{ "submission_id": "3612336", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "100247", "keyword_name": "clandestine", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "8" }, { "keyword_id": "631", "keyword_name": "coyote", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "12356" }, { "keyword_id": "101958", "keyword_name": "creative writing", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "65" }, { "keyword_id": "18046", "keyword_name": "interrogation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "290" }, { "keyword_id": "174", "keyword_name": "lion", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "43902" }, { "keyword_id": "658209", "keyword_name": "monthly prompt", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "24" }, { "keyword_id": "2845", "keyword_name": "prison", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2340" }, { "keyword_id": "50873", "keyword_name": "treason", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "7" }, { "keyword_id": "164", "keyword_name": "wolf", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "195842" }, { "keyword_id": "485514", "keyword_name": "writerscrossing", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "89" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "0", "create_datetime": "2025-05-07 02:04:16.072421+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "07 May 2025 04:04 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2025-05-06 01:50:03.729954+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "06 May 2025 03:50 CEST", "username": "WritersCrossing1", "user_id": "604908", "user_icon_file_name": "196997_WritersCrossing1_582787_avatar.jpg", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/196/196997_WritersCrossing1_582787_avatar.jpg", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/196/196997_WritersCrossing1_582787_avatar.jpg", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/196/196997_WritersCrossing1_582787_avatar.jpg", "file_name": "5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "300", "thumb_huge_y": "300", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "200", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120", "files": [ { "file_id": "5553464", "file_name": "5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.doc", "mimetype": "application/msword", "submission_id": "3612336", "user_id": "604908", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": null, "full_size_y": null, "screen_size_x": null, "screen_size_y": null, "preview_size_x": null, "preview_size_y": null, "initial_file_md5": "a16308d5b2e55cbc15d3e6168ab0b759", "full_file_md5": "a16308d5b2e55cbc15d3e6168ab0b759", "large_file_md5": "", "small_file_md5": "", "thumbnail_md5": "9a6dfe159cf42c126aba6d6a7923c74f", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2025-05-06 01:50:03.729954+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "06 May 2025 03:50 CEST", "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5553/5553464_WritersCrossing1_1743211449.icurthus_writers_crossing_prompts_2025-03_.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "300", "thumb_huge_y": "300", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "200", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Writer's Crossing Monthly Prompt entry for March 2025. The owner of this piece is Icurthus.\n\nPrompt: \"He challenged Fate and won, but Fate has a long memory and an even longer reach.\"\n\nLinks: https://www.sofurry.com/view/2238778 (SoFurry), https://www.furaffinity.net/view/60379375/ (FurAffinity)", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Writer's Crossing Monthly Prompt entry for March 2025. The owner of this piece is Icurthus.

Prompt: "He challenged Fate and won, but Fate has a long memory and an even longer reach."

