Sunset on the Orchards

Darkness in The Dungeons

The sun climbed to the top of the sky before the alchemist, a tall and wiry man by the name of Levy Crawle, finally descended the circular staircase into the dungeons, ready to begin his malicious work. Opal and Gerald, clothed in the garb of simple servants, watched from beyond the courtyard gate as he went on his way. They exchanged glances, and moved aside the tall, stone-hewn courtyard wall. There, they overturned a medium sized rock, revealing a short hole in the dirt below. In this hideaway, there was a note -- declaring them permission to enter the courtyard and dungeons beyond -- and a covered platter, containing several cheeses, a small knife, and a tall bottle of aged wine. Opal lifted the platter out of the hole carefully, while Gerald snatched up the dirty, yet still quite sharp, knife and the note. He hid the dagger under the heavy, rough cloth of his clothing, and held the note scrunched in his left hand. They walked back to the trail, making sure to keep quiet. Then, once on the trail, they approached the gate, at which two armed and armored guards stood watch. Both Opal and Gerald turned their eyes downward, and arranged their features to betray no hint of emotion or disobedience. "Stop! State your business and present accurate credentials for entry, or be sent to the dungeons! You servants have the gal to approach the inner courtyard? And with covered plater, no less? Well, worms? Speak!" The leftmost guard, a heavyset man armed with sword and crossbow, spat. Gerald stepped forward, presenting the note and speaking "We come form Wylmot the younger, and after he from the kitchens. To the dungeons we do go, but to present Sir Crawle with fine food and drink, not to be presented with his foul concoctions and forced to swallow them." The guard read the note, checked under the platter, and  read the note over once more. "Very well, then I bid you enter. The alchemist will be pleasantly surprised, little is he thought of by the younger, and a fair change will it make." The guardsman spoke, unlocking the large metal gate and ushering Opal and Gerald through. The gate was locked behind them, the guard went back to his watch. The plan was going as it should. The duo crossed the dusty courtyard, once filled with vibrant plants and flowering trees, now covered in the browns and grays of dead plants and dusty stone. Like the rest of the palace, it had been neglected under the care of the current reigning Earl. Gerald went first, opening the heavy wooden door on the far north side of the yard, revealing a carved stone spiral staircase, leading down into the Earl's dungeons. Fickle light flickered up the stairs, bathing them in a soft orange glow. They descended the steps, the sounds of the dungeon slowly reaching their ears. Squeaking rats, burning torches, the scratching of a quill, and the helpless cries of the imprisoned. Once they reached the bottom, a long hallway, lined with iron barred cells and ending in another large wooden door, extended before them. The air was filled with a putrid smell and a miasma of smoke, humidity, and dust. The torches burned bright in their sconces, the stone bricks behind bathed in black soot from the fires. The duo traversed the length of the hall, casting searching glances into each cell they passed. Some held nothing, some held emaciated captives, and some still held naught but bones and hungry rats.

Gerald pushed the heavy door slowly open, allowing him to see into a high-ceilinged room. On the far wall, three men were chained and blindfolded, obviously awaiting whatever despicable punishment the alchemist had devised for them. To the left, a long wooden desk was set against the stone wall, a chair containing Sir Crawle pulled close up to it. To the right there were numerous shelves, each containing a myriad of bottles of liquids, dried herbs, small animals, curious objects, and some holding nothing but air. Crawle was writing furiously at his desk, scribbling in his notebook at length about what treatments the chained men would receive. He wore a gray-black overcoat, an azure undershirt, and a short black hat upon his head. He whipped around in his seat, hearing the entrance of Opal and Gerald. "What are these? Who dares interrupt the alchemist at work? Servants? Out you get, for I will not tolerate your kind free in mine study! Get you away, away!" Sir Crawle spoke, addressing Gerald and Opal. "Forgive this most bothersome intrusion, oh bless'd alchemist. We come but to deliver you food and drink, which Wylmot the younger does wish for you to have, as gesture of his goodly compassion for yourself. Please accept, lest he grow sad and bitter at refusal of his kindly will." Crawle's eyes, devoid of pity before, were set alight with happiness, which he quickly hid. "Finally it is seen how important I have become to this noble palace! The younger is wise indeed, keeping the only practitioner of poisons and cures in his good graces. Yes, put this platter upon my desk, careful be you not to spill it upon my binding, of course. Such happy a day! Fresh experiments further enhanced by the promise of food fairer still! Now, be you both gone! The progress of alchemy can no longer be delayed!" With this speech done, Crawle snatched up a few bottles from his shelves and advanced towards the leftmost prisoner. There, he mixed a foul-smelling black sludge with a fine brown powder, to which he further added a sample of crushed leaf and various insects. Opal moved to set the platter down upon the alchemist's desk, grabbing the open notebook as she went and hiding it within her baggy, multi-layered clothes. A scream issued forth from the unfortunate captive as Crawle poured the vile concoction down his throat. As she was moving to follow Gerald back out of the room, she heard steps behind her, quickly approaching the alchemist. She whipped back around, just in time to see Gerald cutting the unfortunate Sir Crawle's throat. Crawle barely had time to see what was happening before the light died and faded from his surprised eyes. "Gerald! Care you not for secrecy and subterfuge? What do we all now? The alchemist slain after two shifty servants did bid enter his chambers! Oh woe to our latter lives, to the rest of the plan! What shall Morris say of this event? More likely now than any sour hour before our futures are forfeit! Ruined the plan, rue the day!" Opal exclaimed. "Peace, Opal. The situation still may be remedied through thorough diligence and quick wit. A way there must be to cast blame upon one other than ourselves. But prior to this plan, first we free this unfortunate from his shackles. An old friend is he of my own circle, and with no love for the Earl in his heart. No, this man here chained can be paid for with blood from ten thousand Crawles and still be claimed a bargain. Fleet of foot and silver of tongue is he. And this worm, in center chain held, shall be burdened with our blame. Undo his shackles secondly, and spill his blood upon the floor with Crawle's own blade, and then arm him with mine thirsty dagger. Then shall it seem he wriggled free and ended the life of Sir Crawle, and no involvement had we. And this mongrel, tied he to the far right, leave here to live. No purpose to us does he serve." Gerald reasoned. Opal grinned a grim smile and responded "Quick of wit are you, Gerald Sweet. Execute this plan and this man, then shall we return as Morris so did command, and the news shall we bring. A happy day turned sour, and then into a smooth few hours once more. This conspiracy, so able is it to overcome such obstacles, must be ordained by the stars on high themselves! Crawle slain, and still a clear out presented. Onward, brave Gerald! Let the plan be done!" And so one prisoner was freed, one slain, and one left in chain in the wake of the assassination of Levy Crawle, alchemist to Earl Wylmot. The duo left without any suspicions raised, Gerald having forged a note in Crawle's hand writing, declaring the prisoner with them his freedom, and were on their way to Morris to deliver the news.