Dancing with the Devil

Night exploring

The rain outside the window grew heavier, and the wind howled late into the night. Mabel's breathing became more relaxed as the rain drummed against the window lattice. Kalista opened her eyes and rolled out of bed, as she did every night before. She folded the quilt into a raised strip, making it impossible to tell that the bed was empty unless one looked closely.

Kalista then covered the bruises on her face with powder, changed into a maid's costume, and pulled her metal tray, knife, and lid from under the bed into her arms. While Mabel was asleep, she closed the door and slipped out.

It was a sleepy, stormy night, with no moonlight outside the window, and the sound of the rain was enough to cover her movement. The midnight bell had passed, long after the time for the night shift, and there should be no patrolling guards in the cloisters.

Kalista smoothed her shawl's long hair against the glare of a silver tray, unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, took a deep breath and walked toward the entrance to the underground palace.

The stairs were long and dark, and the candles were far apart, some burned out and not replaced. Her hand trembled as she held her plate, and the tip of her finger rested on the handle of her knife, so that she did not cower at the sight of the two knights at the entrance. She lifted the tray a little higher and nodded slightly to the two knights without speaking.

"If the count requested it only yesterday, why does he desire it today..." one of the knights murmured, only to be cut off by his fellow guard.

"You must not speak of the count's actions," the other knight advised, stepping away from Kalista for a moment. "Did the count send you, Mademoiselle, to retrieve that for him?"

Kalista nodded, turning her cheek slightly to reveal a delicate white collarbone. "Yes, I have been attending to the Count tonight. On a whim, the Count requested that I fetch 'that thing' for him."

"Did the Count provide you with the key?" The knight's eyes widened in surprise.

Kalista calmly placed a hand over her chest, as if to reassure him that she possessed the key. "The Count, still half-asleep, did not wish to venture downstairs himself, nor did he desire to see the gleaming silver armor of the knights. Therefore, he dispatched me to retrieve the item. was there an issue? Please allow me to pass swiftly, so as not to keep the Count waiting."

The knight eventually consented, gesturing for her to proceed. "Take the second left, then the third right, and continue straight to the end. A knight will guide you to the room."

Kalista carries the tray into the underground palace. Only when she turned into another corridor did she breathe a sigh of relief. With sweat all over her fingers holding the knife, she clenched her teeth and walked on.

For the past week, Kalista has been hanging around the entrance to the underground palace, making deliveries. More than once she saw a knight escorting the count down the stairs, or the count relaxing in the garden ordering a few maids to the palace below. When they came down the stairs, the person at the end always carried a tray with a lid on it. Combined with the characteristics of the earl lechery and weak body, it can also be said that the sleeping maid came to the reasonable explanation.

As for "that thing" in the tray, Kalista did not need to care, since it would not be delivered to the count, and the knight did not dare to open the Count's meal to see what was in it.

The underground palace was a labyrinth. Kalista walked all the way with her plate, but luckily she didn't meet anyone.

The further in she went, the more her suspicions were confirmed, and the underground palace was indeed built according to the plans of Serafinia Castle. Except that there were no more stone statues of the gods in the niches, the layout and decoration seemed much the same as she remembered.

She did not, of course, follow the knight's directions, but instead made her way to a locked room at the end of the passage.

Here, things were a bit different. Kalista's heart sank a little. If this were Serafinia's underground palace, there should have been one uneven wall. Behind that wall was a narrow, dark room that led to a tunnel exiting the castle.

In front of her, however, was a heavy, locked iron door.

Instead of turning away, Kalista knelt at the base of the wall, carefully examining the stones and comparing the structure of the underground palace to her memories.

She felt the slippery moss with the palm of her hand, reaching out to touch each brick. After a moment, she found a relatively loose stone and pressed down hard.

Rumble—

Several stones and bricks shifted, making a loud noise. Kalista heard footsteps drawing closer, accompanied by a few puzzled sighs. Realizing the knights were approaching, she quickly squeezed into the newly exposed gap in the stone door and returned the rotating stone door to its original position.

Kalista leaned over the stone door, listening with bated breath to the sounds outside the darkroom. The knights had reached the wall, but seemed to find nothing, and began to wonder if they had heard voices in their sleep.

It seems that the people who originally built the castle did not tell the owners of the castle about this secret door, and it was probably that one of the owners accidentally discovered the space behind the wall and built the door here.

Kalista swallowed her heart, which almost burst out of her mouth, and hoped again. She turned and took a sudden breath.

There's someone in the dark room.

Technically, there was a man in the room. The room was empty, and he lay on his side against the wall, his body covered only by a tattered cloth. Long black hair, mixed with dust and blood, cluttered a small area around it.

His head was covered with a pile of tattered strips of cloth, and with a tilt of the head the man's face was revealed.

Kalista could see his face in the flickering light of the candle. The firelight stained his eyes with a reddish undertone, and the shape of his brows and the outline of his lips coincided with the face she remembered.

An overwhelming sense of unreality hit Kalista, who choked back the irritation in her nose and squeezed her palms. The pain told her that she was not dreaming. It's the only good thing that's happened to her all week.

"Lancelot?"

Kalista, unable to control the trembling of her lips, called out the name.

The man lying at the base of the wall was motionless and did not respond to the name. His eyes were dark, like two pools of stagnant water that had not flowed for a long time.

The room faintly smelled of rotting meat.

The closer Kalista got to him, the more blood she smelled. But she didn't hesitate, and she didn't quit.

She dropped the silver tray and knife that hindered her, crouched down in front of him, and held up his face.

"Lancelot," she whispered his name, as if in a dream, not expecting an answer. "Great... You're alive."

His face was so dirty. The blood scabs, the sludge clinging under the cheekbones, and the sweat mixed with the dust, leaving dry marks. Kalista gently rubbed his face with her finger, trying not to hurt him. As she touched his lip, his Adam's apple rolled, and he seemed to stop talking.

Kalista wiped away most of the dirt from his face and reached for the rags piled on top of his head, attempting to cleanse his hair. Suddenly, his wrist was seized with an unexpectedly strong grip, and his fingers, bound with strips of cloth, appeared peculiar. Kalista halted and gazed into his eyes. He furrowed his brow momentarily. Surprise, confusion, and unease filled his pupils.

"What's the matter?" Kalista inquired, "Sorry, I just wanted to check if you had a cut on your head."

"No," was the first word he spoke to her, which he repeated. "No wound."

Lancelot's voice was coarse and dull, like the SOB of a dying beast, broken and unbroken. It wasn't quite what she remembered.

Kalista attributes this to the mistreatment he received in this cell.