Castle Mroczna

Whilst it wasn't as massive as some of the grand manors and castles, it shared the same luxury, the floor tiled in a chessboard pattern of marble. The walls were like that of the hallway just before, only more ornate and decorated with sculpted wooden reliefs of bat-like creatures.

More tables lined the walls with various decorative items, except for where they were absent to make space for two flanking staircases, bending slightly as they led up to a second floor landing, the steps wood and marble in construction but covered in fine deep-red rugs. The wooden railings were carved with flowing lines, each curling into a flourishing coil at their ends.

Hanging above the central space was a great chandelier, dozens of large candles burning in small glass bulbs that were vaguely shaped like closed flowers, diffusing the light and amplifying it a little.

Looking to the left, Samson saw an entry hall lined with suits of armour with pikes or halberds or other pole arms in salute, separated from the main foyer with a set of double doors embellished with metallic reliefs, discs of silver set into the upper centres of each bearing the crest of House Mroczna, what appeared to be a darkened moon enclosed by a set of wings, too indistinct to make out whether they were supposed to be feathered or leathery, set upon a wreath that appeared to be made from a rose bush, thorns radiating outwards.

At the end of this atrium were the great doors visible from the outside, marking that place as the gatehouse.

To the left, there was an entryway of sorts to another area, guarded by two more sets of armour, these ones instead holding teardrop-shaped shields, their gauntlets resting on their top edges, their tips planted by their armoured feet. The shields bore the same crest as the doors.

Past them was some sort of lounge area, a few bookcases lining the walls and filled with old books that looked a little dusty, but the space itself appeared quite well kept, a long, curved and ornate couch with red velvet cushioning prominently displayed, whilst a pair of plush, maroon leather chairs were opposite it, a mahogany table set between them atop another red rug, with another vase of wilted flowers centred on it, with empty wine glasses left on its glossy top. A single curving staircase on the left connected the lounge space with the upper floor, ringing it and guarded by simply decorated wooden railings with twisting iron spokes.

There was a smaller set of double doors just beyond, closed and letting the intruders see no further. But above them, they could see the second floor in both sections, warded from the open space with those railings, a number of those rectangular doors lining the walls.

There were lanterns and candle sconces everywhere, providing quite significant lighting, making the place seem grand indeed.

Even Samson had to let out a quiet whistle of appreciation.

"Damn... this place is nice," he remarked.

"Maybe we should steal the place itself," Amelie quipped, looking around with glittering eyes. "I could get used to living here."

"It's nice, but too spacious for me," Oleg said.

"It smells funny," Jasmine said, her look of awe replaced with a confused scrunching of her nose.

The rest paused to sniff the air, but all they could scent was a flowery perfume, and nothing particularly strong, and certainly not from the wilted flowers in the vases around the place.

"I don't smell anything weird," Samson said.

Jasmine sniffed a few times, and her face looked mildly confused.

"Are you sure you smell nothing?" she asked.

The others shook their head.

"What do you smell then?" Amelie inquired.

"I'm not sure... can't describe it really," Jasmine unhelpfully admitted. "It's like blood. But not."

Blood. Samson didn't particularly want to hear that, the darker rumours he'd heard bubbling up in his mind.

Amelie sniffed in annoyance.

"Oh that's very explanatory," she muttered.

"Let's not start shedding our own blood here," Oleg intervened. "Let's just find that treasure, if we can. Or find out if anyone's here."

"The candles are lit, the place is clean, someone lives here," Samson growled, before stopping and sighing, trying to suppress his hostility. "Let's just get moving before we're caught. I don't like this place."

"Yes... I'm with you there," Jasmine agreed, her previous awe of the place turning to apprehension, which only made Samson more anxious.

"Where to, then?" Amelie asked, sounding a little impatient.

"Let's check the upper floors," Oleg suggested.

Without anything else to consider, they all nodded and began to make their way to the nearest staircase, creeping up it slowly. Once they were over the luxury of the space, they were now quite alert, listening for the slightest sound not of their own making, looking for even a glimpse of another inhabitant.

