Chapter Two: A Wedding, or Lack Thereof
Sara forces the doors open, eager to cut to the heart of this mystery.
“Surely that cannot be true! My Leon is missing?”
They both appear surprised, as though they were caught unawares by her appearance. They must have known this to be the room Sara waited to be wed in?
“Missing though he may be, I am sure it is nothing to worry over. More than like he is fine, I am sure 'tis only that some… unforeseen circumstances have overtaken him,” answered one of the conversing men.
She dismisses the possibility without second though, shaking her head. “Leon would not allow a small matter to impede his marriage.” She pauses, recalling the previous night. “Was he seen by any one day past? Last I saw of him was two days previous.”
“You assert he may be in danger? There is no need to leap to such an inference. There is nothing to support such—not when a mundane explanation is far more like to be true,” the second man responded.
She sighs. “Perhaps I will consider this a possibility when you introduce an occurence within the realm of possibility, though for the time being, would it not wise to perhaps consider whether or not he may need assistance? Surely if he does, by such a time we all decide to take such a possibility with legitimacy, for good or ill the danger will have passed.”
One of the men laugh. “You are so convinced there is danger involved. Is it truly so difficult to believe he may has taken his leave due to natural reasons?”
Sara closes her eyes. If these men will not consider her concerns reasonable, perhaps it is for her to find someone who will.
She flees with haste, seeking answers, and finding only more questions.
“—has a mistress? Some shadowy woman the bride knows not of? Perhaps even one of his fellow knights—”
“—a family emergency. Something out of his control?”
“Come now, the Baron was left an orphan at a young—”
“—simply tardy. Mayhaps something is the matter with his horse? Or even—”
It appears as though the crowd has begun to spread the word, dispersing gossip amongst each other. More, and more were the tales she heard, and she had begun to lose hope. Perhaps Leon has taken his leave of her. It feels foolish to think, but would it not also be foolish to assume with little basis that he was in danger?
She makes her way through the crowd, towards the outside, where she may perhaps find some solace in the bright light of the afternoon sun. Few are those who stray from the cathedral, though among their number, a curious sight.
Mathias Cronqvist, the closest friend of her intended. When last Leon told it, Mathias remained bed-bound due to his grief at the loss of his wife, Elisabetha.
She approaches, surprised to see him at such an event, equipped not only with this knowledge, but, as she had heard it, Mathias did not enjoy social gatherings, and preferred to keep to himself, though perhaps she might have assumed he would not dare miss his dearest friend’s wedding.
He sits on a bench, appearing to be deep in thought when she approaches.
“Mathias? What do you here?”
He looks up at her.
“Sara. Should not you wait within the cathedral?”
“I have spent roundabouts two hours doing so. I tire of waiting for a man who will not appear.” She sighs, and sits next to Mathias.
“There is no chance you have seen him within the past day, I gather?” Sara inquires.
Mathias sighs. “No. Truth told I’ve not seen him since my Elisabetha died, putting aside our periodic correspondences.”
Sara hesitates. “I worry something has happened to endanger him. That he has not come because he cannot. I can think of no other explanation.”
Mathias hums. “This would appear to be the explanation which is of greatest likelihood to hold any truth.”
Sara finds herself taken aback. “Truly? Surely, though, you must think I am hysterical, like every other I have yet spoken to, that I am going mad. Perhaps a change has taken his mind upon the eleventh hour, or… or perhaps he has taken ill very suddenly, and has yet been unable to tell someone!”
Mathias’s face shifted to a much darker look. “Do not speak of such things.” He heaved a deep sigh. “In any case, Leon would not depart without so much as a word. He is quite taken with you, and a man of honor besides, he would not deign to abrogate his marital duties, specially without so much as a word to anyone.”
Sara, with mounting worry, though additionally relieved in small part, considered what this could mean. “That is to say…”
“It may very well be that he has found himself waylaid by an enemy he cannot defeat alone.”
With a huff of resignation and defeat, Sara admitted, “I feared you would assert such.”
There is a pause, as both hesitate to acknowledge an other possibility.
Sara stands. “I cannot bear this ignorance. I must go to his home. If there is any truth to be found, 'tis there. And I hardly find a reason to remain given this state of affairs.”
Mathias sighs, responding, “I concur. I enjoy not such… uncertainty.”
———
They arrive upon horseback. Sara knocks, awaiting a response.
“Leon? Are you within?”
There comes no response. Sara makes to knock again, yet Mathias stops her, reaching out for the door handle, and opening it with no resistance.
“When have you known Leon to leave an unlatched door?”
She does not answer; they both know the answer to this question already.
She breathes deep, and sets foot inside his home. It feels different in such a circumstance as this, an eerie stillness enshrouding the building.
“Beloved?” Sara calls into the building, to only silence as answer.
Though a baron, Leon keeps a home of modest size. He had once remarked that he sees not a point in an overlarge home, until such a time as he is wed.
The house appears undisturbed, Sara and Mathias making note of any small thing out of place—though not much. This state of things does not change until they reach Leon’s bedchambers.
Sara feels improper entering his bedchambers, especially lacking his prior knowledge of such, but she does not need to. Everything is out of order, his blanket on the floor, bed crooked, all furniture appearing… almost as if—
“It would appear as though there was some form of struggle.”
Sara had known already something to be wrong. It must be. Yet Mathias all but confirming precisely what Sara fears most—‘tis too much to bear. Everything is too much to bear. She feels ill, everything feels as if it is closing in upon her, she cannot breathe, she needs a moment, she needs—
Sara flees outside. The air will assist in her breathing, or so she hopes.
She sits upon the earth just without, and attempts to soothe her frayed nerves. She sits only for a moment, attempting to slow her breath before the sound of a loud crash echoes from within, mush like a vase, like that which she gifted Leon, and she dearly hopes it is not, and she needs investigate the source of the sound, but she finds she is frozen, cannot stand, cannot move—
And Mathias exits the building, his fist clenched.
“Mathias? I heard a noise, is something amiss?”
He turns to look to her, and pauses for but a moment, before shaking his head.
“Nothing. Merely a piece of pottery which fell from its position after we had disturbed the room.”
He sighs. “I suppose arrangements are in order.”
Sara nods. “Yes, I suppose so.” She breathes out, dusting her dress off, and coming to stand. “You must yet have resources at your disposal? Your people can investigate such a matter, yes?”
“I—”
“Perhaps my father yet retains connections within his trade which may assist me in finding a skilled investigator, who may be able to find Leon. Or his captors, as it may be, though I pray otherwise.”
He hesitates for a moment, responding, “of course. I will have it looked into.”
“My gratitude to you,” she says, then adds, “worry not, Mathias, we will find him. I swear it.”