour, but it might be enough."
"Do what you can," Jamie answered.
As they set about their work, Jamie headed toward the second carriage. He climbed into the driver's seat, the worn leather creaking under his weight. From this position, he peered through the small window into the carriage's interior. Several figures sat shackled within. Among them was Franco.
Behind him, the air began to shimmer with mana. Thyra murmured an incantation, words rolling off her tongue like a soft melody. Above, the sky responded. Clouds thickening, their edges tinged with a silvery hue. Moments later, delicate snowflakes began to fall above the castle.
Nearby, Alonzo closed his eyes in concentration. A faint aura enveloped him as he drew upon his spells. The scent of rain tingled in the air as a gentle drizzle began to fall on the crops.
Thyra and Alonzo approached the carriage, their faces tired but resolute. "That should keep the flames from spreading," Alonzo said, wiping a bead of sweat.
Thyra nodded, pulling her cloak tighter around her slender frame. "It should be enough."
"Good work," Jamie acknowledged. He gestured to the space beside him. "There's no room inside, and it wouldn't be safe with the prisoners."
They climbed aboard, settling on the bench beside him.
"Let's move out," Jamie declared.
With that, they set off. The journey back to Hafenstadt was uneventful, in contrast to what they had left behind.
As the sun climbed higher, they reunited with their guide. The stoic ranger had returned to handle the carriage they had hidden. The trio of carriages formed a modest convoy as they wound their way along the road.
Periodically, they paused to scan the horizon, watchful for any signs of pursuit.
After hours of travel, the familiar silhouette of Hafenstadt's spires pierced the horizon.
Upon entering the bustling streets, the group parted ways. Thomas veered off toward his home in the lower quarter, eager to rest and embrace his daughter. Thyra and Alonzo hurried toward the temple, seeking clerics to aid the wounded. Holz guided the first carriage toward the Golden Fiddle. His wife, still fragile from her ordeal, needed to rest.
That left Jamie with the task of escorting the prisoners to Maria von Hafenstadt's mansion. The second carriage creaked under the weight of its cargo. Inside, the six nobles turned traitors had their hands bound and faces etched with defiance.
The carriage rattled to a halt before the iron gates of the Hafenstadt estate. As Jamie dismounted, a contingent of armored soldiers swiftly encircled the carriage.
"Where do you think you're going?" barked the nearest guard, his tone sharp and authoritative.
Jamie looked up, meeting the soldier's steely gaze with a hint of wry amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. "Special delivery for Maria von Hafenstadt," he replied, his voice laced with irony.
The guard's eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring. "Watch your tongue. Who do you think y—"
Before he could finish, a commanding voice cut through the tension. "Stand down, Corporal!" A seasoned captain stepped forward, his cape fluttering behind him. Without hesitation, he delivered a swift cuff to the back of the subordinate's helmet. The guard stumbled slightly, chastened.
"You idiot," the captain scolded. "What do you think you're doing?"
Turning to Jamie, he offered a curt nod. "My apologies, sir. You're clear to proceed."
Jamie inclined his head in acknowledgment. As he guided the carriage past the gates, he couldn't help but catch snippets of the heated reprimand continuing behind him.
"Do you not recognize him?" the captain hissed. "That's the bard. The one we've been talking about!"
"The bard?" the corporal muttered, confusion evident. "The one Maria is..."
Their voices faded as the carriage rolled deeper into the estate grounds.
As the mansion came into full view, Jamie noted the increased security. Dozens of soldiers were stationed at strategic points around the building, their stances alert.
Pulling the carriage to a stop before the entrance steps, Jamie leaped down and addressed the guards. "You there! I'll need about ten of you," he called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard.
The soldiers exchanged glances before several stepped forward. "Yes, sir?" one inquired respectfully.
Jamie moved to the carriage door, unlocking it with a heavy iron key. "Help me escort these prisoners inside," he instructed.
The nobles were ushered out of the carriage one by one. They squinted against the daylight, their expressions filled with disdain and apprehension. Franco emerged first, his chin held high despite the circumstances.
