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Arthur, can you- John is cut off when Arthur stumbles, the act of standing clearly becoming too much for him as it sounds like he’s trying to cough up his lungs. Their vision wavers and he casts out for anything to hold onto, to support Arthur in any way he actually could. Stay on your feet! Breathe, hold on just a little bit longer.
“You seem to be in need of assistance,” Evrard says, and it could be condescending if not for the quickness he sheathes his blade, arm outstretched in offer. Arthur doesn’t move, clearly trying to get a handle on his breathing, so John does with a relief he's sure is palpable in the way he grasps Evrard's palm. Evrard drags John’s arm over his shoulder, keeping Arthur upright with one hand steadied around his ribs. “Alia will be able to take care of this upstairs, just stay on your feet.”
“Our bag…” Arthur manages to get out, leaning heavily on Evrard's side.
“It can be retrieved later, nothing down here will meddle with it,” Evrard replies, not even giving it a glance.
I don’t see anything else moving in the trees, regardless I can’t grab it right now. Once Alia heals you we can gather everything. John tries not to worry about how many important things they have in their inventory - including the severed head they’ll definitely need to find an explanation for. He doubts Evrard will just leave their things alone, if anything he’ll come down himself to gather it together and investigate. Learn what he can about Arthur while they’re out of commission.
“Does Alia not come down here?” Arthur mumbles, finally managing to catch his breath.
“Not if she can avoid it, Goatswood…it has an influence,” Evrard does cast a glance back at the fallen Dark Young. “She waits upstairs for us.”
Thank you, Lord Evrard, John says, knowing the man can’t hear him. His hand is holding as tightly as it can to the material at Evrard’s shoulder, the only physical support he can offer Arthur right now. Their vision has long since gone hazy and no amount of blinking has cleared it.
“Thank you,” Arthur mutters, echoing John’s words, “Thank you for helping us.”
“It is a help to myself, you are doing a service in return for your wellbeing,” Evrard replies coolly, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. John does what he can to assist Arthur’s balance, stepping high to give him clues on where to place his foot next as they ascend. He recalls how far they fell and dreads how far they’ll need to climb in exchange.
Eating the elephant, one step at a time.
“Understandable, but you could have killed us quite a few times over,” Arthur wheezes, muscles shaking as he’s guided up the wooden slats. More physical exertion was not what he needed at the moment, but there’s nothing John can do about it. They just need to make it up the stairs, up to Alia.
“Indeed. You’re lucky Alia saw something in you,” Evrard comments. “I do apologize for the distrust initially. You understand.”
“Of course, not the first time someone’s attempted to murder me,” Arthur jokes lightly, but it trails off into a cough.
John winces internally, this was almost worse than dealing with Yorick's interjections. Arthur, be careful.
“I’m sorry?” Evrard asks, confused.
Arthur continues, voice dipping into humor once more, “Honestly of all the attempts it was one of the more survivable. Just dropped down a trapdoor, not even gutted or shot. Hell, I’ve gotten closer to getting the job done than you did.”
For fucks sake, if John could put his hand over Arthur's mouth he would've but it was preoccupied with being the only thing keeping them anchored on Evrard.
“Hm. You’re quite delirious,” Evrard mutters more to himself than to Arthur. “It’s a shock you’re even alive, Horig’s plague is typically fast acting and quite fatal within a few days.”
You should be preserving your strength, John cuts in, you may something you regret here soon.
“What was it Alia saw in me?” Arthur manages to get out, John’s hand twitching in an abandoned effort to catch them before Evrard corrects his step.
“I don’t believe you are well enough to understand if I told you, and it is not my place to say,” Evrard says idly. “But perhaps you will be able to…explain some of it when you are healed.”
Don’t say anything right now, John warns, we’ll deal with it when you can walk straight.
“Right right,” Arthur clears his throat, wincing in discomfort, “And how does Alia heal?”
“That’s not something you need to be concerned with.” They’ve reached the top of the stairs, Evrard swinging the door open with significant effort as Arthur slumps against him.