Links: https://www.sofurry.com/view/2238778 (SoFurry), https://www.furaffinity.net/view/60379375/ (FurAffinity)", "writing": "[b][center]The Last Musketeer[/center][/b]\n\n[right]by Icurthus[/right]\n\nLawrence can still remember the day his faith died.\n\nIt was five years ago in a small room much like this one. Featureless, save for the small desk flanked by two chairs and a single oil lamp that provided a dim, flickering light in the absence of windows. Five years ago, he had been inside the bowels of the convent of Averton Isle Abbey. This time, the room he found himself in was part of the Gralthore Prison, a place no sane person would like to see the inside of, not even as a visitor.\n\nThere was no difference whatsoever between the two rooms, he decided as a slight shiver ran down his spine.\n\n``State your name and the purpose of your visit,'' the clerk intoned with a dreary voice that matched his overall appearance as he scribbled the date into a thick tome. What sparse fur covered his thin frame was lustreless, and Lawrence wondered if the coyote ever got to see real sunshine or breathe fresh air. Again, there was little difference between the Abbey and the Prison in his mind. The only noticeable change was that the oracle he had gone to see back then had been mortally ill, while the clerk only looked severely neglected.\n\n``Captain Lawrence,'' he said quickly, looking at the smooth walls of the room carved from the very structure of the mountain. ``I-I am here to speak to the Duke of...'' He cleared his throat awkwardly at the slip of the tongue. ``Sorry, old habits. I'm here to speak to Edmond.''\n\n``The king's treacherous brother?'' the clerk asked in surprise without looking up. ``He's been interred in Solitary Confinement as per the king's orders. No one speaks to him. Ever.''\n\n``Until now,'' Lawrence stated bluntly. Without looking down, he reached into the leather satchel at his side and produced a small scroll that he handed to the coyote. ``It seems Edmond's coup did not fully die with his capture. He still has some influential support somewhere, and the king is eager to uncover any allies the prince may still have.''\n\n``I advise you to refrain from calling him `prince' in these halls again,'' the clerk said through a disgusted snarl. It was the first hint of emotion he had shown since Lawrence arrived. ``He has lost his birthright the night you exposed his plans to overthrow the true king.''\n\n``Understood,'' Lawrence replied with ears pulled back as he leaned back in his chair, though he could not hide the irritated growl in his voice. It was not worth the attention trying to explain himself. The clerk might just notice the slight shake of his hands, the dampness of his fur against his temples, or how his tail kept trying to tuck itself deeper beneath his seat. He focused on keeping his breathing calm and his posture relaxed instead of anxiously looking at how the clerk inspected the royal seal in the finest of detail. He tried to remind himself that he had nothing to fear; the seal was authentic and the order genuine, written by the king's hand.\n\n``Something wrong?'' the clerk asked. ``You seem nervous.''\n\n``Gralthore Prison,'' Lawrence said a little too quickly, sounding almost rehearsed. ``I've heard the stories.''\n\n``Most of them are true, by the way.'' The clerk grinned as he snapped the unbroken seal in half and slowly unfurled the scroll. He read the king's orders three times before looking up at Lawrence with a suspicious frown. ``The traitor has not been in contact with anyone since his incarceration five years ago. Even the guard who brings him food does not interact with him directly. What makes the king think he knows of anything outside his cell?''\n\n``Something is happening,'' Lawrence insisted. ``Surely you've heard of the increased bandit activity across the kingdom? The senseless riots in the large cities? The blatant intimidation and even assassinations of prominent members of the noble houses who had proven their loyalty to the true king? Even the members of the king's inner cabinet are not safe. I assume you've heard of the recent assassination of Lord Jameel?''\n\n``Lord Jameel has been slain?'' the clerk asked.\n\n``Yes.''\n\n``How?''\n\n``Best not to ask for the gory details. But before his death, Lord Jameel's investigations uncovered that a certain `Mr Aramis' is behind these attempts to destabilise Royal Security.'' Lawrence looked about the featureless room again as if impatient. ``Given the nature of the intimidations, we believe he aims to finish what Edmund started. It sounds impossible, but the authenticity of this coup has been validated when we recently uncovered a plot to penetrate your prison and free the traitor.''\n\n``How do they plan to do that?'' the clerk asked indignantly. The simple chair he was sitting on clattered for a moment when he got to his feet, scrunching the edge of the royal letter as he shook a fist at Lawrence. ``In the two hundred years since this facility's excavation, there has never been a successful prison break. No one even came close.''\n\n``Did I not just say Mr Aramis got to the king's Minister of Espionage?'' Lawrence replied, a dangerous growl indicating his patience was also starting to run thin. ``The details are sketchy, but it is undeniable that the threat is real. The king is eager not to take any chances, especially now that his Intelligence Network is compromised. I have been ordered to learn from Edmond who this Mr Aramis is before he can cause greater trouble.''\n\n``You were the captain of the guard for the traitor before he tried to betray his king,'' the clerk said. He sat down again, looking a little more carefully at Lawrence from across his small spectacles. ``Surely, you must know all the codenames of his contacts.''\n\n``Not all, it seems,'' Lawrence said. He stopped fidgeting with the already fraying hem of his sleeve to lean forward in his chair and glare at the annoying clerk. ``Or do you suggest I return to the king and tell him that I cannot safeguard his throne because I should have known all the secrets of my former employer?''\n\nThe clerk remained silent momentarily, inspecting Lawrence as if he was a curious bug the coyote had never seen before. After a long silence, during which Lawrence thought his heart would fail, the clerk finally shook his head.\n\n``We do not want to upset the king, now do we?'' he agreed as he stood up and headed for the door. ``Wait here. I'll arrange an escort to the Solitary Confinement cells for you.''\n\n``Thank you,'' Lawrence said. He huffed as the clerk exited the small office, hoping the annoyed sound would be sufficient to mask his sigh of relief.\n\nJust over an hour later, Lawrence was escorted down into the bowels of the mountain, where the worst criminals are interred. As he followed the burly wolf, who had been kitted out in equipment second only to the Royal Guard themselves, he couldn't stop another shiver running down his spine. Dante's description of hell came to mind, where the innermost circle of torment were reserved for traitors and mutineers.