THIEF: THE MIDNIGHT VEIL

11: "ULTIMATUM"

Down in the Servants' Quarters, Gilmore was faithfully standing watch again at the arched entryway leading to the staircase ascending to the ground floor.
He had escorted Sara down the halls to another washroom, since Benny had been occupying the other. Gilmore had swept his torch about to assure the kitchen maid that there was no Men in Red lurking about.
She had, rather sheepishly, asked Gilmore to wait outside in the hall while she conducted her business, so that he could escort her back. Gilmore had done just that, and soon the pair arrived back at the stairs near the main servants' washroom. Gilmore resumed his post, Sara bade him a goodnight and returned to her quarters, and all was well.
Even Benny had finally left the washroom and returned to his post... if leaning against the wall and nodding off to sleep counted as such.
Gilmore had decided to let Benny sleep it off, and so the duo stood guard at the foot of the stairwell with muffled thunder and crackling torch flames to keep them company.
The quiet was glorious. Though he much preferred patrol, Gilmore still found a way to pass the time as a stationary sentry. He loved storybooks, and so sometimes he would write his own tales - in his mind, of course, not with actual paper and quill - and found it to be a blissful way to pass the time.
Benny was snoring as Gilmore conjured a story about a giant red dragon trying to ward off a prince and his warriors, and he was just about to imagine the dragon using its terrifying breath of flames against the prince's calvary when Benny suddenly jolted awake.
"They're in the c-cake!" Benny declared dizzily.
The outburst startled Gilmore so much that his heart skipped a beat. "Gods! What?"
Benny looked around and seemed to remember where he was. He put a hand gingerly to his temple and groaned. "Sorry. I was dreaming. Oi - m-my head hurts."
"You were dreaming about cake?"
"What's wrong with cake, Gil?"
Gilmore shook his head. "I didn't... never mind."
"It had chocolate frosting and was taller than me," whispered Benny, still rubbing his temples. "My wife made it."
"Your wife?"
"Aye. Baked it herself." Benny sighed longingly. "I watched her bake it."
"What the hell, Benny?!"
"What?"
"You've never told me you're married!"
"I'm not, but in the dream I was."
"Oh." Gilmore straightened and looked up and down the halls for the hundredth time that night. "You should go get some water, mate. Have one of the servants make some tea."
"Why... why would I do that?"
"Because you're hung over."
Benny frowned and waved Gilmore off dismissively. "I'm f-fine. Besides, hangovers are in... in the mornings."
"Sometimes I wonder how you're still alive, Benny."
"Ha! The gods favor... favor me. Always have."
Gilmore chuckled. "Right. Maybe you can put in a good word for me next time you talk to them."
"I-I... don't talk to gods, Gil."
"Oh?"
"That would be ricidulous. Ha. Ah, ha! Haha! Cannn you i-imagine - hic - me, talking to gods? You crazy taffer. Hahaha!
Gilmore grinned crookedly. "Yes. That's right. I'm the crazy one." His eyes wandered to the washroom. "Did you clean up after yourself this time?"
"Eh?"
"The latrine. Last time you made a taffin' mess and that poor servant woman had to clean it up."
"It's their job to clean. Poor ollll... ole Benny can't clean worth a damn, anyway."
Gilmore was about to threaten Benny into cleaning up whatever awaited in the washroom when calls of alarm came from upstairs.
"Gil!" a man's voice bellowed, echoing down the stairs to the Servants' Quarters. "You and Benny down there?"
"Aye," Gilmore shouted, recognizing the voice of his fellow guardsman, Henry. He listened to his own voice's echo as it bounced up the turning staircase. "Where else would we be?"
"Eyes up, boys. Intruder alert. All stations are doubled. Help is coming soon for you lads down there."
Gilmore blinked. He looked at Benny in surprise, then ventured a couple steps into the shadowy stairwell. "The devil is goin' on?" he called upward.
"Just keep your eyes open, mates. We're sending some help down there for you as well."
Benny yawned mightily. "S-sounds like... like sum'mun is ta... taffin' around up there."
