Chapter 5: The Monster of The Berhi Castle (5)
After bolting the gates, Astina took Brillin’s hand.
“Come on, let’s finish our meal.”
Brillin spared the closed gates one last glance before following Astina back to the dining hall. They sat down again, but their food had grown cold during the commotion. The once-fluffy, freshly baked bread was now hard. Astina listlessly stirred the congealed fat in her stew and sighed.
“Don’t eat that, Brillin. I’ll reheat it for you.”
“Grrr, grrr.”
“It’s not fine. It’ll only take a moment. Give it here.”
Astina reached for Brillin’s stew bowl, which was a repurposed washbasin. Brillin, however, moved the heavy bowl herself, saving her sister the trouble.
As the fire in the hearth was rekindled, they waited in silence for the cast-iron pot to heat. The atmosphere was strange. Their anger had faded, but their spirits had plummeted with it. It had been ages since they had spoken to anyone but each other. The intruders were gone, and they were back in their peaceful, private world, yet the silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire, felt heavier than before.
Brillin watched the firelight dance across Astina’s pale face but couldn’t bring herself to disrupt the quiet. After a long while, Astina stared into the flames and murmured, “We’re out of salt.”
“Grr.”
“I’ll have to go to the village tomorrow. I’ll get some eggs while I’m there. Should I get milk, too?”
“Grrr. Grraah.”
“I can just pull the cart. And I’ll buy some meat. Let’s have meat tomorrow, Brillin.”
“Grrrr.”
“Hunting in this cold? Don’t be ridiculous. I have to go for salt anyway, so I can just buy it then.”
“Grrr…”
Brillin’s last growl was an apology. I’m sorry for making you go alone. I’m sorry for making you pull that heavy cart. I’m sorry I can’t help you make stew or bake bread.
Astina, the only person in the world who understood Brillin’s language, stubbornly pretended not to hear. She never, ever acknowledged her sister’s apologies. They were words Astina, who could never bring herself to say them, felt she had no right to hear. Instead, she leaned over and rested her head on Brillin’s shoulder. As Astina nuzzled her forehead against the soft, thick fur, Brillin gently stroked her sister’s small head and swallowed a sigh.
* * *
Meanwhile, after wandering through the mountains, Hafen’s party and Theo found a cave to shelter them for the night. Berhi Castle was utterly isolated; the locals had long since fled the “monster’s castle,” and the nearest village was a full day’s walk away. Rather than trudge back through the snow, Hafen and his knights decided to wait and try persuading the sisters again in the morning. Not daring to make the journey alone, Theo had slyly tagged along.
An expert in elemental magic, Theo coaxed a fire from the frozen branches, while Dorius melted snow in a pot for water. By the time their soup of hardtack and jerky was ready, the cave was pleasantly warm.
Hafen glowered at Theo.
“What is your business with the House of Berhi?”
Famished, Theo blew on his soup and answered nonchalantly, “I’ve come to retrieve an item from the Magic Tower that is in their possession.”
“An item from the Magic Tower?”
“Varius’s Magic Force. A seal containing an ominous power that should never have been unleashed upon the world,” Theo explained, his words trailing off with a sigh. “I came to reclaim it, but…”
Varius. The name belonged to a mad Tower Master from generations ago, a mage consumed by darkness, forever known as the Magic Tower’s greatest shame. The Tower, with a history older than the Dresden Empire itself, had only begun to bow to the Emperor after joining forces with the imperial army to capture that very man. And hadn’t the previous Count Berhi been one of the heroes who led that army? Hafen nodded to himself, the lessons of his childhood resurfacing. A hideous monster and a malevolent magic. It wasn’t hard to guess what had befallen the sisters. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
As Theo refilled his bowl, he posed a question of his own.
“And why have you come all this way, Your Highness?”
“You heard me in the castle. I came to be married.”
“It seemed your original purpose was something else,” Theo said, his face a mask of innocence.
He had seen everything, from the moment Hafen had first provoked Astina.