\n\nThey passed through three heavy iron doors set into the mountain before reaching their destination. Each lock clanged uncomfortably loud in the deathly silence as the key was turned. As the way was opened, the hinges squeaked something terrible, reminding him of the stories of banshees he had heard around campfires as a youngling. When each door was shut behind them, the bang it made echoed down the claustrophobic hall, racing ahead of them like messengers of doom to announce their arrival to the abandoned soul trapped inside this hell.\n\nThere were twelve iron doors set side by side at the end of the trip, seven of which were left open. Like hungry maws waiting to be fed. Lawrence was led to the furthest door, and after another clang of a lock and squeaking of hinges, he was motioned inside. Though he knew the lion who sat on the pile of thin, flea-ridden blankets from childhood, Lawrence did not immediately recognise the thin and sickly figure. Even when he spoke, the voice was not that of the regal prince he had served all those years ago.\n\n``And here I thought it was mealtime,'' Edmond said, looking up at his visitor with eyes that no longer sparkled with a love for life. His voice sounded dry and cracking from lack of use. Mange had gotten into the once lush fur, and his mane was thin, lanky and unkept.\n\nThe door to the cell swung shut with a deafening clang behind him. For a moment, Lawrence feared he would hear the lock turn as well, but all was quiet, and the two old friends just stared at each other in the dim light of a tiny, cracked oil lamp.\n\n``And to what do I owe the honor of your visit?''\n\n``This is not a social call, sir!'' Lawrence said. He flinched as his former employer raised a questioning eyebrow at the habitual honorific that had slipped out.\n\n``Obviously.'' Edmund remained seated, not bothering to get up and greet his visitor decently. He refused to make eye contact, looking away instead at a patch of slimy mould against the gloomy, rough-hewn wall. ``State your business then and begone. Even here, I have little patience for traitors.''\n\n``That is rich coming from you,'' Lawrence said, but his voice lacked the bite it should have held. He turned to look at the room they found themselves in, his gaze lingering on the various deep shadows scattered about the walls. ``I'll cut to the chase then: I am looking for the identity of one of your old agents, a certain Mr Aramis.'' At the name, Edmund snorted and gave Lawrence a sharp glare. ``Who is he?''\n\n``Have you completely lost your mind?'' Edmund spoke with a low hiss that suggested something of the proud prince Lawrence had once served survived. ``Have you honestly -''\n\n``How do you like your living quarters?'' Lawrence interrupted his insult with a dismissive wave of his hand. ``Hard bed with barely enough blankets to keep warm in the perpetual cold. A weak oil lamp for light.'' Lawrence leaned over Edmund, a low growl to his voice. ``No privacy to yourself whatsoever, with everybody listening in all the time?''\n\nEdmund remained silent, looking long and hard at the wolf looming over him. He may be physically weaker than Lawrence at that moment, but there was still a little enough pride left in the disgraced prince who refused to be intimidated. ``Your point?'' was all the answer he gave.\n\n``The king does not intend to ever let you out of this dreary cell,'' Lawrence said with a smug grin. He stepped away from the prisoner and motioned towards the cold, wet, slimy walls for emphasis. ``But if you give up this last agent of yours, I'll see to it that your stay here will be a little more bearable.''\n\n``And why should I believe you?'' Edmund asked with a low sneer. ``Broken trust never mends fully.''\n\n``From where I am standing, you have little choice.'' Lawrence flicked his tail in annoyance as he turned his back to the disgraced prince, putting his hands in his pockets in an ultimate show of disrespect. ``This Mr Aramis intends to spring you from your cell, and...''\n\n``He is WHAT?'' Edmond asked in genuine shock. He looked back at his visitor as if seeing the wolf for the first time. ``Why? How for that matter?''\n\n``Look, you fool!'' Lawrence growled as he spun around unexpectedly and grabbed Edmond by the collar of his torn clothes. He hauled the larger man with surprisingly little effort onto his feet and pushed him against the slimy wall. Edmond, taken aback by the sudden aggression, could do little more than grab at Lawrence's paws as he tried to break free. There was a light scuffle before the former prince's strength gave out, and he had to stop struggling.\n\n``The king will not even allow the slightest chance for Mr Aramis to succeed in his endeavour,'' the wolf said through bared teeth. ``If we cannot find and apprehend him, your brother will be forced to find another means to prevent your escape, slight as the risk may be.'' Lawrence gave Edmond one last shove before stepping away, breathing deep as if to calm himself again. ``You will just choke on your food one day, finding it laced with poison.''\n\n``King Henry is no fool,'' Edmond said softly, looking down at his balled-up hands that shook slightly after the unexpected aggression by his former confidant. ``If anything about my current situation were to change, there would be war.''\n\n``Which is why he is eager to resolve this problem before it gets out of hand.'' Lawrence folded his arms and huffed in exasperation. ``Look, the choice is simple: Remain silent and face the king's wrath. Or give up the identity of Mr Aramis, and I'll see to it that you get some proper furniture in here. Think about it: A better cot with decent blankets, a table and chair. Heck, I'll even throw in a fishbowl for you with those Pufferfish you always loved!''\n\n``Pufferfish?'' Edmond asked, looking up at Lawrence in bewilderment. ``I ne-'' The lion bit back his reply, frowning at Lawrence for a second before looking down at his clenched hands again. ``Do I have a choice?'' he muttered meekly instead.\n\nLawrence sighed before clearing his throat to hide his frayed emotions. This interrogation of his former employer and once trusted friend turned out to be a lot more stressful than he had anticipated. ``Not really,'' he said softly. He sounded almost apologetic about the whole situation and did not look up at the lion again. ``Things have progressed too far already to be simply dropped.''\n\n``Some company would be nice,'' Edmond said, weighing each word carefully before speaking softly. ``When will you be able to get them to me?''\n\n``Give me ten days, and I'll bring you some friends. But only if you give up Aramis's identity now.''\n\nEdmond was silent for a moment as he considered his next step.\n\n``You remember Charles from our youth?'' he finally said with a heavy sigh.\n\nLawrence flinched at the mention of the name but then quickly nodded. ``Thank you.'' Without another word, he turned back to the door and banged on it three times with a clenched fist. A moment later, it swung open with a shrill shriek as if the hinges were unwilling to let any of their victims go, and he made a hasty retreat from the depressing room. The door closed once more with a heavy bang, and the locking mechanism engaged with a series of loud clunks before all was left silent again.\n\n***\n\nTen days later, the weather turned out to be just like it had been on the day his faith died.