Fourth Vector Ch. 30

He had to kill four of them before stumbling on this man, the real killer of George. Now that he had the man that did it, he just needed the name of the man who paid him.

It was a man he supposed was very close to the imperial court indeed. One who would have a grudge against George for previous slights.

Charles' thoughts were interrupted by the resumed sounds of screaming. While he'd been thinking, the torturer had put his knife to work, using the serrated edge to chop off the assassin's manhood. His shaft and testicles fell to the floor in short order, making a dull sound as they hit the stone. From there, the torturer grabbed the destroyed shaft and tried to feed it to the prisoner.

It was one bridge too far. The complete devastation of his manhood combined with the act of force feeding ensured the prisoner had had enough. He whimpered and screamed after spitting out the remains of his cock.

"It was Bancroft!" he yelled as blood poured from his mouth. "Bancroft paid me, Bancroft paid me!"

Charles held up his hand to stop the torturer. He walked closer to the assassin and stopped just in front of him, nearly stepping on his discarded testicle in the process. "Did I hear you right? Did you just say Admiral Bancroft paid you to kill the crown prince?"

"It was Bancroft," muttered the delirious assassin. "He paid me. He needed the prince removed. Gold coins, untraceable. Please kill me."

So the fleet admiral was that bold. He believed he was untouchable enough to kill off a Javan crown prince without suffering any consequences. To that point, he thought he could disguise his role in the matter by hiring an assassin to do the dirty work.

Neither of those points were surprising to Charles. After all, it seemed to fit Bancroft's persona. It was his subtle way of removing a rival without getting his hands dirty. If only he'd picked a better assassin, he might have gotten away with it.

"Bancroft it is then," muttered Charles as he turned to look at the torturer. "Go ahead and kill him. Put him out of his misery."

The torturer shrugged. He grabbed another knife, this one much sharper than the serrated one he used before. It didn't take him long to locate the assassin's heart and he plunged it in deeply before giving his wrist a noticeable twist.

The assassin's screaming ended abruptly as his body sagged into the chair. Blood dripped off of his fingers and the bloody mess where his cock used to be. At once, the torturer set about releasing his body. Charles had no doubt that before the sun could rise again, he would be buried in a shallow grave outside the city.

For now though, he couldn't care less about the assassin. He had his man—the one that would face the ultimate consequences for his actions. Bancroft was already being followed to keep track of his movements, and now Charles would finally get his chance to move against him.

Bancroft should have known better after what happened to Admiral Henrik.

There was no room for traitors or plotters in the Javan Empire.

*****

Across the ocean, Bill Calland stood on the balcony of his manor and looked out across the city of Kalmar. It was already hot today, the result of it being midsummer, and sweat was starting to form on his upper forehead. The days were getting longer, and he couldn't stomach the heat for very long without needing to retreat to the coolness of the manor.

Even still, he never missed a chance to be out on the balcony. After all, it was the only amount of fresh air he was permitted. His eyes drifted toward the lower entrance of the building, the door being guarded by two of Eric Rosdahl's men. Being under house arrest meant he couldn't pass through that door, or any other door, for any reason. The balcony was his only key to being outside, at least for the time being.

Another reason why he wanted to be outside was because of the feeling in his chest. It was an odd feeling, one that had grown in intensity throughout the last week until yesterday when it pulsed with excitement. Bill wasn't the only one that felt it either—his entire household noticed the same pressure in their chest and had been buzzing about it all day. Several of the servants had been scared about what it meant.

Bill was excited about the feeling because he was no fool. The fact that all of them felt it equally could only mean one thing—they were feeling the effect of the bond between the Galician people and their king. He was quite sure of the matter, having read about it over the years including numerous descriptions of the sensation and its location within the body. Despite the fact that no Galician currently alive had felt the bond in any recent time, Bill was sure that's what he felt right now.

That fact was both surprising and shocking at the same time. For centuries, the Galician people believed that the heir to the throne was dead, their family line coming to ruin. Bill was under the impression that it broke the Galician people to know that their sovereign was never coming back, and it was a lingering cause that explained the poor state of affairs they were currently in.

