The Vampire & Her Witch

At dawn, for the first time since the beginning of Owain’s Grand Ceremony, the gates of Lothian Manor opened... and stayed open.

Dozens of pages in blue and yellow livery rushed out of the gate, carrying bundles of scrolls, sacks full of nails and light carpenter’s hammers. Soon, -THUNK THUNK THUNK- of hammers driving nails into wood echoed from every market square, public plaza, common house, and even the docks where the fishermen cast their nets or boarded their boats.

”News!” the pages cried each time they hammered a notice to the board. ”News from the manor!”

At the docks, dozens gathered around the post where a proclamation hung, shoving to get a view of the formal-looking document that bore seals in both gold and crimson wax.

”What is it, what does it say?”

”I can’t read, but that’s the seal of the Great Temple, isn’t it? And the Inquisition? The Church is making a decree?”

”I told you, I did! The Church won’t stand for what Lord Owain did, beating those acolytes and parading them about the market. They’s condemned him, haven’t they?”

”You best hope they haven’t! If the Church and the Marquis are at odds, none of us will sleep sound at night, you mark my words!”

”Make way, get out of my way,” a formidable woman said as she shouldered her way through the crowd, ruthlessly stomping on the feet of anyone who didn’t move quickly enough and shoving with hands that had stripped the scales of more fish than she could ever count. ”I can read you stinking, fish-bellied clods,” she snapped. ”So get out of my way if you want to hear the decree!”

”Ah, yes, Mama Dea,” a brawny fisherman with a net over his shoulder said, quickly moving aside and ducking his head like a dog afraid of the lash. ”Oi, get out of Mama Dea’s way,” he added quickly, grabbing the collar of the man next to him and pulling him back. ”Let her read out what the decree says!”

”Hmmf,” the woman snorted before planting herself directly before the post with her hands on her hips as she scanned over the words on the page. The more she read, the wider her eyes went, and she had to start over from the top twice to be sure she’d read it right.

”Well? What does it say?” asked a fisherman with a crooked nose that had turned red in the cold. ”Is it trouble?”

”It says that Abbot Recared of the Abbey in Maeril is dead,” Dea said, shouting to be heard over the muttering of the crowd. ”He was stripped of his office, excommunicated from the Church, and executed for his crimes on Midwinter’s Night and... and there’s a list of crimes. Murder. Attempted Magnicide,” she said, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word. ”Bribery, extortion, torturing innocents.... It, it’s a long list of wickedness.”

”Lord Owain had him executed?” a fishmonger muttered, shaking his head at the thought of something so bizarre. ”I heard tell that they were standing together, and they were headed west to fight the demons soon.”

”The decree don’t mention Lord Owain,” Dea said. ”It’s signed by High Priest Aubin and some High Inquisitor named Ignatious.”

”I knew it! The Inquisition really did send a High Inquisitor to save us from the demons!”

”Sounds like he’s cleaning house. If the abbot were taking bribes an’ causing trouble then it’s no wonder the demons got the drop on us in Hanrahan and Dunn. It might even be his fault the demons killed Lady Ashlynn in the Summer Villa!”

”I don’t care about the abbot, but if the High Inquisitor can drive off the demons before they trouble us here, I’ll name my next brat after him. You all are my witnesses; you can tell the Inquisition on me if I don’t!”

”Can you even name all your brats as it is? What would you even do with another one?”

”Teach him to mend nets, I would. Always need more small hands for the mending...”

Across the city, similar scenes played out one after another. There were questions and some confusion. People hurried to read and word spread from tongue to ear with the speed of a scurrying mouse, but within a few minutes, most returned to their work.

An abbot of the Inquisition was far too lofty for most people in Lothian to worry about, and there was work to be done. Last night’s snow had to be shoveled from the streets. Stalls in the markets needed to open and people rushed from their homes to the baker with pies and loaves to be baked for the day’s meals.

Within an hour, people had already started to forget about the excommunicated and executed abbot... until the pages returned to the market squares with fresh bundles of scrolls, calling for attention with the thumping of their hammers as though they were ringing church bells to summon the faithful.

This time, however, the document bore even more seals than the last, and in the largest market in Lothian, dozens of shopkeepers and twice as many customers clustered around the posts where the notices were hung, eager to hear what this one said.

”That’s the High Priest’s seal,” one man said, pointing to the golden seal at the bottom of the decree. ”And the one on the other side is for Baron Dunn. I don’t know the tree-looking one in the middle though... never seen that one before.”

”Never mind the seals,” a balding man with spectacles perched on his nose said as he read the decree. ”Lord Owain is dead!”

”What?!?!”

”He can’t be! He just married his bride!”

”He’s the new marquis! If he’s dead, who’s supposed to be our lord?”

”Loman ain’t it? Where’s Lord Loman? Does the decree come from him?”

”Lord Loman’s gone missing. Didn’a even attend his own father’s funeral. No one knows where he went.”

”No wonder the manor’s been shut up like a turtle hiding in its shell. The lords must be panicking trying to figure out what to do now...”

”Where’d Lady Jocelynn go? She left days ago, and now her husband is dead? Do you... do you think she did it? Was that why she left so soon?”

”Hush!” a loud voice bellowed from the back of the crowd, saying what many had tried to say without the volume to be heard over the din. ”I want to hear what all it says! How did Lord Owain die and what happens now that he did?”