PDCOO Chapter 30

By the time they arrived at the chief's house, they had nothing to show for any of it. His answer was the same as that afternoon.

"Can't say I know much, I'm afraid. I do rush out whenever I sense something odd—but every time I've arrived, there are already soldiers there! Ha ha ha!"

"We seem to have caused unnecessary alarm. We'll be more careful going forward."

"Just don't wander after dark. Everyone's indoors the moment the sun drops in the countryside. Wolves have been sighted near the farm."

"We'll limit night movement. Is there a village inn?"

"...A what?"

The chief looked at him as though he'd asked directions to buried treasure. Franz understood, a beat late. Of course there was no inn.

People could perhaps borrow a private room somewhere. But they also needed space for horses. And Monat could not simply be tethered to a fence post.

Franz's voice became considerably quieter than before.

"An inn isn't necessary. Is there anywhere we might sleep along with our horses? We'd pay well."

"Along with the horses too? My goodness. There's only one place that comes to mind."

"Which is?"

"Anna's restaurant. Stables are wide, the well's convenient."

"...Only that one."

"There's always the outdoors."

Outdoor sleeping was not among their available options.

And so Franz arrived outside Anna's restaurant, teeth grinding, four soldiers behind him.

Anna met him at the door with a smile like an open hand extended sideways.

"Oh my, if it isn't the distinguished guests, back at our humble establishment."

Open provocation.

A muscle in Franz's very handsome face twitched. A muscle with excellent self-control that was very nearly exhausting it.

Behind him, the soldiers stood in suspended collective prayer.

They'd been riding all day. They did not want to sleep in a field. They could not reach the next village at this hour.

Every soldier, unanimously, was thinking the same thing:

Sir Franz. Just once. Please just bow your head and get us inside.

His lips moved.

"I'm told you were informed we'd be coming." The fury was present but sitting down. "Where are we sleeping?"

"Prepared it all inside! Right this way, if you'd kindly follow me! And if you'd prefer not to find sand in tomorrow's breakfast, do shake your shoes out before you come in. We haven't got anyone to remove them for you. But you're all very educated people, so I'm sure you'll manage!"

Franz's hands trembled slightly as he followed her.

In the corner of the restaurant: something resembling a military academy dormitory. Wooden frames on the floor against the cold. Thick mattresses. Folded blankets. This was where they would rest.

Franz swallowed the words our ducal stables have more dignity than this.

This woman would absolutely respond: Oh, then by all means sleep there! We'll put the horses right in here!

For his soldiers' sake, he nodded. The gesture was the signal. One by one, the men settled onto the improvised beds. Not bad, apparently—expressions that had been wound tight all day slowly released, like air leaving a room that had been holding its breath.

Franz said it the way a man says something when his soul has briefly left the body. 

"Thank you for the preparation."

"Don't mention it! Any complaints, please say so now rather than talking behind our backs when you leave. I'll fix it immediately!"

Before Franz's temper could return from diplomatic exile at full volume, oblivious Erich redirected everything.

"My lady—if someone wakes up thirsty in the night, what should we do?"

"Oh, I'm not a lady! I'll set out water bottles. If those run short, there's a well outside."

"Thank you very much. Do the women here all dislike being called 'my lady'?"

"Gives you goosebumps. Who else said that?"

"A young woman named Lara. I met her at the laundry area earlier—I was trying to help her, or rather, I was clumsy and made things harder for her, which is the more accurate way to put it."

Erich rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. Something in Anna's posture loosened, slightly. City people weren't all insufferable, apparently. This one seemed relatively intact.

Anna returned with water bottles and also a packet of sweets tucked under one arm, a bottle under the other.

"You all bought quite a lot from me today, so this is on the house. If you can't sleep, help yourselves."

"Oh, thank you very much."

The soldiers, whose expressions had been carefully managed all day, softened a little more. One by one they produced things from their packs—dried meat, dried fruit, the sweet bread and hard candy they'd been distributing to city children in exchange for information. Anna couldn't quite suppress the light in her eyes.

"Ha—I was going to look after you all, and here you are looking after me."

"Not at all. Is this your restaurant, miss?"

"I run it with my mother. So—did you find that Bertram person today, after all that walking around?"

"No. No leads whatsoever."

Anna, inwardly delighted, kept her voice sympathetic.

"What a shame. It must have been exhausting, all that covering ground with nothing to show for it. Why did you come to this particular village if you have no leads?"

"We track traces, narrow down candidates. We've covered the surrounding area. This village is the last on the list."

"...So. Hypothetically. If he'd died somewhere along the way—you wouldn't necessarily know."