But this revelation about the bond was shocking. He was quite sure that throughout the city, many others were having the same realization about this feeling in their chest.

Somewhere in the city of Kalmar, the Galician king was alive.

With the heir being alive, every plan that Bill Calland ever had was turned on its head. For so long, he'd been consumed with getting in touch with Katherine Rosdahl about retaking her place with the country's regency. With the king being alive, was that even necessary now? Did they still need a regent if the king was alive?

There were too many questions that didn't have answers. What Bill needed more than anything was a way to find the king. He needed to assess the situation because he was sure if he knew about the king being in the city, then certainly there was a plot involving Eric Rosdahl. Rosdahl would never allow anything or anyone to threaten his power, which meant the king was in mortal danger.

Bill had to know more but he was still confined to the manor as part of his house arrest. He needed the aid of someone who could go beyond his walls.

That's where his servant came into place.

Bill turned back inside when the servant entered the main room. He shut the door to the balcony, not wanting any word that he was about to say to leak down to the guards below.

"Peter, come quickly," said Bill to the young lad now in front of him. Peter was his only link with the outside world. The only one that was allowed to leave the Calland manor for any reason. Usually that would be for errands or any last minute groceries. Today, Peter would receive a bigger task.

"I'm not going to mince words since we don't have a lot of time," said Bill as he looked at the young man. "But I know you feel the same stirring in your breast as I do right now. As we all do."

Peter touched his chest for good measure. "The bond."

"The bond," confirmed Bill. "The situation has changed. I firmly believe the Galician king is in this city, and if that's the case, he's in mortal danger. You are my only conduit to the outside and so I need you to be the one that finds him."

"Find him?" asked Peter. "How am I to do that?"

Bill patted his own chest. "Trust the bond. Use it to gauge how close he is. I also imagine that him being in the city would put him close to the regent. Start near the castle and let it be your guide."

"And if I find him? What do you want me to tell him?"

This was where Bill stumbled. What exactly could he tell the Galician king? That help was on the way? He could almost laugh at such a notion that an old man under house arrest could do anything for him. So what exactly was his plan?

"I'm still working my way through that one," said Bill. "But first, I need to know his identity and his whereabouts. If you can get me a lock on where he is, we just might be able to pull a fast one on Eric Rosdahl."

Peter nodded before his eyes went wide. "And what am I to do if I'm questioned? What if I find him and I get caught? What then?"

"If you get caught by Eric Rosdahl's men, then you are not to link yourself back to this household," said Bill firmly. "I'm sorry, Peter, but it has to be that way. If you get stopped, you will tell them I've released you from my service and that you've simply gotten lost. From there, you're on your own, but you cannot come back here. If you fail to return, I will understand what happened, but this is the only way we can work this without risking the wrath of the regent."

"I understand," said Peter bravely. "I will do my best to locate him."

"I don't mean to put so much on your shoulders," said Bill. "But I believe there's a lot riding on you finding him right now. Speed will be essential. I want you to stop listening to this old man rambling and get moving."

Peter nodded and moved quickly toward the door without a further word.

Good lad, thought Bill, knowing he picked the right man for the job. Any other man in his household might have stumbled at the enormity of the task in front of them. Peter was as steady as they came. Below him, he heard the sound of the front door opening. The guards would make sure that it was only Peter on his way out. Bill moved to one of the windows and watched as the servant made his way onto the street, his path set for the main castle.

It's in Peter's hands now, thought Bill as he watched from afar.May the gods help him.

*****

In the center of the city, deep within the primordial mountain that formed the heart of Kalmar, Jack found himself once again trying to figure out how to escape his imprisonment. Despite not having shackles on his hands, it didn't aid his predicament whatsoever. The iron bars that separated him from the rest of the prison were thick and unyielding. Unlike the prison on Naxos, Jack couldn't see where the counterweight was connected to the opposite side, ensuring that he wasn't able to see how it worked.

