When the violent tremors stop and the castle finally ceases its shaking, Madara's faithful ghouled seneschal hooks the chains to her flesh-crafted dogs' collars, and the three walk shakily out of their room. He leans down to them.
"Miskos...Davra...find your mistress." he whispers, and the dogs immediately take off, almost yanking the poor old ghoul onto his stomach, but he's able to keep on his feet as he's being pulled after them. The dogs head straight for the Prince's chambers, but when the ghoul sees the condition of the room, his heart freezes with fear.
'What caused this??' he wonders in horror, and then his eyes narrow.
"Katerina!" he hisses. He'd heard that she and Amalia were in the castle-- he'd noticed his mistress Madara and the Prince enter the Prince's chambers together last last night, and he had been glad! He'd guessed long ago that Madara held secret feelings for the Prince, and had also suspected for many years that the Prince was in love with her, and he had always been wary of Amalia, so last night he'd hoped that his lady Madara and the Prince had finally come together and Madara had rid herself of Amalia. Ghouls have a way of talking, and Madara's ghoul knew about the secret disappearances of Amalia's ghouls-- heard whispers that they'd been murdered by the Kupala-- and he wanted Madara as far away from that business as possible. He'd also observed how Amalia had treated Madara with the emotionlessness of a corpse, and a condescending bossiness that superceded her station, and he had not approved! But he'd never brought that up to Madara because HE knew his station, and he knew that such matters were above him.
But now that he is in this room, his fears begin taking hold of him. Amalia must have known where Katerina was all along, and had brought Katerina to the castle to have her revenge on Lady Madara for finally gathering her courage and leaving Amalia! The ghoul releases the chains to allow the dogs to roam the room freely, and they immediately run over to sit in the middle of the room, lifting their heads and howling mournfully.
"What is it, my boys? I do not see anything..." the ghoul begins, and then he looks down and sees the Prince's sword laying at his feet, and a glint catches the corner of his eye. He turns, and gasps. There, lying in a heap against the far wall, is the Prince-- Madara's sword laying near his hand! He immediately runs over and kneels beside the Prince. "Still alive, thank god..." the ghoul murmurs, and quickly glances around the room until his eyes light on the carafe of blood on a table. He stands and walks over to fetch it, and then brings it back to the Prince's side. He kneels again and gently lifts the Prince's head.
"My Prince...open your eyes...you must drink..." he says calmly, shaking the Prince gently.

Reynold's eyes snap open, looking at the ghoul but not really seeing him. He grabs up Madara's sword and leaps to his feet shakily. He swings the sword madly, just barely missing the ghoul. Finally his reason returns and he looks at the ghoul.
"What? Madara!!! Madara!!!" he screams, takes a step forward, and falls to the ground.

The ghoul watches this display with wide eyes-- ducking nimbly as the sword passes above his head-- but then he is chilled to the bone as the Prince shouts, and he begins to feel faint. He moves on his knees over to the Prince's side, once more, and holds the carafe to the Prince's lips with a shaking hand-- lifting the Prince's head with his other arm.
"Drink...please drink, my Lord..." he urges, his voice quivering. First he must see to the Prince, and then-- when the Prince's head has cleared-- he will ask him...what...happened...to his mistress. Tears start to form in the old ghoul's eyes as he suspects the worst, but he continues to urge the Prince to drink.

Reynold takes the carafe in his shaking hands and drinks the entirety of the contents. No longer shaking from weakness, Reynold looks up at the ghoul and his eyes are red with tears.
"You're Madara's ghoul, aren't you? What's your name?"

The ghoul gives a little smile, closes his eyes, and bows his head-- pleased that the Prince knew he was Lady Madara's ghoul. "I am, indeed, her ghoul, my Prince. My name is Marcel Ghislaine Thibaud, but you may call me anything you wish, of course." Marcel takes the carafe and sets it aside, relieved that the Prince finally drank.
"My Lord-- what has happened here?? Where is my mistress?" he asks quickly to get the words out before his voice starts quivering again.

Reynold's eyes squeeze tight as the memory of the night before hammers into his mind. He sobs a moment then looks back up at Marcel, a red tear trailing from his eye.
"They...they took her! Katerina and Amalia! They conjured some...it was horrible! They conjured some demon and they took her, Marcel! I saw it, it was great and black and it took her somewhere!!" He says sitting up and getting to his knees.

