Chapter Five: Pursuing a Target
Years it has been since Sara last took up her favored bow.
Had circumstance not been so dire, she might have even been delighted to do so.
It is a simple Recurve Bow, much like one she had been given as a youth, when she was to join her father in his hunting parties.
She considers her options. If she is to brave a castle that is told to be full of dangers, perhaps she had best learn to use a sword?
Though, perhaps that would only burden her. Sheisquite skilled with a bow, after all.
But would having only a ranged weapon endanger her?
It is not as though she has no sword at her disposal; she has taken to keeping Leon’s sword with her since investigation of his home. A token, to remind her who she fights for.
She contemplates this as she sinks yet another arrow into her practice target. In truth it had taken longer than she had hoped to reacclimate to use of her bow, but she now makes rapid and marked improvement.
“Sara, I beg of you, do not do this thing. The man is likely dead. I will not lose my only daughter on a fool’s errand.”
This is another complication. Her father had returned a fortnight past, and he was and remains, needless to say, unamused by her plan.
Sara heaves a sigh. “Truly you have never held Leon in particularly high esteem. How shall I heed your advice knowing this?”
Her father huffs. “Disregard my words if you will, Sara, but know that even held I the highest opinion of him, no man is worth your life.”
“And his life, father? If he yet lives and I choose to abandon him I fear I will never forgive myself.”
“His life is like to already be forfeit, if he has not returned in such a time. 'Tis nearing five months since you were to be wed, I hold no such hope he lives. And does he, if he is a decent sort as you so insist, he will understand. You would be best served by moving on.”
Sara scowls. “Be that as it may, I refuse to abandon him ‘til such a time as I know whether he lives… or he does not.”
———
Arguments such as these continue for months, as clockwork. Sara continues hone her skill in archery, and her father continues protest. She continues correspondence with Rinaldo, but there is little news.
“I will not allow you to go, and that is the end of it,” he states staunchly, as Sara searches the yard she has used as practice field.
“Father? Where is my bow?”
“I have told you, I will not allow you to go.”
“I am a woman of a score and four. Eight months previous, I was to be married. You make no decisions for me any longer. Where is my bow?”
“I have sold it. You may reacquire one at such a time that you decide to abandon this foolish quest.”
She growls, and turns upon her heel, fleeing.
Sara knows her father has not yet sold her bow. That he intends to she does not doubt, but he has not done so yet; he has not had the time or opportunity. And furthermore, she knows many places he is like to have hidden it.
Still, it is aggravating to be denied agency so blatantly.
As she enters her chambers, she sees Clea, waiting patiently for her. With her, word from Rinaldo.
“A good girl you are, dear Clea. Allow me to read that.”
Madame Trantoul,
I see you will not be persuaded away. Very well. Your life is yours to risk as you see fit, I ask only that you not discard it carelessly.
In such a case, I will attempt to aid you in remaining safe as possible within the walls of the castle.
Upon the eve of the year of our Lord 1099, Lord Bernhard plans to host a War Council of a fashion. There will be many vampires there, yes, but I’ve means to deter them, and they will be distracted with other matters.
Be wary, as Bernhard tends an unpredictable sort—I’ve no clue if he has any manner of plans that may complicate this.
However, as there will be many others about the castle at this time, the distraction this will create, in addition to the… planned festivities, shall likely cloak your presence, so long as you remain undiscovered.
There may be other opportunities, though this is like to be the last for several months. Ultimately, it remains your decision whether to move now, or bide time.
If you do decide that now is the time, know this: you will know you have entered the forest when 'tis blacker than night, be it day or nightfall.
Rinaldo Gandolfi
This is it then. It is time.
She yet hopes her gathered skill will be enough to keep her alive.
She delays until she knows her father to be asleep, and dresses, at last moment deciding to don Leon’s sword, and, stealthfully as she can, makes her way ‘round the house, eventually succeeding in finding place he has hidden her bow.
There is a stable nearby. She will collect a horse from there.
She exits into the cold of night.
It is time. She will see Leon again.
One way or another.