Without the door, escape from the cell would be all but impossible. The prison was surrounded by hard limestone that prevented any thoughts of finding a second way out. Jack thought he could dig at the limestone for years before he could potentially chip a small enough crevice to escape, but he didn't have years.

By all accounts, he would be executed in the morning.

At least, that was what Rosdahl's guard told him earlier that day after delivering a last meal. The regent had made up his mind and even now, word was going throughout the city for a wide attendance to an event that Rosdahl promised would be quite the spectacle.

Despite knowing he could be living his last twenty-four hours, Jack didn't give up hope. Too many lives were riding on his shoulders to allow himself to give in to defeat. He wasn't willing to concede the thought of never seeing Kat or Abigail again. Of never hugging his sisters again. Of never getting a chance to complete his destiny.

He was supposed to be leading the Galicians. And now he was about to be executed by them in their own capital city.

That wasn't to say that there weren't murmurs amongst the people about his imprisonment, especially in regards to the bond. Since this prison still opened up on one side to the public, Jack had heard the guards turning away those who came to investigate further, no doubt feeling the pulsing sensation of the bond in their breast.

After a short while, most of those people had been turned away by the guards in an effort to control the situation. That morning, no one had reached his cell to put eyes on his body, and Jack assumed that none of them would get any further.

That's why he was surprised when a small, hooded visitor managed to sneak up next to his cell and get his attention.

"Who are you?" asked Jack, looking over at the man once he lowered his hood. He was Galician in appearance but his clothes indicated that he was most likely a commoner. The man cupped his chest and looked Jack in the eyes.

"So it really is true," whispered the newcomer. "You really are the king."

"As good as that does me in here," said Jack quietly, so as not to attract attention from the guards. "Now, I'm going to ask you again. Who are you?"

The man shuffled closer to the bars. "My name is Peter," he said in a low, soft voice. "I work for the master of Hemswell Manor, the lord Bill Calland."

"Calland, you said?" repeated Jack. "Bill Calland? As in the father of Will Calland?"

Peter's eyes went wide. "You know young Will?"

"Of course, I met him in Picardy," said Jack. "Him and his woman, Lindsay."

"Are they well?" asked Peter. "Bill has been worried about his son and they've had no word of them. Are they in good spirits?"

Jack shrugged. "I can't say for certain. It's been some time since I last saw them. I've been imprisoned for more than two months now. The last time I saw them, they were well."

"I suppose we'll have to pray to the gods that they are still well then," said Peter before turning his attention back to the iron bars in front of him.

"So what does Bill Calland want with me?" asked Jack. "If my memory serves, he wanted Will to find . . . another person of interest." Jack chose his words wisely, knowing that any mention of Kat's name could bring down the wrath of her cousin.

Peter nodded. "You are correct, and that was the whole reason for the mission. However, in the interim, Bill Calland was caught by Eric Rosdahl and put under house arrest for it. I'm afraid he won't be able to leave his manor any time soon."

"At least he's still alive," said Jack.

"For now," said Peter. "Those under house arrest typically don't have long lifespans."

"This extra time seems to be aiding that statement, Peter. If you're caught here, you could potentially shorten your master's lifespan as well."

Peter nodded. "A risk that was well worth taking. The entire city is buzzing about the occupant in this cell. Now that I'm here and can feel the bond for myself, I know why."

"You haven't been my first visitor," said Jack. "But I'm sure you'll be my last. I'm still not sure how you got in here but the guards have been turning people away in droves. They will catch on soon enough if they haven't by now."

"Careful movements and quick feet," said Peter with a hint of pride in his voice. "That's how I got in here. Being a servant, you're used to having to learn how to move without being seen. I've just put those talents to good use."

"I'm sure that would come in handy sometimes," said Jack before he shifted his weight to his other foot. "But you still haven't told me why you're here."

"I could ask you the same question," said Peter.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you're a servant? You don't speak like one."