As Jamie and the guards guided the prisoners toward the mansion's entrance, the massive double doors swung open. Maria von Hafenstadt descended the steps with graceful urgency. She wore a flowing gown of pale green silk. The color complemented her raven-black hair.
"I believe these six will serve as a gift for you," Jamie declared, presenting the six bound captives with a graceful bow.
Maria stood atop the steps leading to the mansion, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she studied the prisoners.
"You mentioned that this relationship of ours would be interesting," she mused with a light laugh. "I didn't realize I'd be receiving presents so soon." Her eyes held a playful spark as she added, "Congratulations, Jamie. At this rate, you might make me fall in love."
Jamie chuckled, recognizing the teasing note in her voice. Yet, he couldn't help but notice the murmurs and sidelong glances exchanged among the soldiers stationed nearby.
"Soldiers, take them away," Maria ordered, her tone shifting to one of firm authority. The guards snapped to attention and escorted the six captives toward the mansion's dungeons.
As the prisoners were taken, the two began to walk along a cobblestone path that wound through the lush gardens.
"How are the Inquisitors?" Jamie inquired, his gaze drifting over a cluster of roses that climbed a trellis beside the path.
Maria sighed, a hint of frustration evident in the set of her shoulders. "They tried to give us some trouble," she admitted. "They even attempted to confront us, but for some reason, they abruptly retreated a few hours ago."
Jamie arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps it was the same time they withdrew from Bastille," he speculated.
"Perhaps," she agreed, her eyes reflecting contemplation. "But regardless, I might have fulfilled one of your requests."
"Which one might that be?" Jamie asked with curiosity, turning his attention to her.
"Well," Maria began, a subtle smile playing on her lips, "I believe I've managed to acquire something even better than a bishop."
Jamie's interest sparked. "Oh? And what have you acquired?"
She nodded. "Before they managed to escape, we captured an Inquisitor."
"An Inquisitor?" Jamie echoed, a mixture of surprise and intrigue coloring his tone. "So you might already know what they were after?"
"Not exactly," Maria admitted, a hint of frustration returning. "They are resilient. So far, he has refused to divulge any information. In truth, I was hoping you might do the honors of encouraging him to talk."
Jamie gave a sinister smile. “Please, I’d be delighted to do the honors.”
Maria gestured toward a side entrance of the mansion. "Come with me," she said. "I'll take you to him."
Maria led him to a discreet door tucked behind an elegant statue. With a deft motion, she pressed a hidden mechanism. A wall swung inward, revealing a hidden passage that descended beneath the mansion.
After descending several floors, they reached a long corridor lined with heavy iron-barred cells. The scent of damp stone and iron permeated the air, and the distant dripping of water could be heard echoing.
At the far end of the corridor, in the last cell, a man knelt on the cold floor. He was motionless, his head bowed and hands clasped in fervent prayer.
"That won't save you," Maria said, her heels clicking against the stone as she approached the cell. Her voice carried a tone of icy authority. "Speak, and we will cease our... efforts to persuade you."
The Inquisitor lifted his gaze slowly, eyes reflecting his determination. "Never," he intoned, his voice steady despite his captivity. "We are justice. We are the light."
Maria sighed, retrieving a heavy iron key from her belt. She unlocked the cell door with a resonant clank, the hinges groaning as it swung open. Stepping aside, she gestured for Jamie to enter. "Perhaps you can get through to him," she remarked.
Jamie stepped into the cell. He withdrew a dagger from his sheath. Gripping it firmly, he approached the kneeling man.
"Yesterday," he began, his voice low and laden with barely restrained anger. "I saw hundreds of people die, sacrificed in a ritual. Innocent men, women, and children."
The Inquisitor met his gaze. "Sacrifices made in the pursuit of a greater purpose," he said, a hint of fanaticism coloring his words.
Jamie's eyes flashed with fury. "You expected this to happen," he accused. "You supported these plans. You are no embodiment of justice or light."
Without warning, Jamie struck. The dagger flashed as it sliced cleanly through one of the Inquisitor's fingers. A cry of pain tore from the man's throat, raw and visceral. Blood welled from the severed digit, staining the stone floor a dark crimson.
"Talk," Jamie demanded. "Or nine more will follow."
