Scarlett's Garden

Thralmar prided itself on clean streets, and for this reason anyone traveling to or from the country had to switch carriages at the gate. The only exception to this was of course royalty, and a few favored Dukes who drove cars.

Charlotte already missed the comfortable cushions of the city carriage. It seemed nearly impossible to prevent herself from being jostled in the small wooden frame of the crudely built country carriage. Biting her lip, she winced trying to brace herself while cradling her broken wrist against her stomach.

She had chosen the single carriage for speed. The driver had looked unhappy when she mentioned their destination. The man she needed lived far out in the country, some remote area she had never visited before. With the flash of a gold coin on top of the 26 copper for the fair he eagerly accepted, promising to be there before sunset.

Lifting her left foot she brushed the boot against her right, feeling the solid outline of the dagger tucked inside. A gift from her Mistress, Irena. Charlotte recalled the stores the former maid, now a respected Lady at court, had told her during training. Irena often enjoyed telling the story of the dagger and its maker, the Weapon Master.

Masters, as Irena occasionally called him, had trained most of the Queen's and King's personal bodyguards before the royal family had turned on each other. Caught in between Masters lost his wife, a child hood friend of the King's dear friend Duke Winters. The Duke, grief stricken, promptly threatened the King with a revolt if he did not control the Royal Family.

Duke Winter's family controlled the militia, a duty passed down to each generation in recognition of their unyielding loyalty to the throne. Desperate to prevent the lose of his friend, and subsequent control of the kingdoms military power, the King had pardoned Master's of all accusations, granting him a land parcel in the country to retire too. Although the Queen had tried to persuade Masters to remain close to court, he left shortly after the funeral of his wife. Cutting ties with most of his present students he disappeared behind and bared gates. Rejecting all future request for training.

His previous recognized students, such as Irena, became teachers that were highly prized. They each carried a weapon forged by Masters as proof of their skill. When Irena had retired at the age 36 to marry a Lord, she had bequeathed the gift, a small sharp dagger, to Charlotte. “Some day you must take this to him. Tell him I said you were an uncut diamond,” her Mistress had told her at their parting.

The carriage jostled loudly, snapping Charlotte from the edges of sleep. Rubbing her eyes she tried to sit straighter while wiping sweat from her face and neck. Lifting the curtains from the door for fresh air she glanced outside. They had left the main road now, she could see it briefly before the tall field grass covered it from sight. Shifting closer to the window she glanced ahead, tall iron gates stood closed before them as the carriage pulled to a stop.

“Here we are m'lady,” the driver called tapping on the roof. Reminding herself these country drivers had no sense of courtesy, Charlotte opened the door herself and stepped out. Hurriedly retying the make shift skirt that had come lose during the bumpy trip, she hoped her appearance was not to rediculious. Beyond the gate, fields of hay and barley stretched far and wide towards a small grove of trees. A cool breeze swept past Charlotte as she contemplated the gate and glanced curiously back at the driver.

“Can't we pass through?” she asked.

“No m'lady. He keeps it locked,” the driver replied scratching his stubbly neck.

“Well then how do I get through?” She demanded frustration rising in her voice. Approaching the gate she pushed against it firmly, confirming the drivers words. Angry she kicked the metal base in anger. So much precious time wasted driving out here for her to be stopped a gate? With a sigh, she considered the hedges on either side, backed by tall stone walls overrun with vines. Had they been here before Master's moved it, or were they part of his attempt to avoid visitors?

“You can try the bell I s'pose,” the driver called. Charlotte turned to him confused and he nodded to the left of the gate. The sun helped her spot it, almost hidden in the vines. Swearing under her breath at the men for not mentioning this sooner, she quickly pulled the prickly leaves and branches aside. A small metal chain dangled from the black bell, engraved with the image of a crow. She grasped the chain and yanked firmly.

The bell sounded clear and loud despite its small size, behind Charlotte the driver sighed and pulled a cigar from his pocket along with a box of matches. Shielding her eyes with a gloved hand Charlotte waited, eyes straining upon the road. She smiled with relief as a small cloud of dust turned into a rider heading in their direction.

“Don't expect much Miss. He's not one for visitors,” the driver cautioned between puffs of smoke.

“I know,” Charlotte returned coolly. For a moment she regretted burning the Queen's letter, the seal alone would grant her entrance. 'Adapt. Improvise. Survive.' She lifted her chin with a more determined and confident smile.

