Defiant Fate, Ch. 3: Dead of the Night

CHAPTER 3
DEAD OF THE NIGHT

One always readies oneself for the unknown,
but rarely do these unknowns come to pass,
as those for which you are most prepared
are the least likely to actually hurt you.

As Jake and Strell made their way through the commercial section of Monz, Vincent's mansion slowly came into view. It was noticeably larger than any other building surrounding it, and had a fair distance between it and any other building near it. The space was filled mostly with the lavish garden to which Vincent's personal gardener tended so delicately. Vincent never actually spent much time at all in the garden, but he had it preened to perfection nonetheless essentially simply so he could show it off to the townsfolk, to gain their respect and admiration. It did not have as much of the intended effect as Vincent had hoped, but few had the knowledge available with regards to whether or not Vincent was aware of this fact. Logic dictated that he was likely not, given how strongly he persisted with the upkeep of the garden.

Jake and Strell peered around a corner and eyed the front face of the mansion. Jake turned to Strell and lightly whispered.

"There it is."

"Yeah."

"What do we do now?"

"I was hoping you knew."

"Me? I'm just the one tagging along for the ride; it's your job."

"We'll figure something out."

The two slipped down the street along the side of the mansion and stopped as the back of the mansion came into view. They tiptoed closer to the back of the mansion, looking nervously over their shoulders and down alleyways in search of someone who might be watching their moves.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," said Strell under his breath.

"Too late to think about it now," replied Jake.

Hunched over to make their bodies lower than what is visible through the windows of the mansion, the two scurried quickly along the back wall of the mansion in search of potential entry points. All of the windows that they had seen so far were shut and locked, and they could see no other possible methods of entering the mansion. Strell was beginning to come to terms with the thought that he might have to break a window, and pondered how one might do such a thing while making a minimal amount of noise. He wished he knew where the residents of the mansion slept so he could pick a window on the other side of the house, but he had no idea where anything in the mansion was kept.

Jake and Strell came to the back corner of the house across from where they had arrived. They looked to their left as a precaution before turning to the right around the corner. Strell nervously glanced left and then behind himself before continuing along the wall of the mansion. Immediately after turning the corner, it appeared that his luck would take a sudden change for the better. He eyed the window closest to the corner and saw that it appeared to be ajar, if only slightly. Were it so, the window could be opened and used as an entry into the mansion, and he would be able to avoid breaking a window. As he grew nearer, he found that his eyes had not failed him, as the window was indeed slightly cracked open. He placed his hands on the underside of the window and felt his heartbeat become progressively faster as his hands made contact with the frame of the window. He breathed in quickly and reflexively as he pushed upwards on the window, opening it.

Strell's eyes had reflexively closed upon his action. He left them shut for a few seconds while waiting for the hands of Hell to grab him and take him away. No such event occurred. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find nothing had changed. In front of him was a newly formed entrance into Vincent's mansion. Nearby was Jake, whose appearance was at least as tense as Strell's. Strell looked at Jake, and Jake looked back. Neither said a word, but both understood each other perfectly.

Strell looked into the window for longer than what was perhaps necessary, examining the room into which he was about to go and ensuring that no living entity resided within. Once he was reassured of the stillness of the room, he grasped the bottom of the window with his hands and hoisted himself upwards, pushing his head and upper chest through the window while balancing his right knee on the window ledge. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths before reopening his eyes and thrusting the rest of his body through the window. He quickly looked right and left before helping Jake through the window. Once Jake was inside, and once Strell had softly shut the window behind them, Strell realized that this was it: from this point onward, Vincent would have all the evidence he needed to charge him with burglary. There was no turning back anymore. He sighed nervously upon the realization of this fact and then looked around the room more slowly than before to survey the duo's surroundings.

The room appeared to be one crafted for work-related matters. Against the left wall there lay a table with an oil lamp placed on it. Many papers were scattered on the table, though the light was too dim to make out essentially any of the lightly penciled text contained on them. Two pencils and an eraser lay on the lower-right corner of the table, indicating that this room's owner was probably right-handed. A chair rested on an angle in front of the chair, as if simply left to sit by the last person who had inhabited the space. Across from the table, on the right wall, there lay three large bookshelves, each filled with books. As the moonlight reflected off of those with shiny lettering along their spine, Strell identified some books on law, some on economics – he theorized that, because of this, this room was likely not one in which Vincent worked – and various others, all on a certain non-fiction topic. The rest of the space was very sparsely populated: no carpeting had been put into place, and the wallpaper was simply plain white. No other furniture had been installed.

Strell and Jake walked as silently as they could to the only door in the room. Strell braced himself against it and very slowly turned the knob. Once the knob was as far as it was going to go, he pushed against the door. It creaked very slightly for a moment while opening. He winced and closed his eyes, fearing that someone somewhere in the house had heard the noise and would arrive at any moment to investigate, finding the two boys robbing the house. But it was not to be. He waited for longer than ten minutes, finding nary a sound in the house for the entire duration. Satisfied with his temporary safety, he finished opening the door and peered out into the hallway outside of the room.

Strell first looked left, finding a sparsely populated hallway with a simple carpet covering roughly two-thirds of the width of the wooden floor, a few unlit hall lamps, and two doorways: one to the left, roughly two-thirds of the way down the hall, and one to the right, at the far end of the hallway. He then looked straight, finding an ornate stairwell leading to the second floor. He finally looked right, finding nothing but a wall with a sole window in it. He had not quite completed his survey of the duo's surroundings when Jake began to whisper to him.