\n\nIt had been drizzling the whole week when he had travelled to the Abby on Averton Isle, seeking guidance from the nun many regarded as the greatest prophetess of the present age. He hazarded the treacherous journey to have a simple question answered: Should he follow his head or his heart? To whom should he remain loyal: His liege-lord or his king?\n\nHe did not like the answer.\n\n``Everything has its appointed season: A time to sow and a time to reap, A right time to rip out and another to mend, A right time to shut up and another to speak up,'' she had told him through a series of coughs and wheezes. ``The upcoming coup is from God; do not challenge fate. Win or lose, you will not like the outcome.''\n\nThe fact that she had agreed, insisted even, to speak to him despite her poor health should have been a clue about the urgency of her warning. But all he could see was her soiled linens, her lack of fur and the difficulty of her breathing. Her words to him were the last she ever spoke, for she died an hour or so later.\n\nAnd his faith in a benign God along with her.\n\nNow, Lawrence found himself crouching low in the mud as he hid behind a rocky outcropping, keeping a close watch on the road. An unexpected storm had blown in, complicating his self-appointed mission significantly. But everything has been put in motion, and there was no stopping it. By now, King Henry will know that Lawrence did not travel north to arrest Charles. Lawrence will not be surprised if Henry even discovered by now that the youngest son of a lesser noble has been dead for the past five years.\n\nLawrence swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he recalled the close circle of friends he had been part of as a teenager. Edmond, Charles and Lawrence. The Three Musketeers, they called themselves. Named after a little-known story from the Ancients.\n\nThe `three inseparables', torn apart for what he thought at the time was the right thing to do.\n\nHe should not have challenged fate.\n\n``Aramis!'' an approaching rider on feral horseback called out to him. ``They are coming!''\n\n``Get the coach into position,'' Lawrence ordered, the melancholy of poor decisions shoved to the back of his mind for the moment. ``Quickly now!''\n\nA horse-drawn coach was pulled onto the road where the rocks formed a slight bottleneck, and a loose wheel was set aside as if the entourage of a nobleman were fixing a broken axle. It was a hasty blockade, but effective enough to slow the approaching vehicle down, and innocent enough that the approaching escort would not recognize the ambush for what it was before they were close enough to spring the trap. Lawrence's mercenaries had no time to spare, for the target of their ambush appeared over the crest of a small rise even as the last of his fighters scrambled to find cover on either side of the road.\n\nThe storm made the fighting difficult, but Lawrence's men made quick work of overwhelming the escort of guards and securing the prize being brought back to the capital on the open wagon: the simple wooden coffin containing Prince Edmond's corpse. Or at least, what appeared to be his corpse. Tetrodotoxin, or Pufferfish Poison, is a dangerous toxin that dulls the senses and relaxes the muscles to the point where the victim can no longer breathe. But if mixed with the oil of a rare desert plant, it induces a trance-like state that can be easily mistaken for death. Still, Lawrence only had a few hours to administer the antidote. He had no way of knowing how long ago Edmond had taken the concoction the wolf had slipped to him when he pushed the lion up against the wall in his cell. So it was a tense minute after the thin, bitter liquid trickled down Edmond's throat before the prince started coughing and wheezing again.\n\n``Easy there, sir,'' Lawrence said, sighing with relief as he helped the escaping prisoner up into a sitting position. ``Just breathe. I know it is uncomfortable, but you need to get up and move.''\n\n``Why?'' Edmond coughed as Lawrence manoeuvred the weak lion into a sitting position.\n\n``Your brother will soon learn about what happened here if he doesn't already suspect I am up to something.'' Lawrence nodded in thanks to his lieutenant, who rushed up to help support Edmond's other shoulder as they all but carried the prince to the coach they had used in the ambush.\n\n``No.'' Edmond shook his head weakly as another fit of coughing overcame him. He was still weak and unstable, but his spirit remained as strong as ever. ``Why are you doing this?''\n\nLawrence stopped and looked at his old friend with sorrowful eyes, despite his lieutenant's urges to make haste.\n\n``The same reason I sold you out to your brother five years ago: The greater good of the kingdom,'' he admitted, unable to hold the piercing gaze of the lion for very long. ``I should have listened to you that Henry could not be trusted to govern the kingdom.''\n\n``What changed?''\n\n``Henry sold the mining district of Coronvere to Ceratothea, and then abandoned the entire garrison stationed there, dooming them to cover his corruption.'' Lawrence growled in disgust at the betrayal of the man for whom he had turned against his childhood friends. ``And he did it to fund a new summer retreat in the mountains.''\n\nAs they worked to get Edmond seated in the carriage, the soldiers Lawrence had entrusted this task to made quick work of the preparations to head off. The evidence of the first skirmish of the upcoming civil war was pulled off the road and hidden in the brush while others prepared Edward's carriage for the journey to the prepared safehouse.\n\n``And what happens now?'' Edmond asked. ``Do you expect me to forgive you now that you broke me free from prison? Five years of torment and the death of dear friends are not so easily dismissed.''\n\n``No, sir. What I have done is unforgivable. I only ask that you trust me one last time.'' \n\n``Trust is a rare commodity for me these days.'' As he settled down on the soft seat in the carriage, Edmond sighed almost as if in defeat. ``But I have little choice now, do I?''\n\n``The deaths I have already caused and I will still be responsible for already haunt my dreams,'' Lawrence said through snarling teeth. His fist clenched around the doorframe as he turned to watch the last evidence of the ambush being cleared away. ``We will be making our way to the country estate of Lord Coronvere. He is your strongest supporter at the moment. Once you have recovered your strength, we can decide what happens next.''\n\nLawrence did not wait for a reply. He slammed the door closed and banged twice on a side panel, signalling the driver to head for the safehouse at speed. As he watched the carriage start to drive off, he had mixed feelings about what the future had in store for him. Five years ago, when he decided to betray his liege-lord, he was extremely confident in the choices he made. But now, he was no longer sure of anything.\n\nFaith could not die; it could only be misplaced. And he had placed it in the wrong person back then. Was he repeating the same mistake all over again? There was no oracle anymore to offer him guidance.\n\nIn the end, all he could truly do is have faith.\n\n \n\n end.\n\n \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
The Last Musketeer


