Private Seventeen and Deadly

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
MANOR DINING HALLS

Judicar kept pace with the young man. With both being tall they had long strides, which helped to keep ahead of their pursuers, though that wasn't to say the pair were making distance on the guards. The time spent undetected in the hallways had helped, undoubtedly, though with the alert from Estis that opportunity for escape lessened with every passing moment. Thankfully the kitchen was empty, as George rounded the island counter, with Judicar not far behind.

Obstruct.

With a pause, Judicar reached for a nearby tray stand and jammed it against the door. Thankfully the manor had old-timey doors for most of the interior, which didn't rely on automated or recessed sliding. It almost felt like a shame to damage the door, but it also wasn't the manor they were used to, nor was it more important than the boy's safety.

Across the way, George exited the kitchen, though a doorway that took him outside. The bodyguard wasn't far behind, and caught the question on how to proceed. Judicar was skeptical of their chances in the village, or even Calavar, though it seemed the best course to escape from the manor and its hostile inhabitants; though, one thing the Major intended to do, was to keep George off the main roads and common paths in the surrounding region, as it would aid in the endeavor to avoid further confrontation.

"We head to the trees," Judicar said, as he motioned toward the nearest treeline. "We reach cover, lose pursuit, then we consider where to attempt contact."

The surrounding environment was familiar yet odd all at once, and the bodyguard did his best to ignore those differences for the time being, until the pair had had a moment to regroup and assess. The noise of banging against the first door from the kitchen could be heard, as the eerie guards sought entry into the room. With a grunt, Judicar smashed the butt of his rifle against the outside door panel, which caused the device to spurt electrical sparks and sizzle; it wouldn't hold them for long, but it would help, so long as the pair moved with speed now.

Judicar had a hundred things going through his mind, but the focus was on evasion:

"Reach the trees, George, then we lose them."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Not for the first time and, George suspected, not for the last, George was grateful for Major Judicar's ingenuity. Even as they passed through the kitchen courtyard, George could hear the pounding of fists and Balance knew what else on the the interior door. He didn't need to be told twice what to do; at Judicar's instruction, he ran into the side yard. Luckily, the kitchen was closest to his great-grandmother's formal gardens. Unlike the rest of the grounds, which had been designed by the inestimable Capability Russet around the turn of the century, the side garden retained the ornate hedges and floral arrangements that had been the fashion centuries ago.

The side garden ran from the house to the family mausoleum at the edge of the estate. From there it was just a hundred or so yards to the edge of the forest. Best still, so offended was Capability Russet by the late Countess of Herevan's insistence on keeping the formal garden that he essentially walled the formal gardens off with lines of close-set cypress trees.

Somehow, who- or whatever had recreated this perverse facsimile of Herevan Hold still managed to capture the details of the house and gardens. The young man darted out the courtyard gate and crossed the path towards the formal gardens. The gardens seemed to be empty; at least George didn't see anyone. He kept between the two lines of cypress trees, hoping it would shield them from view. The mausoleum stood silent. George skirted around the stone building and found the gate, which he levered open.

The adrenaline was starting to wane as he reached the tree line, but he kept going, pushing deeper into the forest before finally stopping. He leaned against a tree and panted, reaching up to loosen up his necktie so that he could breathe more freely. He looked up at Judicar, his dark eyes narrowing as they traced over his armored form, as if looking for any sign of injury. "Are you all right? Any damage from that fight?"

Major Judicar​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
FOREST EDGE & BEYOND

The mist helped. And the layout of the grounds were the same, despite the differences in this odd world that was similar yet not their own. The clouds and sky were equally odd, as the stone of the manor, and Judicar wondered at the surrounding lands and whether any short term foraging or hunting might be affected in a similar way. Could the pair risk drinking or eating anything this world provided? Thankfully the bodyguard had some limited rations on his person, so the immediate need could be handled, but beyond that - should they be on the run for a week or more - was hard to say...

The rows of cypress trees were used to conceal passage, as George led the way from the manor proper, through a gate. Judicar was close on the young man's heels, his helmet serving to provide awareness of their peripherals with the sensors and inset display. It appeared they were free of pursuit for the moment, which meant they had a real chance at escaping into the forest nearby. And once they were among the trees, Judicar knew tracking them would become very difficult, what with the survival training both men had.

Almost there.

After a few more minutes, Judicar passed into the forest behind George, and continued to follow the young man. He was proud of the boy, how he focused and didn't stop, even through fatigue surely had started to creep into the body. The bodyguard could feel his legs beginning to tire, but determined willpower and his physical conditioning kept him moving, but before long a stop was necessary. In the heavy armor and cloak, along with the weapon in hand, Judicar had sweat on his face under the helmet. He couldn't exactly wipe at it, not yet, so instead he turned his attention to George's question:

"Nothing serious," Judicar said as he looked down. He saw cracks on the front of his armor, where one of the weapons had hit in the skirmish, but it had diffused the impact thankfully. No damage could be felt to the tissue or body underneath. "And you? Were you hit?"