"Where on earth should we start, Strell?" asked Jake in as hushed a voice as he could maintain while still making any sound at all. "This behemoth of a mansion didn't look nearly as large on the outside."

"I'd say the best thing to start with is to try and figure out where the sleeping quarters are in this place. It would... not be beneficial, to say the least, to enter a room and find the Baron there, and then have him wake up and see us."

Jake nodded silently. Strell imagined that he had placed all too vivid a picture into Jake's already cowardly mind, but he knew that he could not take his words back at this late stage. He tried to change the subject to something more hopeful.

"Let's start with that room over there," whispered Strell, pointing towards the first room down the hallway. He put a finger to his lips as he looked at Jake, indicating to Jake to be as dead silent as one possibly can be, before slowly beginning to walk in the direction of the door. He could feel in his chest his heart beating in anticipation of whatever it is that could go wrong when one attempts to infiltrate the mansion of Baron Vincent Strauser, the man most known for his brutal treatment of criminals – which Strell and Jake were very quickly becoming.

Strell very cautiously walked up to the door with Jake in close pursuit. He slowly edged up against the door and pressed his ear against it, in an attempt to detect any movement or sounds from within the door that would indicate that it was already inhabited by someone whom neither of the two particularly wanted to disturb. After the two waited in silence for an agonizingly long period of time, he nodded his head to convey the thought that he did not feel that there was anyone in the room. He swallowed inaudibly as he reached towards the doorknob. He gently turned it until it stopped, and then he pressed against it, opening the door, until the room came into view.

Strell's eyes quickly darted around the room while on the watch to distinguish any living entities from inanimate ones. Nothing looked back save for the endless shadow in the house. After becoming sufficiently satisfied that no such entity existed in this particular room, his eyes began to slow down, enabling him to determine the nature of the room. This room was more decorated than the one Strell and Jake used as an entrance into the mansion. On the floor was an oval carpet, and on the walls was floral wallpaper. There was a chest of drawers against the back wall, and to the right of the door was a stately desk whose surface was completely clean of all paper, writing implements, or objects of any kind, save for a lamp on the left edge of the desk. He hoped that the remaining items were in the desk drawers, and that it was not the case that Vincent was keeping such an expensive desk purely to have it look good. A chair was pushed neatly into the table, in stark contrast to the chair that had simply been left to sit in the other room the two had been in. This room, he theorized, was most certainly one Vincent used, a theory that he formulated mainly in response to the fact that the room appeared more elegant than practical.

"You check the drawers at the back," whispered Strell to Jake. "I'll have a look through the desk."

"What are we looking for, exactly?" asked Jake.

"Anything that looks valuable, basically."

"How do I know if something's valuable?"

"Just look at it and make a judgment. It's not that hard."

"Well, okay."

"Be sure to close every drawer once you're done looking through it and leave everything as you found it if you don't take something. We don't want to leave a trace behind that's any larger than what is absolutely necessary."

"Okay."

Upon completion of their short discussion, the two split up and went to their assigned locations. Jake began with the lower drawer, but that was all Strell saw before he turned away and sat down on the ground in front of the desk against the right wall of the room. There were six drawers in the desk: three on either side. He was closest to the right side, so he began with the bottom right drawer. As quietly as possible, he slid open the drawer and peered inside.

Inside the bottom-right drawer, Strell could make out two briefcases that roughly spanned the width of the drawer, one on the left, and the other on the right. He opened the left one and peered inside. There were numerous folders inside, all of which contained neatly kept sheets of paper. He flipped through some of the pages, but the light was too dim for him to make out much of the words on the paper. Giving up, he closed the left briefcase and opened the one on the right. Again, there were numerous folders inside, but these folders appeared to contain sheets of a more sturdy material. On closer inspection, he could just barely make out, in the dim veil of moonlight, that there were numerous pictures of people adhered to these sheets. He decided that these two briefcases were probably used by Vincent to keep a record of all of the criminals that Vincent had dealt with in the past. A brief shiver was felt by Strell inside his body as he imagined his and Jake's records appearing in these two briefcases. He could only imagine the fate that had awaited each person who silently stared at him from the lifeless images.

Having not found anything valuable, Strell closed the right briefcase and quietly shut the drawer, moving up to the center-right drawer. The drawer silently glided along its track until it came to a stop, unable to continue outwards any further. He looked into the drawer. This drawer appeared much less organized than the previous one; all sorts of various items were piled in it. Among them were a pocket watch, kitchen utensils, expensive-looking fountain pens, and various other small trinkets. He picked up the pocket watch and held it up to the moonlight that crept through a window in front of the desk. On the back of the watch an engraving, whose text, as far as he could make it out, was the letters "WM." Strell had no idea what this meant, but due to the pocket watch having been engraved, he figured that it might have at least some value. He placed the watch in his pocket and continued his examination of the center-right drawer. He could not find anything else that he figured was valuable, so he closed the drawer and carefully slid open the drawer above it.

The top-right drawer, as Strell immediately pieced together, was where all of the instruments for writing were kept. In it was a large, neatly stacked pile of blank white paper, and numerous pencils and fountain pens to the right of the pile, all neatly organized in rows and columns. He seriously doubted that any of these items would be of any value, and as such, he closed the drawer shortly after opening it and moved to the left side of the desk, sitting back down. Before he could open the bottom-left drawer, Jake's voice sounded from behind him.

"Hey, Strell. Check this out."

Strell turned to face the back wall. Jake was in front of the chest of drawers, with the second-from-bottom drawer slid open. Strell got up and walked over next to Jake. Jake gestured towards the drawer.

