Private Seventeen and Deadly

[George Vitalis]

in five years time i'll be taking on the world

"You sound like mother."

The tone in which George Vitalis' sister Reima addressed him made it clear that this was not a compliment. Reima was not thrilled with being instructed not to smoke in the driveway. "Is that right?" He reached over and plucked the offending cigarette from Reima's painted lips and broke it in half before dropping it on the gravel drive. "There. Now the transformation is complete. What in all of Galidraan are you doing with those things, anyway? Mummy hates them."

"Mummy hates them," Reima mimicked him. "She's a hypocrite. She used to smoke all the time. Aunt Petra told me."

George tried not to sigh as his eyes scanned the horizon. "You know, despite the party, your birthday isn't for another few weeks. You could at least wait until you're sixteen to start knowing everything. I certainly did." He glanced at his sister, smirked. She was a waif of a thing, but towering in her own mind. Somehow, the Fortan propriety had passed her by, as had the Fortan discretion. George thought she was in altogether too much hurry to grow up -- a position he had the privilege of taking with his two whole years of seniority over her and his seventeen -- almost eighteen -- years being the subject of sky-high expectations. "I do miss you when I'm away, you know," he said after a moment. He didn't look over at her.

"I know," Reima said. After a beat, she added: "I miss you, too."

"Not long til Life Day, hm? I'll come home."

"Can't we do it at Foxfield? It's always so bloody cold here," Reima sulked.

"We can -- oh damn," George said, patting his pockets. "Where -- I just had it." He glanced at Reima, who looked inquisitive. "My wallet. I just -- oh, and there's Hart. Reima, be a darling and fetch my wallet." He had seen enough of Reima flirting with his friend and classmate when Hart had dropped him off the previous week that he didn't want there to be a repeat.

"Not likely," Reima said with a smirk. "It would be inhospitable not to greet your dishy friend, don't you think?"

"Reima -- " George began with an exasperated sigh. "Please, just go and -- "

"Where is it?"

"I don't remember. I thought I had it. I -- "

"There you are," Reima said as she raised a hand in greeting to Hart, who was piloting his speeder around the broad space at the drive. "I couldn't fetch it if I wanted to. I can't retrace your steps, can I? You'd better hurry -- oh, here comes your minder."

George grimaced and, giving one last irritable glance at his sister, he said: "Fine. Keep both feet on the ground and tell Hart I'll be right back." He turned and headed towards the door, ducking back into the great hall of Herevan Hold. His mother's ancestral home. No, he silently reminded himself. It's mine now. "Judicar," he said as he encountered Major Judicar in the doorway. "I've misplaced my wallet. I can't imagine where -- I could swear I left it right here." He rapped a knuckle on the broad circular table that hosted a silver salver and an exquisite bowl of namana blooms. "Would you keep an eye on -- that -- " He nodded towards the door where Reima was leaning against the side of the landspeeder, an exaggerated laugh escaping her lips. " -- and I'll be right back."

Judicar had been with George as long as the boy could remember. In many ways, Judicar was the father George had never had, since his own had been killed when George was an infant, and his uncle -- well, cousin, really -- Pierce had died when George was but a child. It had been Judicar who had taught George the trappings of manhood, from posture to self-defense to shaving. George nodded his thanks to the Major before taking to the steps, mounting them two at a time. At the top of the stairs, he paused to pull a thick brocade curtain to one side, gazing down at Reima accepting a light to her cigarette from Hart.

"She's fifteen, Hart," he seethed under his breath, shaking his head. "Uppity minx."

Deciding to get on with it before his sister could humiliate herself -- or worse, get into a gin-in-the-bathtub predicament -- he retraced his steps. His bedroom: nothing. His bathroom: nothing. Where else had he gone? The attic, yes, but certainly he hadn't brought his wallet there, had he? He jogged along the gallery, luckily avoiding the attention of Hendersmith who would have given him a ticking off, and took another staircase up, then another. He had been looking for a set of his father's cufflinks, bequeathed to him by his mother but stored away in the attic until he was old enough to wear them.

He pushed the door open; the hinges squealed in protest.

It was cold. Colder than he remembered it being just a few hours ago. Strange. He cast his gaze around and finally his eyes alit upon his wallet, sitting on a windowsill quite the opposite direction from where he had been examining his father's possessions. A set of footprints -- smaller feet than his own -- were apparent in the dust, approaching the window and then retreating to the entrance. Perhaps one of the maids had misplaced it while running an errand. He approached the windowsill in the canyon of things that made a sort of alleyway: bureaus and stacks of chairs, coatracks and chests of drawers.

There was a faint glimmer, like a spiderweb. George reached out to brush it to one side so he could pass, and then he simply wasn't there anymore. In the shadow of an armoire, a parlor maid jerked as if waking up. She didn't know why she was here or how she'd gotten to the attic. Had she been sleepwalking? And what was the young master's wallet doing here? She had picked it up -- but that must have been a mistake. He was getting ready to return to school; he'd need it! She picked it up and retreated, taking it down to the main hall where she placed it on the table near the door.

Up the stairs, and yet also lightyears away, George Vitalis looked stood in the attic of Herevan Hold. The room was suddenly dim and oddly discolored. Everything looked like a strange, coarse-looking pink-orange stone. For a moment he wondered if he was having a stroke. He blinked a few times, then forced his eyes open wider. "What is happening?" he asked. His wallet was nowhere to be seen. He turned, glancing back the way he'd come, but it looked like the same odd stone. It couldn't be real. Couldn't. He went to the door -- who had closed it? -- and pulled the handle. It didn't give. He slammed a fist on it.

"Ow -- damn it!" It was not polished wood he had slammed his first against, but coarse, uneven, and somewhat sharp stone. Blood splashed on his shoe from a gash in his hand. He raised his voice and called out: "Help! Is there anyone there? Please!"

Major Judicar | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

HEREVAN HOLD
MAIN ENTRY

The preparation for the trip had most of the household in some kind of rushed state. For his own part, Major Judicar was finalizing security details for the young Duke of Foxfield, to make sure George was kept safe for the entirety of the journey. It wouldn't be too long before another trip was required, though the rapidly approaching birthday for young George had Judicar in pleasant spirits - they grew up so fast, and he was proud of the boy--

No. Young man. He's not a boy anymore.