"Or down here," Gilmore answered, gripping his crossbow a bit tighter. He dropped one hand to feel for the hilt of his short sword, making sure it was still in its scabbard at his hip. "You know what we say, eh Benny?"
"Aye. Blades up, eyes - hic - eyes out, Gilly. Let them try. Ole Benny will teach 'em a ring or thoo. Thing er too, I mean." He paused. "I'll teach th-them... a thing. Not a ring."
"What have I told you about calling me 'Gilly?'"
"I know you don't like it. It's j-just... do you know what? Can I tell yer somethin' Gil?"
"And it's 'eyes up, blades out' you oaf. Let's just keep quiet. Stay alert. And make sure to—"
Benny stumbled forward and clapped his hand to his comrade's shoulder. "I juss wanna say, I l-like 'Gilly' better. I theen youshud ch-change it."
Gilmore shrugged away from the man with a grunt. "Gods, you smell like ale poured into an arsehole. Get away."
"I-I was juss tryin' to... to... to tell you—"
"Just stay on your side of the door, mate. Bloody hell."
"—seersly consider changin' it. 'Gilly' has a nice ding to it. Ring." Benny narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Is it ring or ding?"
Rapidy descending footfalls on the stone steps above them reached their ears, accompanied by the familiar sounds of armor and gear shifting about with each step.
Benny whirled about. "Oi! Who... who's that?" he challenged, unsheathing his sword wildly. The blade clanged against the stone wall next to him and bounced into the iron sconce of the nearby torch, sending a shrill report bounding through the Servants' Quarters.
Gilmore had a hand up to his ear in protest, and he motioned for Benny to calm himself. "Gods, you're a menace!" he scolded. "Watch where you swing that!"
"Gil? Ben?" came a man's voice. "You all right down there?"
"Yes, Barlow," came Gilmore. "Benny decided to attack the wall. All's well otherwise."
Seconds later a man with a ginger-colored goatee appeared. Barlow had joined Arden Manor's House Guard the same week Gilmore had some years prior. The two were firm friends.
Barlow was accompanied by another man, a tall, brawny lad named Rodrigo, who went by 'Rigo.' He was only nineteen years of age, but he had enough muscle for two men.
"Fear not, lads," Rigo teased. "The professionals are here."
"Rigo, normally I would fight you on that, but Benny is in rare form t'night." Gilmore rolled his eyes. "What's going on? What happened?"
Barlow cast a look down both ways of the long hallway, surveying the dimly-lit floor of the Servants' Quarters. "There was an attack. Someone assaulted a guard."
"It was Caffrey," chimed Rigo. "He was takin' a piss and wham. Someone laid him out good."
Benny's jaw dropped. "Mid-piss?!"
"What?" came Gilmore. "When? Is he okay?"
"Caff will be fine. He's in the infirmary. We don't know when exactly, but it was recent. Happened in the last twenty minutes." Rigo shrugged. "It was Mara who found him. Henry and Terri were nearby. Word spread fast."
Barlow was nodding. "Captain Galway's ordered the guard be doubled. Day crew had to wake their arses up. No one's sleeping tonight."
"S-sounds... that sounds dangerous." Benny still had his sword out and he lifted it shakily above him in a gallant gesture. "We'll find whoe'er is prowling - hic - prowling around."
Gilmore was shaking his head. "Put the sword away, mate. Please."
"Ya hear me?!" Benny thundered. "We'll f-find you! Just you wait!"
Barlow flashed Benny a disapproving glance, and he turned to walk quickly to the right, towards the servants' rooms down the hall. "Jasper has ordered that the house staff all be rounded up in the main foyer."
"Questioning the villagers, is he?" asked Gilmore. "Seeing if anyone has been recently sharpening some pitchforks, so to speak?"
"I assume so, Gil. I'm fetching the servants down here and bringing them up to the foyer, then I'll come back down and rejoin you lot."
Benny cleared his throat. "Barlow h-how - hic - how do you keep your hair so.. so red?"
Barlow rolled his eyes. "Years of practice, you taffer."
"T-taff? Taff?" Benny protested, thumping his chest. "Arrr yew calling me a taffer?!"
"You don't own the word, mate," replied Barlow with a grin as he turned to stalk down the hall to the right, where the servants' rooms lined both sides.