Marcel gets a wild look in his eyes and clenches his hands together. "I KNEW they were up to no good, my Lord! I was afraid something horrible might happen when I saw them come in together! Oh the foul, FOUL wenches!! They were working with the Kupala all along! Oh what are we to do?? My poor mistress!!" Marcel quickly grabs a hanky from a pocket in his black robe and dabs his eyes with it as the tears finally come. Thinking quickly, he pulls out a spare hanky and holds it out to the Prince.
Miskos and Davra watch the Prince and Marcel closely-- getting back on all fours when the Prince jumps up, then sitting again when the Prince falls back to the floor, and finally perking up their ears when the Prince begins his empassioned explanation and Marcel replies.

"No, it wasn't Kupala, it was a demon named Menthu..." he says waving off the hanky. Reynold gets a fierce look in his eye as he surveys the room-- seeing the destruction wrought upon his room and the castle wall where he hit. 'Dear god that thing was strong,' he thinks as he sees a few stones that have cracked. He stands and suddenly pulls out a trunk from the closet and begins to pack it. He motions for Marcel.
"Marcel, I need your help. Get the armor from in that room and help me pack!" he says motioning towards the secret door, now wide open from the damage.

Marcel-- immensely relieved that the Prince is taking action and has some kind of plan-- gets to his feet and quickly walks into the secret closet. "My lady's armor-- so this is where she kept it! I always wondered...I offered to have it polished, but she always refused. It is...exquisite..." he says, sighing, as he looks at the beautiful insignia on the breastplate. No time to waste, he begins taking the armor down and laying it on the bed piece by piece.
When he's finished with that, he starts helping the Prince pack. After examining what the Prince has put in the trunk so far, he begins taking the items back out, and in no time he has shooed the Prince out of the closet and begun picking and choosing what the Prince will pack with an expert eye.
The dogs wander over to the armor, sniff it, and their tails begin to wags furiously. Davra gives a short bark, as if to tell everyone in the room that she knows who's armor this is, and Miskos looks at the Prince expectantly while panting.

Reynold watches Marcel shoo him away from the packing, and when the dog barks he turns towards the door, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Seeing no one there, he turns and sees the dogs wagging at the armor. Sighing in relief he wanders over and pats Miskos and Davra.
'These two could help track her. I'll need to learn how to command them,' he thinks. He turns to Marcel.
"She's alive...I know it. I can feel it, Marcel, she's alive."

Marcel pauses what he's doing and looks at the Prince with emotional eyes that begin to glisten with tears once again. "I feel it, as well, my Lord..." he says in a low, whispery voice. "I believe I would know if she..." he looks down quickly, and then back up, "...I believe you would, as well." Suddenly Marcel's eyes light up.
"There is one other who would surely be able to feel her life-force, and that is her Childe Veni, my Lord, if you would appreciate more company." Marcel finishes packing, and pulls the chest out of the closet and over to rest by the door with a strength hardly fitting his appearance. "Have you any other trunks, my Prince, or what would you like me to do with this armor?" he asks, stopping to stand beside the bed, and leaning down to murmur to the dogs to be at peace.

Reynold nods and takes the armor and opens another trunk. 'Veni-- is he even still alive? Perhaps Amalia forgot him...'
"Pack the armor, Madara will need it back when I find her." He says as he grabs Madara's scabbard and attaches it to his belt. He hefts the sword from the floor. It's heavier than he remembered, but it will do. Holding it up he looks at it.
"I will carry this always..." he whispers.

Marcel watches the Prince sadly, and then quickly follows his instructions and begins packing the armor to hide his own face.
"That is a good question, now that you mention it, Sire. He stays at my lady's manor-- I believe we should check there first. If he is not there, the dogs could find him. With the tremors in the city, I believe he might try to come here to check on your and my Lady's safety, if I know him."
Davra pads over and sits beside the chest as Marcel loads the armor in carefully-- watching everything he does with great interest-- while Miskos turns to the Prince, looking up at him. Suddenly he stretches his neck out and begins sniffing the Prince, and then gives a bark and licks the Prince's hand.
Marcel looks up. "Miskos! Peace!" and then sees what the dog is doing. "Ah-- I am sorry, my Lord. He seems to have taken a liking to you." Marcel starts to walk over. "I will chain him to the wall if he is bothering you."

