12 - A Dark Reunion

 

Later that day, in the mid afternoon, Bernhart and Luitold were sparring once again under the watch of Rudolf from above the pit. After four days of rigorous training, Luitold had improved considerably in his beast form, with his animalistic instincts seeming to merge with the control he held in his human mind.

As Bernhart swung his wooden sparring sword at Luitold’s monstrous body, the boy stepped forward and blocked the strike with his forearm, pushing back against the weapon with all of his body weight. As Bernhart struggled to maintain his stance, Luitold used this opportunity to swing at his head with his free left arm. The beast’s wide hand slammed against the side of Bernhart’s helmet, knocking him off his feet with its sheer force. Bernhart tumbled on to the ground, dirt smearing all over his steel armor.

“Good,” he said as he pushed himself up from his knees, “A move like that could kill a weaker man than I, though I’m not sure if you could parry a real blade with your arm without getting it cut off.”

“Then I’ll grab it instead of parrying,” Luitold said in his demonic voice, “Even if my hand is cut as a beast, once I turn back to normal, my wounds are always gone.”

“Shall we try with a real sword then?” Bernhart asked.

Luitold paused for a moment before responding, his newly gained confidence battling with the fear that had always defined him before.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Now back on his feet, Bernhart sheathed his sparring sword and pulled out a steel blade from the adjacent sheath on his hip.

At a moment’s notice, Bernhart charged forward again, this time with a deadly weapon in hand. As the blade swung towards him, Luitold grabbed it in his right hand and gripped it tightly. The two-sided blade cut into the thick snake-like skin of his hand, causing him to bleed from both his fingers and palm. With the blood also came the black steam of the beast. Though it had never happened before, Bernhart assumed if Luitold’s body let out too much steam, the black cloud would reappear early and he would turn human again.

Knowing it wouldn’t damage Luitold’s human body, Bernhart pushed deeper into his hand with the blade, sending more blood cascading down his arm. The beast roared in pain, though it remained vigilant and held its stature. Bernhart knew what Luitold planned to do next, as it had become a sort of signature move they developed together. If faced against any man with a sword, the plan was for Luitold to grab or block his blade with one hand and claw at him with the other. With Luitold executing the move properly just a minute earlier, Bernhart was able to predict it with ease. As the beast’s arm swung forward, Bernhart ducked beneath it and lunged to the right, pulling his sword cleanly through Luitold’s hand and dismembering his fingers completely.

Again, the beast wailed in pain, grabbing his cut hand with the functioning one and squeezing it tightly. Blood poured out in spades, and with it came a heap of black steam. As Luitold fell to his knees, even more steam emerged from his skin across his whole body and consumed him whole. Before long, he reappeared as his normal self, his hand completely intact.

“Sorry about that,” Bernhart said casually, “I didn’t feel like getting knocked on my ass again. That’s a good move, though. The average soldier would likely have trouble countering it.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Luitold said between panted breaths.

“You’ve improved quite a lot in this short time,” Rudolf commented from above.

“Thanks,” Luitold said weakly.

“It’s probably about time you boys call it a day,” Rudolf continued, “Bernhart, how’s guard duty been?”

Bernhart smiled to himself as he looked up to the baron.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he said.

Once Bernhart and Luitold climbed out of the pit, they headed off to the bathhouse, a ritual that was beginning to feel second-natured at this point. As soon as they entered, Thomas kindly prepared them their baths in adjacent tubs. Just after the two settled in, the tall and lanky Sir Aldritch arrived as well, marking the first time Bernhart had seen him since their chat a few days prior.

“Ah, you two boys again!” he said as he stepped inside, “Fancy seeing you here this afternoon.”

“Hello, Aldritch,” Bernhart said to him, “How have you been faring these past few days?”

“Oh, fine as usual,” he replied.

Aldritch hopped into one of the other prepared tubs on the other side of Bernhart from Luitold, recklessly spilling a good deal of water over the edge.

