As I made my way toward the mistress, I attempted to keep a straight, unemotional, facial expression. This is rather challenging because the mistress is actually a rather comical figure. Cross the flat face of a bulldog with the hairy face of a donkey, make that person the size of a horse, stuff her into clothes meant for a much smaller lady and you’ll have a vague picture of the mistress. However, laughing at her is a death sentence. The last person that did it was a younger man serving as a messenger
from a neighboring fief. He is no longer with us. Anyway, I approached the mistress cautiously, not wanting to draw attention to myself. My stealthy approach was of no use, however, as the second I got within ten feet of the mistress, the twin bulldogs Rip and Jaw each gave a warning bark from beside the throne. The mistress looked up from a conversation with her royal administrator, Lord Valkim. Now he... He gives me the willies. Standing at around six and a half feet tall, he’s a skeleton of a man, with sickly pale skin that shows off his veins, different colored eyes and finally a long hooked nose to complete the picture. The stories that are told about him are the stuff of nightmares. They say he was involved in a terrible accident during an alchemy experiment; the explosion could be heard from the third floor. He somehow survived, however, and has never been the same since. Now he mysteriously wears only black, rubbery material, and everyone in the castle save the mistress gives him and wide berth. His quarters and his “work” are housed in the abandoned dungeon below the castle and nobody even wants to think about what he does down there.. Anyway, I offered the tea to the mistress with my head bowed. My heart was in my throat as she reached down, took the cup in her chubby hand, and raised it to her thick lips. There was a moment of complete silence. “Ah.... Thank you Casper, I believe that the excellence of this tea makes up for you being so very late.” A noise of disgust came from Lord Valkim while I breathed a sigh of relief as my heart slowed its frantic beating and replied, “Thank you most gracious-” “Oh! Dear little Casper, I’m not done with you yet. You still need to be punished for being late. I think kitchen duty will provide a sufficient punishment, don’t you?” “Oh, absolutely, most fair and honorable mistress, I would be happy to take kitchen duty for the night.” “For the week.” She added with a smile. Inwardly, I groaned. Kitchen duty was backbreaking scrubbing and cleaning at its best. A whole week of it would be a nightmare. But there was no denying the mistress. “Even better.” I replied, making the attempt to smile. It was going to be a long seven days

That night I reported to the head chef, Master Pollup. A rather imposing figure, he stands at five-foot-four and weighs as much as three grown men. His ridiculous nickname used by most of the kitchen staff is the “chin-wobbler,” because of the way his many chins wobbled as he walked. As of tonight, however, the chin wobbler dumped his normally angry, red-faced demeanor in favor of a polite, tight lipped, state of the art chef. That’s, because tonight is the Fall Festival Ball, where all the ladies and lords of the kingdom would turn up in there dancing garments and music would be played and all sorts of fancy stuff would be going on. Master Pollup, however, viewed it as the time of the year to show off his “amazing baking skills” and his “fabulous mastery of the art of winemaking.” But this was all tall tales. Not only did the normal kitchen staff make all of the food and drink, Master Pollup spent most of his time at the mistress’s beck and call, only returning to the kitchen to yell at the servants and to bring out the best wine so he could serve it himself. Tonight was no different. I was given the job of washing the cutlery, one of the easier jobs, by a weary kitchen worker. At the time, the giant boar being used as the main piece for the banquet was just being cut into strips by two small servants using wicked carving knives when Master Pollup popped in. All activity stopped as everyone stared warily at the man. “Where is that boar!” He screamed, face red as a beet. “It was supposed to be out here thirty seconds ago!” The two servants cutting the animal visibly shrank with fear. “B-b-b-but sir, we’re not done cutting yet.” The older one said, lip trembling. “If that meat isn’t out here before the count of three it’s going to be you two on the menu instead!” Hurriedly wiping tears from their eyes, the two young boys took the half-cut boar and carried it quickly out of the kitchen. “Much better.” Master Pollup said. Looking around the kitchen, he continued, “Now don’t get you any ideas while I’m gone you miserable little slaves. Got it?” Twisting around, he exited the room to show his boar off to the guests. After peeking out to make sure that he was truly gone, the head of the kitchen staff motioned for me and another servant to quickly wipe up the mess that the boar had left in it’s wake as it was ferried out the door. The task took several minutes and finished with me taking the two carving knives, still slick with juice of the animal, over to the large barrel used for washing dishes. By then, however, the blood and gore had solidified and had become a sticky, hard, mass of dry material. Because of this it took me almost fifteen minutes to completely clean just the first knife. By this time, the banquet had ended and the guests were heading to their quarters for the night. The odd voice could be heard from the hallway as those working in the kitchen began to finish the cleaning for the night. Then it was quiet for a while. Suddenly, a loud piercing scream came from the hallway.