by Icurthus


Lawrence can still remember the day his faith died.

It was five years ago in a small room much like this one. Featureless, save for the small desk flanked by two chairs and a single oil lamp that provided a dim, flickering light in the absence of windows. Five years ago, he had been inside the bowels of the convent of Averton Isle Abbey. This time, the room he found himself in was part of the Gralthore Prison, a place no sane person would like to see the inside of, not even as a visitor.

There was no difference whatsoever between the two rooms, he decided as a slight shiver ran down his spine.

``State your name and the purpose of your visit,'' the clerk intoned with a dreary voice that matched his overall appearance as he scribbled the date into a thick tome. What sparse fur covered his thin frame was lustreless, and Lawrence wondered if the coyote ever got to see real sunshine or breathe fresh air. Again, there was little difference between the Abbey and the Prison in his mind. The only noticeable change was that the oracle he had gone to see back then had been mortally ill, while the clerk only looked severely neglected.

``Captain Lawrence,'' he said quickly, looking at the smooth walls of the room carved from the very structure of the mountain. ``I-I am here to speak to the Duke of...'' He cleared his throat awkwardly at the slip of the tongue. ``Sorry, old habits. I'm here to speak to Edmond.''

``The king's treacherous brother?'' the clerk asked in surprise without looking up. ``He's been interred in Solitary Confinement as per the king's orders. No one speaks to him. Ever.''

``Until now,'' Lawrence stated bluntly. Without looking down, he reached into the leather satchel at his side and produced a small scroll that he handed to the coyote. ``It seems Edmond's coup did not fully die with his capture. He still has some influential support somewhere, and the king is eager to uncover any allies the prince may still have.''

``I advise you to refrain from calling him `prince' in these halls again,'' the clerk said through a disgusted snarl. It was the first hint of emotion he had shown since Lawrence arrived. ``He has lost his birthright the night you exposed his plans to overthrow the true king.''

``Understood,'' Lawrence replied with ears pulled back as he leaned back in his chair, though he could not hide the irritated growl in his voice. It was not worth the attention trying to explain himself. The clerk might just notice the slight shake of his hands, the dampness of his fur against his temples, or how his tail kept trying to tuck itself deeper beneath his seat. He focused on keeping his breathing calm and his posture relaxed instead of anxiously looking at how the clerk inspected the royal seal in the finest of detail. He tried to remind himself that he had nothing to fear; the seal was authentic and the order genuine, written by the king's hand.

``Something wrong?'' the clerk asked. ``You seem nervous.''

``Gralthore Prison,'' Lawrence said a little too quickly, sounding almost rehearsed. ``I've heard the stories.''

``Most of them are true, by the way.'' The clerk grinned as he snapped the unbroken seal in half and slowly unfurled the scroll. He read the king's orders three times before looking up at Lawrence with a suspicious frown. ``The traitor has not been in contact with anyone since his incarceration five years ago. Even the guard who brings him food does not interact with him directly. What makes the king think he knows of anything outside his cell?''

``Something is happening,'' Lawrence insisted. ``Surely you've heard of the increased bandit activity across the kingdom? The senseless riots in the large cities? The blatant intimidation and even assassinations of prominent members of the noble houses who had proven their loyalty to the true king? Even the members of the king's inner cabinet are not safe. I assume you've heard of the recent assassination of Lord Jameel?''

