Spero of Iter

29. Words of Woe

            Jaqueline's face turned pale as she felt her stomach drop tenfold the weight of gravity. "What?" She choked out that one word, unable to comprehend what this woman had just told her.

"You need to be careful, Milady," she spoke seriously. Her eyes held depth of understanding and fear of the situation she was conveying to the girl. "Death is said to come to those who try and slay the beasts of the land."

"I'm sorry... I don't know what you're-" she trailed off, taken too much aback to fully process anything.

"Milady," she persisted with earnestness, "you mustn't stay here for long. There are stories... wretched stories about The Few going missing before they have completed their great quest. You must keep on guard and move with discretion and haste."

"What do you mean," she asked with stress in her tone.

A couple servants walked by with trays mounded with food, one stopping to look at Jaqueline. "May I help you, Milady?"

The short woman with the blond hair turned about, walking swiftly back into the thick of the feast. "Wait, no," she called, "come back!"

"Milady?" The servant continued on her inquiry.

"I'm fine," Jaqueline responded absent-mindedly, the horrible flavor of ale in her mouth nothing more than a distant memory as she rushed after that strange villager. "Hey! Can we talk," she questioned loudly as she rushed towards the door she had just exited through. She reached the edge, scanning the now seemingly thick crowd, all the guests now scattered about in a drunken haze. She stepped out quickly, hoisting up her skirt away from her feet. She walked aimlessly about. Her eyes danced about every movement. There was nothing. She was so short; how could she run away so fast? Perhaps it was her shortness that she used as an impenetrable cloak in the midst of the riotous guests. She had nearly made her way half the length of the hall before being stopped by a couple of drunk villagers who wished to make her acquaintance. "Hi," she shook hands in spite of their lack of recognition of such a pleasantry. None of that mattered to her for the time being. Her lack of social acuity at that particular moment could only be a cringeworthy memory. There were more important things.

She pushed past the unwelcome interaction when she thought she saw the woman she was looking for, but soon realized it was a mere child. She stopped on the side of where the level stage was, staring without focus, blurred edges now all she could see as her chest heaved from her pounding heart. There was a dragon, supposedly. She could get away from that if needed. However, a conspiracy? She had no context of why, how or even who. Heck, she didn't even know if this girl was telling her the truth. What if that girl was a conspirator? Her vision snapped back in sharper edges. She was suddenly aware of every shadow, every elbow bent, every footstep, every brushing skirt and every sudden burst of laughter.

Jaqueline spun around, skimming every member that was attached to this event. She sook out those she deemed plausible predators, mapping out a path to make it safely back to her table where she saw Sir Aaron, Vincent and Sir Rafael speaking to one another. That's where she needed to be. No, she needed to be back in her bedchamber. No, she needed to be back home; but to do that, she needed to kill a virtually unkillable beast. Only heroes could do that, let alone survive a plot to... kill her? Her feet took her back to her table, almost as in a mindless dance. A rhythm seemed to take hold along with the muffled lyre and flute that came from an unseen crevice of the room. Vincent looked up at her, raising his tankard with a shaky hand in greeting. They grew quickly in size as she approached, the two knights also sharing in Vincent's attention.

Sir Aaron looked at her with concern. "Are you alright? You seem quite pale," he said, ducking beneath the long table to reach her, grabbing an empty chair that stood nearby and bringing it to where the other two sat. He then proceeded to guide her to it in a gentlemanly fashion. He knelt to her eye level, examining her expression. "What's wrong?"