Darius Bright gazed out at the foothills of his domain from a bank of arched windows filtering the gray light outside to dusky shadow within the chamber. The dark eaves of Geier Reach Monastery beckoned to the Bright Estate, inscrutable and silent. Quieter than usual, in fact. “How long has it been since we last hosted a pilgrim, Valkhart?” inquired the manor lord, not bothering to turn his looming frame. His steward cleared their throat, “On a return journey? Months, at least.”
Darius’s pensive “Mmm” faintly jostled the polished window glass against iron panes. A lack of regular guests was a disappointment for the diligent host. Coupled with the disappearance of one of his tenants, it was troubling.
“Two horses, Valkhart. And fetch Alleria. We’re riding out.” Touring the grounds and checking in on the tenants always made him feel at ease. Perhaps they would uncover details about Helga’s whereabouts. Gone far too long to be searching for a lost lamb.
Besides, the tenants didn’t simply leave the safety of Bright Manor. The region was unstable, the roads dangerous. A secure place to live and work was hard to come by in these unpredictable times.
And Darius felt obliged to provide.
He accepted this role without thought or hesitation as he made his way through the dim house. It was old, having stood for hundreds of years, but polished floors and burnished fixtures yet gleamed from the darkness. It would stand, it seemed for hundreds of years more.
The manor’s wordless farewell curled around Darius like a gentle breeze as he left for the stables. He greeted the well-groomed horses who knickered softly at his manicured touch.
Moments passed. Darius grew alert. Aware.
Expectant.
With nervous eyes and trembling shoulders, Valkhart returned. “My lord,” they said, voice rattling, “she cannot be found. Her quarters, her study, the courtyard—anywhere.”
Darius’s pupils contracted to dagger-points as he asked, “Her effects?”
“Present.”
The manicured grip on the reins tightened into a clawed vice. “The staff?”
“They have not seen her leave.” Valkhart swallowed hard. “Their charms have been disturbed. They fear she had been taken.”
Darius’s eyes flooded crimson.
He stepped closer to his steward and placed a taloned hand on their neck.
Gently, Darius pulled them close and murmured, “I will find our people, Valkhart.” He bent over his steward, parting pale lips for the sharp teeth waiting beneath.
Valkhart’s arteries pulsed.
Darius bit.
Drew a single, long pull.
Valkhart’s trembling quieted, their pulse steadied.
In tightly marshaled fury, Darius Bright, from a blood-drenched mouth, promised: “I will them and bring them home.”