“Give me one good reason why i shouldn’t kill you!” Tarik growled.
Father Mathew didn’t respond managing nothing more than a small whine, terrified at what he saw.
Tarik climbed up onto the alter. Kicking the Priest hard in the ribs expelling the air from the old man’s lungs, he slid off and onto the floor. Recovering himself the terrified old man scuttled backwards on all four’s not taking his eye’s off Tarik for a moment.
Farid slumped down onto the bare ground, unable to tear his gaze from the flames. His mind strangely empty. His sister had been part of his world since before he’d been born. Even when she wasn’t near him, he’d always held a loose connection to her. Just so he knew she was safe and well.
Not yet 15 she’d barely lived at all. Looking up he saw his father standing beside him staring into the fire. Most of the Villagers had left now, the spectacle having been far more horrible than any of them had imagined. Continue reading
Falcon and Farid had knocked on the door of every house in the village asking if anyone had seen Asha and while by now he knew that she was being held against her will and who ever had her was unlikely to admit it.
Baring knocking down front doors and bursting in to people’s homes Falcon didn’t know what else to do. Farid had also alerted Tarik of the situation and Tarik had promised to begin searching the other villages in astral form where things like front doors became inconsequential.
Lucy paced nervously “It’s just wrong” she muttered to herself. Orrick sat patently in the corner he’d been called in when Lucy had been arrested.
Valdemar generally dealt with such matters and it was simply Orrick’s job to make sure justice was dealt but because he was involved Valdemar had been deemed to close to the matter to give a fair judgment. Lucy was glad for that at least, Valdemar was already calling for her to be hung, and her estate forfeit.
The carriage clattered along though the streets of the Beaumont estate, Marrisa watched glumly as the people walked by, men in work clothes exhausted from a hard days manual labour, woman carrying bags while chasing mucky little children dressed in rags.
She’d be one of them soon, she thought. Valdemar had left her no doubt at all that after the annulment she’s be thrown straight to the streets and left to defend for herself and without her father to insist upon it she wouldn’t even get her marriage portion back.
Gabriel had paid Father Mathew quite a substantial amount of money to make his wife’s child disappear, it wasn’t hard for the priest to make happen the solution to the problem was clear.
Marisa lay sleeping when she was rudely awoken, Groaning she clambered out off the straw mattress Father Mathew had made her sleep on.
He’d not allowed her to get clothes from her bags instead he’d given her a rough smock, she had bits of straw in her hair and she’d slept terribly, in all this was a recipe for a terrible mood.