Technically George wasn't his boy as it were, but over the last decade the pair had fostered a relationship akin to father and son. Not so prevalent, or obvious as actual relations of course, but Judicar had been the father-figure the child had needed after the death of Talbot... and the bodyguard had accepted that, had begun to teach George what he thought a young man should know, to keep him on the right path to becoming a great leader.

Discipline, responsibility, morals, compassion, determination, patience; all things that were conveyed either by observation, or direct questioning as the years went on, as well as less common lessons more appropriate to a soldier. But all aimed toward personal safety. George had grown into a strong young man, one that any father could find pride in, and the old soldier was no different. He felt exactly that. As Judicar walked into the main entry, he saw George searching for something - his wallet, as stated moments later - to which Judicar suppressed a chuckle.

He wants me to keep an eye on Reima?

"Of course," Judicar said in a thick Corellian accent as he looked toward the younger sister. She was a... handful. "Be quick, we're on a schedule, young Duke."

Once the young Duke was out of sight, Judicar turned and looked at the situation outside the main double-doors of the manor. It wasn't typically the large bodyguard's concern when it came to Reima, but even he couldn't ignore the blatant display of rebellion, an attempt at establishing an assertion of independence. And, typically, Judicar would have left the intervention to others, however today had proven a busy day with close scheduling and many moving parts in preparation for the trip... so the usual caretakers weren't readily present.

Deal with the problem.

With a grimace on his face beneath the red helmet, the hulking warrior took a loud step forward as he passed through the doorway and onto the top step that led into the manor proper. He suspected that Reima would use any attempt at dissuasion from her course of action to only reinforce the display, as Judicar had seen her personality develop over the years also, so instead he focused on the weak link:

Hart.

The guard slammed his metallic staff onto the ground, resounding in a loud thunk, before he affixed his lens-covered stare onto the young guest. He watched the process of Reima and the cigarette, almost daring the boy to light it. And if he did, well, then Hart would see a rare display of annoyance from the usually reserved bodyguard. However, footsteps took Judicar's attention, as someone approached from inside the manor proper. The visual displays in his helmet allowed him to see without turning his head. It was one of the maids, who held the wallet George had been seeking, and placed it on the entry table in the foyer.

Good. He'll be back soon, when he can't find it, then we can separate these two.

Then, attention returned to Hart, Judicar waited, unmoving...

George Vitalis​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

you're in the presence of greatness, don't step in my light

Reima leaned across from the passenger door of the open-top speeder, cigarette delicately placed betwixt her lips, waiting for Hart to light it. The conversation wasn't terribly interesting -- Hart was yammering on about Holoball or Shockball or some kind of ball about which Reima could not care less if there had been a pill to achieve it -- but at least it was new. It got dull being cooped up in the country like this. There was only so many times she could amuse herself by taking a horse out or walking down to the village or reading something from the library. At least at Foxfield she could go to Southport.

It wasn't Calavar, but it was something.

The well-intentioned frivolity of the encounter came to a quick end when Major Judicar approached, boots crunching on the gravel. Hart was looking past her now, eyes widening a little as he tucked his lighter back into his breast pocket. She half-turned in time to see Judicar slam his staff down on the gravel, sending pale stones skittering. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to roll them.

Hart, for his part -- perhaps intimidated by the Major and looking for a way to get out -- cleared his throat and said: "We're -- uh -- kind of on a schedule. Reima, would you mind?"

Reima made a non-committal noise and turned to walk back into the house, leaving a wide berth for Major Judicar. She paused in the doorway. "It's just there," she said to herself, going over to pick up George's wallet. She opened it, flipped through it. Credit chits, some cash -- hand money, as they had always called it as an in-joke -- and a few printed pictures: one of Reima and George when he was about 14 and a wedding photo of their parents. Nothing amiss. She put the wallet back down.

"George," she called up the stairs in the general direction of the bachelor's corridor where his room was. "I found your wallet."

No answer. "George!" Still nothing. She took to the stairs and headed for his room, which was empty. She checked his bathroom. Empty. She looked in the study. Empty. In the study she touched the intercom key on the desk. Hendersmith answered from belowstairs. "Mr. Hendersmith, is George downstairs? Can you tell him his wallet is on the table in the hall?"

"I haven't seen him, milady," said Hendersmith. "Let me see if he's in the kitchen." There was a pause, with the only sound coming through the shuffling of Hendersmith's feet, the opening of a door, and distant voices. After two minutes, Hendersmith's voice came back on the line. "I'm sorry, milady, His Lordship hasn't been downstairs today, as far as anyone can tell. Perhaps the Major -- "

Reima's lip twitched in annoyance as she crossed to the window to look out over the drive. The Major and Hart, but no George. "The Major isn't with him. Thank you, Mr. Hendersmith, I'll check downstairs."

"Should I -- " Reima disconnected. She took one last look around the rooms -- George's room and bathroom, the nursery, even her room before going downstairs and walking -- with increasing agitation -- through the library, the drawing room, the dining room, and the conservatory. Her brother was nowhere to be seen. She returned to the entryway. George's wallet was on the table where she had left it. She went back onto the drive and approached Major Judicar. "Has he come back? I haven't been able to find him," she said quietly.

Something felt -- wrong. But there was no need to alarm their guest. That would be... un-Galidraani.

Major Judicar | George Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

HEREVAN HOLD
INSIDE MANOR

The youth with the speeder showed some intelligence. The lighter was put away, as it should have been. And once Judicar had a moment, he would take the cigarettes from Reima, also. But for now, George was expected to return soon and then he would be off on his way, to which the bodyguard would follow at a distance with a small security detail.

Speaking of...

With a glance over his shoulder, Judicar looked toward the stairs. George was taking his time. It wasn't like him. And when Reima stalked back into the manor, irritated by the intrusion on her fun no doubt, she also saw the returned wallet. There was a passing moment as the sister called out for her brother, but no response came. That wasn't too big a concern, it was a large manor after all, so perhaps George was out of earshot. Still, the tall armored guard began to walk back into the building, as he looked from the wallet, to the stairs and the upper floors, then back to Reima as she started upward in search.

At least she's being helpful. I'll wait for now, it helps to let them work out issues.

A handful of minutes passed and the heir was still missing. Judicar frowned as he activated his comlink and spoke in a low voice:

"Perimeter and ground security, this is Judicar. Have you seen any disturbances or Lord George having exited the manor away from the front entry?"

It was unlikely, but it never hurt to check.