"Wassat s'posed to mean?" called Benny after the man. He turned to Gilmore. "He m-makes no sense. You can't - hic - own a word."
Gilmore looked at his companion and shook his head. "That's what he was saying."
"Well w-why say it whennn erryone knows?"
"Oi!" Barlow's voice echoed as he knocked on the first door. "Everyone up! You are all summoned to the main foyer immediately per orders of Captain Galway."
"Are we going upstairs too?" Benny asked Gilmore. "They always keep us down here."
"Yes," Gilmore said patiently. "This is our post. We don't move."
"But he juss said erry-one needs to go - hic - go upstairs."
"The servants, Benny. Not us. Gods, mate. Please go chug some water."
Benny waved him off. "Pah! I'm f-fine."
"No, you aren't. Kitchen's down that way, where you made that poor lass from earlier go to use the washroom. Go get some water. Splash some on your face." Gilmore clapped Benny hard on the shoulder. "Sober up, m'friend. Something's afoot and I don't want you to get whacked over the head like poor Caffrey."
"Let's go!" called Barlow from afar, moving down the hall and rapping loudly on the doors to the servants' rooms. "Now! Get up and report to the main foyer! Up!"
Gilmore watched Benny retreat sullenly towards the kitchen washroom before looking the other way down the hall, where various members of house staff were trudging sleepily out into the hallway, most of them wearing their nightwear.
"What's this?" asked Ms. Beaumont, the cook. "We just finished cleanin' and have an early morning!"
One of the housekeepers yawned loudly as she stumbled out into the hallway. "Come now, is this really necessary?"
Barlow turned and cocked his head at her. "Necessary?" he repeated with eyebrows raised. "Is this necessary, Edwina? When's the last time we woke you all up at midnight 'cause Captain Galway called an emergency meeting?"
"Well... never, but—"
"Quite right. Get your arses moving upstairs. Now." The guard turned and slammed his fist on another door. "Let's go, Tomas! You waitin' for the stone to turn to dust, lad?"
The other servants were emerging from their quarters now. Over a dozen of them were milling about, leaning against the wall, stretching, whispering, yawning and scratching their heads in sleepy confusion. Rodrigo was rushing them along the best he could.
Gilmore, still watching from his post, cleared his throat. "Hoy!" he shouted, his booming voice commanding the staff's attention. "You heard the man! Get moving! We're trying to keep everyone safe!"
The servants - kitchen staff, housekeepers, gardeners, two chimney sweeps, and the maintenance man all obeyed. They moved towards Gilmore's archway to the stairs leading above.
A man suddenly whispered in his ear. "Oi, Gil."
Gilmore was so startled that he jumped in fright, cursing loudly when he spun around, leveling his crossbow mid-motion for a quick shot. "Oh come on. Pagan's Hell, Benny! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Benny yawned obnoxiously. "I didn't sneak, you taffer."
"How the hell were you so quiet?!" Gilmore scolded, lowering his crossbow. "I almost shot you!"
"But you did not shoot me. Like I said earlier Gil: the gods favor me."
"Why aren't you wearing boots? Why are you in bare feet?!"
"Alas, poor ole Benny's boots had vom— hic - vomit on them. I can't walk around in this fine castle with dirt boots, now, can I?" Benny paused thoughtfully. "Dirty boots, I meant."
"Where's your armor?" asked Gilmore incredulously. Benny was only wearing his armored greaves and pants beneath; his surcoat was missing, his chainmail was nowhere to be found. The man still wore his helmet, and a long-sleeved tunic with an undershirt beneath it. "Benny, where—"
"It's fine mate. I left it all in the washroom so the serpents can wash it all up for me."
"Serpents?"
"Servants." Benny yawned again. "I left the armor with the... for the servants I mean."
Gilmore gawked at the man. "Benny, you can't leave your shite laying around an' expect housekeeping to take care of it."
Benny snorted defiantly. "That's nonsense, Gilly. Why would they call it a washroom if it's not for washing?"
"You're impossible."
One of the housekeepers walking by them to climb the stairs glared at them. "I'm not washing your armor that you wretched all over, Benny."
