Chapter twenty eight
Nax heard some noise from outside the door that Monica had managed to manoeuver back to its hinges.
While the entire room had a fuming vibe that seemed a bit noisy, he raised a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhh…"
Monica stopped sobbing and looked up from Timothy's shoulder. The Prince however smiled down at her with his hand still on her hair, the other drying her face carefully, "Seems we have company. Why don't we channel your emotion Monica into something more useful and exciting?"
The Scottish glared at him in confusion showing she had not understood what he meant. Philip however, did her the favour to explain further, "What he means to say is… go get us some carcasses."
His words came with a small smile to her, giving the effect he knew he always caused with that action of his.
She grinned and sniffed, raising her hands to completely dry her eyes. Soon after, she was back in track and away from that vulnerability she always hated.
What surprised everyone else next was when she pulled out two swords from beneath her clothing.
"Oh my," Peter smiled in wonder, "How did those fit in there?" He did not expect an answer though. Whatever that lady did stopped surprising him a long time ago.
Nax could recognise the source of noise now as it got closer to them, "I think this is serious company." With a scary frown, he turned to the Baron, "Did you snitch on us Lord Roothewell?"
The man on the floor reacted as he was expected. A small shudder went through his round body while sweet dripped down his face, "No no! I swear to God, I would never!"
Ignoring the man with a grim, Monica flung her swords in both hands, twisting her neck in a stance that seemed to be preparation, "Who are they?!"
Her answer came quickly enough from the military man with them, "More attacks from greedy duchies I suppose to come for the seal."
"In that case we will treat them as always," the Scottish heaved an angry rasp.
The Earl of Vetcom had drawn out his arrows already, a frown on as he glanced at the door, "You do not seem disturbed in the least General."
Nax grinned in response and stalked to join them deeper in the room. Afterwards, he shrugged and looked through them, "I have the best fighting team in the whole of England by my side. What could possibly go wrong?"
The compliment lit a smile on all their faces. As everyone had a weapon or two, Monica strived to have three.
Walking to Philip, she turned her hips towards him in a manner that made every lad surprisingly gawk, especially him of course. His look read nothing less than confusion. But God he could not help staring down at her hips like that, a slight curve of feminine built bone pushing through light skin. He flicked his tongue over his lower lip unconsciously. What was he supposed to do with it?
The lady's frustrated groan brought him back to reality. "You are supposed to put one of your guns in there for me!" She shot him a glare.
Her explanation did not shadow his shock even one bit. Gently, the Duke swallowed and nodded. So he was supposed to pull her already tempting garment away and fit a pistol beneath it? Any other lad of his ilk might have fallen for that sort of seduction readily.
He also seemed to notice she only chose him for tasks like that, as though striving to break every bit of control and innocence he had. Only God knew what this woman was thinking.
Anyway he did as told.
As his fingers touched the flawless skin on her waist, he felt a little wave of the saying, "butterflies in my stomach."
Anyways, he pushed any improper thought off and placed a gun under the garment just as she wanted.
Just then, hard knocks came upon the door at the same time with male blabbers from outside.
It was obvious the people on the other side were not less than a dozen. And although unaware of the cause of the attack, they seemed excited enough for it.
As they posed with their weapons set, they smirked at the door, ready to kill whatever number they faced.
And then it seemed the knockers had lost patience. Monica frowned as she watched the door she had just fixed come crashing down for the second time.
Almost immediately, an arrow soared through the room and pierced straight into the knocker's left eye. Well nobody expected that…
The Scottish turned around to the only person she knew who had such wonderful aim, "That was formidable My Lord."
And for the first time since creation, Jason smiled back.
The new source of attention was the barking sound of an order from Lord Mathayus who somehow was invisible to them, "Kill every single one of them. Find the seal!"
An exasperated sigh crossed the room when they heard that. What did this so called leader of theirs think? That the people he was dealing with were mere defenseless roadside urchins?
Well they knew the best way to counsel him on that mistake.
"By God, I will kill that man," Philip muttered behind closed jaws.
Earl glowered at him. Why did he always have to get the best part of everything? But then he sighted Nichols who seemed to also be in charge somehow. And a small smile dragged his lips. "And I'll take care of the Koala," he stated with implication to the man he looked at.