"Grounds security: negative, sir, the grounds are clear. Only ground keeping personnel are in the area."

"Perimeter security: nothing to report, no entries or exits except for the arrival of Hart, sir."

Not ideal.

Judicar let out a slow exhale, to keep calm, as he began to consider other options. At least George wasn't outside. That was now a known fact. But that didn't help locate him; and Judicar was certain the young Lord wouldn't play games, not at the present time, knowing how important it was to maintain the travel schedule.

It's okay... he's okay...

By this point, Reima had returned. She had had no luck, and reported as much. It had been a while for her searching, which raised concerns. Judicar nodded, then proceeded up the stairs toward the young man's quarters, where he paused and looked down the various corridors and hallways. There was a rising concern in the tall man's stomach, as the boy he cared for remained disappeared. He poked his head into George's room, scanning with his helmet HUD, but there were no signs...

"Lord George?" Judicar frowned inside the helmet, as he stepped back out into the hallway and looked left then right. With a long exhale, the bodyguard stomped down the stairs and returned to the main foyer where he looked to Reima. "The parlor maid, Estis. She found the wallet, has she passed through while I was upstairs, Lady Reima?"

There weren't many options. Perhaps the maid could tell them where the wallet had been found, which could narrow things down.

Or not.

They wouldn't know until Estis was spoken to.

Now I need to find Estis, then George. He better not be playing...

George Vitalis | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

i've got the stars in my sights, i'm just here to pass the time

Hart was all but forgotten by now as Reima went back into Herevan Hold, the fabric of her fashionable skirt whipping around her calves as she strode into the great hall. She took another circuit through the rooms, stumbling across the parlor maid -- what as her name? Alice? Evelyn? -- in the drawing room. When she saw Reima, the girl dipped a shallow curtsy before gathering her cleaning rag and spray bottle before heading for the door. "Wait," Reima called. "Have you seen Lord Vitalis?" she asked.

"Sorry, miss? I mean, milady?" said Estis, furrowing her brows.

Reima tried not to show her impatience. "My brother, Lord Vitalis. Have you seen him?"

Estis frowned, as if she was trying to remember. "I don't -- I don't think -- I'm sorry, I can't remember." Estis looked perplexed.

"What do you -- where was his wallet?"

At this, her face lit up. "Oh! I found it in the attic storage annex. But I don't remember seeing His Lordship there." Estis frowned, scrunching up her face in her effort to remember. "But no -- I didn't see His Lordship at all. Not since I came in to clear from breakfast."

Reima glanced towards the door to the great hall as she heard footsteps, but she knew without looking it wasn't George but the Major. George didn't tend to stomp around the castle in heavy boots. She grimaced when he identified the maid -- Estis, of course -- and glanced at the girl with what she hoped was a reassuring glance. "We're in the drawing room," she called out the door. "Estis is with me." When the Major entered, Reima relayed everything Estis has told her, but declined to point out to Judicar that Estis seemed nervous and jumpy.

Pas devant les domestiques, she reminded herself.

"I don't know why George would have been in the attic, but I don't see how else his wallet would have gotten up there." A thought occurred to her and she resisted the urge to glance at Estis. Unless... she thought. But that didn't make sense either. Hadn't the Major said she was the one who had returned the wallet, all present and correct. "I didn't go up there. I'm sure he's just -- knocked something over and hasn't been able to clear a path back to the door. Or else the door is jammed." Reima didn't know if she was trying to reassure herself or Judicar. "It's frightfully drafty in these old houses," she declared, trying to ignore the dry taking hold of her mouth. "Should we go and see?"

Major Judicar | George Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

HEREVAN HOLD
MANOR ATTIC

There had been a passing moment, when Judicar considered corresponding a search with Reima, but the young teen walked away on her own not moments later without a word. It wasn't unexpected. She was headstrong, had her own way of doing things, which the bodyguard had come to accept and work around for George's sake. Still, with Reima headed one way, it made sense to look the other; though to say searching a manor was as simple as a left or right decision was an understatement...

"Security team, I need a location on the maid Estis."

I didn't see George come down the stairs, that I know for sure, Judicar thought to himself, his calm demeanor under control, despite the growing ill ease within. I would have seen him. Heard him, at the least.

After several minutes of futile effort, the comm in the tall man's helmet activated and the security team called through, informing Judicar of the maid-in-questions location. He turned about, stalked his way down the corridors, and passed back through the foyer to follow in Reima's wake, his armor shifting and clacking around his quickened pace. No sooner had he turned a corner than he heard the young lady Reima call to him...

"Understood," Judicar said in response, as he altered direction and passed through a nearby doorway. "Good."

It took several moments to have the circumstances of the wallet, and location, explained. Reima was thorough, perhaps the situation causing some unease for her, also. The whole time, Judicar watched the maid through the dark lens of his helmet, his eyes observing and looking for hints of malice or deceit, but there didn't seem to be any standard indicators. Perhaps some glances or reactions to being put on the spot, but otherwise...

"The attic, then," Judicar said simply, as he turned and looked to Reima. "And yes. Miss Estis, please report to the security team temporarily. Tell them what you've told us, so we can confirm details, in case master George isn't in the attic."

Then, with long strides at a quick pace, all but short of a run, Judicar made for the stairs. He took them three at a time, as he hefted his armored bulk upward with handholds on the railing, before he reached the floor he needed. With Reima in pursuit, the bodyguard opened his private comm inside his helmet - "Miss Estis indicated a possible location for the Duke in the attic, she is headed to report in to your control room. Observe, if she tries anything suspicious, move on her. Heading to the attic now." - before he found the entry needed to access the location and started upward...

"Hold back for the moment, lady Reima," Judicar said aloud as he gripped the staff in hand tightly. He stepped inside the space, his head low as he ducked through the smaller door, then observed. The HUD indicated an environmental anomaly. "Unusually cold..."

The ground showed prints in the dust. Judicar began to follow them. He weaved his way through the masses of stored belongings, each as dusty as the next, before the footprints - that were certainly George's - suddenly... stopped.

Gone.

Judicar frowned, as he looked left and right, seeing if the prints continued elsewhere.

Did he jump somewhere nearby? But why?

Nothing.

"Lord George?" Judicar called, his eyes narrowed, as he scanned with a range of visual and HUD enhancements. Something seemed amiss ahead, a peculiar energy reading, but otherwise nothing seemed out of place. "Lord George?!"