“Now, you’ve gotta tell me about that guard duty with the princess,” he said, “Canagan told me she let you inside the Guest Pavilion this morning when I walked by. Let me tell you, the man was mad beyond belief. Is it true?”

“Everyone’s interested, eh?” Bernhart chuckled to himself, “Yes, it’s true. The princess and I have become well acquainted.”

“Is that so?,” Aldritch said, “Tell me, what is she like, if I may ask?”

Bernhart looked up to the bathhouse’s ceiling, congregating all the memories he had formed of the princess as he tried to find a simple way to describe her.

“Free-spirited,” he said, “She has little regard for the order of society.”

“How ironic, considering she’s at the top of it all,” Aldritch replied.

“It does seem with her status as a woman some things are still restricted from her,” Bernhart said, “I believe she’s felt both the rewards and limitations of her position.”

“The way you describe her, she almost sounds like your opposite,” Aldritch said, “What with your intense chivalry and devotion and whatnot.”

“She’s forced me to look a little inward,” Bernhart told him, “I think I may not believe all the things I once did.”

“If that’s the case, you and I should finally go for some booze, sometime,” Aldritch laughed.

Bernhart looked at Aldritch with a playful smile.

“Only some things have changed,” he said.

One after another, the men left their baths as the time passed on. Bernhart brought his armor back to the keep where he also changed his clothes in preparation for his next shift with Agnes. He was curious how the night would go, especially following the kiss they had shared that morning. He didn’t understand why she would do such a thing, and wondered what made him deserving of so much kindness from her. Upon closer thought, he recalled the things she said about her life back home in Old Corvel, how her life had been exceedingly lonesome in the months since her father fell ill. Even before then, it was uncertain if she had many friends at all, and she had no siblings or extended family to speak of. Was Bernhart’s mere presence alone enough to earn her heart? Even if it was, the nature of their relationship was one quite forbidden, with him being a lowly peasant and her being the heir to the Avarian throne, although that seemed to be of little concern to the princess herself. When all was said and done, the only thing Bernhart could do was wait until he arrived at the Pavilion to receive the clarity he so desired.

As he exited the keep through the door nearest to the gardens, however, he was met with a bizarre sight. Just down the gardens’ central path was the front doors to the pavilion, where Sir Canagan would typically be found standing just in front of as his duty ended. Today, though, Canagan was nowhere to be seen, and standing in his place was none other than Count Dietrich himself, the man not meant to return to Isenburg for another five days.

“My Lord!” Bernhart said as he came near, walking down the path at an exceeding pace, “What brings you here so soon?”

It was surreal seeing Dietrich stand before him after all that had happened. He was clothed in his signature wolfskin mantle, the same thing he had worn the day before he left, as well as the day before that and every other day before then. The constancy of it made him appear as more of a force of nature than a man. For all the changes to the world in his absence, he had remained the exact same entity he once was when all was said and done.

“My travels went far smoother than I anticipated,” he said with a smile.

Now adjusted to the sincerity of Agnes’s smile, Bernhart saw the one on Dietrich’s face for the cold masquerade it always was. Finally he could recognize it, there was something deeply unsettling about the Count.

“Now, there will be no need for the continuation of your guard duty,” the Count continued, “I must say I am thankful for you keeping the princess safe, as well as Canagan, but the two of you can return to your typical duties now that I have returned.”

Something told Bernhart this was wrong. He understood Agnes’s wishes, and he knew he wanted to protect her for as long as he was needed. Dietrich said his time was up, but his duty had become more than an obligation. It was a promise as friends, or maybe as something else. Despite this, there was little he could realistically do to stop Dietrich. All of the freedom he had learned to enjoy in the Count’s absence had been stripped away from his soul in just an instant. For now, all Bernhart could do was comply.

“Very well, my Lord,” he said as he masked his inner thoughts.