Judicar reached out and turned the young man to check his sides and back, casting a critical gaze over George for any wounds or blood. So long as it wasn't anything serious, they could handle treatment later, once they had gotten further away from the manor and the guards. But, for now, it was important not to waste the lead they had, as Judicar nodded to George and started to move forward with a motion of his hand--

"Follow where I step."

--and started toward some of the more dense forestry ahead. With the thicker tree canopy, which kept the weather - as it was - from the ground, the undergrowth became more resilient from less water and light. That meant harder ground, firmer for stepping on, and lessened chance of leaving tracks. And where possible, Judicar made use of rocks and fallen tree trunks as means of further avoiding footprints in mud or ground.

It took another thirty minutes before Judicar was content to stop proper. "Good, let's rest here for now," The bodyguard said as he reached under his cloak and pulled out some small ration pellets. The green was for food replacement, the blue for hydration replenishment. Not ideal, but better than nothing, and more importantly enough for the body to keep going. "Here, have one of each. We're on rationing now, so prepare for hunger and thirst, until we know what we can - and can't - eat here."

With his own pellets in one hand, Judicar reached up and unclasped the helmet over his head. He lifted it up and took a fresh breath of the forest air, before he crouched and placed the helmet to one side on the dirt. Now free of the confining head armor, with his face revealed, his age was more apparent; with his white hair, somewhat wrinkled features, and several scars that ran the length of the side of his face - he was a fit human, older but still physically comparable to men half his age. With a glance up to George, the bodyguard offered a reassuring nod, before he placed the pellets into his mouth and chewed, the taste terrible, but the nutrition and energy much needed...

"Now we assess. What do we know? About the manor, this place, who or what we're facing?"

It was time to see if George was paying attention, even amidst the hectic race to escape. Intel and details didn't wait on a considerate pace...

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

George looked at Judicar as if he was speaking a foreign tongue for a moment before he finally understood what was being asked. "Am I -- oh." He performed a mental inventory, carefully patting himself down even as his guardian reached over and turned him like some kind of overgrown doll. No, action figure. He felt a vague ache, generalized all over his body, but he didn't remember taking any serious blows. The ache felt like stress -- from crouching, from holding his breath, from fighting.

"No, I don't think so," he said finally, and he paused in silent reflection for a moment before observing: "Lucky thing, that."

The boy followed in Judicar's footsteps. As they went along, he noticed that the trees looked like trees - brown bark, green foliage. But these weren't the right kind of trees. They were maple trees but not just any kind; these were, as George knew, sugar maple trees. He could tell from the leaves. When Reima had snarled at him that he was such a boy scout she had meant it as an insult, but it was actually true, and one of his badges was for identifying plants. There were no sugar maple trees on Herevan; they didn't grow anywhere on the estate. They should have been black maple.

He kept this information to himself for the time being. It was, after all, one piece of data. But the more they walked, the more data he collected. He couldn't swear to the placement of the rocks -- these were the same rough pink-orange -- but he knew that whatever the rock was, it was not native to this area of Galidraan. And the forest floor was missing many of the features he had expected: moss and fallen trees, moss and shrubbery, or any kind of bird life. And no flowers on the forest floor, either, with no birds to drop flower seeds.

When it was time to stop, George was breathing heavily, and glad of the break. He took a squat on a nearby rock, rubbing his hands along his slacks for warmth. He accepted the rations with a nod of thanks and quickly consumed them. There was no pleasure to them, for which he thought he should be grateful. It meant they weren't suffering much -- yet. They tasted... well, there was no way to put a positive spin on it. They tasted awful. He was glad to swallow them, but he found he could still taste the odd, chemically taste on each breath.

"Yeugh," he grunted, grimacing.

George looked over at Judicar. How many scars and wrinkles had the man earned on George's behalf? And here he was, trapped in this bizarre, through-the-looking-glass version of Herevan, because he had come after George. He felt a surge of affection and crippling guilt and found, to his surprise, a prickling along his sinuses and watering in his eyes. As much as he was like the late Lord Vitalis, and the resemblance was closer every day, he had his mother's eyes and, like his mother and sister, tears -- even those left unshed as these were -- tended to turn his eyes from an unfathomable dark brown to an amber shade. The tell-tale sign of the Fortan family.

He looked down immediately.

"We know -- " he began, his voice hoarse for a moment until he cleared his throat. " -- this isn't Herevan. Not really. But I've noticed that as we get further from the Hold, the replica version becomes less and less faithful. In the house, apart from everything being that awful stone, every detail was correct. But out here -- even in the gardens -- it wasn't. It was..." his voice trailed off for a moment. "...it was like someone had tried to reconstruct it from descriptions or low-resolution photographs. And here -- look." He stood and reached for a low branch, pulling it down so that he could snatch a leaf off it. He held it out to Judicar, looking past it at his guardian's face. His eyes, now their normal shade again, intense with curiosity. "Sugar maple. Not uncommon on Galidraan, but it doesn't grow here. Or, rather, at the real Herevan. The climate is too cold. Not til you get down towards Southfield -- the forest at the southern edge of Foxfield Park has sugar maples. These should be black maples."