Now Judicar was concerned...

George Vitalis | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

in five years time i'll be a million miles from here

There was no way that Reima was going to let Major Judicar out of her sight, not when there was something strange going on in the house. She hurried after him, her footfalls effortless and silent compared to the boots thudding up the wooden stairs. She wasn't worried; the place looked ancient, but it had been rebuilt after a fire in the 30s or so -- long before Reima had been born, but not so long that it was in danger of collapse from rough treatment. Still, Reima thought grimly as she rounded the landing in Judicar's wake, fains I'd be the Major if mother was here to hear the racket.

Probably she wouldn't care if there was something going on with George, she realized.

When they reached the attic level, the Major cautioned her to stay back, and she was momentarily furious, stopping short before the doorway into the annex. Reima gave Judicar's retreating form a withering gaze, waiting for him to take a few steps into the room before deciding that she'd followed his instructions quite enough and pushed into the room behind.

She took a breath. Exhaled.

It hung in the air in front of her. On a seasonably warm summer day...

"What the hell is going on in this house?" she demanded of no one in particular. Judicar seemed to be paying attention to the floor and when she glanced down, she noticed it too. George's footprints, she thought, eyes narrowing. It was as if he had simply stepped into nothing. "George?" she added her dubious voice to the Major's, but it was skeptical.

George clearly wasn't there.

She shivered and she didn't think it had much to do with the cold.

Major Judicar | George Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

HEREVAN HOLD
MANOR ATTIC

There was little surprise when Reima walked in - basically - immediately afterward, in Judicar's wake. She was a certain type of person. Rebellious in nature, probably due to the family dynamic that the bodyguard had seen develop over the years, and very independent. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, every young adult needed to function on their own at some point, but there was a line... and that line was crossed when blatantly ignoring requests for safety to be maintained.

She might not be my immediate charge to protect, Judicar thought, as he sighed under the helmet. But keeping Lady Reima safe is also important.

Still, Judicar suspected that any further demands of her to stay back would be met with stubbornness. So, instead, the bodyguard would deflect that attitude of hers and alter the course, to keep her safe indirectly. The armored man stood straight, after he finished scanning the floor for any further indications of George's prints - to which there were none - then turned to Reima:

"There is an unknown... energy field here, my helmet sensors can't determine the purpose or what it's doing," He said simply, as he motioned near himself. "I'm going to start scanning it with my other equipment. In the meantime, Lady Reima, could you begin searching the edges of the attic? Between the boxes and crates."

The latter was said with some degree of hope, but the situation was cause for concern.

We'll do a sweep first, check all possibilities, He thought. Then... then I'll contact Lady Fortan, if George isn't found.

Regardless of Reima's response, Judicar positioned himself to block her path to approach if she decided to, then began to gather the equipment from his belt. Being part of security often meant securing an area prior, utilizing a broad spectrum of sensors, and with luck something would come back on the several devices placed on the dusty ground. Judicar worked each in turn, as he tested for radiation, gravity polarity, electromagnetic pulse emissions and a number of other considerations that might be revealed... yet, after several moments, all that could be determined was that the energy field was not quantifiable.

That meant specialist gear.

"Lady Reima, I can't get results on the field," Judicar said as he glanced over his shoulder in the bulky armor. He thought about George and the field, what it could have done if he had of touched it or passed into it, and grimaced. It worried him, honestly. Very much so, especially with the current state of evidence. "We need to stay away from it, until the security team can bring specialized equipment to--"

In his hands, the device he held slipped and Judicar reached out to catch it, annoyed with himself for losing focus for a moment.

"--get a better... reading..."

The attic wasn't the attic.

Not really.

It was very, very different. The room was suddenly dim and oddly discolored, and everything around appeared to be made from a coarse-looking pink-orange stone. Judicar stood, his adrenaline raging, as he spun and looked for any kind of danger, as he saw a lone indivi--

"George!"

George Vitalis | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

you'll still be saving for a ticket

Under any other circumstances, Reima would have taken affront to being directed to perform manual labor by -- well, anyone. But this was something else entirely. What had become of George? What could have happened to him in the very few minutes between his crunching across the gravel to the entrance to the manor house and now? It was barely enough time to get to the attic, let alone anywhere else, but he couldn't have just disappeared -- could he?

"Right away," she said and started a circuit around the perimeter of the room. The Major continued to speak about his energy field readings. Reima, for her part, used her slender frame to shift crates and trunks and boxes aside to look between them. It was an exercise in futility, as far as she was concerned. If she had to push the crates aside, it meant she couldn't fit between them, let alone George who was quite tall and rather muscularly built. But what Major Judicar wanted, Major Judicar got.

She had just levered open the doors of a dusty armoire and -- surprising no one -- found it entirely full of Not George when she heard a noise like duraplast on wood. She turned and went back to the canyon leading back to the entrance. Judicar was nowhere to be seen. His scanner lay on the ground, data scrolling across its screen.

She didn't speak. She didn't stop. Reima rushed for the door, tripping over a toolbox. She went careening to the ground near the door and, ignoring the tear in her stocking and the blood rolling down her shin, she used the doorknob to haul herself to her feet. She shot through the door and slammed it shut behind her, staggering towards the stairs. She very nearly fell down them in her haste and fear.

"Milady?" asked Hendersmith when she appeared on the landing on the way to the Great Hall. "Is everything all right?"

"Don't -- Hendersmith, no one must go to the attic."

Hendersmith looked perplexed, pausing midway through sorting the morning post between silver trays. "Milady?"

Reima clattered on trembling legs to the floor of the Grand Hall, where she nearly collapsed against Hendersmith, who took her elbows, bracing her up. "No one goes to the attic. No one. Not until the authorities arrive."

"Authorities?" he asked, looking somewhat alarmed.

"Judicar -- the Major -- he just bloody vanished and I think George did, too," she said, pointing over her shoulder. "In the storage annex. Make sure none of the staff go up there. And -- and -- someone must tell mother. She'll know what to do."

George Vitalis | Major Judicar​

 

[George Vitalis]

seventeen and deadly, one track mind

George had given up calling for help some time ago. He didn't quite know how long. He glanced at his wristwatch -- an antique timepiece given to him by his mother that had once belonged to his predecessor as Earl of Herevan, his grandfather and partial namesake Frejrik. Just like the last dozen times he'd glanced at it, it was frozen. Near as he could tell, the hands were stuck right where they were the moment he had arrived wherever he was now.

