The door closed, he heard them leave as he hid in the shadows.

  He waited, listening as he held his breath till he could no longer hear their footsteps. Quietly breathing in he began creeping along the corridor to the room its light from within now extinguished. He approached the door, testing the handle with a shaky hand.

  Relief washed over him as the door nob turned. The plan was working. He cracked the door open slightly and gagged as the stench of blood hit him like a knife to the gut. He closed his eyes in silent prayer as he swung the door outwards slipping inside.

  His stomach churned at the sight, Lady Marix lay in a puddle of blood, her light orange eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Her hair once as white as a lily was stained a deep red, black veins covered her body and face.

  Bile formed in the back of his throat. He tried hard to swallow, but his mouth felt too dry.

  The baby he was ordered to find was sleeping in her arms, and to his surprise, the child wasn’t crying.

  Near the body was a knife. He stood and picked it up wondering how it was so clean amidst all the carnage. He didn’t think about it for too long though, a crack of thunder brought him back to reality, and he subconsciously pocketed it.

  Squatting down he noticed some words written in blood that were barely distinguishable in the darkness.

  “Azriel.” He murmured reading the letters. The child’s eyes suddenly opened, they were an unsettling deep red. A chill crawled down his spine.

  The boy reached his small bloodied hand out towards Jeroen. He took the hand and picked up the child cradling him. In the boy’s other hand was a necklace with a ring on it. He tried to pry it from the baby’s grip, but the boy refused to let go.

  He sighed in frustration. He had been told not to take anything that belonged to the Lady, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

  “Lady Marix,” He whispered hoping for a moment she would speak to him, but there was no reply. “May you rest well in Ikigai’s field.” He murmured bowing his head in respect.

  He grabbed a clean towel off a nearby stand removing the baby’s bloodied one for the new unstained one. The scent of blood would only help the bastards later.

  Pulling a slip of paper from his pocket he wrote some instructions on it with a pen, and placed the note in a bottle to protect it from the rain. He stuck it in the front of his cloak buttoning it in.

  He could feel the small beating of the baby’s heart it made him smile as he secured his cloak around them. Pulling his hood up he approached the sole window in the room to find it barred.

  He’d have to go through the back into the garden, and then to the forest from there. He had wanted to avoid that route if possible. The garden was surrounded by tall walls and climbing those in this weather... well it was far from ideal.

  Keeping silent he stood close to the door listening for footsteps. Hearing none he opened it and slipped out, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Softly he ran down the hall avoiding the bodies and blood as he made his way to the back of the castle. Here the windows weren't barred, but they also didn't open.

  Crouching in the silent hall he watched for any light from passing lamps below. Seeing no obvious signs of life he tightened his grip on the baby and threw himself out of the window. Thunder sounded above the castle cancelling out the sound of shattering glass.

  The rain shocked his nerves as the wind blew the broken glass into his face. He grunted landing with a jolt on the slick stones below. He lost his footing as he tried to stay upright and rolled forward.

  The cuts on his face stung as he stood up taking a gust of wind to it. Squinting in the darkness he stood up and began to run for the wall. Clumsily, he jumped over hedges and shrubs that threatened to fly away. The rain and his drenched clothes only kept slowing him down.

  Eventually he neared the back wall and crouching down he wrapped Azriel in a makeshift sling strapping him to his chest.

  “At least you're quiet.” Jeroen mumbled offering a grin to the boy who reached up and touched his beard before grabbing it.

  “Ow damn it.” He grumbled as he pried the boy’s grip free.

  “Knock it off kid.” Despite his harsh tone he was slightly grateful that the child didn’t seem too chilled and shocked by the rain. He needed to finish this job right and a dead baby wouldn't cut it.

  He double checked the cloak making sure it shielded them properly from any small rubble that might hit them. He stood, looking up at the wall he hated how much taller everything seemed during missions.

