CHAPTER 109 It’ll Be Alright

Henrietta

We came out into a small room in presumably the servants' quarters, and I felt the first waves of portal sickness overtake me. That was one nice thing about being paralyzed—I didn't have to worry about emptying my stomach from the nausea …

It was also really hard to focus while being carted around like a sack of flour. I tried calling out to Jacqueline, but nothing happened, so then I tried reading my notifications tab.

[Veralyn's Enchanted Restraint Manacles: A modified version of the restraints designed for St. George's Trials. Prevents access to all nonpassive Titles, Skills, Perks, Bonded, and Equipped Items. All Attribute stats capped at 15.]

If I'd had the ability to groan, I would have. Veralyn's Enchanted Restraint Manacles were really hard to break. And they came with the highest debuffs any item could carry.

I wasn't too worried, though; I'd spent a lot of time adventuring. It was just a matter of finding someone with a sword I could borrow.

Oftentimes, I cursed that one's character sheet skills were not useful if I didn't think to activate them. This was an occasion I was happy that the two were separate. I had the muscle memory and practical skills of a level sixty-eight swordswoman, even if I couldn't execute a system [Force Thrust].

I moved on to examine my character sheet.

I had a pitiful amount of health and mana. As I was reading, they brought me into a room where I was unceremoniously dumped next to two other people tied up with magical ropes and sitting on the floor: a kitchen boy and Brownie. I tried to call out to her, but I was still paralyzed.

[You have been Paralyzed. Time until effect wears off 00:00:34]

"A famous minstrel, a blackfog spy, and a crown princess." Marquess Dorset looked down on us and let out an unpleasant giggle. "I always find the perfect souvenirs when I travel."

"People are not souvenirs." Brownie looked up, glaring. She was weeping quietly, her entire demeanor broken.

I couldn't imagine what they'd done to make such a strong, confident woman cry … and I decided then and there that the marquess would pay for whatever cruelty he had—

"And I'm not much of a minstrel," Brownie choked, "without an instrument."

"You should have thought of that before you broke your lute over my servant's back," Chadwick chastised. The man wearing musician's clothing glowered at the bard, rubbing the back of his neck. The marquess continued, "I'll buy you a new lute. Or whoever buys you will buy you a new lute."

"I play the lyre harp!"

"I do not care," the marquess retorted.

Alright, more things were falling into place! Marquess Dorset was a slave trader. I finally remembered why his name felt so familiar! Madame Potts had mentioned him in one of her foretellings.

The Marquess Dorsetis the slave trader you're looking for … Something, something about orphanages.

Why was he standing here and not in prison?

[You have been Paralyzed. Time until effect wears off 00:00:06]

Only six more seconds! I needed a plan better than just "hit the marquess in the face with my manacles." As much as that sounded satisfying. I relaxed and took a deep breath as I regained the ability to use my limbs. I sat up and inched toward Brownie.

"You won't get away with this." I started strong with a very cliché line, hoping that would get his attention. It didn't.

"I already have." Chadwick threw another scroll. "It's time we departed. Activate: [Portal Door]."

Those one-time-use lesser portal doors cost a pretty penny. I could only imagine what a midlevel scroll cost. The marquess had his servant, who I realized was the flautist for the orchestra, haul each of us through the portal. The kitchen boy, who was apparently a spy, was sent through first, then a still crying Brownie, and lastly myself. I didn't bother fighting, since they'd already sent Brownie through before I could do anything about it.

I fell to my knees on the other side and dry heaved; that portal was definitely worse than Gimtak's skill. My head spun and my gut wrenched, and I had to wait for the queasy sensation to calm down.

I raised my head in time to watch the portal close … without the marquess. I was on the floor at the foot of a bed. There was a window ahead of me, and I could just barely make out the towers from Duchess Calisto's palace over the treetops in the distance. It was still early in the evening, and sunset was a few hours yet.

The flautist downed some type of recovery potion. "That's all of us."

"About time you made it," a woman's voice drawled. I looked up to see a brunette woman in fine leathers wearing brass knuckles. Another slave trader, most likely. I struggled up onto my arms and knees, feeling a little less ill by the second. I sat up and slipped my hand across my boot, palming a silver needle.

I could do this.

"I didn't see you doing the carrying," the flautist snapped. He looked past me. "I'm impressed our knight protector got here so quickly. You didn't need to worry so much—we wouldn't hurt the merchandise."

"All the same," a familiar voice spoke behind me, and I spun around to face him. "I'll take the princess. The wagons are ready out back."

Knight Commander Havork reached down and helped Brownie to her feet, gentle but firm. He pushed the bard toward the brunette with brass knuckles. Brownie tried to clock the woman over the head with her bound fists, but the brunette caught her fist easily and towed my friend outside.

The kitchen lad was still recovering from his portal sickness, and unfortunately, couldn't hold in his dinner.

"Why do I always get the messy ones?" the flautist grumbled. He reached down and grabbed the boy by his tunic, dragging him to the door. He stopped in the doorway and waited for us. "Come on, then."

Havork eyed me cautiously.

"I can't believe you're doing this," I accused, gripping the needle hard enough it pricked me. "You're not seriously going to help slavers? I thought you had honor!"

My old mentor flinched but just said, "This will go easier for you if you don't resist."

Nothing, nothing could have convinced me that Havork would be working with slave traders … except seeing him here in person. It was a complete betrayal of everything I knew about the man.

Which meant I hesitated to outright stab him in the face until I got some answers.

Havork bent down and scooped me into his arms. He grunted and seemed to struggle lifting me.

"What now?" I asked, waiting for my time to strike. I only had Strength fifteen, but I was close enough for a surprise attack.

I wished I had my sword, but what use would that do. I probably couldn't use Jacqueline properly even if I could summon her. Stupid manacles.

"We all go for a nice carriage ride to the Servalt border and meet the marquess in Colwood," he explained. We followed the others out into a hallway that ended in a set of stairs and a door to outside.

Havork stopped at the bottom of the stairs. What was effectively a wooden box masquerading as a "carriage" waited for us. There were men and women stationed around the carriage, loading cargo or keeping watch. I thought I counted nine or ten all told but wasn't sure.

Brownie was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed she was already in the box. The flautist was chasing after the kitchen boy, who had attempted an escape. There was a scuffle, and the boy was tackled to the ground while everyone else just watched.

Some of the group laughed.

Others continued their tasks.

"You know I can't go in that carriage," I told Havork. If he took one step toward it, I was going to attack him. "You know I can't. Please don't make me."

I tensed, but he made no move.

I tried to maintain my image, speaking matter-of-factly … but I felt my voice break at the end. I would fight with my little silver boot needle until they knocked me unconscious before anyone convinced me to get into that small, dark box.

The knight commander grimaced. He glanced at the slave traders, distracted with the runaway spy boy.

He whispered quietly, "It won't be for very long."

"I'll barely last one hundred seconds before I do something stupid," I told him. Even now, I wanted to trust him. To believe in the Havork I knew and respected. I'd forgotten what it meant to love a parent, but he was the closest thing I'd ever had to a real father.

His face was unreadable, and I tensed.

"Did you know I'm actually quite good at riddles?" he said suddenly.

"What?"

To our side, the kitchen boy pulled out a knife from somewhere. Good for him!

I looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow at the knight commander.

He sighed and said something I was not expecting.

"If you want to know why it'll be alright, I'll give you the answer. It's a book."