Home, but not home.

The silence was imposing, all-encompassing. Until it was broken by the voice of Major Judicar.

George was at once relieved and concerned. Relieved that he was no longer alone. Concerned that the Major's dedication to George's safety might mean they were both stuck here. "Judi," he breathed, turning to approach his mentor and guard. "How did you -- where did you -- " He seized Judicar's arms and looked around him, frantic, as if there was something there, just out of reach that he could trigger to pull them both back out of this bizarre unreality.

"What did you do to get here?" George asked, his voice trembling. "How do we get out?"

It was inconceivable to George that there was anything that Major Judicar didn't know, anything that he couldn't accomplish. He had managed the impossible many times over, so -- why not now?

Major Judicar | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR ATTIC

The relief was palpable in Judicar's stance, as he visibly relaxed and watched George step over and begin firing off a number of questions. They were good, reasonable questions, they were ones that should have been investigated sooner rather than later, however there remained Judicar's concern for the boy's safety and well-being first and foremost.

"First thing first," Judicar said matter-of-factly, as he began to check over the young man. "Are you hurt? I'm going to scan for radiation poisoning, roll up to sleeve."

The transition - ? - between Herevan and whatever this place was, had caused some of the scanning equipment on the ground to be left behind in the other version of the attic. Still, there were some tests that could be done with the assistance of the medkit supplies, including some basic blood work testing. The very last thing Judicar wanted was to find George only to have him suffer from some teleporting sickness.

"Where we are? No idea. All I know so far, is there was an energy field just behind me," Judicar said as he began to prod the young man, being as careful as he could be, but otherwise taking the samples he needed. They weren't invasive. "Whatever that was, brought us here. At best guess. Also looks like there's no field to step back into, though..."

The HUD of his helmet had deduced that much, at least. Not to mention the fact Judicar had moved through that same area, and had not been teleported back, had revealed whatever it was was a one-way door.

Not ideal.

"You seem fine, physically. But I don't know what this environment is or can do, so if you begin to feel odd, tell me immediately."

There remained learning more about the odd place they were in. And unfortunately remaining in the attic wouldn't do that, they had to venture out and get an idea of what they were dealing with. Again, not ideal. Still, Judicar had ensured George was able to take care of himself, including marksmanship lessons, so the bodyguard produced the blaster pistol that served as his sidearm and offered it to the lad.

"We need to look around. Stay behind me, and only shoot when I attack."

Judicar began to walk toward the stairs that led down into the lower floors of the manor, as he grabbed the larger blaster rifle he wielded with both hands and prepared to attack anything that looked at the pair sideways. It seemed that remaining in spot probably wouldn't help, since George had apparently done the same, so it now came down to finding another way out...

"Okay. Let's go."

George Vitalis | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

seventeen and deadly, cruel to be kind

Without a second thought, George obeyed, reaching down to unfasten the button at his sleeve so he could begin rolling his sleeve up. He took a mental assessment of himself, then shook his head. "I don't think I'm hurt. I don't feel any pain, just -- cold," he said uncertainly, casting his dark gaze around the room. "And then not even that. Only if I think about it. Like the environment can't make up its mind. How odd."

As he listened to Judicar's explanation, wincing slightly as the needle extracted the blood it needed for diagnostics, he frowned thoughtfully. Only once a thought came to his mind unbidden did he start and clutch Judicar's arm with his free hand. "Major, what about Reima?" he demanded. "What if she comes looking for me and the same thing happens to her? She mustn't -- oh, damn and blast," he said, muttering one of his mother's favored and most Galidraani oaths, "there's no way to stop her from here."

Judicar rendered judgment on his physical well-being and George felt a little better, though his mind continued to race. Reima was in terrible danger -- everyone at Herevan Hold was, from his sister to the staff and -- Balance forbid -- his mother if she caught wind of what had happened and came to investigate.

George found himself confronted with the grip of a laser pistol. He looked into Judicar's faceplate, golden eyebrows furrowing, but then flattening. Of course they were in danger. Of course. It wasn't just the unfamiliar surroundings. There could be others. Whatever it looked like, this wasn't Herevan Hold, and he couldn't take it for granted that it was safe. He took the blaster and checked the power supply, more out of habit than anything as he knew that Judicar wouldn't hand him an ineffectual weapon. He re-slotted the power back and took the blaster into a defensive posture.

"Don't bother, I -- " George said as Judicar approached the door, but he was surprised when it opened as easy as spreading butter on hot toast. Curious. He followed his mentor, entering into what was -- aside from the bizarre texture and color -- a perfect facsimile of Herevan Hold's third-floor corridor: narrow and dim. "Judicar," he whispered. "Do you think we should leave some kind of breadcrumb, for lack of a bette rword, so that Reima -- or anyone -- can follow if they get -- transported, or whatever happened -- to that room?"

Major Judicar | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR ATTIC

"I'm hoping Reima listens this time, I told her to stay away from the energy field my sensors caught," Judicar said, as he reached out and patted George's shoulder once the other had lowered his own hands. "Security was also aware... with any luck, they'll arrive before anything else can happen. For now? We focus on you."

George knew when things were serious. It was one of the characteristics of the young man that Judicar was thankful for. There was no need for excessive explanations, no hesitations; the pair had been near inseparable through the years, large parts in the other's life, and it was this bond that had created trust. George knew that Judicar would do anything to protect him, and Judicar trusted his back to the son he never had in turn. When the query about the breadcrumbs was raised, the armored bodyguard considered for a moment, then shook his head:

"For now, let's secure the area," Judicar said in a low voice, as he peered and leaned over the bannister at the foot of the attic stairs, to see what might be below. Nothing moved, nothing seemed out of place, save the odd recreation of the manor in that eerie stone. "When we know you're safe, we can look at preparing for survival and rescue. Moving."

The trained guard's hands switched the blaster rifle with a fluid motion, as he approached the first doorway along the passageway. He pushed out with a boot, as the door creaked open, then stepped through and did a sweep of the spacious room within--

"Clear."

--and saw nothing, beside more rock, more shapes of furniture and a distorted duplication of the premises. Still, that didn't mean they were alone, the manor was obscenely large, and Judicar doubted even after a full search and secure that he would feel completely comfortable. As much as the soldier hated to admit it, the likely safest place in the manor was the attic; it was confined, it was where the teleporter - or whatever it was - could be found, and there was a single approach up the stairs.