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the door. Minutes passed. Looking around at the nervous, frightened faces, I realized that no one else was going to take the initiative, so I stepped forward, bloodied knife still in hand, and slowly pushed the door aside. The hall was dark, only one torch was burning nearby. Slowly, I extended my body out into the open and looked around. A fluttering shape caught my attention. It was a black glove hanging from the hand of a set of armor that was up against the wall. It was made of a material that I could only identify as black and rubbery. Suddenly, a wheezing cough came from farther down the hall. I quickly shoved the glove into the folds of my serving robe and followed the sound. Upon turning the corner, I saw her. Sitting up right against the wall, was the mistress. And she didn’t look good. Her face was pale, as if she had seen a ghost, and she was clutching one hand to her chest, where blood was flowing freely from a wound just above her heart. I stood there for a full minute, shocked into disbelief. By the time I could convince my body into action again, the mistress had begun convulsing and coughing blood. Her skin had also taken on a sickly green tone of color and the wound had turned the color of mold. The knife that had been used on her must have been poisoned. “Mistress, can you hear me?” I asked, my voice still shaky with fear. “What happened?” She was trying to speak, but I could barely understand her because of the blood now fountaining from her mouth. She gargled, “I... didn’t.... even.... see... him....coming....” “Who mistress, who?” I asked repeatedly, but her eyes were beginning to close with exhaustion. “Lord.... Valkim.....” “Lord who mistress?” Suddenly, there was a rustle behind me, and, to my horror, an arrow appeared in the mistress’s abdomen with a wet smacking noise. She gave a gasp of fear and pain... and died. By then, knights must have been informed of the scream and a few were clunking up the stairs to my right. I turned and caught a glimpse of the invisible assailant dashing down the opposite corridor just as the first knight reached the landing and spotted me leaning over the mistress, bloodied knife still in my hand. “Stop!” He yelled, as more knights arrived at the scene. There would be be no talking my way out of this one, I realized, with all the evidence stacked against me. Therefore, seeing that it was to move or to be captured, I took one last glance at the dead mistress, turned on my heel, and sprinted away into the darkness.

I rushed down the corridor, with the yells of the knights at my back. Pushing through startled couples of lords and ladies on their way to bed, I began to make my way back to my dorm. I knew that I could outwit almost anyone inside the castle, I knew the place better than anyone, but by now the alarm would have spread and the obvious exits would be locked and guarded. There were other ways out of the castle, however, and, in my head, I began to go through the passages that did just that. The one that led under the east wall and went straight to the docks was known to few. It was built as means of an escape if capture was otherwise unavoidable. But to get to it meant creeping across an open courtyard, in view of knights on the battlements and of those in the castle, should they decide to look outside. There were two other passages, the first leading under the throne room and out into the the forest. However, three months ago two servants tried to escape the castle through it and didn’t cover their tracks well enough. The tunnel was collapsed and the servants were beheaded. That left the final passageway, the one the fewest number of people knew about, because even fewer dared use it. It started in the back of an empty storage room, and ran directly west, bringing it under the kitchen and eventually... through the outskirts of the abandoned dungeon. It did eventually come out in the grassy plain that was home to the horses of the region, but the dungeon was one place that I never wanted to visit while I still lived and breathed. But, if it meant escaping this god-forsaken castle, then so be it. The clanking of the searching knights was increasing in volume, as they neared the corridor my dorm resided on in their thorough search of the castle. I packed what I could, some dry breeches, an extra tunic, a small torch wrapped in cloth, a bag of apples that I had saved for an emergency, and the carving knife, which was still covered in blood. Then I slipped out the door and took off down the hall. As the sounds of the knights decreased in volume, I considered the black rubber glove I had found earlier. Pulling it out of the folds of my robe, I examined it. I knew I had seen this somewhere, on someone, but where? Nearing a corner I slowed to a halt, listening for voices. Two were approaching from farther down the hallway, so I quietly stepped into a closet used for cleaning supplies and dropped to the floor. As their feet passed by the door, I heard them conversing about the murder, “I heard that the kid that got in trouble for serving tea to the mistress earlier did it,” one of them said. “Ya, the captain told me that the boy was leaning over the mistress with a bloody knife when he found them,” the other replied, as their voices started to fade. “With all the stories flying around, I’m not going to be able to sleep for a bloody week!” The first man added as their voices became too faint to understand. Well, I thought, this whole mess is turning out wonderfully. I forced myself to count to ten, just to make sure the men were gone, before stepping out into the corridor once more. A few more turns, two sets of stairs, and at least one more close encounter brought me to the storage closet that housed the start of the tunnel. The trap door was under a few dusty barrels, which took me a few minutes of silent exertion to move completely out of the way. Opening the trap door, I stared into the void below for a few seconds, hoping that I was going to be able to get myself out of this mess. Then I pulled out the torch, lit it, and descended into the darkness below.

