The Robber Knight's Love

05. Miniature Betrayal

Fye tugged again on the sleeve of the pretty blonde lady, and stared up at the face far above her. The lady looked funny, her eyes were all puffed up, but Fye couldn't waste any time wondering why. She was on a mission.

The blonde lady, Ayla, wiped water from her puffy eyes and bent down, smiling, though a bit weakly.

“Y-yes my girl? What is it?”

“I'm bored”, Fye declared, holding up her two dolls: the knight and the lady. “I'm tired of my old game and want a new one.”

“I see. And how can I help?”

“I wanted to ask your opinion. You see, at the start I thought it would be fun to have Sir Reuben,” she held up the knight doll, “save his Lady so they could both live happily ever after.”

“Sounds nice,” whispered the blonde lady, although her smile wavered as she said it.

“No, no.” Fye scowled. “That's what I thought at first, too. But then I realized it's soooo boring. So how about this: Sir Reuben betrays his lady and becomes evil!” She smiled, proud of her innovative idea. “Wouldn't that be much more interesting, do you think?”

Suddenly the wet stuff started to leak out of the blonde lady's eyes again. She turned abruptly and hurried away, clutching her face in her hands and waling like a pig with a sore foot.

Frowning, Fye stared after her. Adults were really weird sometimes.

*~*~**~*~*

Sir Luca scowled up at the dark castle, silhouetted against a moonlit night sky, and muttered curses in Italian. He was not pleased about what had happened just now. Not pleased at all.

He was a renowned warrior and general, commander of the armed forces of the Margrave von Falkenstein and leader of the campaign against Lady Ayla von Lutberg. He had just succeeded in taking the bridge down in the valley and trapping his enemy inside her castle. So he should be happy, no?

But the triumph had turned sour in his mouth. He had just had a little talk with this Lady Ayla. He had impressed upon her how fully he had beaten her, how superior he was in military matters, and he was just about to proceed to detail all the horrible things he would do to her if she did not surrender, when she suddenly, in the middle of the parley, asked some odd unconnected questions, then turned and left him standing in the dark. This was not proper behavior for beleaguered damsels! They were supposed to quiver in fear of you, not ignore you and leave you standing. They were supposed to tremble before your mightiness and properly beg for mercy, which of course they would not receive.

Instead, Sir Luca had ended up at the foot of the wall of Luntberg castle, shouting himself hoarse for half an hour, trying to get the little zoccola to come back and listen to what he had to say. It had been for naught.

So now he was staring at the castle with as much hatred as could burn in his small, dark eyes—which was quite a lot.

“Mannaggia tua!” he muttered to himself. “If only I could attack. Then I would show her!”

Ah yes, if he could attack! For a moment he indulged in the fantasy, imagining the war cries from hundreds of men as they stormed towards the castle walls, equipped with torches, ladders and heavy weaponry. He imagined the sound of a trebuchet, as it hurled its deadly load against the home of his enemies, smashing the mighty walls of the castle to dust.

But no, it was not to be.

Falkenstein wanted the castle intact, and, if possible, also its lady.