Still, it confused Samson; it was evening when they entered, the sun only just setting below the mountains, and a place this well kept should've at least had someone about at that time of day.

They'd not seen a soul.

Maybe the masters and their servants were out for some purpose? Wouldn't they want to return soon, with it starting to snow?

Or maybe it really was inhabited by the souls of the dead...

The thought made Samson shiver.

At the top of the staircase, they were able to see over into the lounge area, the space only partially divided by a pair of archways spanning from the far walls to a central point, wide enough for a single portrait.

It was a woman in a conservative white dress, tall, matronly looking, but her face was obscured behind a dark veil hanging from a short-brimmed hat. Her hands were held in front of her midsection, covered by black leather gloves. Situated around her, but seemingly obscured in shadow were three other figures, shorter than her, their cloaked, veiled heads only reaching just below the central woman's chest, the only real notable detail being necklaces bearing the crest of House Mroczna. The crest was also pinned on the woman's dress, just below and to the side of her bust, which from the portrait appeared quite generously endowed, her cleavage partially visible in the otherwise quite conservative dress.

"Who do you think this is?" Oleg remarked, peering up and down the painting, its frame quite ornate and brassy in appearance. "There's no names."

"They have the crest of House Mroczna," Samson said. "Maybe they were important figures long ago?"

"I don't like this painting," Jasmine said. "It bothers me."

Samson didn't know why Jasmine had gotten so cryptic this 'quest', but it really unnerved him. They tore their gaze away from the painting and looked around some more.

On either end of the entire space were doors, the ones towards the entrance looking more like the ones at the storeroom and stone passage, probably leading into a guardhouse, whilst the ones at the end of the lounge space were those rich, glossy wooden doors they saw throughout most of the interior space.

They moved through the upper archways so they were in the space with the lounge. The ceiling in this part was slightly domed, painted with bright colours and what looked like curling vines from the corners reaching to the centre, where another, if smaller, chandelier hung. The white of the ceiling and its slight dome shape helped amplify the light, and fill the space with illumination more thoroughly, quite important for the small lounge area.

The balcony on the left side opened up into that curved staircase, but it ringed the lower floor with doors leading off to different wings.

They followed along the right side, looking down at the lounge below, scanning for danger that so far seemed nonexistent.

They reached the other side of the upper floor, and then went to the left side of the room, following Jasmine's lead.

"What is it?" Samson queried.

"This door," she muttered. "It is different."

Sure enough, the knob on the door had a strange cutout on it, diamond in shape with the corners of the cutout seemingly given colour coordination; going clockwise from the top, it was red, blue, yellow and green, represented with inset polished glass, bevelled to have a slight diamond shape themselves, but not complete.

Jasmine grabbed the knob and tried to turn it, but it barely moved.

"Locked," she said. "And looking as though it needs a special key."

That piqued everyone's interests, especially Amelie's.

"A special lock? Requiring a special key? Sounds like legendary treasure to me," she remarked.

"Yeah, but where are we going to get the key?" Samson said. "I could try opening it without one, but... I don't know, this mechanism barely looks like a mechanism from this angle, I don't know how it works just from looking at it."

"You might solve it in the same time it'd take to find the key. If the key even exists anymore," Amelie asserted. "Because roaming an entire castle to find one key is not my idea of treasure hunting."

"We could bust the door down," Jasmine suggested. "But I'd rather not leave too much evidence we were here."

Samson frowned, and started carefully rapping his knuckles against the wood, tapping in different spots. His frown deepened and he sighed.

"We could try, but I think whoever made this door anticipated that sort of scenario. I think it's been reinforced. Same with the frame; it's subtle, but looks like they've concealed some strengthening around the door."

Sure enough, following Samson's pointing finger, the frame around the door appeared thicker compared to the other doors they'd seen, and the sound from when he was tapping his knuckles seemed to suggest an even sturdier material within the door.

He couldn't see the hinges, but if the owners were as thorough as he believed with the design of this door, then Samson was confident they were reinforced too.

Breaking the door down would be hard. Harder than what they might have been able to achieve in any timely or stealthy manner.