``Lord Jameel has been slain?'' the clerk asked.

``Yes.''

``How?''

``Best not to ask for the gory details. But before his death, Lord Jameel's investigations uncovered that a certain `Mr Aramis' is behind these attempts to destabilise Royal Security.'' Lawrence looked about the featureless room again as if impatient. ``Given the nature of the intimidations, we believe he aims to finish what Edmund started. It sounds impossible, but the authenticity of this coup has been validated when we recently uncovered a plot to penetrate your prison and free the traitor.''

``How do they plan to do that?'' the clerk asked indignantly. The simple chair he was sitting on clattered for a moment when he got to his feet, scrunching the edge of the royal letter as he shook a fist at Lawrence. ``In the two hundred years since this facility's excavation, there has never been a successful prison break. No one even came close.''

``Did I not just say Mr Aramis got to the king's Minister of Espionage?'' Lawrence replied, a dangerous growl indicating his patience was also starting to run thin. ``The details are sketchy, but it is undeniable that the threat is real. The king is eager not to take any chances, especially now that his Intelligence Network is compromised. I have been ordered to learn from Edmond who this Mr Aramis is before he can cause greater trouble.''

``You were the captain of the guard for the traitor before he tried to betray his king,'' the clerk said. He sat down again, looking a little more carefully at Lawrence from across his small spectacles. ``Surely, you must know all the codenames of his contacts.''

``Not all, it seems,'' Lawrence said. He stopped fidgeting with the already fraying hem of his sleeve to lean forward in his chair and glare at the annoying clerk. ``Or do you suggest I return to the king and tell him that I cannot safeguard his throne because I should have known all the secrets of my former employer?''

The clerk remained silent momentarily, inspecting Lawrence as if he was a curious bug the coyote had never seen before. After a long silence, during which Lawrence thought his heart would fail, the clerk finally shook his head.

``We do not want to upset the king, now do we?'' he agreed as he stood up and headed for the door. ``Wait here. I'll arrange an escort to the Solitary Confinement cells for you.''

``Thank you,'' Lawrence said. He huffed as the clerk exited the small office, hoping the annoyed sound would be sufficient to mask his sigh of relief.

Just over an hour later, Lawrence was escorted down into the bowels of the mountain, where the worst criminals are interred. As he followed the burly wolf, who had been kitted out in equipment second only to the Royal Guard themselves, he couldn't stop another shiver running down his spine. Dante's description of hell came to mind, where the innermost circle of torment were reserved for traitors and mutineers.

They passed through three heavy iron doors set into the mountain before reaching their destination. Each lock clanged uncomfortably loud in the deathly silence as the key was turned. As the way was opened, the hinges squeaked something terrible, reminding him of the stories of banshees he had heard around campfires as a youngling. When each door was shut behind them, the bang it made echoed down the claustrophobic hall, racing ahead of them like messengers of doom to announce their arrival to the abandoned soul trapped inside this hell.

There were twelve iron doors set side by side at the end of the trip, seven of which were left open. Like hungry maws waiting to be fed. Lawrence was led to the furthest door, and after another clang of a lock and squeaking of hinges, he was motioned inside. Though he knew the lion who sat on the pile of thin, flea-ridden blankets from childhood, Lawrence did not immediately recognise the thin and sickly figure. Even when he spoke, the voice was not that of the regal prince he had served all those years ago.

``And here I thought it was mealtime,'' Edmond said, looking up at his visitor with eyes that no longer sparkled with a love for life. His voice sounded dry and cracking from lack of use. Mange had gotten into the once lush fur, and his mane was thin, lanky and unkept.

The door to the cell swung shut with a deafening clang behind him. For a moment, Lawrence feared he would hear the lock turn as well, but all was quiet, and the two old friends just stared at each other in the dim light of a tiny, cracked oil lamp.

``And to what do I owe the honor of your visit?''

``This is not a social call, sir!'' Lawrence said. He flinched as his former employer raised a questioning eyebrow at the habitual honorific that had slipped out.

``Obviously.'' Edmund remained seated, not bothering to get up and greet his visitor decently. He refused to make eye contact, looking away instead at a patch of slimy mould against the gloomy, rough-hewn wall. ``State your business then and begone. Even here, I have little patience for traitors.''

``That is rich coming from you,'' Lawrence said, but his voice lacked the bite it should have held. He turned to look at the room they found themselves in, his gaze lingering on the various deep shadows scattered about the walls. ``I'll cut to the chase then: I am looking for the identity of one of your old agents, a certain Mr Aramis.'' At the name, Edmund snorted and gave Lawrence a sharp glare. ``Who is he?''

``Have you completely lost your mind?'' Edmund spoke with a low hiss that suggested something of the proud prince Lawrence had once served survived. ``Have you honestly -''

``How do you like your living quarters?'' Lawrence interrupted his insult with a dismissive wave of his hand. ``Hard bed with barely enough blankets to keep warm in the perpetual cold. A weak oil lamp for light.'' Lawrence leaned over Edmund, a low growl to his voice. ``No privacy to yourself whatsoever, with everybody listening in all the time?''