I only have a weeks worth of rations on me, several if we make them last, Judicar thought to himself, as he exited the room and resumed his controlled and blaster-aimed walk along the stone. I hate the idea, but we might need to look outside, see what's there... unless this is some interior dimension with no exterior?

"Let's head down."

And Judicar would lead the way downstairs, as he moved with his blaster rifle in ready position, eyes shifted in his helmet with a constantly changing point of focus...

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

seventeen and deadly, exit sign

"Reima," said George sardonically. "Listening. I've apparently been transported to another dimension and yet that prospect seems like the most fantastical possibility."

His fingers flexed around the grip of the blaster, and another thought occurred to him. "Do you think these even work here?" he asked, indicating the blaster to Judicar. He was loathe to try it; if they couldn't rely on whether the blaster worked in this place, they certainly couldn't rely on whether the environment was reactive or not. Best to leave any experimentation until they needed to know. Judicar had trained George in more than just blasters; the lordling was also quite capable of hand-to-hand combat for self-defense if the need arose.

George followed Judicar down the corridor and towards the stairs. As they arrived at the Bachelors' Corridor, a housemaid was rounding the corner at the other end and came to a jarred halt, then immediately leaping into action, almost galloping towards them before dropping into a curtsy. George put a hand on Judicar's shoulder, signaling not to shoot her. It was Estis. "Master George, there you are. We've been worried sick about you." When she looked up, there was a faint greenish tinge to her eyes which were usually brown. George's gaze narrowed as his mind raced over this new data. There were other people here. It looked like poor Estis had been caught up in things, too.

But hadn't he just seen Estis? She'd come into the dining room after breakfast to clear. He was sure it had been Estis.

"Worried?" George asked finally. "Why?"

"We thought you'd never come. His Lordship will want to see you right away."

George exchanged a glance with Judicar. "His Lordship?"

"Yes, Master George. I believe he's in the library."

"I'll... I'll be along presently," George declared. "Thank you, Estis. You can go."

Estis seemed hesitant, but after a moment she curtsied and hustled off. George watched her go until she disappeared around the corner before turning to Judicar, hissing under his breath: "What in the blue hell?" His mind continued to race, turning over the information he had observed in his mind. "Did you see her eyes? Who is His Lordship -- I'm His Lordship in this house. And why was she calling me Master George?" His brow furrowed. "You know I'm not one to stand on ceremony, but I was only Master George when my father was alive. I became Lord Vitalis the moment he died. I was just a baby."

This place didn't add up. "Damn. I should have asked about Reima. And about mother. Well, if I see someone else -- Major, should we go down to the library?"

Major Judicar | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR HALLWAYS

The sudden movement of a humanoid caused Judicar to turn and aim his blaster rifle. It was hard to say if events would transpire to be lucky for the split second hesitation, as the bodyguard recognized the familiar face of Estis, the maid. The hand that landed on Judicar's shoulder - George's - helped to delay the wanted response in the unknown world they currently found themselves in, so instead he watched as the maid spoke. Was it possible that Estis had come through the portal, also? Or was this some mirror image of the actual manor? There was something off about her, something... not quite right.

Still, at the present there was one thing for certain: Too many questions, not enough answers.

Then Estis began using ranks that were odd, referring to George, ones that he had not gone by in many, many years. Master? Judicar frowned inside the helmet. Odd. Nonetheless, Judicar remained silent, but ready, as he listened to the exchange between the pair. His face contorted into a grimace, as there was mention of His Lordship, and the bodyguard immediately began to wonder...

His Lordship. In the library.

Oh no. Will George want to see whoever this Lord is? Could it be...?

"Yes, I saw her eyes," Judicar said in a low voice, as he turned to look at George. The young man looked shocked, confused, and the bodyguard couldn't deny that his expression was probably similar. "I wish I knew what was going on, but right now we need to be careful. Whoever, whatever, is existing here knows about us now... and yeah, I noticed the use of rank, too."

Could it be?

When George mentioned Reima and Lady Fortan, Judicar thought it was probably better he hadn't. The possibility of any family member being here, in this realm, in a warped fashion was enough to compromise the young man nearby. The best course, then, was to:

"No, no I don't think so," Judicar said after a moment of thought. There was a need to leave, immediately, something wasn't right and every instinct told him to get George away. "We should leave. Come on, something isn't right, this... place... is all wrong.

"Mission is to get you to a secure location, we can reassess our options once we're not surrounded by... whatever this is. Fall in, George."

With a glance back to George, Judicar nodded, then began to move toward the entry of the manor. He kept eyes out for other manifestations of the staff, his grip tightening on the blaster rifle as he led the way...

And his Lordship? Could that really be...?

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

i'll cross you out if you cross my line

George listened to Judicar, his own scattered thoughts moving into a kind of unstable orbit around the sun -- or black hole -- that this place was... wrong. Trust no one. No one but the Major and himself. Whoever this 'Lordship' was, he had to be bad news. "Right. Good plan." He nodded, as if convincing himself, then followed him along the corridor towards the gallery over the main hall. He paused to glance over the balustrade into the great hall below. Half a dozen footmen flanked the great hall, three on either side of the great hall. He recognized some of them, but each was wearing the black jacket, dark sapphire waistcoat, and white tie of the Herevan livery.

As soon as he looked over, six heads snapped to look at him, six pairs of eyes boring into him. He reflexively ducked back, but he could feel them watching him.

Something about Judicar's observation about a secure location turned George's stomach. Where was a secure location if not Herevan Hold? The place had been constructed as a fortress centuries ago and rebuilt with modern materials in more recent history. It had always represented home, warmth, safety, family. If this place wasn't safe, was there anywhere that was?

The eyes were following him down the stairs. He glanced towards the doors to the library, flanking what had been in the real Herevan a gilded mirror over a gilded console table. The table and the mirror, like the vase and the flowers upon it and the antique carpet beneath it and the floor beneath that and the wall behind it all were cast in the bizarre rough pink-orange rock.

George and Judicar didn't stop. They didn't turn towards the library, instead heading for the massive doors to the grounds. The footmen raised their arms in unison, as if to shepherd them towards the library. One of them -- Teller, George thought his name was, or Tanner? -- stepped forward to block the way from the right, and another whose name he didn't remember stepped in front of Judicar from the left. Both had their right hands behind their backs and held their lefts out.