"We can't go looking for some stupid key," Amelie growled.

"Well Samson's never been wrong about his locks or doors," Oleg conceded.

"Perhaps we should at least look around," Jasmine ventured. "Maybe we'll find some other way. And maybe the treasure isn't even behind this door. But I have to agree with Samson, I don't think I could break it open. If we had all the time and privacy in the world, sure, but I don't think we do. I feel... uneasy."

"Since when were you all 'sixth sense', Jasmine?" Oleg quipped. "It's making me uneasy."

Amelie simply grumbled. Normally she was right, there was no point to finding the keys to locks or trying to solve silly puzzles just to get at some loot. With tools and time and no one to care, nothing could be concealed behind lock or puzzle forever. That was half of Samson's job, to force open locks and doors that they couldn't just break. It was faster, easier and often safer.

But the longer they stayed, the more anxiety crept into Samson's heart.

"Let's just search the place, at least to make sure there's no one here," Samson said.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Oleg said, always one to go with the flow.

"We should be quick about it," Jasmine insisted. Samson didn't like how nervous she was getting, normally she was always rather 'in the moment' and calm.

Amelie huffed again.

"Fine," she grumbled.

Samson took the lead this time, going down the stairs in the lounge area and passing the bookshelves to head to the closed double doors. Looking left and right, he saw two more rectangular doors like they'd seen elsewhere nestled into the corners, likely going off into different wings.

He fiddled with the knobs of the two doors, and found they were unlock. He opened carefully, ever worried he was going to stumble upon someone.

Peeking inside, he discovered a dining hall. More spacious than the rooms before, but not quite as expansive as some of the extravagant dining and dancing halls he'd seen in his time.

Its ceiling wasn't quite as vaulted, though it was rounded, a rectangular concave shape with arches coming to points from which Chandeliers hung, though this time all the lights were out, leaving the only light to come from multiple windows, most of them along the other half of the rectangular room, positioned on the far side from the doors they were at, another set of double doors again at the far end of the room.

The walls were made of the same stone bricks they'd seen in that passageway, and on the outside, though here they were smoothed and polished, mingling with wooden supports creating an orderly contrast.

Red and white satin curtains were pulled open around the windows, allowing pale light to shine in from the outside, dim and limited, the last violet touch of twilight.

In the middle of the room, with an end towards each of the double doors, was a hardwood dining table with a red cloth running end to end, its supports intricately carved with flowing shapes. Wooden chairs with grey cushions were tucked in beneath the table, but overall there was only enough seating for about a dozen people, five on each side and one at each end. Decorative vases atop marble pedestals were spaced between the windows, and given the same spacing where the windows were not, large tapestries depicting various scenes of knights on horseback and lords and ladies bestowing gifts to their loyal subjects, as well as rich farmland with serfs tending the fields contently, and one that looked suspiciously like Castle Mroczna and the village of Dolina Mroku in a less gloomy light.

Through the windows out the far end, Samson could see into a courtyard, but he wasn't interested in going outside; he could see snowflakes starting to flit past the windows.

He looked left and right, and again saw doors, these ones rounded off at the tops like the ones near the storeroom, suggesting they were for utilitarian purposes; passages for the servants to use, perhaps.

The one to the left was ajar, so he crept through the doors, glancing towards the shadows in the dimly lit room, his compatriots following close by.

It was a short passage past the door, not unlike the first one they saw, but cleaner and a little more decorated. It led to what appeared to be a kitchen, filled with various fresh foodstuffs, a central table ominously set with the fresh head of a pig, whilst around the room were sinks and stoves and cupboards and shelves with more goods and utensils, the kitchen fully stocked. A set of simpler wooden doors led outside, with two windows on either side fitted with simple wooden shutters, letting in the same kind of diffuse grey-violet light.

The pig's head was starting to unsettle Samson, so he ducked out of the kitchen.

He checked further along the passage outside, spotting a simpler, less ornate door, but rectangular like the others within the main area, set into the wall. It was unlocked, and inching it open, he found himself looking into a connecting hallway not unlike that first one they encountered, probably running parallel with the servant's passage.

