Private Where the Sun Refuses to Shine

[Alouette D’aureville]

Dark and stormy clouds felt tethered around the small castle town of Aanu. No rain would fall from them and so each cloud looked as if it had gorged itself from the sea three days ride away and carried the water and cold to gloat it about the townsfolk. Prevalent mists lingered well into late afternoon. Empty tree branches as black as the crows that filled them cut against the mass of white and gray. Steel-like Aanu loomed above like a cruel teacher that believed it was teaching everyone below it a lesson.

The travel had been long, a journey that spanned an equal number of days and nights that was enough to make anyone homesick. Temperatures had dropped slowly as the Knights and squire followed winding roads become main thoroughfares. Plenty of nights spent out beneath the stars, gazing and watching, plenty of time spent sharing conversation atop of horses. In the beginning it had been fun, but when they got close to the coast, every foot closer to Aanu suddenly filled the air with dread. Instinct crawled up a shivering spin, tickling the back of the brain to keep it alert, to second guess every receding shadow or moaning creak of wood.

"It's sorta really creepy around here," Lou mumbled to no one in particular despite never straying far from the Knights. Not every place could be as vibrant as the Monastery or Astenvale. Her boots splashed in a dank puddle, wagon wheels marking the soft ground and criss crossing over previous trails. The air was stale despite the clouds begging to storm and the mist that trailed behind the knights like a starving pack of dogs.

The villagers all stood beside the lone well of the village, the gray stone matching the stone of the castle's gate. The wooden arch had looked sturdy from far away but the closer they came to it the sooner they saw the wear and tear. This well had been there a long time, older than the elder and his gnarled wooden staff, older than the weathered barn and the homes, older than even the trees. It was obvious it was much, much older than Castle Aanu.

Behind the well were the fields, desolate and dry. Only sparse field grasses framed the untended fields, no plant dared to lay its roots in the poisoned soil. The smell cut through the petrichor, tangy but sweet, artificial spring flowers and summer fruits. It assaulted every nose relentlessly, taunting all of them. The silence was heavier than the imprisoned promise of rain.

"Here's the well." A man said with a beard darker than the hair on his head. People parted to make away but their unwavering gaze honed in on them. "Empty, like it has been for months thanks to them," he jerked a thumb back to the castle. No guards partrolled it, the threat of gaunt villagers not a great enough fear. "And at night we hear sounds from around here. Somehow those castle bastards manage to block the water for our well. None of us can see how they did it but we know it was them. It has to be them." For if not them, then who else could do something so cruel and unusual?

 

[Selene Vera]

The journey had been…oppressive, and not just from the forced company of the other Knights. In the beginning, well, that had been marked with clear blue skies, fair weather, and the kind of pleasant locales that the quiet vales and forests of Altalusia could always be trusted to provide. But, that was no more. Some days ago those clear skies and fair weather had been slowly replaced by a cloudy, black chill that hung heavy over the land, threatening a violent downpour that seemed like it would never truly arrive. Yesterday, that verdant, healthy green of Altalusia had withered into dark, leafless forests that watched every step of their approach, broken only now and then by the weathered and downtrodden hamlets they guarded. And today? Today any merry mood among the Knights that had desperately clung through it all had likely been finally swept away by the biting winds and pale mists that wrapped around the walled base of Aanu like a swirling veil, or at least it had certainly felt like it. The last few hours had been mostly silent among them as they had approached the castle.

That last part had actually been nice, at least.

“I kind of like it,” she said, now that Lou had broken that particular peace. It was mostly meant in sarcastic jest, but in truth it was even more half-hearted than usual, and Selene’s voice held an edge of apprehension as she pulled her mist-speckled cloak tighter around her. Even Fable, that hoary, stubborn albatross, had for some time now buried himself into the same fabric as they both rode atop Selene’s mare, the horse carefully picking her way through the sodden mud of the road behind the others. Something about this land felt…deeply wrong, both instinctively and subtly within the local Shroud. That was hard to just flippantly dismiss out of hand.

Selene remained otherwise silent as the villagers led them to the well, her eyes lingering on the ancient stonework and only partially listening to the elder as he said his piece. No doubt the local lord could be capable of such a callous action - it was indeed a rare thing in the world for there to be one who could entirely escape such accusations - but here? The woman pursed her lips. It was possible, but…

Selene slung her leg over the saddle to dismount, her boots squelching unpleasantly into the fetid, black mud as the motion shed small rivulets of cold water off her cloak. Fable squawked in bitter protest and ruffled his feathers at the sudden exposure. Ignoring him and the gathered villagers, Selene slogged up to the side of the well, grabbing the aged stones at its lip with both hands, and carefully leaned over to peer down. Only blackness peered back. She closed her eyes and strained to listen, trying to block out the mournful howl of the wind, the stomping of agitated horses, and the muffled muttering of those nearby, seeing if she could hear…anything, really.

“Why do so? Seems a bit daft, doesn’t it?”

She re-opened her eyes, giving up for the moment, and looked more towards the other Knights than any of the assembled peasantry as she straightened herself back up.

“If cruelty was the aim, you would think there would be more…signs. Did I miss a gibbet or two on the ride over here? Not even a burned hamlet? Awfully restrained for a local tyrant, if you ask me.”

