Valentius entered the lord's chambers with a tight grip on a broom. He knew that the lord knew what he looked like, but the boy was still just a servant in the man's eyes.
One who was obvious.
The lord in question was forty-three years old. Of that much, Valentius was certain.
The man was in bed, looking at him with a smile that not only didn't reach the eyes but also did nothing about the shadow that had taken over lord Claudius' face.
Valentius bowed.
"Ah, Valentine!" The lord's voice was so greasy that Valentius couldn't even muster up any regret for what he would do next.
Besides, he knew that the lord was using the nickname Bartolomeo had saddled him with just to be mean.
The bruise on Beth's arm flashed before Valentius' eyes. He began to look around, and he bowed.
His broom was clutched in his hands.
Back in the academy, they were taught how to use branches as weapons. After all, you had to think on your feet if you dropped your real weapon.
No mob was going to wait for you. No dungeon was going to show you mercy.
It had been the very first lesson their instructor had beaten into them.
Valentius knew a broom was no branch but could be used as one.
He needed just one hit. One well-placed hit on the head.
He had one shot. If he couldn't knock out lord Claudius with the first hit, the man would either fight back or scream.
Neither option was something Valentius could afford.
The lord was a warhound. Everyone knew that he trained in the yard from sunrise to sunset.
Most days, he used the skills learned in the training yard to beat up and force himself on kitchen maids.
Valentius' blood boiled.
He didn't think!
With a scream, he charged. The lord's eyes widened, but the boy had a fury that had a lifetime to grow.
He hit the lord on the head once, then twice.
It didn't even register to him that the man was slumped in bed. He kept hitting and hitting.
Not even registering, no one was rushing to see what was happening. Not even the guards who must still be stationed by the door.
The ones by whom Valentius had come on the way.
By the time the broom broke, the thing on the pillow near the chains, which was meant for Valentius, didn't look like a head.
The boy blinked.
The only thing he could think about was a peaceful summer, back when he still had parents, when he had dropped a watermelon on the ground.
One, he wanted to eat all by himself, even though he was ten years old and sure to be sick from eating that much.
He backed away slowly.
It was then that the door opened!
Beth was there; the guards were behind her.
"Is he dead?" She asked, her hands shaking.
Valentius stepped to the side, showing her the gore.
"Well… let's hope the Archdemons don't make a fuss when his cousin comes from the monastery," a guard said, pointing at a far wall. "His bottomless bag is over there. It might still have something of his inside. Get out of Wendel, kid. And… thank you."
Thank you?
For murder?
Valentius bent over and threw up the meager breakfast the Head Maid had allowed him that morning.
A slice of bread and a baked potato from the lord's supper the night before.
The waste was mixed in with the gore on the pillow.
"Darn, kid," one of the guards chuckled, as Beth giggled. "You'll get a stomach for it. Look… go into the forest. Find somewhere to hide. We won't tell anyone until the morning. But we must tell the Head Maid. Otherwise, it will be our heads!"
Valentius froze. They were going to tell! People will know that he was a murderer!
"Look," Valentius recognized the helmet of the Guard Captain. A man, lord Claudius, loved to beat up. Everyone knew that. "You did a good, but bloody thing. Life is full of good, but bloody things for those who don't want to be victims. … don't forget why you did it."
Guard Captain Adam nodded at Beth, who was looking at the corpse on the bed with a crazed smile.
Valentius looked at the bag.
A bottomless bag. Even one could set him up for life if he chose to sell it.
And if he chose to keep it, then there were no limitations to how much loot he could get out of a dungeon!
"May I take some books?" Valentius looked around. Trying to see the famed door to the library.
"Books? Ah, you bought the whole Master Claudius has a library with skill books crap? Kid… the guy couldn't read. You think he'd risk getting cheated by some peddler? Skill books are rare. And he had none."
Valentius didn't know if the bitter taste in his mouth was from the aftertaste of the barf or from the fact that he was not going to get anything out of this.
Nothing.
But… what if he did?
"Surely, you know where the treasury is?" It was a bold move. A move that was too grasping.
But he still had to try.
"You have no time for that," Adam told him, as he gently nudged Beth. "Go back to your bed, girl. If that harpy asks, you slept through the whole night."
"Take the bag," the younger guard told him. "He might have stashed a whole coin pouch inside! You might even find some of his field rations. He loved to hike, that bastard."
"And hunt," Adam spat the word out as if the man had hunted more than game.
Or, maybe, a game of a more tragic variety.
Valentius looked at the reddening skies, then at the two guards.
He took the bottomless bag, slung it over his shoulder, and then followed them out.
Leaving the broken, bloody broom behind.