"Look at this, Strell."

Inside the drawer was a large stack of what appeared to be paintings, by various artists. The moonlight was not bright enough for Strell to make out much more than the general gist of each painting.

"Why on Earth would Strauser have all these paintings just tucked away in a drawer?" asked Jake.

"I don't know. He always was the eccentric type."

"Some of these might be worth something."

"They're also nothing we'd be able to carry out of here inconspicuously. I think we'd better leave them alone."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Jake slid the drawer shut and Strell walked back to the desk, sitting down in front of the left side of desk drawers. Strell quietly slid open the bottom-left drawer and looked inside. Again, there were two briefcases, just as there were in the bottom-right drawer. Upon investigation of the contents of the briefcases, he concluded that they were for exactly the same purpose as the briefcases in the bottom-right drawer. Finding nothing else of note, he closed the bottom-left drawer and moved up one drawer, sliding open the center-left drawer.

The drawer, upon closer inspection, was very nearly bare. The only item that it contained was a scrap of paper that looked like a note. Strell picked it up and walked over to the window to maximize the moonlight cast on it in an attempt to read it. Jake noticed Strell moving away from the desk.

"Found something?" asked Jake.

"There was a note in a drawer. I'm trying to read it."

As Jake made his way over to Strell's position, Strell finally found an angle that produced enough moonlight to read the note. It read as follows:


Location not safe enough. Moved to my study. Usual spot. –VS


"What does it mean?" asked Jake.

"I don't know. I guess that something used to be here, and Strauser moved it to his room. I'm assuming that that's who 'VS' is – Vincent Strauser."

"Do you think it could be valuable?"

"Do you want to go to his room to find out?"

"Good point."

"I've got one more drawer to check. How are you doing?"

"I'm done, actually. I didn't find anything of note. Besides the paintings, the rest was just filled with junk."

"I wonder what that chest of drawers is for, in that case."

"Got me."

"Well, I'll quickly finish up here, and then we can move on."

"Okay."

Strell returned to the desk and quickly slid open the top-left drawer while Jake waited by the window and watched. As Strell looked into the drawer, he found that it contained what appeared to be reading glasses. Underneath the glasses was a plain scrap of cloth, presumably for cleaning the glasses. Nothing else was in the drawer.

"Anything?" asked Jake.

"Nothing whatsoever, just Strauser's glasses."

"Well, that's it, then. Now what?"

"I guess there's nothing else to find in this room. We should move on."

Strell and Jake slinked back towards the exit of the room. Strell peered out and then quickly retreated back inside, extending his arm in front of Jake to prevent him from going further.

"What is it, Strell?" whispered Jake.

"See for yourself."

Strell gestured with his head out the door. Jake crept up to the door and stuck his head out. Down the hallway, there was a faint light coming from the room at the end. Very quiet clattering could be heard from the room. Jake quickly retreated back into the room. Both his and Strell's pulse rates became highly elevated.

"What is it, Strell? What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Jake. Maybe whoever it is will be gone shortly."

Both Strell and Jake waited intently for what seemed like an eternity, watching the doorway, eyeing it to detect the first signs that someone might be heading in their direction. For hour-long minutes they stood breathless, listening intently to the vague sounds of motion from within the room. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone again. The light in the room was extinguished, and the house fell silent. The pair waited for a long time before Jake, finally coming to the conclusion that all was clear, spoke.

"Now what?" asked Jake, as quietly as he could. "We know the mansion isn't safe now. Should we continue?"

"I don't see what else there is to do. I recommend we not go in that direction, though," said Strell, gesturing towards the room from which the light had come, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yes, I'd say not." Jake didn't pay any attention to the fact that it was intended to be a joke.

"That leaves essentially only one place for us to go, and that's up." Strell pointed towards the stairwell to the second floor as he spoke.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"You got a better idea? We didn't come this far just to leave. It's not like that's an option, anyway... my parents would probably just send me back."

"Strell..."

Strell stayed silent, looking in a downwards direction at nothing in particular.

"I'm sorry," said Jake.

"Let's go, Jake."

"Okay... lead the way, Strell."

Strell watched the room down the hall for a short while longer before carefully continuing up the hall towards the staircase, as softly as he could. As he and Jake slowly made their way down the hallway, the shadows of the mansion glared angrily at them, a sightless gaze which both felt deep within their mind. The mansion seemed altogether too similar to a graveyard, and he feared that it would be all too simple to aid the comparison in becoming even more appropriate than the extent to which it already was. He stopped momentarily when he reached the window on the wall near the room from which the two had entered the mansion. He glanced out the window, having a distinct feeling that someone out there was watching him, regardless of the evident improbability of such an idea. He finally gave up entertaining such a disturbing thought and turned to the left, arriving at the base of the staircase to the second floor of the mansion. Jake was not far behind.

Strell looked up the staircase. It was difficult enough to even detect the presence of the summit, let alone the presence of any dangers that might lie beyond that particular destination. Resigned to his fate and to the chances of there being a moving, living entity waiting for him at the top, Strell ambled up the staircase, becoming increasingly unable to display outward expressions of hope or optimism. Strell doubted that Jake even noticed.