Teller and the other man said, in monotonous unison: "Master George, His Lordship is waiting for you in the library."

They did not seem to notice Judicar at all. George wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

"Just a moment," said George. "I just -- I need some fresh air."

"His Lordship," the two repeated in the same chilling unison. "is waiting for you in the library."

"Where is my mother?" he asked.

"Lady Natasi is -- not at home," the footmen said, their heads jerking back a little -- again, in complete unison.

George said, "I'll go into the library in a moment. I'd like to get some air first." He didn't know what was waiting for him in the library, what or who, but he knew that he didn't want to go there. There was something sinister about the way the footmen were behaving and speaking, about the faint green glow in their eyes.

He hadn't realized that the other footmen were silently surrounding them until he caught a glimmer of motion out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled, grunting: "Judicar." As one, they drew their right arms from behind their backs, showing a kind of glimmering rod. Not unlike a lightsaber, he thought, but he couldn't say for sure. They were the first objects he had seen in this place not brought by Judicar or clothing that wasn't the weird pink-orange rock. The way the men raised them made it clear they were weapons.

"His Lordship is waiting for you in the library," they declared.

George didn't have time to refuse again before Teller swung at him. He ducked and raised his blaster, firing at Teller. The shot went slightly wide, dying in a tiny flame in the book The footmen lurched, fanning out, and the one who swung advanced on him. They had noticed Judicar by now, with two footmen launching their attacks at him with a ferocity he hadn't expected from them. "Stop this," George cried at Teller as he advanced. "I don't want to hurt you."

Teller feinted an attack from the left, then came at him from the right. George fired his blaster, putting a smoking hole in Teller's forehead. The footman grunted, and George thought he saw sparks through the smoke before Teller dropped to his knees and then onto his face. He had just a moment to glance at Judicar before he had to dodge another swing from a different footman. "Need to get out of here," he said through gritted teeth. "Any ideas?"

Major Judicar​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR HALLWAYS

Judicar knew there was only one way to get out of the mansion, which was to keep moving, as the pair descended the stairs. The guards that stood nearby were very alerted to their presence, though perhaps more so George, as Judicar tensed his fingers on the grip of the blaster rifle. He didn't necessarily want to start a confrontation, especially since he knew very little about the sentients with the glowing eyes, or if they were capable of anything unnatural and it stood to reason that a peaceful departure was the preference... unless that was changed.

"Keep going," Judicar whispered through his helmet, as he tried to maintain pace. Thankfully George was up on the plan, as he kept that same pace, and the pair continued beyond the library entrance. The observation of the similarities to Herevan were interrupted, as the guards nearby suddenly snapped into action and moved to intercept. "Damn..."

The posture adopted by the guards appeared non-threatening, but Judicar knew what was happening: weapons were in those obscured hands. The stance had been used by himself in the past, in almost the exact same situation against others who sought to approach George without permission, so it stood to reason the bodyguard would recognize the signs...

This will not end well, Judicar thought as he slowly lowered the blaster and held it across his front. He adjusted his gloved hands on the weapon, changing how he held it. George will do fine against his opponent, perhaps two. But that leaves four.

By that time, both George and the guards were conversing. The tones and words didn't change. The Lord was insistent that the young man go to the library, and the boy was thinking quickly as he suggested some air. The excuse didn't take, however, as Judicar turned to the right slightly and kept more of the closest guards in view. And then Lady Natasi was brought up, to which the conversation began to go badly quickly, though the fact there wasn't a copy of George's mother present was comforting.

Fighting guards is one thing. But loved ones? That could strain anyone with inaction. I hope there's no Reima, either.

On the final rebuttal to the request, weapons were drawn, as the guards stepped closer.

Then the fight began.

The guards moved on George, a blaster shot sounded, but by that point Judicar was too busy trying to make himself as big a threat as possible. He stepped forward, and swung the blaster rifle butt first at the closest guard, which caught the man on the jaw and sent him sprawling. Continuing the motion, Judicar brought the weapon around hard, but the second guard was able to block with the glimmering weapon held in his - it's? - hands; but that was fine, as the bodyguard expected a block, though ideally it might have been the third guard.

Still.

With deft hands, Judicar let go of the rifle and grabbed the extended forearms of the blocking guard. The armored man used weight - of which he had more - and leverage - again, of which he had more - and physically lifted and threw the thing to one side, causing the guard to crash into the nearby rocky wall with a crunch. By that time, the next guard was on Judicar, as it swung at him with the mysterious weapon in hand. The armored man moved back, as he adopted a defensive stance and twisted to avoid the strikes - meanwhile, he saw George had dropped one of the guards with a blaster bolt to the head. That was good, it lessened the odds. As the guard engaging Judicar swung again, the bodyguard stepped in and blocked the overhead attack, locking the sentient's arms.

"More probably coming, front will be covered soon," Judicar grunted as he wrestled with the guard and kicked at the thing's knee, hoping to stumble it. It didn't seem to work as effectively as hoped. "Hurry and drop thes--!"

Judicar took a solid hit to the side of the helmet, as a fourth got involved. He grunted, felt the ringing in his ears, but the blow had been largely cushioned by the durable armor plating. Still, another hit or two like that would definitely ring the bodyguard's bell, so he doubled down on handling his end of the fight:

"Use the other way out, the one Reima thinks we don't know about!"

Those hidden passages through the kitchens she found... those might give us some space.

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

stuck inside the ring road, theme park, night club, beer gut, time bomb, heart attack, explode

George detected movement to his left in the doorway to the library, but he couldn't allow himself to be distracted by it. He didn't turn, didn't look. He was focused on the fight for survival with these footmen. Or maybe not men, he was forced to amend as Teller's head trembled violently before exploding with a brief punfff! and a shower of sparks that would have certainly a nasty burns in the carpet. If this was really Herevan, if the carpet was real, he needn't have worried about the assailants because Natasi would have eviscerated them all.

The sound of combat told him that Judicar was doing what he did best: eliminating threats to George Vitalis. He muttered an instruction: the secret passages. "Of course," he grunted. Why hadn't he thought of that? The front door was tantalizingly close, but he thought that by now they were expecting them to exit the front. Reinforcements might have been arraying outside the door that very moment.

Another blaster bolt went into the chest of one of the footmen attacking him and he went down with a bizarre unearthly noise.