The rider reigned in a few feet away eying them cautiously under a wide brim hat. He was elderly servant, judging from his clothes, with dark skin.

“Who are ya, and what do ya want?” the servant demanded.

“I seek the Weapon's Master, it's a matter of urgency,” Charlotte answered quickly.

“No Weapon Master here little lady, just a retired black smith. And what ever your urgency, he'll want no part of it,” the man returned dismissively scowling at her. “Back to the city with ya now.”

“I can not return till I have spoken with Masters,” Charlotte objected firmly, her hope slipping away yet again.

“Like I told ya. He wants no words with you or anyone from that damn place. If ya know the name than I'm sure ya know he's had more then his share of trouble.”

Charlotte wanted to scream at him, but couldn't near the very curious driver. Words like 'Queen', 'Court Maid' or even 'Edmund' would arouse interest for gossip. But the servant was turning away, shaking his head already done with her. Desperate she grasped the gate, her eyes moving past him to an old lamp post.

The horse jumped slightly as the dagger flashed past, piercing into the rusted metal of the post, level with the servant's head. He reigned in, one hand moving to a crossbow beneath his long overcoat. But his eyes froze on the daggers hilt where a crow grasping a snake gleamed against the silver metal.

“Woman...Are ya mad??” the driver gasped, the cigar dropped between his boots, forgotten. Charlotte ignored him, while the same thoughts passed through her head, but it had been her only remaining option. Surely this man would recognize the significance of the blade.

Master's servant moved closer the post and pulled the dagger free. He studied it quietly before slipping it into the saddle bag. “I know this blades owner,” he finally spoke turning the mare back to the gate, “I have great respect for that lady, so for her sake I will grant your wish.” Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding, smiling in relief. “For your sake, you'd better have a good reason for having it now,” the servant added his tone far from friendly.

“Thank you,” Charlotte nodded, the tension in her shoulders and neck relaxing.

She was given a ride to the large country style mansion on the mare, the servant led them by foot. Once inside, she was left in what she guessed to be the greeting room. Smoothing back her hair and skirt as best she could Charlotte glanced at her surroundings with curiosity. The room was mostly bare, no paintings or decorations hung from the walls. A simple brown carpet covered the floor. The wooden chair on which she sat was cushioned by thread bare pillows.

It surprised her considering the stories of the wealth the King and Queen had sent as a parting gift for Master's services. What had he done with the money if it wasn't spent on this house?

A maid appeared with a tray of ice cold tea. Charlotte thanked her gratefully as she drank the first cup, enjoying the cold liquid that soothed her dry lips and throat. The maid stepped back holding the tray against her skirt, watching Charlotte expectantly. Charlotte was about to ask if her request had been delivered to Masters when a wave of sudden fatigue hit her. She blinked as the cup in her hand blurred into three. Recognizing the heaviness of her limbs as the affects of a sleeping drug she tired to remain calm, reaching to place the cup on the table only to miss as she collapsed.

Gently the maid pushed her back into the chair,adjusting Charlotte's head comfortably. Then picking up the dropped glass and pitcher she moved towards the door which opened at her approach. Two gentleman waited on the other side. The elderly gentleman, with silver spectacles, moved to Charlotte's side quickly; while the middle aged man, with blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, studied both Charlotte and the dagger he held in his hand with great interest.

* * * *

The sound of a violin gently roused Charlotte from her sleep. She awoke on a cushioned couch still feeling slightly sluggish.

“Drink this, it will help you feel better,” came a deep voice as her head was lifted and a small glass pressed to her lips. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, dimly recalling the last drink she had taken without a thought. Reasoning that they could have easily finished her already she drank the slightly bitter liquid. It was far from sweet. She coughed, eyes tearing, but soon felt the fog leave her mind and unbind her limbs. An elderly gentleman was barely visible through her tearing eyes, he gently returned her head to the pillows with a warm smile.

“I fear I must apologize for my host abnormally paranoid nature. It has been some time since we last received a visit from the court,” he explained placing the small cup in a bag beside his chair.

“Not the most friendly welcome I admit,” Charlotte agreed, clearing her throat.