Strell's pace towards the top of the staircase became increasingly slow the closer he reached, so much so that by the time he reached the last three steps, it was necessary to force himself beyond all of his better judgment to continue. As his right foot softly touched ground upon the wood of the second floor, Strell's mind ached with uncertainty and fear. He scanned the surroundings from left to right. The dull moonlight, emanating from a window directly above the one through which he'd looked moments ago, illuminated the scene just enough such that he could see that no living creature was present. He breathed a sigh of relief before continuing to survey his surroundings. The entrance to the second floor was sparsely populated. In the far right corner were two drawers, upon which a potted plant lay. On the far wall in the center, there was a painting. On both the left and the right, sturdy doors could be seen. The ceiling was bare, containing nothing noteworthy whatsoever. Strell eyed the drawers as the only possible point of interest in the entrance to the second floor.

It then occurred to Strell that he had forgotten about Jake. He turned around, and found Jake there, about five steps below him, cautiously eyeing him, waiting for some sort of gesture or indication. Strell nodded. He hoped that Jake would understand what it meant. If one had watched Jake's expression, one would first note that it did not change much. One would then recognize that a large burden of tension had been immediately lifted from Jake's mind, despite the fact that one likely would not be able to explain this recognition.

Jake slowly made his way up the staircase until coming even with Strell's position. Strell gestured towards the drawers that he had seen before.

"That looks like the only possible spot around here," whispered Strell, "that could potentially have something for us."

Jake nodded silently. Strell carefully slinked towards the chest of drawers. After his third step, the ground whined ever so softly as he put his fourth step down, objecting to his presence upon an unsupported section. He winced, closed his eyes, and froze after quickly lifting his foot off the floor. He paused for a second or two before opening his eyes. The mansion remained as still as it was when the pair found it. He shook his head out, massaged his forehead, and exhaled slightly audibly before carefully putting his foot down in another location and continuing towards the drawers. Eventually he reached his destination and crouched down such that the top drawer was in front of his face.

Strell gently slid open the bottom drawer and looked inside. The interior of the drawer appeared plain enough. There were several pads of paper neatly laid next to each other, and various writing implements strewn about on top of them. Nothing sparkled, gleamed, or glimmered in any way that would indicate the presence of anything valuable within the drawer. He shook his head instinctively, as if to simply affirm to himself that whatever he was looking for, it would not be found in this particular drawer. He slid the drawer to a close and curved his fingers around the handle of the upper drawer, dragging it open next.

Strell stood up slightly in order to get a better view of the contents of the upper drawer. The top drawer appeared less orderly than the bottom drawer. There were notebooks scattered in a pile whose nature he could not quite make out, although he did not particularly care to do so, either. Again he shook his head. It appeared to him that he was not going to find anything here, either. He sighed and placed his head in his hands. It was beginning to occur to him that it could very well be the case that Vincent didn't keep anything valuable in his mansion at all, and that his entire search could be in vain. He looked back at Jake, saying nothing. Jake seemed unaware of Strell's feeling of dread and despair as he nervously looked around his surroundings, failing to notice Strell. Strell decided it would be one of the worst decisions possible to discuss his fears with Jake, and instead stood up silently. Jake finally took notice and carefully joined him.

"Did you find anything?" whispered Jake. Strell sighed.

"No. Nothing."

"Oh..." Jake's disappointment was as visible as it could have possibly been on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget about it, Strell."

"Well, let's go. I suppose either door is as likely as the next. Let's start with the right one."

Strell was noticeably losing patience in his anxiety. He walked slowly towards the door on the right of the wall. Suddenly Jake spoke up.

"Wait, Strell."

"What is it?"

As Strell turned around, he saw Jake walking towards the drawers.

"What's this?"

Jake picked up a small scrap of paper that was lying on top of the drawers. Strell blinked. He had been in such a rush, he had not even noticed it there. Jake handed it to Strell. Strell squinted and vaguely recognized something that looked like writing on it. He held it up to the light in an attempt to make out what was written on it.


Don't move any books. Still needs organizing. –VS


"It's... an instruction not to move some books," said Strell, not fully understanding what he had just said.

"Books? What books?" asked Jake.

"There were some notebooks in this drawer, so I guess he probably means those. This looks like a fairly useless note, though."

"Wait. Why would he not want books to be moved?"

"I don't know. I guess it's partly sorted and he would prefer not to have to redo any sorting."

"Did you see anything in there?"

"Just the books."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Jake!" Strell paused and collected himself, brushing his hair back with his left hand. "...I'm sorry. Look, I'll open it."

Strell opened it to find exactly what he had seen before. Strell gestured towards the drawer's contents and shrugged.

"Well, we haven't exactly looked through it. What happened since before? You took a lot longer with the drawers in the lower room."

Strell sighed.

"I'm losing patience, I guess. There may very well be nothing to find, you know."

Strell stopped himself suddenly. He hadn't meant to say that much to Jake. A vague yet noticeable appearance of dread washed over Jake's face. Jake said nothing and turned towards the drawer. He began to listlessly move around the books within the drawer. Strell suddenly felt worse than ever, and began to regret ever coming to the mansion, despite the consequences that would have occurred had he not. Worse still, he worried about Jake, and regretted even more ever bringing Jake along.

"Jake had nothing to do with anything," said Strell to himself, sighing inaudibly. "Why on Earth did I bring him along?" Strell mournfully looked out the window through which the moonlight came that dimly illuminated the room. "He had more of a future than I ever did..."

Strell looked at Jake again. Jake appeared different than how he had looked previous, displaying something closer to shock than the abject despair that had previously been present. Strell motioned towards him.

"Jake?"

Jake turned towards him.

"Strell, look."

"What is it?"

"Look!"