George took the opportunity to dash across the hall towards the dining room, opposite the library. He stopped in the doorway, turning back to Judicar, who would have no doubt dispatched several of the remaining guards. He waited for the Major to join him in the dining room, then slammed the door shut behind them. In the last, fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of himself across the great hall, standing in the library doorway with a face like thunder, eyes glowing faintly.

It shook him, but he said nothing for the moment. Bigger fish to fry.

"Be with you in a moment," he told the Major as he snatched a chair from the table and jammed it under the door handles. He took another and hurled it through the window on the opposite wall. Let them think that they had escaped.

George led the way through the servery at the other end of the dining room. Reima, who thought herself slightly more clever than she was, had been using the old servants' passageways to move through the castle unseen -- usually to smoke in the servants' courtyard. He pulled the panel open, exposing the green baize on the other side to deaden noise from below stairs, and went into the corridor. The stairwell was wide here, wide enough for large trays of food to be carried up from the kitchen to the servery and then finally into the dining room.

George paused at the top of the stairs, straining to listen. He could hear nothing happening below. He turned to Judicar, his voice barely a whisper: "I don't hear anything. Is it possible -- I think those footmen were -- droids of some kind," he said, looking into Judicar's helmeted face as if he would see a reaction that indicated the Major thought he was losing his grip. "And if they are -- or were -- they wouldn't need food. They wouldn't need to rest. Maybe that's why I don't hear anything."

He tightened his grip on his blaster and crouched, peering down into the stairwell. A rattling from behind them nearly made him jump. Someone was trying the door. Now someone was banging on it. They didn't have a lot of time to plot their next move. With a deep breath, George looked back to Judicar. "Now or never. We'd better get moving." He took to the stairs, carefully and quietly dropping. From the stairs it was a straight shot up the corridor, past the servants' hall and into the kitchen, where they could find the exit. What they'd find outside was anyone's guess, but he liked their chances better than going back through the grand hall.

Major Judicar​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR DINING HALLS

Judicar wasn't far behind George, as the other made his way toward the dining room, with the bodyguard reunited with his blaster rifle and several shots sent into the remaining guards directions that caused them to hesitate in pursuit. There was even the smell of burnt ozone, some had been hit, though the rapid pace the pair of escapees used limited the opportunity to see if the manor guards were downed.

George had a plan, it seemed. Judicar trusted the young man, and focused on sweeping into the dining room with his rifle raised, his aim moved across the empty space. They were alone for the moment, which gave them a chance. The bodyguard saw George wedge the chair against the door, it would add precious seconds, and watched as he then sent another chair through a nearby window with a crash.

Good thinking.

Judicar fell into step behind George, who started to lead the way, and kept his rifle up and ready should the manor guards break through prematurely. It didn't take long before the thumps began on the door, and it was with seconds to spare as the larger armored man stepped through the passage into the next area and closed it behind, when the chair broke and the door to the dining room flew open. The corridor wasn't large, it wasn't meant for a lot of foot traffic, so Judicar had to lower his head every so often or angle to fit - and George was no slouch, either, being tall and broad for his age and looked to get through with some effort.

It didn't take long to reach the destination.

The way seemed quiet.

Once at the entrance to the wider corridor, Judicar listened as George asked about the guards. Droids? Perhaps. Cyborgs? Maybe. It was hard to tell, exactly, but the boy seemed startled by the possibility, so the bodyguard responded in a low voice:

"Whatever they are," Judicar said as he craned his neck and listened through the helmet. "They can be shot. So we continue to do that until you're free of the manor."

It did seem eerily quiet, however. George was right about that. Still, they likely didn't have much time to wait, especially if the window distraction failed to work. Banging began behind. They were out of time. George dropped into the corridor, Judicar close behind, and began to move toward the servant's hall. This time the bodyguard went first, as he moved with all the silence he could muster despite the armor, and reverted to hand signals - George knew them well - so that they could maintain the element of stealth.

Stay left, eyes rear, on me.

The hand gestures were simple, Judicar giving them quickly with one gloved hand, then moved forward. Up the stairs they moved, Judicar now functioning in a state of hyper-awareness, as his body fell into the familiar rhythm of combat; his eyes moved rapidly, his breathing was heavy but controlled, his blaster rifle balanced in his arms like an extension of himself. He paused at the doorway into the servant's hall, listening, and held up a closed fist to George.

Stop.

There were sounds of movement down the way. One of the servants, perhaps. Or a manor guard checking the area, it was hard to tell without exposing himself to sight from the individual. With a grit of the teeth, Judicar waited until the footsteps got closer, then rounded the corner with his rifle aimed and his finger on the trigger--

Estis!

--he hesitated for a second, then switched the rifle to stun and fired two expanding circles of blue energy at the woman with glowing eyes. But she managed a scream, and the bodyguard knew it had been heard. He turned to look at George, as he grabbed the boy's collar and pushed him up the stairs, shouting:

"Run, as fast as you can, George!"

It was now or never, they had to escape or run the risk of having their options cut off... they had to get to the kitchens!

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

George followed the commands relayed by his bodyguard, verbally and non-verbally, and when the directive came to run as fast as he could, he raced through the hallway. The kitchen was a short jaunt through the corridor, and it was mercifully empty when he burst through the doorway. He rounded the butcher-block island and zipped past the cooler into the vestibule. The room was lined with empty shelves that would normally have held the things that didn't need to be refrigerated.

But in this strange, upside-down world, things were as different as they were the same.

The kitchen door was unlocked. It opened into the rear courtyard, near the kitchen garden and greenhouse. He waited for Judicar to exit as he surveyed the area. It was a strange, strange sight to see. The sky was low and grey-red-brown, billowing with stormclouds that he felt like he could reach for, grab a handful of. But even with the clouds, he would ordinarily be able to see where the sun was, but there was nothing. No apparent source of external light.

An unnatural mist settled around Herevan Hold, and with it an unnatural silence. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he was outside, the silence was almost deafening. Normally, he would have heard the rushing of the Herevan River, the powerful and ancient lifeblood of Herevan County that Herevan Hold straddled. The river powered the castle's hydroelectric plant and fed all the water features and fountains in the castle and grounds that his dear mother was so fond of.

No water. No sun.

"What do you think?" he asked Judicar, his dark eyes narrowing. "Try to make it to the village? Maybe to Calavar?"

Major Judicar​