 

[Syr Galen Calloway]

Aanu Castle, a place Galen had yet to cross in his travels with the Order. Seeing the state of the land and town around the castle made him think that it was beyond past due for their interference. If it wasn’t the issue they were called to here, there was certainly something else amiss for the land to be as it was. Withered trees, stagnating crops, just the pure barrenness of such a place that shouldn’t be. During the journey he saw no signs of the blight, but that couldn’t be ruled out since he hadn’t done any investigating.

The weather had changed considerably from Astenvale, but it was normal in the season for the weather to fluctuate wildly. The mist and cold mornings were bearable, but only just so. Ever since the shift in temperature happened, his leg had been stiffer than normal and was an irritation in the mornings and evenings after a day’s ride.

“Mmm,” Galen grumbled in agreement to the words that were shared. It was indeed unsettling. And when the jest was added to the fray, all he did was throw a look over his shoulder to Selene, though she probably didn’t see it.

When they arrived and were greeted by the elder, Galen had dismounted, stifling a groan of pain from his leg and steadied his face, not wanting to let anything seem off. From there he followed behind, leading his horse with him. He kept his eyes on the village itself, hiding under the towering castle it was pushed against.

What people he could see all had the same expression. The gaunt look look, piercing eyes that followed every bit of movement. The clothing that seemed loose and pulled tight with rope belts. It was the same look he had seen many times before. In one word, desperate.

Once in the square, the elder began his explanation. Of course they had gotten a brief version in the mission that was explained to them before setting out to this place. While listening to the Elder, Galen turned to listen to everything else, and aside from Fable’s squawks, there was no sound of other birds or animals running around. He would bet that not even a rat could be found here, save for in a stew.

To his sister-in-arms’ comment on the cruelty of the local lord, Galen could not help but be reminded that she hadn’t learned the intricacies dealing desperate people. They were not the most rational of people, especially not while their issues were unresolved. While any liege lord that treated their subjects this way deserved comeuppance, there were better ways of doing that. And while Selene had a point, making it in front of the community like that wouldn’t help. Best to let them get started on their investigation, which would be easier once the villagers went on with their days, without being the center of attention.

As if naturally, Galen began to weave the shroud through him, as he stepped closer to the elder, putting a friendly hand on their shoulder and speaking, his voice coming out with a naturally calming tone. “Thank you for sharing that with us, please rest assured that we will reach the truth of this, no matter where it takes us,” he then let go of the elder’s shoulder, and directed his gaze and voice to the rest of the onlookers, “we are the Knights of Anathaeum, if something ill is happening here, we will find it. If you believe you know something helpful, please share it with us, I will be happy to listen to you. While we begin our investigation, it would helpful if you all went back to your regular day. We will handle it from here.”

Maybe he hadn’t needed to use magic, but it was a surer way of getting the result he wanted. While their Order could be trusted, he was sure that the populace still wanted to be useful. With them going back to their day and those who might be able to share some information waiting to share it, he turned back to his comrades.

“If you all can look more into the well, I’ll listen to them,” Galen motioned towards the people that were wanting share what they believed was going on. Surely he could sift through it find something helpful.

 

[Innis of Astenvale]

Creepy befitted Innis, most of the time. Even she had her limits, however. The grey landscape, the bereft desperation which clouded the denizens of Aanu's expressions, the sky which never gave the rain it promised. All of it wore on her. She could barely decipher the grey, grey, and more grey of the sky and stone and mists about them. If it were not for her fellow Knights and the village elder which guided them to the well, Innis would have gotten lost.

Her horse, the dark bay named Sweetpea, chewed at her bit restlessly, tossing her head back and forth in frothy protest. After she dismounted, Innis held on tight to the horse's reigns. The beast grew even more restless as she approached the well, getting close enough to lean over and peer into the murky dark. Syr Selene had the same idea. Innis knew well enough to keep quiet as the other knight cocked a head and listened to the sound. No water to be heard sloshing at the bottom, nor anything else really. Just an emptiness that seemed too big and yawning for the narrow well.

Selene made some good points about the validity of the Lord's motive -- why would the nobility want to cripple their own subjects in such a way? To poison the water and choke the fields would only harm them in the long run, their laborers becoming sick and tithes running lean from the famine that would come. Not that the sovereign-borne always operated off of clean logic, some of them were as mad as a moonstruck fool. Innis had seen that firsthand, too many times to count.

But it was right not to mention these worries to the elder who guided them to the well. Innis nodded her understanding as Syr Galen urged them to focus on the task at hand. And what a relief, that she did not have to speak to the villagers. She was out of practice with common ways, having spent too long at Court these past few years. Truthfully, Innis would rather snake her way through the muddled minds of self-absorbed nobility than attempt small talk. She would go investigate the well, as Syr Galen suggested.

Innis went to Sweetpea's saddleback and pulled out a latticework orb, fashioned of glass and iron. A cold blue light swirled within the orb, and when Innis shook the thing, it brightened. Lochlight. A lantern fueled by the shroud, which burned without heat, and wavered with a sensitivity which might give them some hint about the depths below.

Gripping the lochlight, Innis extended a hand over the well, and let go. The light fell, and fell, and fell some more until it was merely a pinprick in the darkness. Down below, metal and glass clinked hard against stone. The lochlight flickered like a distant star, and then faded to nothing.

"Well, that's not good," Innis remarked. "Either there's a leyline running below the village, or someone's used magic to redirect the water."