Lord Day and Lady Night

54. Surprise, Surprise!

Ronald Harrington, Duke of Arrendyle, stared at the valley beneath him. And stared. And stared. And stared. At the lush valley. At the people bustling around. At his castle.

Or rather, the thing that used to be his castle.

Many of his friends enjoyed opium and other drugs for their stimulating properties and the visions they would grant. He had never really wanted or needed such ethereal joys, preferring more physical entertainments. But now, he very much wished he were hallucinating. Otherwise, he would have to accept the sight in front of him as reality.

Down below, in the very centre of the valley, smoke rose from a wreck that did not even deserve the word ruin. Castle ruins were picturesque, and tourists paid good money to have a closer look at them. This place, however...it looked like people wouldn't go near it if you paid them! You could tell as much from the haggard-looking ducal steward who was currently yelling his head off, trying to get a mob of servants, paid for from His Grace's own pocket, to damn well do their job and grab some buckets to put the fires out!

None of them moved.

Not. One. Of. Them. Moved!

Rage flooded Arrendyle. How dare they? Useless, seditious traitors! Oh, he was going to eviscerate them! Destroy them! Grind them into dust!

Only...not just yet. Let them burn and choke themselves to death in his service first, as they deserved. Fists clenched, he stormed down the hillside, roaring with fury.

"What are you standing around for, you fools! Go get water and save what you can, or I'll have your goddamn hides! You have exactly three seconds to get moving, or you can kiss your future goodbye!"

Paling at the sight of him, the servants and guards, who just a moment ago couldn't get away from the smouldering castle remnants fast enough, now rushed forward, racing towards the deathtrap flickering with searing hot flames as if it were a candy shop on all-you-can-eat day. A vicious grin spread over the duke's face. Fire might be terrifying, but his men knew well it was nothing compared to the true terror that awaited them if they disobeyed his orders.

"Steward!" he bellowed, causing the man to scurry towards him like the despicable, scared rat he was. "Get your worthless arse over here!"

"Your Grace! I'm at your service, Your Grace! How may I be of assistance, Your Grace?"

"How?" Arrendyle snarled, jabbing one hand at the smouldering rubble, having to work hard not to jab his sword into the man in front of him instead. "How did this happen?"

"I...I cannot say for certain, Your Grace. The only thing I know is that we were awakened in the middle of the night by someone shouting...ehem...shouting..."

"Shouting what?"

The steward closed his eyes for a moment. "Shouting 'Get out or burn, you pedo bitches!' I believe."

"Get out or..."

"Indeed, Your Grace. All we could do was run. Somehow, the flames had already spread far and wide through the castle, and—"

"The castle!" the duke hissed, latching onto the important point. "The castle I left you in charge of! The castle which, upon my return, I find to be a smouldering wreck!"

"The, um, east tower is still standing, Your Grace."

"Is that so?" The duke's eyelid twitched. "And the other six towers?"

From the direction of the castle behind the steward came a crash, as stone crumbled and crashed to the ground.

The steward swallowed. "They, ehem...were not quite as fortunate."