  “Hold on.” Jeroen told the baby, then he grabbed the stone and started climbing. The wall’s stones were slick and mossy and combined with the wind he was sure he'd fly away.

  Occasionally some parts were sharp and rigid having been chipped away by flying debris. They cut into his hands, but he had to grit his teeth just to regrip harder into the stone.

  It was frustrating, but the pain helped in keeping his senses awake despite being dulled and numb from the constant attacks of the storm. Finally, he reached the top and weakly pulled himself over the ledge and onto the patrol path.

  His legs buckled beneath him, and he grabbed onto one of the arrow loops barely catching himself from collapsing. His arms and legs burned as he lowered himself slowly into a seated position. Leaning against the clammy stone, he peered through the arrow loop above him to the right.

  The forest beyond was pitch black he could barely make out the forms of the trees further within. He wanted to take a longer rest, but the numbness was setting in.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Blasted rain.” He cursed bitterly. He stood up quickly causing his vision to swim. His head rang painfully as he closed his eyes blinking to focus his vision. He leaned against the arrow loop looking down the wall and into the forest.

  “It’s too cold for this shit.” He grumbled rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get the blood flowing again.

  “Ow! What in the?” He had forgotten how torn his hands and fingers were. Blood coated his hands filling the creases of his palm. ""

  “Honestly I should’ve quit years ago.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he bent down and rinsed his palms in the rainwater pooling at his feet.

  Swirling his hands around he watched a crimson trail shadow his fingertips. He pulled his hand from the puddle the bloodied water coating his fingers dripped back down into the stained liquid. He shook the excess water off his hands, but it didn’t matter much, everything was wet in this downpour.

  Sighing he tore the end of his cloak and wrapped his hands in the wet cloth, tying it tightly. Honestly, he should have done this earlier to avoid injury in the first place.

  “To late for that though.” He thought sourly, breathing on his frigid hands. He only liked this much water when he was using it, otherwise rainy weather could go up Riaqeivuar’s ass. A soft hit against his chest reminded him he wasn’t the only one there.

  “Damn sorry about that kid.” He said as he grabbed onto the arrow loop and lowered himself slowly down the wall to the forest.

  “Guess we better stop complaining now.” The kid hit him again as if protesting that he never complained in the first place. Jeroen cracked a smile, it was better than thinking about the pain.

  He carefully descended towards the forest feeling his way tediously down the wall. He wished he could just jump down, but he had to wait, right now it was too difficult to make out anything below him. The last thing he wanted to do is jump on top of some thorns let alone a Racki.

  He heard something crack above. He didn’t think he just jumped hoping for the best as he rolled away on impact. A massive tree branch had splintered and crashed down broken off by the wind. It landed where he had been moments ago with a loud snap as smaller branches broke beneath it.

  “Well at least that worked out. At this rate I don’t know which of us is unluckier.”

  He was answered with another hit to the chest he’d bet Larn’s fortune that the kid understood everything he said. He could place that bet later though.

  He strode forward deeper into the forest. The thick canopy of dense leaves above lessened the torrential downpour above to a drizzle. He didn’t know if he should be grateful though. Without the constant shower he could feel just how cold he truly was.

  Soon he began shivering uncontrollably and with every step his teeth chattered noisily. He clenched his jaw to stop the noise. If he was cold, there was no telling how chilled the baby was feeling.

  “Curses.” He started running, careful not to trip over the dense foliage and hidden roots beneath the shadows. After at least an hour of running solely on memory and gut feelings he found it. The halfway point.

  The place was far from ideal. It was a small shack placed a little more than halfway through the forest. Surrounded by barbed thorns, and a makeshift moat made in some of the soldiers’ free time, it looked like a thing a child would draw for fun. An insane child at that.

  The only good attributes of the shack were one, that the Racki wouldn’t bother them while they took a break, and two nobody stayed there in storms. So, it’d be empty, hopefully.