Edmund remained silent, looking long and hard at the wolf looming over him. He may be physically weaker than Lawrence at that moment, but there was still a little enough pride left in the disgraced prince who refused to be intimidated. ``Your point?'' was all the answer he gave.

``The king does not intend to ever let you out of this dreary cell,'' Lawrence said with a smug grin. He stepped away from the prisoner and motioned towards the cold, wet, slimy walls for emphasis. ``But if you give up this last agent of yours, I'll see to it that your stay here will be a little more bearable.''

``And why should I believe you?'' Edmund asked with a low sneer. ``Broken trust never mends fully.''

``From where I am standing, you have little choice.'' Lawrence flicked his tail in annoyance as he turned his back to the disgraced prince, putting his hands in his pockets in an ultimate show of disrespect. ``This Mr Aramis intends to spring you from your cell, and...''

``He is WHAT?'' Edmond asked in genuine shock. He looked back at his visitor as if seeing the wolf for the first time. ``Why? How for that matter?''

``Look, you fool!'' Lawrence growled as he spun around unexpectedly and grabbed Edmond by the collar of his torn clothes. He hauled the larger man with surprisingly little effort onto his feet and pushed him against the slimy wall. Edmond, taken aback by the sudden aggression, could do little more than grab at Lawrence's paws as he tried to break free. There was a light scuffle before the former prince's strength gave out, and he had to stop struggling.

``The king will not even allow the slightest chance for Mr Aramis to succeed in his endeavour,'' the wolf said through bared teeth. ``If we cannot find and apprehend him, your brother will be forced to find another means to prevent your escape, slight as the risk may be.'' Lawrence gave Edmond one last shove before stepping away, breathing deep as if to calm himself again. ``You will just choke on your food one day, finding it laced with poison.''

``King Henry is no fool,'' Edmond said softly, looking down at his balled-up hands that shook slightly after the unexpected aggression by his former confidant. ``If anything about my current situation were to change, there would be war.''

``Which is why he is eager to resolve this problem before it gets out of hand.'' Lawrence folded his arms and huffed in exasperation. ``Look, the choice is simple: Remain silent and face the king's wrath. Or give up the identity of Mr Aramis, and I'll see to it that you get some proper furniture in here. Think about it: A better cot with decent blankets, a table and chair. Heck, I'll even throw in a fishbowl for you with those Pufferfish you always loved!''

``Pufferfish?'' Edmond asked, looking up at Lawrence in bewilderment. ``I ne-'' The lion bit back his reply, frowning at Lawrence for a second before looking down at his clenched hands again.  ``Do I have a choice?'' he muttered meekly instead.

Lawrence sighed before clearing his throat to hide his frayed emotions. This interrogation of his former employer and once trusted friend turned out to be a lot more stressful than he had anticipated. ``Not really,'' he said softly. He sounded almost apologetic about the whole situation and did not look up at the lion again. ``Things have progressed too far already to be simply dropped.''

``Some company would be nice,'' Edmond said, weighing each word carefully before speaking softly. ``When will you be able to get them to me?''

``Give me ten days, and I'll bring you some friends. But only if you give up Aramis's identity now.''

Edmond was silent for a moment as he considered his next step.

``You remember Charles from our youth?'' he finally said with a heavy sigh.

Lawrence flinched at the mention of the name but then quickly nodded. ``Thank you.'' Without another word, he turned back to the door and banged on it three times with a clenched fist. A moment later, it swung open with a shrill shriek as if the hinges were unwilling to let any of their victims go, and he made a hasty retreat from the depressing room. The door closed once more with a heavy bang, and the locking mechanism engaged with a series of loud clunks before all was left silent again.

***

Ten days later, the weather turned out to be just like it had been on the day his faith died.

It had been drizzling the whole week when he had travelled to the Abby on Averton Isle, seeking guidance from the nun many regarded as the greatest prophetess of the present age. He hazarded the treacherous journey to have a simple question answered: Should he follow his head or his heart? To whom should he remain loyal: His liege-lord or his king?

He did not like the answer.

``Everything has its appointed season: A time to sow and a time to reap, A right time to rip out and another to mend, A right time to shut up and another to speak up,'' she had told him through a series of coughs and wheezes. ``The upcoming coup is from God; do not challenge fate. Win or lose, you will not like the outcome.''

The fact that she had agreed, insisted even, to speak to him despite her poor health should have been a clue about the urgency of her warning. But all he could see was her soiled linens, her lack of fur and the difficulty of her breathing. Her words to him were the last she ever spoke, for she died an hour or so later.

And his faith in a benign God along with her.

Now, Lawrence found himself crouching low in the mud as he hid behind a rocky outcropping, keeping a close watch on the road. An unexpected storm had blown in, complicating his self-appointed mission significantly. But everything has been put in motion, and there was no stopping it. By now, King Henry will know that Lawrence did not travel north to arrest Charles. Lawrence will not be surprised if Henry even discovered by now that the youngest son of a lesser noble has been dead for the past five years.