Bernhart turned around and slowly walked the path heading back towards the keep. Behind him, he could hear the cedar doors of the pavilion slamming shut as Dietrich entered the building. Fearing the pain he would feel had he left Agnes alone, he made the decision to turn back around once more, walking as fast as possible towards the double doors without making a sound. From there, he leaned in and placed his ear against the door to listen without being suspected.

“Bernhart?” Agnes asked from within. Only a second later, she audibly gasped in shock.

“No, not today, Princess,” Dietrich said, “Bernhart’s duties have been relieved from this day forward. Now that I’m here, we can finally have our meeting, you and I.”

“You must be Count Dietrich,” she said, “I must say, you’ve kept me waiting quite some time.”

“Yes, I apologize for my untimely departure. I was called to have a talk with the Count of Vandemar to negotiate some trade deals.”

“I see. Well, let’s get this meeting over with, shall we?”

“No need to be so hasty, Princess. We have plenty of time on our hands here.”

Bernhart could hear a subtle creak as Dietrich made himself comfortable in one of the pavilion’s luxurious chairs.

“Now, I’m sure you know what I brought you here for,” Dietrich said, “I believe a marriage between us would be the most beneficial solution for the future of our kingdom.”

“I am aware you think that,” Agnes replied, “Unfortunately, I do not have any wish to marry you, Dietrich.”

“I know your father’s days are numbered.”

“What?”

“He’s been sick for months. Your friend Dominic at the castle told me. He also told me if we were to marry it would be of your decision, so if you don’t wish for that to transpire, allow me to convince you.”

“Try your damnedest.”

“When your father passes, as things stand, you will become the heir to the throne. The way I see things, this kingdom may not be safest in your hands alone. Tensions are rising in Europe. Alemannia made an attempt on our Holy Land only a few weeks ago. Over the past three years, I have been researching the magic your father brought to this land, and I have found ways to make it even more powerful. With my guidance, this country can become the revered kingdom it once was. I will lead a military stronger than one ever seen before, and Avaria will expand its greatness to the far stretches of the Mediterranean and Baltic.”

“Avaria has no need for your useless ambition,” Agnes snapped, “and the magic my father blessed this kingdom with is a gift from God, not something to be tampered with for political gain.”

“It’s a real shame,” Dietrich sighed, “that you have to be so stubborn.”

Suddenly, a sharp noise erupted from the inside, one of glass violently shattering. The princess screamed in terror, and the sound of intense gusts of wind quickly followed. Bernhart heard the sound of Agnes’s slippers clatter against the marble floor as she seemed to scurry backwards. Just then, a monstrous deep voice emerged.

“I hope you realize you have little choice in this matter, Miss Agnes,” it said, “There is no one left to save you from me.”

“What the hell are you?” Agnes wailed, “Get away!”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s only me, Dietrich,” the monster said, “Now, if you don’t want me to rip your head off your body, you’d better do as I say.”

“Stop!” Agnes cried.

“You will marry me, and I will ascend to the throne in your place, understand?” Dietrich said.

Bernhart stood frozen in shock as he listened to the princess’s tears. If what he assumed was happening on the other side of the door was true, there was absolutely nothing he could do in this moment. Somehow, in his time away, Dietrich had become a beast himself, one that could talk and control its own body, just like Luitold. Was this really what he would do for the throne? Was he truly this evil?

“Y-yes,” Agnes weeped.

“Good,” Dietrich growled. “I will send a messenger to the capital to let them know our marriage is in order. Until then, you will remain here.”

“Yes…I understand,” the princess said weakly.

Paralyzed with fear, Bernhart understood there was only one thing he could do. With no regard for the stealth he had so far maintained, Bernhart dashed off to the keep. Within seconds, he had reached the door inside. As he grasped its ring handle, he heard the yell of the beast.

“Who goes there?” it barked through its gurgling voice.

Thankfully, Bernhart was safely inside before Dietrich finished talking. He understood this safety wouldn’t last for long, however, and he wasted no time sprinting to the Knight’s Wing, the area where Luitold’s room resided. Now was the time to put their training to use.