Alia is waiting for us just outside the door, hands folded neatly in front of her. Despite the bandages over her eyes, it’s clear she’s looking you over, Arthur.
“He will be our fourth,” Evrard states, shuffling the two of them through the doorway and letting it fall shut behind them. Locks click into place, something John wishes he could turn to watch, but Arthur continues facing forward. “His infection is worsening, I’m afraid you’ll have a bit more to do now.”
She’s nodding, and - oh , John startles as his hand feels less weighed down, now holding onto Evrard for stability alone. It seems she’s helping Evrard move us, taking the weight away as we walk. We’re heading back to your room.
“Your recovery will likely take a few days,” Evrard explains as they walk, “We can discuss the arrangement further then.”
“Wonderful,” Arthur doesn't seem to completely register what's being said, walking easier without having to pull his own weight but it only makes the shaking of his muscles that more obvious.
“There will be no guests for the week, although I will be sending a summons to those who will be accompanying you on your journey,” Evrard continues. “We will be alone in the castle for that amount of time, Alia will heal your wounds, and we will discuss some of the more curious parts of your existence, Arthur Lester.”
“Right…” Arthur doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Evrard doesn’t give John any time to feed him a more cohesive answer as they arrive at their room.
“Alia will take care of you from here, rest well, Arthur. We will talk soon.”
John still doesn’t understand how Alia did it. He knows magic was used. The sickness was pulled from Arthur's skin, the wounds stitching themselves shut over the course of many sessions of healing, and over the course of three days, Arthur goes from being at death's door to being able to sit up, lessened pain from the stab wounds and no fluid filling his lungs.
They had been treated well, visited a few times by Evrard during their recovery. The discussions he had with Arthur were enlightening - detailing the intricacies of politics in this day and age, the most commonly worshipped deities, and even some of the creatures that roamed the lands. It was never anything too alarming, nothing that would aggravate the carefully worked healing Alia completed. John could feel Evrard wanting to question them, but was clearly waiting until they weren't on death's door.
Despite how beneficial information was, John was more preoccupied with the realization that Arthur was doing better, he was eating and breathing easily, and for the first time since they were sent to this medieval England, John isn't immediately fearing for Arthur's life.
“I’m hoping I’ll be able to retrieve our things today, I worry how long we’ve left Yorick,” Arthur says through a mouthful of porridge. They had been given regular meals each day, another rarity the both of them weren’t used to. John enjoyed cupping the bowl close to Arthur's chest, the warmth filling his palm until it was scraped clean. A new warmth would fill him then, relief that Arthur was eating, that he could eat.
I doubt Evrard has left them alone, we’ll probably have to talk our way through what they are, especially Yorick, John warns.
“Right…what should our cover story be for Yorick?”
Why do we need a cover story?
“Normal people don’t carry around severed heads John,” Arthur says idly. “Think about Kellin.”
He wasn’t carrying it around, he had it chained in the lake so he wouldn’t have to deal with it talking to him all the time. Not for the first time does John envy that separation. Being able to distance themselves from Yorick was nice, he wasn’t eager to go back to the skull's constant chattering.
“Good point…” Arthur trails off, thinking as he taps the spoon against the wooden edge of the bowl. “Well, honestly…thinking of Kellin, we could say the skull is related to us.”
What . Why?
Arthur gestures vaguely with his spoon, “It was his sister’s skull. We could say Yorick was a cousin, or a brother or something.”
Why can’t we say we found it? John asks with mounting frustration. Why make up a story at all ?
“Because we need a reason to keep it with us,” Arthur retorts, “If it’s just a random skull we found, Evrard will ask why we want to keep it. ‘It’s an entity from the Dark World that calls me Master’ will not pass as an explanation, we need to have a connection to it. Brother would probably be best, many people have a weakness for family.”
And how are we going to explain that he talks? John says, trying to throw Arthur off.
“We have seen Alia levitate people and heal wounds that would've taken weeks to improve normally - not to mention ridding me of a fatal disease. I don’t think a talking skull is that odd,” Arthur retorts.
Ugh.
“You just don’t want to deal with Yorick,” Arthur accuses, setting the bowl firmly on his bedside table and swinging his legs out of bed. “We need him, John.”
