"Your Highness, are you sure that you want to walk back to Gestalt on foot?" One of the men asked me.
"Yes," I pressed in that weird voice that I hadn't gotten used to yet.
Sir José's dead body was encased in the casket. And they had only arrived with one carriage. Possibly for the little girl.
Now, with a dead man inside, there was no way I was going to ride the carriage back to Gestalt. I had no idea how far Gestalt was from Gaskoff.
We had started walking at dawn. The palace was searched from top to bottom, but they found no trace of its Lady. Versailles had disappeared into thin air.
Meanwhile, Joel's pleadings were endless. They had cuffed her and forced her to walk. Every once in a while she'd scream and flinch.
"Why don't you take the horse then? I am sure, Zephyr is eager to meet you," Lord Marshall had insisted.
Unlike, what I had read about him, he looked like a kind man. He seemed like someone in his late hundreds, with grey hair and agility. He seemed wise and had soft blue eyes.
Perhaps, the books don't tell us what the eyes can. But then again, the Duke didn't really like Sir Marshall.
I have kept my distance since. I had chosen to simply go by foot, alongside men in my troop who marched with their swords and spears.
That shit looks heavy.
"Your Highness, we were really worried," one of the men says.
"At first, we thought that Lady Versailles had killed you," another one adds.
"And when we saw Sir José's dismembered body, it was hard to tell if we would ever see you-"
"I would say I did experience something close to death," I scoffed. Where was the lie?
Ever since that wretched course that I had hoped to join life had been nothing but shite. And now, I have really died.
"Tell us, Your Highness, if Lady Versailles is just as ugly as the Holy Temples describe her?" One of them asks, and the rest chime in.
"Please sir! We mean no disrespect but she tried to kill you," another one adds.
"Also, we want to know if she is still as h-"
"That's enough, all of you," I grumbled. My heavy voice made me sound more commanding.
This was theatrical entertainment for these men. To know if Versailles looks ugly? What's it to them? Is this what a woman is to be reduced to? Her beauty.
"Pray tell us, Your Highness! We are aware that she is always finding things to make love to," one of them adds, his legs trembling.
Of course. They would find her intimidating and interesting because she had a sex life.
"W-" The word croaks out. Only then do I realise I cannot brush off their blush. The Duke certainly wouldn't...
"Versailles looked like a disgusting chipmunk. Her skin is saggy..." What else could I add?
"And she has these boobs that hang off her like cow's udders," I blanched on the inside. But to be respectful to a woman's existence is so hard when she is evil and ugly. And how would people who live in a world where power is everything realise the cost of the beauty within?
"But the scriptures describe her as an old witch with broad legs and a hole bigger than the moon. About four men can enter-"
"What utter rubbish are you talking about? Four at a time? Have you ever been with a woman? Who is telling you these tales?" I barked at them.
It was so easy to lash out at them. These men are insensitive pricks that knew nothing about women, or sex. Or anything. Except bloodshed.
"Do you not know that women are minds as well as just bodies? Say what you will but as cunning and malicious she is, she did kill one of my friends," I cried.
An eerie silence followed. My legs were aching. The ache from before hadn't subsidised. Just when I heard the crack of the whip.
And then a commotion followed with cracks of laughter. A few jesting men on horses.
"What's all this hassle about?" I asked one of my men, and he asked another. In another few minutes the news did rounds before reaching me.
"Our men are trying to teach the girl a lesson for killing Sir José," they tell me.
"And what do you mean by that?" I scoffed. Another crack, and its loud thud against the skin.
"Tell everyone to make way. And stop moving. I will see what this is," I ordered.
Are these men insane? Of course, there is no federal law here. But how do you punish a little girl without proving her guilty.
"Everyone! By the decree of His Highness, Duke Lewis Canton, the first of his names, I command you to halt!" A man announced.
I could see one of the men holding the whip high in the air, and halting just as the command rolled off.
"Make way!" I growled, as they parted and I walked past them.
A smothered Joel struggled against the rope tied cuffs. Her fragile body was covered in marks, and her ocean blue eyes were covered in tears.
They were already swollen red, and yet she couldn't stop crying.
"How dare you raise your weapon against an innocent person?" I seethed, and the man looked at me like he knew nothing about what I meant.
"She is not innocent, Your Highness. She killed your friend. She killed Sir José," they cried.
"She is not guilty until proven. By that means, half of the world that's convicted of its sin should be brought to justice.
Tell me, what punishment shall I bestow on you on the theft of stealing?" My voice was harsh, and had a commanding undertone to it.
"But Your Highness, I haven't-"
"But who's to say that you haven't? Will you question my word, now that I have accused you?" My eyes glowered.
Those in power always run corrupt.
"Have mercy, my Lord! Please," he fell to my feet.
"Get up. Of course, you will fight battles. But who'll fight you?
All your darkness is from within. See it to that the druid tends to this girl's wounds," I said, sparing a glance at a still crying Joel.
"The carriage is big enough for a casket and a little girl. See to it that she is inside and warm.
No one's to touch the girl until her punishment is decided," I said.
Joel bowed her head. I turned, but wasn't indifferent to her words.
"And where were you when I cried for you? Where were you when Versailles abused me?"
My throat ran dry.
Just what had happened with this little girl? What had the Duke done?