Every soldier in the room, and even Franz, shook their heads.

"That man does not die easily."

Anna found herself reassured for the second time that day.

These people searching for him knew the same Bertram she knew.

Which also meant they knew things about Bertram she didn't.

Carefully, Anna opened a question.

"Is he someone important? If he's a noble, people like me probably shouldn't be getting too close."

The soldiers glanced at Franz. He considered for a moment.

Reveal that Bertram was significant, and opportunists might try to use it.

"He is not a noble."

About fifty percent accurate. He was royalty, which was rather above and beyond nobility.

"But he holds a contract with a noble house, and he left the capital before that contract was fully discharged. That's why we're pursuing him."

Also technically true.

The contract between Bertram as prince and Franz as his sworn knight was precisely that.

"Basic courtesy toward him would be advisable, but if it becomes necessary, physical restraint is acceptable. He's remarkably resilient—won't take a scratch. There will be a reward for the village if he's located."

Franz laid deliberate weight on the word reward. Anna's expression remained entirely unmoved.

In this village's history, promises made by important people had never materialized as advertised. She wasn't investing hope.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Until we find him."

"And if you don't. He might already have left."

"Does our presence make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes. Distinguished guests make me nervous."

"Ha. Our standards for nervous seem rather different."

Franz's eyes sharpened.

Those eyes—with an edge not entirely unlike Bertram's, though cut at a different angle—turned toward Anna with something precise in them.

"Perhaps... the reason we make you nervous is that you already know something about Bertram."

The sentence landed cleanly.

Anna reached quickly for her water glass to cover her face—but his hand moved first, catching her wrist.

"Ah—"

"Tell me plainly."

Franz's face came closer.

Then the restaurant door swung open. Bang.

Karlah swept in holding a lantern.

"Anna! What are you sitting around for—I told you to get the pickling done and go to bed!"

"Mama!"

"...Sir Knight. What are you doing with my daughter. Is there a rule that says wine won't go down unless you're holding a woman's wrist?"

Franz released Anna's wrist immediately and stood.

"I seem to have given the wrong impression. Allow me to introduce myself properly—Franz Gerhardt, third son of the twelfth Duke Gerhardt, and knight escort."

"Twelfth generation? That's quite a lineage. You must have filled a whole village with just the headstones by now."

"..."

Duke. Knight. Not a ripple.

Franz studied Karlah.

Mid-forties, perhaps. Long dark red curls. Green eyes carrying the weight of lived years, set in a face that was sharp and striking. Strong self-possession; stronger personality. But Franz trusted his own appearance. In social circles, no one had yet proved entirely proof against his smile once he properly turned it on.

"I'd like to clear up a small misunderstanding. Before that—might I know the lady's name? I can hardly impose on a household without knowing whose roof it is."

It didn't work.

Worse than not working—it appeared to actively irritate her. Her brow drew together.

"Sir Knight. Don't try to smooth past things by performing handsomeness."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Anna. Get inside now. For all we know, you'll lose a wrist to the knight if you stay."

"But—performing handsomeness—I wasn't—"

Karlah seized Franz by the wrist. Anna took the opportunity to bow quickly to the soldiers only and step out of the restaurant.

Franz attempted to extract his wrist. It was not straightforward. Every time he pulled, the muscles Karlah had built hauling flour sacks tightened and held fast, with the dedication of something that had made a decision.

"You didn't mind grabbing someone else's wrist. You mind being grabbed?"

"...I will apologize for the earlier discourtesy. Please let go, madam."

"Gladly, sir. This village bumpkin's name is Karlah Burthe, for your reference. I imagine my walking in killed the atmosphere—shall I fetch something to drink by way of apology? For our distinguished guests?"

"Your daughter already brought drinks."

"That was a beverage. This is wine."

Karlah produced a bottle from the corner of the room where it had been standing like decorative furniture. She pried the stopper and a sharp smell hit the room immediately.

"The local specialty is apple wine. But we have distinguished guests, so I thought I'd open the proper grape wine."

"There's almost no scent at all—"

"I top it up with brandy whenever it evaporates."

"That's not wine or brandy!"

Karlah appeared not to have heard this. She filled glasses, observing that my daughter can drink a whole bottle of this herself, so surely you can manage a measure or two—and proceeded to present this as a gentle challenge to the soldiers.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the restaurant's outer wall:

Anna slipped out, packed a basket of food, and started up the hill.

Other villagers had mentioned Bertram had spent the day avoiding the searchers by staying in the farm dormitory. Anna walked the unlit path and knocked on the window where no light showed through.

"Bertram? Are you in there?"

"...Anna?"

He opened the door.