"I speak like a man who knows time is of the essence," replied Peter. "There will be a time for pomp and appearances, but right now, I need to know how the Galician king managed to get himself imprisoned in Kalmar. Especially when the entire country believed that you and your family were dead."

"That's a long story, Peter. I doubt we have time to go over all of it."

"Give me the quick version of it then."

Jack almost snorted. "Even the short version could take an hour. But here goes nothing. Most Galicians think my family's line ended two hundred years ago. It didn't. We survived hiding out in the remotest regions of Galicia where the bond couldn't be felt. The only ones that figured it out were the regents, and after getting used to their new power, they tried to end the line permanently in order to secure the rulership of the country."

Peter nodded. "Sounds like something the Rosdahl family would do."

Jack didn't answer that directly, remembering something his grandmother told him in the past year.

"In any event, I'm the heir to the throne although I was sent across the ocean and raised in the Javan Empire, under whose flag I sail today."

"Javan Empire, interesting indeed," said Peter. "So how did you get captured?"

"By the Swabians," said Jack. "On Picardy. They took me first to Naxos and then to Dagobern where I was exchanged by Eric Rosdahl in order to allow the Swabians to attack Apulia and Samara."

Peter's eyes went wide. "You were traded away for permission to attack two countries?"

Jack nodded. "Rosdahl intends to execute me to consolidate power. It's the only way he can be secure on the throne without any additional threats. His alliance with the Swabians will allow them to conquer more than half of the West and put them under Swabian hegemony. In exchange for betraying all his former allies, Eric Rosdahl gets to live in the only territory that doesn't recognize Swabian authority."

"That fool will let those monsters carve up the entire West," muttered Peter.

"Unless we can stop him," said Jack. "Now I can't get out of this prison myself, and I don't have much time left. Are you here to help me? Can you get me out of here?"

"I don't believe Bill Calland will leave you to your fate here," said Peter. "If something can be done, I'm sure he'll do it but he might need some time."

"I don't have any time, that's the point," said Jack. "We have less than twenty-four hours before they take my head from my shoulders. So if you're going to do something, you're going to have to do it fast."

"I'm just a servant, I can't make a move without getting my master's approval but I'll get back as quickly as I can to let him know."

"Listen to me, Peter," said Jack as he grabbed the man through the bars. "We don't have that much time. If you get questioned on the way out of here or stopped before you can get to Bill, this will have all been for naught. If he can't get out from house arrest, this will have all been for naught. If we don't move quickly, all of this—the hopes and aspirations of freedom-loving people everywhere—will have all been for naught."

"Then let me get moving," said Peter. "As soon as I can let him know, he can start working on getting you out of here."

Peter shimmied out of Jack's grasp and raised his hood one more time, much to Jack's exasperation. He tried to remind himself that there was little this man could do to get him out of the prison and past the guards but knowing he was on a short time frame didn't lessen the anxiety.

Would Bill Calland really try to help him? Was he even in a position where he could help him?

Unfortunately, Peter left after raising more questions than he answered. Jack could only rest his head against the bars in frustration. Despite the letdown, he hoped that Peter would be able to make it back to Bill Calland without being stopped. It was the only chance that he had to avoid his own execution.

After Peter had left, Jack started to question why the older Calland was going through so much trouble and turmoil to find first Kat and then himself. What was in it for him? By Kat's own words, he'd been the deciding vote to throw her out of the regency and put Eric in her place. Was this his form of atonement for the misdeeds of the past?

Unfortunately, as the day turned into night, Jack's hopes of a quick rescue proved to be misplaced. There remained no further visitors, nor any sight of Peter. The guards sneered at him when they brought him some water just after sundown, and Jack had to wonder if Peter had been caught in the act. If that was the case, what would happen with Bill?

Jack went to sleep that evening with a troubled conscience. Part of him worried if tomorrow would really be the day.

After everything I've worked toward, has it all been for nothing? Is Eric Rosdahl going to really come out on top in the morning?

The thoughts were on his mind throughout the entire night, ensuring that it remained restless.

*****