Strell moved forward and looked into the drawer. Thought the moonlight was faint, there in the drawer on the bottom was a small object that reflected some back at the two. It previously had books on top of it. He reached into the drawer, lifted it out, and held it up to the light. It appeared to be a small, ornate key of some sort. In the handle, a tiny jewel was set. It vaguely appeared to possess a reddish hue, and he thought to himself that it was likely a ruby.

"What could it be for?" asked Strell.

"I don't know," replied Jake, with a hint in his voice that he was implying Strell should have known what Jake's answer would be. "It's definitely something, though, isn't it?"

Strell's eyes brightened. It was something – something that Strell had hoped to find for the entire time he had been in the mansion up to this point.

"Yes. Yes, it is." Strell paused, staring at the key. "This – this tells us that there is something to find in this mansion after all. Keys like this aren't made for ordinary purposes."

"But where would we find it? This place is huge!"

"I don't know," answered Strell, "but it's a start."

Strell had a feeling that he knew where the lock for the key would be found, but he decided not to suggest to Jake the location that came to his mind just yet.

"I guess we keep looking then, huh?" asked Jake.

"Nothing else for us to do. Well, let's start where I was going a moment ago. We don't have any better leads."

After putting the key into his pocket, Strell crept up to the door on the right and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He reflexively looked to the side to ensure that no one was around, and then placed his ear against the door. His eyes unconsciously darted from left to right as his mind listened intently for any movement or sounds of any kind from beyond the visual protection of the door. After a few seconds, satisfied with the likelihood that nothing lay directly beyond the door, he cautiously turned the doorknob and opened the door just wide enough for him to attain a view of that which lay behind it. There was a long hallway, with windows on the right that let in enough moonlight to make out the doors on the left. No living soul appeared to be present. Strell let out a sigh of relief as he slowly opened the door fully.

There were exactly three doors lined up on the left, each of which had a corresponding window on the right-hand wall. The moonlight hung in the air as a silent ghostly observer, watching the pair's every move while unable to aid their progression with anything but a slight illumination. A slight chill hung in the air, despite the fact that every window was closed. He instinctively turned to Jake, found nothing amiss, and then turned back to look down the hallway. It was an unexplainable action, an action which one simply does when one is nervous because it seems to be the correct action to do, despite the fact that no obvious justification can be found. From behind, he could hear Jake whispering.

"Which should we go with, Strell? They all look the same to me."

Strell nodded in a silent acknowledgement that he understood what Jake had said and paused for a few moments before turning back to Jake and replying.

"I suppose we could just start with the first one and work our way down. I can't think of any other way of choosing."

"You're probably right."

"Well, let's get started, I suppose."

Strell inched up towards the door closest to them and shifted his body close to it. As he had done twice before, he braced his ear against the door, listening as closely as he could to the sound of motion behind the door. Again he found nothing of note to be heard. He slowly turned the doorknob and cracked the door open, peering inside. The moonlight from the adjacent window slowly illuminated the room, enabling him to gain the gist of what was contained inside. To the left stood a bookcase in the corner, sitting quietly while waiting for the next time its owner chose to make use of it. On the floor there was a marvelously weaved carpet. In the center were two paintings hanging on the wall, neither of whose content he could quite make out. As Strell's eyes slowly made their way to the right side of the room, hel suddenly recoiled in horror. It took all of his strength and willpower to avoid slamming the door shut in a reflexive fervor. He gestured with his right hand first by elevating it and waving it side to side and next by moving it in a vaguely backwards direction in an attempt to tell Jake without making any sound not to come any closer. His expression and emotions could roughly be described as those that one might display one second before a bullet placed itself between one's eyes. With his already sweaty hands, he closed the door as fast as he could without making a noticeable sound.

"Strell, what on earth is it?" asked Jake as quietly as possible. Strell said nothing and merely raised his hand in front of his mouth in a nervous impulsive action. "Strell?"

"Jake," began Strell, realizing that it would be pointless to conceal anything after his display of such acute fear, "there's someone in there. I don't know who. But he's there. Right there. In that room."

"What!? Did he–"

"No. Not yet. He was sleeping, I think. I don't know. He didn't move."

"Strell–"

Strell moved his hand over his face as he collected his thoughts.

"I think we're still all right. But the second floor definitely seems to be a place where people sleep. We'd better be on our toes from now on."

"We weren't already?"

"More than we were before. Look, all we know is that there's someone right there, in that room, and that I don't think he's awake. I doubt that all of these rooms are bedrooms. Vincent probably wouldn't like being that close to his subordinates."

"Wait. 'Vincent'? You don't mean–"

Strell realized that he had once again let slip more than he had intended. He sighed and prepared a response.

"Look, the room had a lot of stuff in it. There was a bookcase, a carpet, paintings – it was a very well-decorated room. It's... unlikely that someone other than Vincent would get such good furnishings."

"So you're saying–"

Strell nodded.

"I suppose I knew it more subconsciously than anything... but there is little doubt in my mind that this is Vincent's room."

"So what now?"

"Now... we avoid this room at all costs. I don't know what else there is to do. We still have that lead from before. We can't leave until we use it. Not after this far."

"Can't we?" asked Jake, somewhat sheepishly.

"No, we can't."

"I'm scared, Strell."

"You think I'm not, Jake?" snapped Strell. Jake retreated a little and appeared frightened. Strell sighed and put his hands on Jake's shoulders. "Look, Jake. We got into this together. We're getting out of it together. Okay? I promise."

Jake nodded. He appeared to be a little more at ease. Strell looked to the side before continuing.

"There's... another reason why I think we should try the rest of these doors, too."

"What's that?"

"Remember that note we found?"

"The one about the books?"