For now .
“Hush, we need him. Now, let's try getting dressed.”
John helps them keep balance, relieved with how much steadier on his feet Arthur was as he changes into a sturdy set of clothes Evrard had left for them. The stab wounds from the witch have healed to the point of not needing stitches, looking far better than they had after the talisman.
“What do you say, ready to venture into the Goatswood?” Arthur asks good-naturedly as he finishes tucking away his belt.
As long we don’t have to take out another Dark Young down there, we’re out of bullets, John grumbles.
“Yes…that was rather short sighted of me,” Arthur sighs.
We had other priorities - like staying alive. John says quickly, We need to focus now on gathering our things. I’d assume Evrard would be in the study, let's head there first.
He guides Arthur through the hallways, able to notice more that their vision was steady and the halls were well lit. Torches now lined the halls where previously there were empty sconces, curtains drawn to let in as much natural light as possible. The damp oppressive air had faded with the lit fireplaces and lack of a downpour that had announced their arrival to the castle.
The hallways are well lit, not even a hint that this place held the murders of days previous. Sunlight is streaming in through stained glass windows, casting multi-colored patterns across the floor. The study is just ahead, I can see the light of a fireplace from here.
“Anyone?” Arthur asks lowly, hand trailing along the wall as he walks.
Turn here, yes. Evrard is sitting at a table, a book open before him. He looked up as you entered.
“Arthur. It’s good to see you up.”
“It feels good to be able to move freely,” Arthur replies kindly. “What are you reading?”
He’s glanced back at the book, closing it and pushing it to the side where a stack has been formed which may or may not have already been read. The pages are thick, carefully scribed. A deep red leather cover features a symbol I can't quite make out at this distance.
“A book on the undead.”
That doesn’t bode well for us, John says nervously, thinking of the skull waiting for them beneath their feet that still clung with rotted skin and a semi functional jaw.
“Sounds fascinating,” Arthur replies evenly. “I was wondering if we could go downstairs and retrieve our belongings, I didn’t want to go down without you knowing.”
“Yes, they’ve been down there long enough,” Evrard agrees, pushing away from the table.
He’s preceded us to the door, follow behind him. John instructs quickly. Even these hallways appear less menacing in this new light. We’re heading down, just as we did before. Evrard has crossed his arms behind his back.
“So, Arthur.”
Don’t say anything stupid. Please.
“Yes?”
“You clearly aren’t Prince Warin.”
“Yes.” Arthur is clearly relieved by the way his shoulders slump. They'd discussed this, one of the easier things to explain regardless of what was asked.
Evrard slides a cool look his way. “How did you come about the invitation meant for him?”
“In my travels I came across a caravan with everyone slaughtered. I was unsure what creature or being caused the destruction, but in searching their belongings in an attempt to find their origin, I found the invitation instead.”
Evrard is staring at us, as if attempting to dissect our words for truth.
“Most people’s first reaction would not be to impersonate a Prince, especially in a situation so…risky.”
Arthur laughs a little, “No, it wouldn’t be. But I’d just encountered Horig and barely escaped with my life. I was eager to find shelter, possibly assistance if it came about.”
He's looked forward once more, an understanding expression has settled on his face.
"Yes, I know of few that have walked away from Horig's influence alive. Castle Kerringford has plenty of rumors surrounding our involvement with the Old Gods, I'm unsurprised that you followed those to us."
Oh, he's making assumptions, John says with surprise, that's…useful to us - letting him draw his own conclusions based on what little information we've given him.
"I'm satisfied that this is the end outcome of the situation," Arthur agrees.
We're at the stairs once more, Evrard is descending them quickly - he has clearly had a lot of experience traversing them. They're evenly spaced, thick slats of oak embedded in the stone brickwork. He's taken a torch and is lighting the way down.
"Take care as we descend," Evrard advises, despite how swiftly he was taking the steps. "Alia can work near miracles, but you've only been recovering for a few days."
"Of course," Arthur agrees, already sounding out of breath from what little ground they'd covered. With the width of this passage, John can easily run his hand along the wall, ready to catch them if they get close to falling.