Hafen’s brow furrowed into a deep scowl, but Theo simply slurped his soup, his expression infuriatingly placid.
“Hmph,” Hafen snorted, a crooked smile touching his lips. “I came here looking for a place to die. Instead, I found a way to live.”
Theo, who neither knew nor cared about the prince’s circumstances, replied with a detached air.
“What a strange coincidence. I find myself in the very same situation.”
“Tell me what you really want,” Hafen demanded.
“I wish to break the curse that afflicts the Countess and her sister.”
“A noble sentiment,” Hafen sneered. “But you’re really just after Varius’s magic, aren’t you?”
“And did Your Highness not propose to the Countess solely to gain the lands and wealth of the House of Berhi?”
Though the mage’s unyielding nerve was infuriating, Hafen conceded the point with silence. He didn’t trust him, but if the curse could truly be broken, there was no harm in it.
“Is there a way to break it?”
“I have a few theories, but I can’t very well test them if I’m barred from the castle.”
“What an irritating coincidence.”
Hafen was in the same predicament. He could do nothing if he was turned away at the door. Though he had been disgracefully ejected, he had no intention of backing down. This was his last chance to secure his life and his future. He had to win the sisters over.
Theo, too, had nowhere to run. He had to acquire the magic before the Tower’s agents found him. He felt a pang of pity for the sisters, living all alone in that isolated castle. From what he’d witnessed, Varius’s power now resided in Astina. If she lost control, the magic would consume her—a horrific experience, certainly. And as long as he wore the Tower Master’s necklace, he couldn’t simply abandon the innocent sisters to suffer for the Tower’s past mistakes.
And so, the banished prince and the fugitive mage slept back-to-back in the narrow cave, a fragile truce between them.
The next morning, as dawn broke, both men set out for Berhi Castle as if by silent agreement. Hafen’s loyal knights, Mikhail and Dorius, followed with heavy sighs.
When they arrived, they found Brillin humming to herself as she inspected a stack of firewood beside the castle wall. She pulled back a snow-covered tarp, revealing a large pile she had diligently gathered all autumn. She was about to start chopping while Astina got ready for their trip when Hafen called out cheerfully.
“Countess Berhi!”
“Grrr?”
Brillin turned, and upon seeing the four men, she sighed and waved a large hand at them. The gesture needed no translation. Go away.
“Countess, I’ve come to apologize for my rudeness yesterday.”
“Grrrrrr.”
“Please, hear me out. My proposal will benefit you as well.”
“Grraaah.”
Hafen kept smiling, but Brillin only bared her teeth and snarled. Her polite refusal—Astina will be furious, you should leave—was lost, replaced by a fierce rumble that vibrated in their chests. Hafen, at least, understood that she had no desire to talk. Deciding he needed to win her over, he spotted an axe nearby.
“Chopping firewood?” he said, picking it up as she pulled out a log. “Allow me to help. Better yet, leave such work to us. We will prove useful if you’ll only let us stay.”
His grip on the axe was confident. Hafen was no coddled palace prince; he was strong and capable. He set a log on the block and swung with all his might. It split into two perfect halves. He looked at Brillin, his face beaming with pride. She stared back, her jaw slack, a low rumbling sound escaping her throat.
He chose to interpret it as encouragement. He smiled and reached for another log, but Brillin snatched it from his hands.
She gripped the thick log, and with a faint sound of claws sinking into wood, she simply ripped it in half as if it were a piece of well-cooked meat.
“Grraah.”
She held the two shredded pieces, her red eyes gleaming. A shiver ran down Hafen’s spine, and he gripped the axe so tightly his palms grew slick with sweat. Brillin nodded, satisfied, and began tearing through the rest of the pile, splitting logs into fireplace-sized pieces with terrifying ease. Hafen and his men could only watch in stunned silence.
You might get hurt, so I’ll do it. Brillin’s growl, which the men had taken as a threat to stop messing around and get lost, had been an expression of gentle concern. She assumed they had understood. It had been ten years since she had communicated with anyone besides Astina, and she felt a surge of satisfaction.