  He made his way over to the small moat and taking a look around he realized the previous dumbasses had forgot to take the pallet bridge down. It was good for him, but still. He crossed the moat and then moved the pallet beside the shack where it belonged.

  Then he opened the creaky front door, the room smelled damp and musty. He scrunched his nose as he fumbled around looking for a lamp.

  “There we go.” He lit it with a match he found next to it. Watching as the flame steadily grew he blew out the match. Then he set the lamp in the middle of the room on a small chest.

  The chest was pressed against the foot of some stacked cots. There were four in total and a grey blanket was folded at the end of each bed. To his left was a makeshift kitchen. Cast iron pots hung from hooks above a small firewood stove along with random spices and dried meat.

  He closed the door now, locking it shut with the iron latch and then barred it with a wooden beam. He took off his drenched cloak, hanging it on a rack by the door.

  “Hey kid you good?” Jeroen asked as he undid the sling he made. The baby stared up at him his eyes didn't seem as deep a red as before. Now they had a more orange hue to them. The shivering kid blinked at him slowly before crying loudly. Jeroen sighed as he hung the sling up.

  “There there kid, it’s okay.” He said as he patted the baby’s back.

  “Shh, don’t cry it’s alright. I bet you’re hungry right?” He walked over to the fireplace in the back of the shack.

  “I’m also hungry, but I’m not crying.” He muttered still patting Azriel’s back as he knelt on the creaky floor.

  “Geez.” He sighed as the kid continued wailing, “You were quiet through everything else, but now you cry. Guess I should be thankful then.”

  He placed tinder in the fire's hearth and then lit it with another match. The tinder caught fire immediately, he gently blew on it as the spark grew and the original logs started burning as well. Azriel went quiet as he watched the fire wide eyed.

  “You like fire?” Jeroen asked, slightly surprised. Azriel looked at him now before resting his small head against his chest Jeroen found himself smiling. To bad he had a mission.

  Once Azriel was knocked out completely he carried him over to one of the lower cots and set him down. Then he changed the baby and threw Azriel's towel into the fire. He made sure he wrapped him in a blanket though.

  Jeroen then took off his own drenched clothes and hung all of them by the fire to dry. After hanging them he grabbed a small pot and filled it with rainwater that he boiled before adding dried meat and vegetables, along with a few spices to make a soup. By the time the soup had finished cooking his clothes were dry.

  Dressing he strapped all of his weapons on and went through his pockets ensuring everything was still there. Once he was sure he had accounted for everything he filled a bowl up with the soup he made and ate quietly for a few minutes listening to the crackling sound of the fire.

  The silence lasted until Azriel started stirring and then began crying. Setting his bowl down Jeroen stood up and grabbed a can of milk from behind the stove. He poured it into a small tin cup, and placed it near the fire to warm.

  Azriel was still wailing on the cot, Jeroen exhaled softly, summoning his patience before going and picking him up.

  “Alright hush now I have your food kid.” He carried Azriel back to the fire and grabbed the now warmish milk. He blew on it and sat on the floor leaning against the chest where the lamp grew low on oil. He snuffed out the lamp leaving the fire as the only remaining light in the room.

  “Now how do I do this?” He asked Azriel who was still crying loudly. “Hell like you’d know.”

  He held Azriel softly on his lap and spoon fed him from the tin cup. He made sure to watch Azriel closely he didn't want him dying.

  “Slow down kid we have a few hours.” Jeroen laughed with a smile as Azriel greedily drank.

  They could relax for now, but who knew what tomorrow would bring them. He sighed Azriel had finished his food.

  Since both of them were wide awake he started returning everything to its original place. Once he was sure everything was back to normal and all traces of them were erased he doused the fire.

  He had a few hours to rest but then they needed to leave. He wrapped one of the blankets around Azriel and himself before lying down on a cot.

  " No matter how many times he thought that he always closed his eyes and everything would fade away. Except this time he could hear the small, consistent thump of the kid's heartbeat as he fell asleep.

  ""