"No, the other one."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I think it could be what we're looking for, and I don't see why his study would be far from his bedroom."

"Well, there are two doors left. Which one could it be?"

"I don't know. I suppose we should just start with the next one."

"Remember what happened last time we used that tactic."

Strell let out a muffled laugh.

"Well, we've gotten the mistake out of the way. This time it will obviously work."

"I'm not sure I follow that."

"Let's just try it, Jake."

Strell softly walked up to the door, braced himself against it, and turned the knob slowly. The door opened with no protest whatsoever as he pushed it inwards enough to facilitate a view of what lay inside. The room's walls were lined with books, and the floor was entirely covered in a fuzzy carpet. Against the right wall in the center was a large desk with a lamp on top of it. The desk was neat, with no objects of any kind littering its surface, save for the lamp. It had six drawers, just like the desk found in the other room on the first floor where Strell found the pocket watch. Strell and Jake both walked over the soft carpet to the desk. Strell was the first to break the silence.

"Does this look like a study?"

"I don't know what a study looks like," responded Jake.

"Well, it looks how I would expect one to look."

"I'll take your word for it."

"If it really is, and if I'm right, that would mean..."

Strell's eyes moved across the two columns of drawers, looking for the one that he wanted. He started with the lower-right drawer, then up to the middle-right and top-right drawers. He then went to the lower-left drawer, and up to the middle-left drawer.

"Wait," interjected Strell. "This one. Look at it."

Though very difficult to perceive through the near darkness within the room, once one's eyes found it, it was impossible not to notice the presence of a small keyhole immediately below its handle. Strell reached out to try the drawer, and found that it was indeed locked.

"Could it be?" asked Jake.

"There's only one way to find out," answered Strell.

Strell took the key from his pocket and held it in front of his face. The ruby gave off a dull shine as a stray moonbeam found its way onto the jewel's surface. The key was indeed roughly the right size. Strell took a deep breath and slowly brought the key to the opening of the keyhole. As he attempted to push the key inside, the keyhole offered no resistance. The key was the exact size of the keyhole. Once the key found its way to the back of the keyhole, Strell closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together. He slowly turned the key. It made roughly one half of a revolution before coming to a stop, refusing to go any further. Strell opened his eyes and loosened his teeth, and then turned the key back. Strell then removed the key from the keyhole and placed it back in his pocket. Jake looked at him.

"Well, open it," nudged Jake.

"All right. Here goes," responded Strell.

Strell wrapped his hand around the handle and gentle pulled. The resistance found before was all but vanished. The key had indeed unlocked the drawer. Strell had found what he was looking for at last. Once the drawer was fully opened, the two looked inside it with bright, intent eyes.

"What is it?" asked Jake.

"It's a box," said Strell, lifting it out of the drawer and placing it on the desk. The box was quite plain and was in two parts, a curved lid, and a rectangular body. Its only adornment was two hinges in the back.

"Well, what's in it? Open it!"

"Okay."

Strell flipped open the lid. The two eagerly looked into the box. Neither was prepared for what was found. The box was nearly filled to the top with rings of every kind: solid gold rings, solid silver rings, diamond rings, ruby rings, and any other ring one might suggest. The boys looked at each other. Both knew exactly what this meant, both knew exactly how much the contents of the box were likely worth, and both knew how easy carrying the box out of the mansion would be. The two had quite literally struck gold. Words could not describe the excitement that the two shared at their find.

However, words failed for a second time when describing the horror of what followed. It was at that moment that both Strell and Jake perceived an odd sound coming from directly behind them. It was something that they could not immediately identify, and yet the sound nevertheless pierced through Strell's soul as it resounded through the room. It was the sound of hand claps – slow, rhythmic hand claps. Strell and Jake slowly turned around to face the doorway of the room. There, with a menacing smile, was Baron Vincent Strauser, bringing his hands together to make the sound that had reached the depth of Strell's being. Strell and Jake could not move; they could not even manage a facial expression, and were forced to simply stare, dumbfounded, at the form of their worst fear, simply standing in a doorway while applauding. After what was at least five seconds, Vincent's smile turned into a grin, and then the grin turned into a laugh. Then, as quickly has it had started, the laugh stopped and changed back into a smile, and Vincent relocated his hands to behind his back.

"You," began Vincent, "you– you– you I must commend for reaching this stage." Vincent chuckled beneath the word "stage" as he spoke. "It is... truly a feat for you to have come this far. I must say, I am quite... impressed."

Vincent paused for a moment. Strell continued to hold his frozen, lifeless facial expression. It occurred to Strell that something was wrong. Something beyond the fact that their worst fear was beheld in the doorway. Something even beyond the thought of what lay in store for him if this was to be the end of his journey. It occurred to Strell, if only in the back recesses of his mind, that Vincent was acting strange: that Vincent was not acting as one should upon discovering an unknown burglar – that Vincent had been expecting him. Strell stumbled over his words in an attempt to speak.

"Strauser! How? What–"

Vincent's mouth formed into the petrifying grin before it reverted back in order to answer the ill-formed questions.

"It is quite simple, my boy. It would be much easier for me to simply allow you to incriminate yourselves rather than to go to all the trouble to convince someone else that you were intending to steal something. Don't you think?"

Strell's heart sank. He looked at the open box with the rings inside. Vincent had them dead to rights. There they were, trespassing on private property, in the owner's own study, with many of the owner's valuable possessions in hand. There would be no mistaking their intention. Strell thought back to the events that had transpired earlier: the open window, the notes in the drawer, the person in the room down the hall, and the availability of the key. He wondered just how many of them had purposefully been left there for this purpose. He shook his head and silently chastised himself for never suspecting a thing the entire time. Vincent continued smiling and began speaking again.