“I took the liberty of setting to your wrist while you slept. Hope you don't mind. I am a doctor by trade, so allow me a few cautionary words. The brace should last a few weeks, but I would have the break examined again soon after. No strenuous work for a few months. Your wrist will be fragile for a while so take care in the future,” he advised gravely but with genuine concern. The violin ceased playing in a distant room leaving them with silence.

“Thank you, Doctor -?” Charlotte looked at him questionably. The gentleman smiled, closing the bag on the floor and lifting it as he stood.

“Doctor will do for now,” he glanced passed her.

“I see I'm still held under suspicion,” Charlotte observed with a tired sigh.

“As you should be,” came a cold voice from behind the couch. Charlotte quickly pushed herself into a sitting position, turning towards the muscular blond gentleman standing in the doorway.

“Masters?” she guessed, though she was fairly certain who he was. Irena had given her a very detailed physical description.

“What does the Queen want? Someone to protect her dear Edmund?” Masters asked coolly, walking across the room towards them. Charlotte swallowed, slightly unnerved he had arrived at that conclusion so soon.

“Prince Edmund will be leaving for the Royal Academy in two days. Her Majesty is looking for someone to enter as a student while providing protection for the prince,” she explained bluntly, hoping her honesty and trust in him would breach this cold front.

“Wouldn't that be pointless since the King has probably already guessed her intentions?” Masters countered taking a seat in a leather chair near an empty fire place facing her. Charlotte tried to meet his rather unfriendly blue eyes, but looked away her confidence failing. Inwardly she marveled how he knew so much already. Hadn't he been absent from court for over 10 years? First the assassin now an old weapon trainer?

“How could you, - Why?” Charlotte stammered.

“Irena was a student of mine before she was the Queen's maid,” Master's answered pulling the dagger, now sheathed, from his jacket. “She would not have passed this dagger to anyone but her successor. I knew her training was in preparation for the Queens service. Surely her successor would at least possess some talent, and thus walk the same path.” Glancing over her, his tone slightly mocking he continued. “So who ever attacked you must have been more skilled. Probably someone in service to the King.”

“Not the King,” she answered replied quickly. Ignoring his offensive tone she instead studied the floor briefly focusing her thoughts. “The Crown Prince.”

Masters sighed and pressed his fingers between his eyebrows, expression unreadable. The Doctor watched them both silently, stroking the edges of his white beard. Reaching a decision, Charlotte revealed all that had happened from that morning. Her orders from the Queen, Duke Bolack's death, and the assassin.

As she finished she kept her eyes on Masters face, hoping she had proved both her desperation and the urgency of this request. In the silence that followed and lingered for several minutes she thought she heard footsteps outside the doorway. She glanced at the Doctor and Master's who both seemed to have noticed but appeared undisturbed.

“If the Queen considers this to be a serious threat she should withdraw her intent to crown Edmund,” Master's observed with a slight shrug. Charlotte could only stare at him stunned.

“Prince Erick is a monster!” she protested. Even she knew of the dark deeds the queen kept hidden to protect the families image.

“Then she should find proof of his crimes and present them to the King,” Master's growled looking away from her irritated. “That or relay the dangers to Edmund and provide him with visible protection. If Edmund is to become king he must learn to sacrifice freedom for safety after all.”

“You do not know how dangerous and powerful Erick has become. The throne has all but been promised to him by the King, most of the lords and dukes are all swayed to favor him,” Charlotte explained urgently. “The Queen wants someone she is sure will be loyal to Edmund.”

“Which would explain why she sent this request to Bolack before myself,” Master's face only showed continued lack of interest. His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned back to face her. “Does Edmund know of her intentions?” He inquired abruptly.

Taken aback slightly, Charlotte answered, “The Queen intends to formally announce his rights to the throne on his 21st birthday.” It was not the answer he had asked for, but they both knew what it meant.

“What a foolish woman,” he murmured rising from the chair.

Charlotte stood quickly biting back her anger. What did this man know of the Queens struggles and silent suffering for her children?

“Unfortunately this is a request I can not fill. I have no students of that age. Even if I did, I would not sacrifice them for the ambitions of royalty,” Master's spoke firmly with finality. Charlotte moved to protest, but the dark expression on his face silenced her. Dejected, she turned away from him eyes on the floor, her good hand curling into fist as she fought back tears of frustration. The Weapon Master soon left the room, taking all her last hopes with him.