The circular stone staircase down to the castle dungeons was tight, like a corkscrew winding down into the earth. Balthasar was quite familiar with it, having made the trek down on numerous occasions for any prisoners who were suffering from health maladies. Today though he descended the stairs for a different reason, to bring news. The chirurgeon wondered to himself how they even managed to fit Beowulf down these stairs in the first place.
Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Balthasar could already hear the jester's voice echoing through the stone hallways. The chirurgeon rolled his eyes and smirked, of course Thedrick would be down here, he had barely stepped out of the dungeon since Balthasar had discharged him from the infirmary. Though Balthasar already knew where he was going, he could have also just used the jester's voice to guide him instead.
The dungeon was dark, naturally as all dungeons should be, only lit by sparse wall torches, but that was enough to find your way with. Balthasar could hear Thedrick's voice getting louder as he got closer, and eventually made his way to the end of the hallway where he could see the jester sitting on the cold stone floor, leaning up against the iron bars of one of the cells, a blanket wrapped around his small body.
"Oh, Baz, hi!" Thedrick said cheerily, looking up as he heard Balthasar's approaching footsteps. Balthasar was now at a close enough angle that he could see into the cell, noticing Beowulf seated on the floor on the other side of the bars from Thedrick, watching the little jester lovingly. It was a bit strange to see the large man dressed in plain linen clothing and without his helmet.
"Hello Thedrick, fancy finding you down here," Balthasar quipped sarcastically with a small smile, stopping a few steps away from the jester.
"Why are you here Baz?" Thedrick asked, grinning up at the chirurgeon.
"I'm here to let you know that the vampire hunter has left town," Balthasar explained. "I actually tried to stop him, told him he needed longer to heal, but he did not seem very keen on sticking around any longer."
Thedrick looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you think he'll ever come back and try to hurt me again?" he asked quietly, with an expression of slight concern.
"Do you?" Balthasar asked, almost chuckling. "The entire time I was treating him in the infirmary he looked terrified, like he thought Beowulf would come bursting in at any moment to tear his other arm off. I bet that's why he was in such a hurry to leave, and I doubt we will see him again. He also probably won't be hunting many more vampires, the way he is now."
"Well good... it's not our fault we are born this way..." Thedrick muttered, pulling the blanket closer around his thin body.
"Thedrick..." Balthasar paused, not really sure how to word what he wanted to say. "Not all vampires are... as nice as you," he settled on. "In fact... probably none are, I would bet."
"Well, how would you know, have you ever met one?" Thedrick shot back, looking slightly hurt.
"Well no..." Balthasar admitted. Thedrick was the only vampire he had ever had a chance to talk to before.
"Maybe they are just misunderstood, that's all!" Thedrick suggested, hope in his eyes. "Perhaps they are forced to do the things they do... just because we need blood to survive doesn't mean we should be wiped out..."
"Alright fine, I will keep my hypotheses about the nature of vampires to myself," Balthasar yielded. "Anyway, I have other news as well. Cassian is going to talk to Richard about letting Beowulf out early for good behaviour," the chirurgeon explained with a small smile.
Thedrick's face lit up. "That's fantastic! I won't have to freeze my ass off down here anymore!" he exclaimed in delight, and looked over at Beowulf who was smiling happily too.
YOU ARE READING
Lunar Flare Book 1: Crimson Moon
FantasyA mischievous jester. A gentle soldier. A secret that could tear their lives apart. Noble born runaway turned jester Thedrick enjoys his job possibly a little too much, and his habit of both teasing and flirting with the king's soldiers often lands...