"Now, why don't you be good little boys and come with me peacefully? I can promise you that you won't be executed if you do."

Vincent put a menacing and violent accentuation on the word "executed" as his sentence passed it. Strell swallowed. He knew that Jake was likely considering this, so he knew that he had to act quickly. He did not for one moment trust Vincent's attempted cordiality. He spoke, not quite sure what he was going to say when he began.

"No. I've heard the stories of what you do to criminals–"

"Criminals?" Vincent cut him off, as Strell feared he might. "I'm glad that you are so easily convinced of your newfound status. I think that should make things easier. Don't you?"

"Don't play mind games, Strauser."

"Oh, no games here, boy." Vincent's smile ceased and his face instantly became hardened and frightening. His voice lost its feigned friendliness and became more violent in nature. "The guards' quarters are downstairs. It would take them roughly two to three minutes to be up here, fully armed, and ready to kill two brazen criminals who broke into my house and attempted to steal my property. I don't think it should be a difficult decision." The familiar stress from before was again manifest upon the word "don't".

Strell hesitated and fell silent.

"Come here, boy," menaced Vincent, placing his familiar emphasis on the word "boy". "I am losing my patience." Vincent walked towards the two in a confident manner. Strell knew that he had to act fast before Vincent was upon them. He turned in Jake's general direction and yelled at him.

"Jake! Run!"

Strell grabbed the box and ran towards Vincent and pushed him to the side with all the strength that he could muster. Vincent stumbled backwards and appeared momentarily stunned. Vincent appeared not to have considered the notion that he might encounter this much resistance. Strell turned back towards Jake.

"Go!!"

Jake ran past the two out the door and Strell followed as fast as he could. Behind him he could hear Vincent shout after them as loud as he could, evidently in an attempt to wake up the guards.

"You'll regret this for the rest of your short, miserable lives!"

Vincent became even louder.

"Guards! Guards! To arms! To arms!"

By this time Strell had caught up to Jake and the two raced to the stairwell as fast as they could, silence no longer being an object for them to attempt to attain. They pounded the stairs as they bounded down the stairwell, skipping one or two stairs with each step taken. They knew that the guard's quarters were somewhere down the hallway, so they knew there was only one possible exit: the window through which they had come. They rushed into the sparsely furnished room and eyed the window, still ajar as they had left it.

"Jake, you first. Don't argue. Just go." Strell nudged Jake towards the window. Jake ran towards it and hoisted himself through it. Once he was fully through the window and away from the landing zone outside, Strell followed shortly after him, exiting the window and finding himself where he had left himself.

"Where do we go, Strell?" asked Jake in a hurried fashion. "What do we do?"

"We can't go back to our homes. They'll expect that. Hurry, let's go the other way."

The two dashed away from the mansion as fast as they could in the opposite direction from which they had arrived. Strell still clutched the box with the rings near him as he ran. As they found themselves halfway through the commercial district, Strell looked behind him as he fled. There, in the distance, were men with lanterns running after them. There was no doubt in Strell's mind that Vincent was likely among them, having every intention to see his conquest through to its completion. Strell had no idea where he was running, nor did he have any idea what he would do if he were to somehow escape. The only item on his mind at the moment was instinctive self-preservation, nothing more.

It did not take Strell and Jake long at their pace to escape the commercial district of Monz and to come across the residential district. Strell felt that this was almost unfortunate. Citizens were sure to hear the commotion and attempt to determine what it was. Strell only hoped that no one recognized either him or Jake. Strell no longer noticed the chill that was falling as the night crept further into its slumber. The only thing he perceived was his impending doom and his attempts to prolong the inevitable. Shortly behind him, the pursuit was as hot as ever. Strell's palms were clammy with sweat, but there was no possible way for him to perceive such a thing at such a time.

By the time Strell reached the east exit of Monz, his legs were beginning to give out, but he rallied his strength and carried on. Jake, he imagined, was having the same experience, but he had neither the means nor the will to verify his imagination. He knew only one thing for certain, and that was that his mission was to run: to run as far and as fast as he could. He could not answer the nagging thought in his mind regarding whether or not any place would be safe anymore, but it was too late for such regrets. Strell knew that there was no turning back and no alteration of what had been done; there was only either escape or atonement for those who went astray.

By now the city of Monz was becoming further in the distance, but the only collection of people on Strell's mind were closer than ever. Strell dared not look behind him, but if he had, he would have found their pursuers only roughly thirty feet behind, and closing fast. Strell knew that he would have to do something quick to lose them, but nothing came to mind. There were no obvious hiding places, and in only a few short hundred feet or so, there ceased even to be anywhere to run.

Strell arrived at the end of the road before long. Both he and Jake came to an abrupt halt. There, in front of them, was a sheer cliff, with the Opal Sea far below their position. To their right and left, the cliff continued. Strell looked to the right. There was a guard who had already reached that position. Strell looked to the left. There, too, was a guard. Strell closed his eyes and looked down. He was surrounded with nowhere left to run, and he knew it, and still held against his side was the box – the ultimate culprit of everything. Slowly, Strell turned around. There, emerging from the pack of guards, all armed with crossbows, was the familiar face of Vincent. It had returned to possessing its grin that it had earlier inside the mansion. It reverted back to a simple smile before beginning to bring forth Vincent's vile words.