The torch creates a small bubble of light, something that sends a chill down John's back. Being back in the forest once more proved how dark the place was, the illusion of trees being too close, then too far appearance once more. When they had fallen, he had blamed the vision problems on Arthur's illness, on the presence of the Dark Young, on the supernatural growth of trees. Now he can ascertain that it was the forest itself - endlessly reminding him of the Dark World.
"Here is your bag," Evrard says, pausing where John can see where it had fallen. "I will be examining the Dark Young, inform me when you're ready to head up once more."
I'm surprised he's giving us a bit of privacy, John mutters, our bag is at our feet. Let's see…
Most of their belongings had remained nearby, and what things had been spilled were quickly retrieved and tucked away safely. After a moment of careful searching, John spots where Yorick had fallen.
Found him
"Ah! Master!"
"Keep it down Yorick," Arthur says quickly, easily finding where the skull was propped on its side, jaw barely able to close with the thick swaths of grass surrounding it.
"Of course," Yorick's voice drops to a faux whisper. "It is good to see you freed of Horig's influence."
"Yes, I'm quite glad to be rid of it," Arthur carefully lifts Yorick, the chain clicking loudly as it shifts. "We've come to an agreement with Lord Evrard."
"I'm well aware!"
"Great, then you're aware of our next steps, yes?"
John grumbles in dissent, Are you sure it’s a good idea to let them know about Yorick?
“I would rather get it out of the way than have an awkward interaction when a skull begins talking in the middle of our conversation,” Arthur says firmly, beginning to thread the chain through his belt once more.
“I believe that is wise, Master!”
“Glad you agree, Yorick,” Arthur grins. “Besides, magic is clearly prevalent here, Yorick can’t be the oddest thing around.”
“I am not!”
John still doesn't like it, but, At least we have time before the others arrive, maybe we can teach Yorick some manners before he has to interact with them.
“Perhaps more appropriate interjections,” Arthur agrees. “I do think that we could remedy any risk of him exposing us as time travelers though.”
“I do know. When to keep my mouth, shut.” Yorick punctuates it with a click.
That’s a lie.
“I assure you, John, it is not.”
John may not have missed him, but it was nice having someone else to talk to that understood the bullshit they’d been through so far.
"So, we'll start with Lord Evrard," Arthur takes a steadying breath, "I'm sure Alia will be told as well. She may already know about you anyway."
John notes Yorick's lack of answer, but quickly helps Arthur navigate to where Evrard is at the side of the Dark Young. The creature is no less intimidating as a corpse. Its massive form seems to absorb the light, a goliath toppled by a few ants. The maw gapes wide, blood dried into the dirt in a dizzying mess of darkness.
Here, he's standing with his palm against its side.
"Lord Evrard," Arthur calls to get his attention.
He turned to look at us, face an impassive mask. His hand drops from the bark-like skin of the creature to rest on the handle of his sword.
"I see you've located your belongings," Evrard says neutrally, gaze falling to the skull on his hip. "What manner of beast do you have chained to your belt?"
"I am Yorick, Lord Evrard!"
Yorick, shut the fuck up.
"This is my brother, Yorick," Arthur rests his palm on the top of the skull. "He has always had a skill for information, born to be a diplomat, but he was captured by a witch. She had altered his body, bound him as an informant for her own use. When I went to retrieve him, all that was left was his skull. Family is everything to me, I couldn't bear to leave him behind."
Evrard tilts his head, eyes flicking from the rotted flesh still clinging to the bone and up to your face. He's weighing your words, his expression giving nothing away.
"What sort of information does he offer?"
"I gather information," Yorick announces, "Some things I know, some things I must take time to investigate ."
"And what are some things you know?" Evrard presses.
Just say something about the Goatswood or the creatures here, John instructs quickly, he didn't want Yorick to start going on about the Dies Irae - which was a concept he was still struggling to grasp.
"This Dark Young has dwelled within Goatswood for centuries. Although its presence was strong, the entity it once served is no longer of this world. With its demise, the last trace of its existence has been ripped from this reality.It was not the only creature in this forest, and now that it has been killed, the others will emerge to find who will next fit that role," Yorick recites.