I landed with a splash in a puddle of slimy water, immediately provoking squeals from the current inhabitants of this musty catacombs; rats. One the size of a small dog scurried into the light of the torch. Snarling, it immediately withdrew back into the darkness, but not before I glimpsed large, greasy incisors protruding from it’s jaws. I shuddered in disgust and began picking my way down the tunnel in silence. Whoever had designed this tunnel obviously hadn’t built it for comfort. The floor was terribly uneven and there was the constant fear of falling into one of the dark patches of water; who knew how far down they went. Suddenly, a clank and splash echoed down the tunnel from the way I had came. This was followed by a string of curses and a “All clear!” The searching knights must have found the storage room through which I had escaped. I increased my speed; it was a race now, if they caught me it would be over. A few minutes of quick jogging and the walls changed from packed dirt to cobblestone; I was entering the outer edge of the abandoned dungeon. Then I came to a fork. I had been informed that to go right would be to travel towards the heart of the dungeon, and therefore, towards almost certain death. Left was the way to go. As I stepped into the desired passage, however, I heard a faint but clear voice echoing down the opposing tunnel. “Now that I have killed the mistress, it is up to you, the outlawed and exiled, to bring down the searching knights and take control of the castle!” I knew that voice. After a moment’s hesitation, I turned and sprinted towards it’s origin. The passage quickly widened out as I spotted a light up ahead. Dousing my own torch in a puddle, I slowed to a walk and peeked around a corner. It was a large room, with a pedestal in one corner and crates and barrels strewn everywhere. It’s was also almost completely filled with men, dirty men, who wore nothing more than patched rags and carrying large, spiked clubs, rusty daggers, and make-shift axes. But on the pedestal stood a familiar face, Lord Valkim, and what's more, as he raised his arms as he talked, I caught sight of on hand covered in a black glove and the other, bare. The lone glove appeared to be the same material as the glove that I had found at the scene of the crime! He was the one in the shadows, the one that had killed the mistress! And he was preaching to these cutthroats, so he was obviously up to something again. I knew I had to stop them, to somehow redeem myself and prove that I was innocent. But how? I retreated back into the darkness of the tunnel as a plan started to form in my mind. It involved the knights hot on my trail, but if I wasn’t fast enough, or if I didn’t find a place to hide quick enough, I would be caught between two groups of charging armed men.

Sneaking back down the tunnel, the voices of the approaching knights slowly increased in volume. I decided to set up shop just before the fork in the passage. Sitting down, I placed my torch on the ground next to me and lit it. Then I began to wait. As soon as I saw the first flicker of torchlight from down the tunnel, I began to throw rocks at the opposing wall, purposely making loud noises so as to alert the knights of my presence.Immediately, the voices decreased in volume and their torch flickered out of existence. They would now approach cautiously, in hope of surprising me. But I was ready, as soon as the first knight turned the corner and saw me, I jumped up and sprinted down the passage. I left my torch lying there, still burning. It would have provided a comforting light in the dark recesses of the tunnel, but it would have also slowed me down, and that was a risk that I was unwilling to take. As I came to the fork, I made sure I went right, towards the dungeon, but I also slowed to make sure that the knights knew without a doubt which way I had gone. This increased the chance of me getting caught but also was totally necessary; the knights would need all the manpower they could get for what they were going to have to face. I resumed sprinting, but without my torch, I was forced to run with greater care, for the floor of the tunnel was still littered with puddles of muddy water, bones, and an assortment of strange materials that could really only be found in an abandoned dungeon. Thankfully, the knights had not anticipated a chase, and were hindered by the armor that they had brought with them. This gave me the extra distance that I needed to make my move. Foregoing all cation, I put on one last burst of speed to get around the final corner. After doing so, however, I immediately stopped and looked frantically about for the hiding place that I had picked out earlier. It was a small dark fissure in the side of the wall, easily mistaken as a shadow if one was not closely examining the wall. Meanwhile the clanking of the knights increased in volume. If I didn’t find the hole in the next few seconds, it would be all over. There it was, just a few feet to my left! I dove for it, ignoring the searing pain the flared up in my knees and hands as I hit the ground (courtesy of the rough, uneven, floor of the dungeon). Crawling into the hole, I quickly curled up, making sure that my feet were not sticking out. And not a second too soon. Less than three seconds later, the knights thundered past. The roar of their armor was amplified in the small space of the gap and my ears didn’t stop ringing until they had completely passed by. After they moved out of earshot, I quickly pulled myself out of the hole, dusted myself off, followed the group; I didn’t want to miss the show.

