Chapter 23

"But the day when all men of the earth shall forsake their ways of treachery shall be the day rains shall ascend into the skies."

~

Western Culvert of the Under-ground Dungeons,

Steep Cliff Face of Shillingston,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

The first Phrinight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

"Were the Regent and his men, then, involved in salvaging my life?" asked she, curiously.

Jaycob nodded, and answered: "I was sent hereunder, by the Regent himself, to secretively retrieve you with breath."

Her heart took the arrow it did not perceive would come. This dictated that her life's courses came with a price that soon required fulfilment.

It felt constricting, for she was no more as a bird that needed to run for refuge as she had felt since awakening from the slumber. She had truly perceived that Jaycob had confidentially saved her life and she was alive without the knowledge of any person.

It made coherent sense that the Arch Eccleissor had appeared so perturbed when she had requested an elixir to claim her senses en route the fall. It may have rendered her dead, but that could not have been afforded with this sparing they had secretly instituted.

The Archer proceeded with his elucidation:

"The whole calamity was staged to forge your false death in the perception of the people. With the raging storm, vision past a few treads would not be granted. However, I have cast a prosthetic puppet feigned to your likeness to dive into the sea, in your place."

The memories of that morning and its contentions surged into Imogen's mind like a raving flood, causing her ire to rise against the man, who she suspected was the murderer of her friend.

After all, what was compassion to Sir Jaycob Oreius, when he had only eased her fall into the jaws of Death as part of his duty to the Regent?

"Jehu's state of exhaustion barely seemed as competent as to master his escape. Further, you were his final guest last eve. Has he truly escaped?" asked she, spitefully, in underlying and collateral accusation.

Her glaring gaze shifted from his partially revealed countenance to his hand that had been stained with supposedly Jehu's blood.

Imogen was surprised to see the bandage from the previous evening still in its place, further bathed in blood, but dried by present hour.

Had it, truthfully, been his own wound that had required the dressing? Had it not been a mere pretext to veil the stains of Jehu's blood?

It dawned upon her that during the passage castle-ward, from the pillory, the man may have had sufficient time to clean the evidences of murder, unless it was his own fresh bruise that was bleeding.

"I would say he truly has escaped with a man of close acquaintance. I was merely one to relieve him the troubles of being oppressed by the cangue", said he and Imogen stared at him in shock.

"How, then, did you acquire the stains of blood?" asked she, feeling worried on his behalf.

"Do you refer to the seeping blood that escaped my bleeding wound?" asked the masked man, accentuating her misjudgement in his fascination, like her passionate menace for justice was uneven with her strength to earn regret out of him.

Imogen nodded, dreading the taste of the bitter guilt she drank. Jaycob lifted his injured arm to inspect its swathed welt, as he spoke:

"I was commissioned, by the Regent and his Arch-Eccleissor, to murder Jehu, in secret, prior to his execution. When I was discharging what was required to be done, the strike against the pillory was not as per my anticipation. An unperceived crevice began splitting its way across the stone and locked my arm, inflicting a gnash against it when the eroding parts cut their sharp fragments against my hand."

The damsel in reception gasped, cupping her face in her hands. Somehow, the description seemed visual in her vivid observation, like his words were weaving into scenes displayed upon the sails of her mind.

"That is truly painful", she acknowledged.

"Forsooth", replied he, tickled that a physician's apprentice, who may well have seen critical and grave open wounds, would sincerely express in such exasperation, especially after brushing shoulders with her potential death.

"The bleeding was beneficial since the Regent was convinced it was evidence of Jehu's counterfeit demise. However, it was a reprimand of my lack of gauging. I must have duly expected Jehu to have cast an essence of his powers against his siege", said Jaycob like he was reliving the previous night. "After all, it was to be his final hours before grave."

Imogen stared in mute bewilderment. "Jehu was to be executed this day?"

Jaycob nodded.

"Was he aware of the fate the Regent had assigned him to?" asked she, wondering why Jehu had not mentioned it to her though being bound by the pangs of impending death.

Jaycob chuckled from the amusement of her naivety. "Must you be as guileless? No convict is ever spared the knowledge of torture they will have to endure. It is as the acrid seasoning to his persecution. I presume he has foreborne informing you, lest you be left crestfallen", he answered.

The maiden felt moved by the affection and kinder consideration afforded to her favour; such restraint and patience that were shown even when encountering the loom of painful death.

She considered Jaycob's words.

"And what of his powers? Do you refer to his ability of blessing the residents when invited to?" asked she, savouring the flavours of novel information.

"It was a version of the expression of his power; the power that is his weapon, besides Clairvoyance. Had you not realised that he never blest the fortunate? It had always been the houses of the penurious that he spared visits and graces to", said the Royal Archer.

"Per-haps they never required, nor invited his visitation? Or it may be compassion. Of course, a person as you would not comprehend", stated she, critically.