Evrard blinks, staring at the topped Dark Young, then back to Yorick.
"Fascinating."
"Yes," Arthur sighs, "I'm afraid I haven't had much time to adjust to his new…condition since I befell Horig's plague not long after retrieving him. He now possesses knowledge that has assisted me in surviving the countryside so far - I would not have found Castle Kerringford without his direction - but I am aware of how otherworldly his powers are now. Despite all this, he's still my brother."
"I see," Evrard says with consideration, "I can understand that. Well," He casts one last look at the Dark Young, "Let us head to the Castle, it doesn't do well to spend an extended amount of time in these woods."
John is admittedly relieved, even if it means they are now carrying Yorick with them once more. The longer they had stood beside the creature, the more it felt that the darkness was weighing on them both - closing in until he could only stare at the torch in Evrard's hand and hope it wouldn't go out.
"Alia will be quite interested in Yorick's existence, I think it would do well to introduce the two of them," Evrard offers as they begin to ascend once more.
Is that wise? John says nervously. They didn't understand the scope of Alia's powers, but any chance of them being exposed was a risk to avoid.
"I'm curious to know her opinion on his new state of being," Arthur replies, "Perhaps she can give more answers to how he came to be."
Arthur, we already know he's a Vanguard, what else could we learn that we don't already know?
"Alia Showl is aware of what I am, she will be able to answer some of your questions, I'm sure," Yorick replies.
"I look forward to that, then," Evrard says easily. "I do believe you should return to resting, Arthur. Alia's abilities can only do so much. We can introduce Yorick to Alia at dinner."
John shudders at the thought of Arthur's dinner being interrupted by Yorick's incessant chattering, but preferred that to having them meet right now. He could feel Arthur growing weaker, vision wavering every so often.
"That sounds perfect, I will retire until dinner," Arthur agrees easily. Another example of how weak he must've been feeling, John had never known him to admit it so easily. After Horig though, he had fallen so low. They'd been near death many times, and yet that slow and painful decline was worse than watching Arthur get shot or stabbed.
Yorick, can you be quiet for a little while?
"Of course, John."
"You don't have to worry John, even if he was talking I could still find a way to rest," Arthur huffs as he sets the bag on the table beside their bed, undoing the chain from his belt and resting Yorick safely off to the side.
Maybe I don't want to hear him prattle on while you try to sleep.
Arthur shakes his head as he gets into bed, lacing their fingers together. John revels in the warmth of his hand, not a sickly heat as it had been only days previous, instead a comforting reminder that he was alive and well. They rest over his stomach, which rises slightly with each breath, if John concentrates long enough he can feel Arthur's steady heartbeat through his skin.
"What do you make of all of this, John?" Arthur murmurs, thumb rubbing a comforting line up and down the length of John's thumb.
I think we don't have much option in the matter, and that this is one of the best outcomes we could've gotten from this situation.
"I just keep thinking of how Evrard described the lands," Arthur muses. "He said they were rotting, sickly. Looking out into the distance, it feels darker - as if a shroud has been cast over the entire countryside."
We're in another world.
"That we are," Arthur agrees wryly. He removes his hand to adjust the pillow behind his head, sighing in content. He laces their fingers once more. "It's nice to have these small comforts, even if they're fleeting. Despite knowing there is magic infused into this world, that this timeline differs so widely from what I'm familiar with, it's a relief to know there are still beds to be slept in."
The mundane can be comforting, John hums, I wish it could last.
"I do too," Arthur murmurs. "It can't, of course. We have a mission to carry out. I just hope…"
Hope?
"I'm not even sure what I'm hoping for," Arthur admits, "To get out of this, to return to a more familiar life I suppose."
To New York? Arkham?
Arthur chuckles, "We've already checked England off our list, I don't see any need to start there. I'm not sure where we'll go back to but wherever it is I hope it's together."
John's hand tightens, fingertips digging into the slim bones behind Arthur's knuckles.
Me too Arthur, I hope for that too.