He pulled back again and checked a door at the far end of the passage they were in. Locked.

He grumbled and motioned for his comrades to turn back, returning to the lounge area, hoping to check the opposite direction.

No one suggested splitting up at any point. That was never a smart idea, no matter how much ground it might've covered. Even without the threat of discovery from those that might've seen the merry band as trespassers, a lot of the places they explored were old, decayed, long abandoned. The hazards were numerous, and sticking together carefully was better than splitting up, as you'd always have someone with you if things went wrong.

Going to the door on the right of the lounge space, Samson noted that the knob was turning with some difficulty, grinding a little until it gave. It took more effort to open it, and he saw why; it was another of those 'ornate' passages, but this one looked like it hadn't seen any traffic in more years than the storeroom, the rug tattered and the wood flaking and degraded, candle sconces and lanterns fallen on the floor. Cobwebs spanned the hallway, and the dust was so thick Samson let out a cough.

He groaned and pulled back, closing the door.

"We'll leave that way for later," he wheezed, at which point Amelie threw up her hands and groaned.

"We'll be here forever if we keep following you around, going around in circles," she growled. "And I'm starting to get tired looking over my shoulder and watching our backs. We need to get through that locked door more than anything."

Samson wanted to keep looking, but the longer they stayed here, the more they risked... something. He didn't know what, but the anxiety was getting to them. But with all of them unwilling to split up, whatever course of action they took would see them taking their time.

Samson also knew Amelie. She was an impatient sort, she liked to be making progress, and she knew value when she saw it, an apprentice to an appraiser before she started treasure hunting with the group, and taking notes from appraisers they went to with loot they had found.

She also had good senses, so she was always alert, but if they weren't making any sort of progress, she tended to get frustrated.

Samson decided to be diplomatic, and let out a sigh.

"We'll go check the door again, see if I can figure out a quick way to force the lock or the door itself," he conceded. "But we can't stay forever."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, there's someone here. So let's be quick about it," she shot back.

Samson grit his teeth to hold his tongue back; there'd been anxiety on a treasure hunt before, but nothing like this. Everyone's nerves were starting to get frayed over the potential of being caught, coupled with the complete absence of life yet the evidence of recent habitation.

And that meant they were getting snappy.

Samson led them back up to the strange door, and crouched by it to take a closer look at the knob, trying to work out its mechanism.

He took off his gloves and ran a fingertip across the exposed surfaces in the diamond-shaped cutout.

"Hmm," he murmured, thinking he found something, feeling more slowly and looking closely.

"What?" Jasmine inquired.

"I think... I feel part of the mechanism," he ventured, the sensation of minute grooves precisely cut into the metal of the knob just barely felt under his fingertip.

He pulled his hand back, and put his glove back on; he could feel a chill starting to creep inside, so he wanted to have steady hands for his work.

"I'll try to see if I can force or trick the mechanism, but we might be here a while," he said, starting to take his pack off so he could get his tools.

Wicked feminine laughter suddenly filled the room. It was disembodied, and akin to evil giggling.

Everyone started whipping their heads around in panic, trying to work out where it was coming from.

"What the fuck?" Oleg cursed.

Jasmine looked even more distressed than before, muttering a few terrified curses in her language.

Suddenly, the four were beset by swirling clouds of black smoke. They let out screams, they tried to swing in defiance.

Samson heard Amelie let out a bloodthirsty roar as she loosed a torrent of threats at the assailing smoke.

But whatever it was, it couldn't be so easily fought, Samson unable to see.

Then he found himself being flung over the railing, fortunately onto the top of the steps that led down into the lounge area.

He heard Jasmine shout "Run!"

And that's what he did.

He didn't even have time to consider he'd just abandoned his friends, Samson's body was filled with terror and adrenaline as he pounded down the steps, away from the smoke.

At first he thought about running the way they came, pounding across the floor to the door between the foyer and the hallway, and the servant's passage beyond that to the storeroom... but loud, echoing footsteps against the marble floor coming from somewhere ahead, around the gatehouse, put an end to that plan.