Jaycob's eyes were averted as he spoke, "Every discerning mind is entitled to its assertions; but I would leave with your thought: no rich man has ever withheld his urges from further blessings into his brimming cup."

Imogen could not julienne the information that he seemed to have given her, to the size suiting her conception.

"I will elaborate my implications another time", he granted, with a benevolent smile. "After all, the truth behind his powers is highly classified; especially to be restricted of the Regent's knowledge. His powers were the reason I have personally accorded his escape."

The cautious maiden hushed him, casting a glance to the unknown and deep veranda leading to the inside of the cave, where darkness held sovereign dominion. "You could be heard by listening ears", she whispered.

Jaycob gazed at her, a curious moment, before laughing. "My very conversation with you, unveiling all of this truth, is forbidden. But hassle not yourself for unconsidered presences, for I am well aware of exactly where each person is stayed at present hour."

She nodded slow, deeming it to be part of his talents. Imogen surveyed all that he had said in clarification of Jehu's escape and felt liable to beg his pardon. "I thought you had him foredone", said she, her voice quieter.

"With all of that anger pent up within your heart, I would think you were not one counted to face Death valiantly this eve", said Jaycob, a scoffing smirk lifting the sides of his mouth.

The damsel felt vanquished, for when she weighted her righteousness, she was still wanting. She had so truly believed that she had forgiven him.

Even so, her temper was about as controlled as the tyrannical winds of Sywegia. Her blue and green eyes, which appeared like twinning colours in the shaft of darkness, looked up to meet Jaycob's.

"I do believe I have an apology I must pay you for the hasty judgement. I am sorry for the outburst." Her countenance appeared regretful.

Jaycob shrugged, resting an elbow on the knee of a foot placed firm on the ground, leaning forward, and chains still in clutch, his other hand raking its way through his hair.

After testing how properly it had dried, he placed his palm on the leg whose knee was planted on the cold floor. He gave her a mild smile.

"Quick to conviction, that is quite laudable. But had you not wondered why this execution was performed as vengefully, despite the lack of evidence and testimony bearing against you? To, so vehemently, acquire your death."

Imogen nodded slowly, eyes on the floor. "I had, but there were no means of defending my cause, for the men were completely offered to the credence that I was a criminal", said she, feeling subdued.

Jaycob nodded contemplatively, "They stood committed to their false grounds."

"And for what reason was my life so consciously propelled and spared? Further, it does not neatly lodge with my perception: why were you charged to murder Jehu when he was to see execution this very day that follows? Was it merely that I would be furnished in his position?", asked the damsel, curious.

The tall man yoked his urge to appreciate her rare timely questions.

"Yes, he was to be prematurely killed so you would be placed to face his death, but your execution was to be feigned. There are covert motives. You will be shown and instructed of your conduct", he answered.

"At least I am given my will to hold life", said the rainwater-clad maiden, heaving a deep sigh.

The Royal Archer breathed an uneasy chuckle.

"Though this statement isn't channelled as an onslaught against your walls of hope, it would be desirous that your expectations bask in the scorching affliction of truth: you are no more a life of regular respect and price.

You are as the chaff of wheat, husks of grain, a shadow without person of breath, a reflection in rippling waters where there is no looming face. You will be concealed from human view as far as your purpose is served and then, the paths unfolding before your life are in the hands of the Regent. That is the state of present affairs officiated."

Imogen listened in horror, but her judgement was disinclined to forfeiting his words, for she knew that the countenance of truth was grim and its demeanour repulsive. "At least I am granted free breath this one moment", said she, tears lacing her eyelids.

Jaycob nodded, whispering, "Take it easy. Hope will find its way to you."

Rising to his feet, the man stood to his full height of about six treads and three frinzes. He wore his official head gear for his hair was dry, the wear in the shape of a peaked cap whose belt bore a badge crested with the emblem of Tristendyre.

Imogen watched as the man made his way towards the door of the den and began hurling the fetters into the sea.

She tried to lift herself off her perch on the floor, but trembled, for the weight of weariness and her drenched garments were overtaking her strength. With her posture using the support of the ragged and protruding rocks of the wall, she rose to stand.

The large cape descended to her ankles and she shivered in the cold. All of the flashes of her frightful execution rushed to the surface of her recollection until she shuddered visibly.

Just then, she remembered the root source of all the quakes the foundations of her hope had suffered: she had seen Death.

If she truly had been discarded from the apex of that very cliff, then He that claimed souls should have been lingering about nearby.

She recalled flashes of his awaiting poise at this very place above the Prussian Farriage Sea, dark wings spread wide and the fast-dripping hour glass in hand, its remaining grains meagre (as was common sight when He did arrive to reap).

Imogen's heart constricted for a splitting moment when she lifted her face to look towards the destination Death had arrived at.

"Jay! Carefully! Err not over and down the edge!" she screamed frantically.

~