"You boys, yes– you boys certainly do know how to make things difficult. But this is the end. It is truly a pity, you know. I might have considered offering some leniency had you only come quietly." Vincent's face lost its humor. "But that is far, far in the past. It's over. And you can rest assured, you will regret tonight. I will make very sure that you will neither forget about this nor forgive yourselves– ever."

Strell swallowed. He was speechless. Jake could do nothing but tremble. There were guards in every location they could see. There truly was nowhere left to run.

"Strauser." Strell's voice had a certain element of indignation in it. "How on earth did you..." Strell could not finish his sentence.

"Oh, yes," began Vincent. "Yes, I suppose that someone who accomplished as much as you did would figure at least something out." Strauser turned around and shouted at someone behind himself. "You! Over here!"

Strell was perplexed for a moment, but his confused nature turned to surprise and even outright shock as the person to whom Vincent had spoke emerged. Strell could hardly contain himself, and yet his attempts to convey his feelings only came back with a single word.

"...Dad."

There, standing with his head bowed, afraid to look directly at his own son, was Strell's father. Strell was at an utter loss for words.

"But– why? How? What are you..."

Strell's father stayed silent. Vincent filled the gap.

"Apparently, your dear old father can't tell you himself. No matter."

Strell looked at Vincent with a combination of fear and utter rage.

"See," began Vincent, "I know that the ingrates don't like me in Monz. I don't see why I normally would care, but the king has expressed great displeasure in the fact that I neither am liked nor have been active in the city. He even went so far as to tell me that I would be replaced if I didn't shape up." Vincent strolled to the right as he talked. "I'm not exactly versed in talking to the commoners, but I do understand the human mind, especially relating to sympathy."

Strell's eyes grew venomous as he listened to Vincent talk.

"Once a person has done a crime," continued Vincent, "it is statistically likely that he will then proceed to do further crimes. I figured I could have someone break into my house and steal something, and once that had occurred, I could accuse the person of attempting to do any number of horrible things to me. The people dislike me, you see, but they don't wish evil upon me, and as such..." Vincent looked directly at Strell. "They would immediately feel sympathy for me as a victim, and I could become more well-liked without even having to lift a finger."

Strell could no longer contain himself.

"You don't honestly believe–"

"I am not done," hissed Vincent. "See, I get another bonus for free with this one. I am then able to be the one who single-handedly catches a criminal in an attempt to commit any number of heinous crimes. The people give me sympathy, and the king recognizes me as still able to function in my duties. It's quite ingenious, don't you think?"

"You..." Strell was at a loss for words.

"Of course, I needed a subject. And that– that is where you come in, my boy. When I heard about your crops, I knew that this could be the one. Of course, I'd need some form of motivation..."

Strell looked quizzically at Vincent.

"That box you're holding, it looks like it contains a lot of potential money, doesn't it?" asked Vincent. "However, I offered your parents five times the amount in that box if they would convince you to rob my house. Simple, really."

Strell could not believe what he was hearing.

"Dad, you– you..."

Strell's father did not move; he only continued staring at the ground.

"And Mom..."

Strell's father continued motionless.

"Nell...?"

Strell's father shook his head ever so slightly.

"No," he managed to squeeze out from his tight throat, "not Nell." Strell's father looked like he was attempting to choke back tears. "Oh, what have I..."

"But this is the end, boy," said Vincent, in his typical menacing tone. "Come here." Vincent pointed at the ground in front of him.

Strell did not move, and only spoke three words.

"You vile snake!" lashed Strell.

"Boy, I have had enough!" Vincent pointed at Jake and shouted. "Kill him!!"

Before Strell could even process what Vincent had said, the guard next to Vincent raised his crossbow and pulled the trigger. In an instant, the night air was cut by the arrow as it blazed towards its target. With little resistance offered, the arrow plunged itself deep into Jake's chest. Jake's face fell expressionless. He said nothing, and simply fell back onto the hard ground. Strell screamed after him.

"Jake, no! No! Oh, God, no!"

Strell crouched over Jake's body. He could do nothing to hold back the tears that became so readily available. Strell did not even attempt to look at Vincent.

"Now just a minute," began Strell's father, "I never agreed to–"

"You shut your mouth," yelled Vincent at Strell's father. "Don't forget that I have not given you anything yet."

"I– I..."

Strell's father could say nothing. Vincent turned back to Strell.

"Now, come here."

Strell's tears did not stop, nor did Strell stop to turn to Vincent.

"I will not ask you again, boy."

Strell wiped his face, and, without turning to Vincent, uttered the only word that was in his mind.

"...No."

Vincent's face grew steadily more livid.

"What did you say, boy?"

"No."

Strell shakily got to his feet and took a step back, away from Vincent.

"No."

"Don't make me kill you too."

"No."

Strell continued walking backwards.

"There is nowhere to run, boy."

"No."

Strell stopped walking backwards. The heel of his foot felt thin air below it. He had reached the end of the line. There was only the cliff behind him.

"If you do not come here right this instant, I–"

Strell was not even listening, and merely repeated what he had hoped Vincent would understand the first time he had said it.

"No."

Strell took one more step backwards. The air accepted him eagerly as he quickly descended downwards. Vincent ran after him.

"Damn it! Catch him!"

Strell's father yelled after Strell, running after Vincent.

"Strell! No! Don't!"

But it was too late. Strell had already done exactly what he had intended to do ever since Vincent made his fateful decision borne from a lack of patience. Nearly invisible due to the height of the cliff, there was manifest far below the group of men a ripple in the surface of the Opal Sea that marked the point where Strell had fallen.