I caught up to them just before they entered the heart of the dungeon. The knights, stilled filled with the rush of the chase, ran right into the large room full of bandits and cutthroats and skidded to a stop. The crown turned, and murmurs spread. But the knights seemed unperturbed. The captain of the guard stepped forward, his voice clear and confident. “Why do you inhabit this place?! Begone, you foul men!” “O... They’ll go alright... Into your castle!.” A sickly voice shouted from the rear of the pack. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end, for even at this distance, I could see Lord Valkim rise up to full height, towering over the stunted men he was surrounded by. “After they’re done with you, my friends will take over the castle. Since your silly queen is now out of the way, the lords and ladies gathered here will provide an excellent feast for my minions. You see, they rather enjoy the taste of human flesh, and what better than to dine on the richest in the land!” His hoarse, throaty laugh filled the room. His henchman joined in the merriment, but as the laughed, their lips parted and revealed sharp, feral teeth. The platoon of knights unsheathed their swords in a deadly song of steel scraping steel. “You want a piece of me?!” The captain yelled, taking a crack at grim humor, “Then come and get it!” Then, yelling battle cries and prayers to God, the brave knights bounded forward into the pack of men. The initial contact split the barbarians like a hot knife through butter. The knights had charged in a spearhead formation, and the wild men had no defense that could hold against the strength and power of the attack. But as the knights waded into the midst of the group, it became apparent that the sheer numbers of the less powerful, enemy would eventually overwhelm them. The captain of the guard became aware of this when the first knight fell under a rain of knives and axes. The pack immediately converged on their victim, and weapons were dropped to the ground in favor of teeth as the poor knight became food for many hungry men. I looked away as a barbarian came away from the carcass carrying something that resembled a sausage. This distraction, however gruesome, allowed the knights to regroup. They formed a circle around the captain and his lieutenant, who began conversing hurriedly. While the wild men were still finishing the fallen knight, the group began creeping around the edge of the room at the captains whispered orders. They were almost completely behind the main group when one man, his face and hands smeared with blood, looked up and saw the knights flanking them. He gave a inhuman bark, drawing the attention of the group away from their meal. The knights, realizing that the element of surprise had been lost, charged again. This time, however, they had a strategy that quickly became apparent. Unfortunately, their target also realized the intent of the attack. Lord Valkim quickly retreated farther into the pack, urging those around him towards the deadly warriors. Savage after savage fell under the knight’s swords. With nothing to stop the fire-hardened steel, swords butchered limbs, torsos, heads, and anything else that got in the way. But again, the knights began to slow, for the great broadswords they carried became too heavy even for them. What would save them, however, was the death of another knight. This one was on the back tip of the spearhead, and therefore being attacked by wild me on three sides. The savages swarmed up over him, stabbing continuously until the knight sucumed to death and slumped to the ground. The wild men, momentarily forgetting their fight yet again, converged on the second meal of the night. This left the path to Lord Valkim wide open, and the weary knights took it with a renewed pace in their step. But Lord Valkim had already started backing away, towards the exit where I was situated. He called to his hungry followers, but they would not be swayed from the thought of a second feast. Turning, he sprinted towards me, trying to escape through the passageway. I realized that there would be no way the tired knights would be able to catch the rested lord. So, I took a chance and as Lord Valkim continued to approach, I slowly extended my skinny leg out of the shadows. Suddenly, Lord Valkim, who had glanced back to check on the pursuing knights, found the ground rushing up to meet him. He landed with a “oomf!”, and as he rolled onto his back, he found himself surrounded by the angry knights, one of whom held a sword to his throat. Meanwhile, the wild men, who had realized that their master had been captured, abandoned their meal and began to disperse into the adjourning corridors. I stepped out of the shadows, into full view of the knights. The captain came over and held out his hand, which I shook. “Thanks for the assist back their kid, and sorry about the, uh, mix up with us chasing you and stuff.” “No problem,” I replied “I’m just glad that I could redeem myself.” A silence passed between us. “Anyway,” I said, “I think I should get going.” “What do you mean?” The captain asked. “Aren’t you staying?” “No,” I replied, “there really isn’t anything for me here,except pain and loneliness. My life wasn’t exactly good under the mistress.” “But she’s gone now.” The captain said. “Ya, so now I can leave. I’d like to travel, maybe to a different country, or just, you know, wherever the wind blows me.” “We’ll, good luck to you friend, and thanks again for the assist.” The captain said with a smile. “Glad I could help.” I replied as I bent down, picked up my bag, and set off down the passageway.

This time, I went left when I came to the fork. I set a brisk pace, and after a few minutes, the tunnel began to slowly slope upward. A few more minutes of walking and I became aware of a faint light up ahead that got brighter and brighter as I approached. The passage ended at a ladder, above which was a trapdoor. I climbed up and thrust the trapdoor open. I was met with a dusty shack, which had an open door through which came a beautiful, soft light. Leaving the shack behind, I came out into a brilliantly lit grassy plain. This would be the start of a new journey, a new life, and with a new spring in my step and a smile on my face, I set off.