"And look at this forest. Trees and rocks and dirt. No birds, no other kinds of plants. Like... I don't know. A rough first sketch of a drawing of a forest. Before the details are added in. Or, not a drawing, perhaps. Like a computer game where it hasn't fully rendered in, maybe?" He took a step back towards his rock and perched on the flat-ish surface of its top. "But what does that mean?" he asked.

Major Judicar​

 

[Major Judicar]

ELSEWHERE
FOREST EDGE & BEYOND

As Judicar chewed the terrible pellets, his mind was already formulating plans. He felt the pair had done enough to avoid immediate pursuit, by covering tracks and angling away from the manor at a - likely - unexpected coordinate heading. Still, relaxation could be folly, so the old soldier kept his eyes moving as he swallowed the ration. Eyes were on Judicar, he could feel it, but a quick check revealed George was looking his way; the old man gave a barely perceptible nod, proud of the young man, and glad that his training had been useful when needed.

"Let out what you need to, George," Judicar said, as he saw the young Duke's eyes become wet. Judicar would never judge the boy. Emotions were healthy, so long as one was able to emit enough self-control to largely decide when and where. "You're safe, I promise."

The tall man grunted as he hunched forward and reached up to his right shoulder, to his armored pauldron. He unclasped it, pulled it free, and placed it in front of him. He did the same to the opposite. Then he reached to his sides, he felt for the clasps for his torso armor and pulled them free, and promptly had the bulkier armor off within moments. The rest of the crimson plating followed, until Judicar was left crouched in his undersuit - all black - and the armor bundled up in his cloak.

George even spoke about the trees in the region, from what they could see, and the forest itself; it was no secret this... place... was very strange, very different from the galaxy they had departed. And the lack of even the smallest signs of life was alarming. And while Judicar couldn't say for certain, he could have sworn that - every so often - he caught glimpses out the corner of his eye of reflective refractions from the world. Subtle. Blue-white flares or sparkles, almost like a droid's photoreceptor...

"Now's not the time for armor," Judicar mused, but he suspected George knew. The Duke was clued in, he was smart, like his mother and sister. Talbot had been, of course, but perhaps in other ways. "We're going for distance. You said this forest is unnatural, it is, and that means no resources."

With both hands, Judicar knotted the two ends of his cloak, to make a makeshift backpack that carried his armor. He stood up and rolled his left shoulder, before he reached for the blaster rifle. He raised his eyebrows at George:

"Shelter is the next most important thing. This forest provides little, and offers nothing to offset that, so there's no point staying. And the terrain has changed, we're not around Herevan anymore, this land is... something else. It's different, topographically."

When he had everything, Judicar looked up and around at the trees overhead. George was excellent with details. Sugar maples.

"North-east. Away from anything you know here, to avoid--"

Judicar paused, as his head jerked to the right and he listened. A hand raised to quieten George at the same moment.

What... is that...?

In the distance, no louder than a distant speeder, could be heard an electronic whirring.

It's not a speeder though.

Judicar kept listening, but the whir got further away, the passing echo dispersing as it went beyond audible range again. Either way, it was to the north, so while they moved the bodyguard would protect the flank to avoid the pair being ambushed from whatever it was:

"Eyes open. We're not alone, and I don't know what that was. Let's go, George. You're on point for now."

And Judicar didn't know which was worse - not being alone, or not knowing what was out there...

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

George listened intently to Major Judicar as the older man recapped what they knew and what -- crucially -- they did not. When he broke off, appearing to listen to something out in the bizarre artificial wilderness in which they found themselves, George strained to hear, too. Was it the power of suggestion, or could he really hear the faint otherworldly sound of technology somewhere, carried on the wind?

And just like that, it was time to move on. George could have sat there another few hours, perhaps even slept, but Judicar brooked no argument, and George's fatigue was less physical than emotional. He stood and, following Judicar's instruction, set off in a north-easterly direction. He cast his mind back to the estate maps. What was out in that direction? If they proceeded north-by-northwest, they would come to the hideous college his mother's aunt had built overlooking Herevan in an effort to spoil the place, but northeast -- well, it was along the river for a time, to the foot of the mountains if you went far enough.

"It will take us past a few of the tenant farms at the very edges of the village," George told Judicar quietly, "Then to the foothills. I've never been up there. Mother said the river gets very dangerous up there, so we were never allowed. But it does rather neatly carve a through the mountains. Shorter transit time through the region at the risk of greater exposure and limited mobility."

They proceeded through the forest in its eerie silence, George occasionally pausing to tilt his head in an attempt to listen for whatever was out there. It was to no avail. The growth was getting thicker here, giving the place a claustrophobic feel as they weaved between trees growing close together. "What's our plan? Are we looking for somewhere specific? The only thing I can think of in this direction is Sterandel, but..."

He let his voice drop off, suddenly feeling hollow.

If he couldn't be safe at Herevan in this creepy facsimile of Galidraan, was it realistic to expect any kind of safety at Sterandel to the northeast, or Foxfield Park to the south, or Westleira at the western coast? The network of homes and families he had been raised among, with families he had counted as extended cousins, even if not bound by blood, had been designed as a protective ring of weathered but strong stone around George and Reima, but it all counted for nothing here.

Major Judicar​