Ms. Beaumont was right behind her. "You left vomit-stained armor in the kitchen washroom?!" she asked crossly. "In my washroom?"
Benny opened his mouth to retort, but after a pause he just rubbed the back of his sheepishly. "Sorry, Mizz Beaumont."
Gilmore popped a few coffee beans into his mouth. "Smartest thing you've said all night. Chew some coffee. We need to be alert."
"Gettin' sick of... coffee beans," Benny grumbled. "I'd rather drink it."
"So would I, but we can't right now, can we?" Gilmore held up a palm of coffee beans for Benny to see before throwing back into his open mouth. "Come on, Benny," he said with his mouth full. "Load up. Gonna be a long night."
Down the hall, Barlow was still waiting outside the last door. "Oi! Tomas!" he called, slamming his fist against the door repeatedly. "If you don't get out here in ten seconds, I'll—"
The door creaked open. Tomas, the hall boy who had been helping in the kitchen during Kirth's attempt to poison Lady Arden earlier that night, opened it slightly and peeked out. "I'm coming! I need to get dressed, aye?"
"Get dressed faster."
Tomas shut the door in a huff, and Barlow turned to catch Gilmore's gaze from afar down the hall. He rolled his eyes and tapped the side of his helm with an open palm.
Gilmore grinned. "Having some trouble, is he?" he called.
"Apparently," Barlow answered. He gave the door another heavy-handed smack with his gloved knuckles, hard enough to rattle it on its hinges. "We've got a possible criminal on the loose, lad. Out. I won't say it again."
The door swung open again, and Tomas emerged, stumbling out with his shirt half-pulled on, nearly walking straight into Barlow since the shirt was covering his head.
Barlow raised in hands in feigned wonder. "Lo, praise the gods. He emerges. Get your arse upstairs."
Following close behind was Sara, her cheeks red from embarrassment. She kept her gaze down at the floor as she hurried past Barlow and followed Tomas.
Barlow watched them jog down the hall and just held his arms out to his sides in exasperation. "If you lot are going to break curfew and be sneakin' around for a midnight snuggle, be feckin' quicker about it!" he thundered.
Gilmore watched, wide-eyed, as Tomas and Sara scurried by. "Midnight snuggle?" he echoed, glaring at the pair as the dashed upstairs. "Better only be snuggling and nothing more, aye?"
Rodrigo snorted. "Why you give a shite, Gil? She your daughter or something?"
"No, but she reminds me of my own - and don't you ever talk about my daughter."
Rigo held up an open palm. "Ho, now. Sorry, Gil. Was just a jest, mate. I didn't mean anything by it."
"Rigo!" hollered Barlow from up the steps.
"Be right there, mate." Rigo turned back to Gilmore and gave him an easy clap on the shoulder. "Seriously. Sorry, mate."
"Worry not."
"I need to use the latrine." Rigo took one step towards the washroom across the hall before Gilmore held out a hand to stop him. "Not that one."
Rodrigo looked at Benny, then at Gilmore, then back at Benny. "You mucked it up, didn't you?"
Benny just shrugged.
"Upstairs, then." Rigo turned on his heel and walked briskly to catch up with Barlow and the house staff. "See you lads later."
"Gil, I was thinking - hic - about something."
Gilmore swept his gaze about the hallway before relaxing and leaning his back against the wall. "Should I be worried?"
"Why doesn't Lady Arden just buy some of those mechani— ... mecha... mechanical eyes for this place?"
"Oi," Gilmore hissed lowly, "watch your tongue. Don't let anyone hear you talk about the Mechanists in here. You'll lose your job faster than you can blink."
Benny's eyes widened. "Why?"
"What?"
"Why would poor B-Benny... lose his job?"
"Why?" repeated Gilmore incredulously. "Have you not noticed— never mind." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Lady Arden is a Hammerite supporter, mate. She believes in The Builder - truly and sincerely. Understand?"
"Oh." Benny hiccuped for a hundredth time and stared off into space for a moment. "So she hates the Mechana-nists."
"Mechanists," Gilmore corrected. "Just don't talk about them."
"But... we're talking about them right now."
"Will you... Benny, just stand watch. Pay attention."