Lawrence swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he recalled the close circle of friends he had been part of as a teenager. Edmond, Charles and Lawrence. The Three Musketeers, they called themselves. Named after a little-known story from the Ancients.

The `three inseparables', torn apart for what he thought at the time was the right thing to do.

He should not have challenged fate.

``Aramis!'' an approaching rider on feral horseback called out to him. ``They are coming!''

``Get the coach into position,'' Lawrence ordered, the melancholy of poor decisions shoved to the back of his mind for the moment. ``Quickly now!''

A horse-drawn coach was pulled onto the road where the rocks formed a slight bottleneck, and a loose wheel was set aside as if the entourage of a nobleman were fixing a broken axle. It was a hasty blockade, but effective enough to slow the approaching vehicle down, and innocent enough that the approaching escort would not recognize the ambush for what it was before they were close enough to spring the trap. Lawrence's mercenaries had no time to spare, for the target of their ambush appeared over the crest of a small rise even as the last of his fighters scrambled to find cover on either side of the road.

The storm made the fighting difficult, but Lawrence's men made quick work of overwhelming the escort of guards and securing the prize being brought back to the capital on the open wagon: the simple wooden coffin containing Prince Edmond's corpse. Or at least, what appeared to be his corpse. Tetrodotoxin, or Pufferfish Poison, is a dangerous toxin that dulls the senses and relaxes the muscles to the point where the victim can no longer breathe. But if mixed with the oil of a rare desert plant, it induces a trance-like state that can be easily mistaken for death. Still, Lawrence only had a few hours to administer the antidote. He had no way of knowing how long ago Edmond had taken the concoction the wolf had slipped to him when he pushed the lion up against the wall in his cell. So it was a tense minute after the thin, bitter liquid trickled down Edmond's throat before the prince started coughing and wheezing again.

``Easy there, sir,'' Lawrence said, sighing with relief as he helped the escaping prisoner up into a sitting position. ``Just breathe. I know it is uncomfortable, but you need to get up and move.''

``Why?'' Edmond coughed as Lawrence manoeuvred the weak lion into a sitting position.

``Your brother will soon learn about what happened here if he doesn't already suspect I am up to something.'' Lawrence nodded in thanks to his lieutenant, who rushed up to help support Edmond's other shoulder as they all but carried the prince to the coach they had used in the ambush.

``No.'' Edmond shook his head weakly as another fit of coughing overcame him. He was still weak and unstable, but his spirit remained as strong as ever. ``Why are you doing this?''

Lawrence stopped and looked at his old friend with sorrowful eyes, despite his lieutenant's urges to make haste.

``The same reason I sold you out to your brother five years ago: The greater good of the kingdom,'' he admitted, unable to hold the piercing gaze of the lion for very long. ``I should have listened to you that Henry could not be trusted to govern the kingdom.''

``What changed?''

``Henry sold the mining district of Coronvere to Ceratothea, and then abandoned the entire garrison stationed there, dooming them to cover his corruption.'' Lawrence growled in disgust at the betrayal of the man for whom he had turned against his childhood friends. ``And he did it to fund a new summer retreat in the mountains.''

As they worked to get Edmond seated in the carriage, the soldiers Lawrence had entrusted this task to made quick work of the preparations to head off. The evidence of the first skirmish of the upcoming civil war was pulled off the road and hidden in the brush while others prepared Edward's carriage for the journey to the prepared safehouse.

``And what happens now?'' Edmond asked. ``Do you expect me to forgive you now that you broke me free from prison? Five years of torment and the death of dear friends are not so easily dismissed.''

``No, sir. What I have done is unforgivable. I only ask that you trust me one last time.''

``Trust is a rare commodity for me these days.'' As he settled down on the soft seat in the carriage, Edmond sighed almost as if in defeat. ``But I have little choice now, do I?''

``The deaths I have already caused and I will still be responsible for already haunt my dreams,'' Lawrence said through snarling teeth. His fist clenched around the doorframe as he turned to watch the last evidence of the ambush being cleared away. ``We will be making our way to the country estate of Lord Coronvere. He is your strongest supporter at the moment. Once you have recovered your strength, we can decide what happens next.''

Lawrence did not wait for a reply. He slammed the door closed and banged twice on a side panel, signalling the driver to head for the safehouse at speed. As he watched the carriage start to drive off, he had mixed feelings about what the future had in store for him. Five years ago, when he decided to betray his liege-lord, he was extremely confident in the choices he made. But now, he was no longer sure of anything.

Faith could not die; it could only be misplaced. And he had placed it in the wrong person back then. Was he repeating the same mistake all over again? There was no oracle anymore to offer him guidance.

In the end, all he could truly do is have faith.

 

 end.

 

", "pools_count": 0, "title": "The Last Musketeer", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "application/msword", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "0", "rating_name": "General", "ratings": [], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "15" }