The secretary waved his hand finally, something that seemed to be an order to the soldiers around him. Uniformly, they marched into the tower in one swarm and awaited the next order.
And at that same moment, Peter found a second door and clicked it open, "My my…"
He did not need to announce it to them before his friends and the General rushed through it to the other side. And with speed of a fox, Monica shut it and fit the lock into place.
They seemed to arrive at a hallway that curved its way out of their sight. On both walls, fire torches hung from their stands to provide a thrilling mysterious sensation to the place.
"Let's split," The Duke ordered.
And split they did.
Philip and Nax took the stairs that ran down behind them, Monica rushed with Jason who had started rounding the hallway.
Earl shoved Peter into an adjacent door on the left with him, and Raymond joined his older brother to a corridor that branched off this one.
By the time Nichols broke the second door down amd marched through, there was no single soul in sight.
Mathayus pushed past him with fuming anger and looked around to get the same result. In the end, he turned to his brother and barked his question with the cruelest to f tones, "Where are they?!"
Despite his frustration, Nichols gave a submissive bow and whispered, "They must not have gone far Your Grace. Let us find them." And without any further ado, he waved his hand again to the soldiers who parted through the doorway at either side of him like flowing water parting past a firm rock.
They dispersed into all possible directions that led from the hallway.
With a grim, Mathayus chose the stairs behind them, just as Philip hoped he would. That clash was just about to spark.
***
It may not have occurred to her why but looking through the one of the many windows of the building, she found a group of harlots shrieked their way from the party hall, over the third battlement and towards the tower doors.
What better definition for the word inconvenient. If they made it here and found a bunch of mad men having a war within, a bigger problem would surely seep out of it.
Automatically, Monica turned to her left where Jason stood and gasped at what she found. The dreadful Nichols a few meters behind stalked towards them with a  handful of his men around him.
A gun was clutched firmly in his right grip with the aim at Jason Ferma.
"Jason watch out," she exclaimed much to the Earl's fear he tried to hide in a grim.
He frowned in confusion and turned around slowly, realizing it was going to be too late even if he planned to defend. And before he could think of something else, Nichols pulled the trigger.
As fate would have it, the Asian dancers had made their way up first flight of stairs and walked in one feminine swarm. And while Nichols shot the gun, they emerged from the main hallway branching into theirs, much to everyone's displeasure.
The unfortunate scene for Monica was watching the bullet meant for Jason pierce into one of the immoral yet innocent ladies; one the Earl remembered to have served him wine earlier.
All hell broke loose afterwards as the rest released shrieks of different pitches and ran back from where they came from despite the fear flawing their strides, obviously headed for the party.
The realisation of how bad the situation had become came three seconds later. The harlots were surely a big threat for them, knowing they would cause a serious commotion if an alarm was raised to the Duke of St Ives about having a war in his tower.
To Nichols, there was no way that was going to happen. "Follow all of them! Kill them all before they reach the hall," the order almost surprised the others.
Well Monica. She had a frown on while her gaze ran over the dead lady before her, and then up at Nichols.
Her arms went left to seize Jason's arrows before she knew she was doing it, picturing the death of that man not long from now. And by God, she was going to be the cause.
As for the Earl of Vetcom, he pictured the secretary's death to happen right now!
Swirling Monica, he pulled out the pistol she had at her hip. Now he stood with both hands on the gun and an unmistakable focus. It took an impossibly short moment for him to bring three soldiers down before they knew they were the targets.
But then,he received a shot into his lower abdomen that forced a groan out of him and sent him crumbling down to Monica's feet.
So the mighty had fallen…
Monica Maitland finally chose to change the time of Nichols's death. And more quickly than she knew she ever was, she flung a dagger towards the man and shot the last of his men dead.
Somehow though, Nichols got lucky enough. With the blade narrowly missing his chest, it forced itself into his left arm.
And now, all he did was groan tiredly and lean on the wall for some sort of support.
Now the Scottish gave Jason Ferma her full attention. With no active opponent posing any threat, she lifted the Earl and put his arm over her shoulders, forcing him along with her round the corridor.
Jason sulked painfully, a hand over his wound.
And deep down, he couldn't help but acknowledge her presence to help. Still his ego struck again, "Just leave me here. Go help the others.".
"Shut up," she retorted in a near order, "do you have to be proud every single time?!"
He grinned shortly and kept shut.