Reynold looks down at Miskos and smiles sadly, "No, no. He is not bothering me in the least." he says looking over his shoulder. 'Perhaps he knows...perhaps he can see what...' he thinks for a moment then turns back to Marcel. Reynold sheaths Madara's sword and checks the room to make sure nothing of necessity is left.
He walks over to his window to look out upon the city. He finds Madara's manor and watches it for a few seconds. He grips the sill until his knuckles turn white.
"You can stop calling me 'prince,' Marcel. I'm leaving the city...abdicating. I'm going to find Madara, Marcel. I have never heard of this creature called Menthu before-- I only hope my sire knows, or knows of someone who does."
He turns back to Marcel and nods. "Don't worry Marcel, I'll find her...I will not rest until I do."

Marcel watches the Prince, feeling pride suddenly surge through his body. 'I knew he loved her...I knew he would be the one to treat her the way she was never treated, but always deserved!' he thinks, smiling fondly and proudly at the Prince.
"That is well, my Lord. Whether you are Prince of a city or not, you will always be the Prince in spirit and honor. But for your safety, I will address you as 'my lord.' And I am coming with you." Marcel raises his hand to stop any protests that might be forthcoming. "You and my lady, both, have tendencies to neglect your persons when your minds are consumed with something. You will need someone along who can make sure that you always look impeccable, and that you are taking care of yourself, and those services I am only too capable of providing!"
Marcel turns and picks up the Prince's sword from the floor. "You will need this after you give Lady Madara's armor and sword...back to her." Marcel begins bravely, but as composed as he can keep his face, two tears still escape from his eyes and run down his wrinkled cheeks.

Reynold looks at the old ghoul with amazement and a bit of gratitude in his eyes. He takes the pommel of the sword and smiles, his hand over Marcel's.
"That's right, Marcel. I will need this after *we* find her," he says, putting his hand on Marcel's shoulder and nodding at him. He takes the sword and puts it in the trunk with Madara's armor. He looks at the breastplate, the lion on the field staring up at him.

Marcel smiles at the Prince, dabbing at his eyes with his hanky. 'Thank you, my Prince,' he thinks to himself. He looks down at the trunks, realizing how heavy they must be. "I will go fetch some men to carry these, and grab a few things from my Lady's room, and then return. We should split up the money-purses between the three of us, as a precaution." Marcel smiles. "I am certain Veni will insist on coming." Marcel bows to Reynold, turns, and hurries from the room.

Reynold watches Marcel leave, turns to the window, and takes a look at the city. 'All these memories-- how hard we fought, how much we struggled for this place. And now...now it's all turned. I miss them...I miss them all...I thought I'd never leave here...that we would guide the city to prosperity and peace. That we would build something that would last. Now all I can think of is her. She's all that matters now....no...' he thinks bowing his head, 'She is all that ever mattered.'
Reynold raises his head and looks at the lonely cliff that he found her sitting on...with tears in her eyes, looking up to him, asking him to make it all right. Telling him, she loved him...
"I will, Madara. I promise you; wherever you you are, I will find you. Whatever I have to do, I will. I will never rest until I have you safe in my arms again, my Madara. And I promise...those who did this will pay."

A few minutes pass, and suddenly Reynold can hear men's voices arguing down the hall...getting closer. Then Veni bursts into the room-- his eyes murderous, his hair and beard wild and full of twigs and leaves. Close on his heels are four guards followed by Marcel, who's carrying a smaller chest.
"Where's that bitch Katerina?? I was just at Amalia's place, lookin' for Madara, and the ghouls told me that Katerina had come back, and had been slappin' Amalia around and talkin' real mean to her, and...they said that Amalia has taken up with that whore, an' Madara must have run here...they said that Katerina brought the Kupala, an' that's what caused all this-- " Veni says, motioning around the room haphazardly.
"My Prince..." Veni says, taking a step towards Reynold and bringing his hands up pleadingly. The guards take a step foward and tighten their grips on their swords, watching Veni warily. "Where's Madara an' Amalia??" Then Veni rips his axe from its holder, and his voice turns into a hiss.
"Where's that demon-bitch Katerina??"

Reynold turns to see Veni, axe in hand. He motions around the room.
"Amalia and Katerina took Madara. They summoned a demon, it wasn't Kupala." He says with a gesture holding his hands in front of him. He looks at the guards and nods at them, motioning for them to stand down.
"Its name was Menthu, and he took her," he says clenching a fist.
"Marcel and I are preparing to leave to find her. Veni," he says walking towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I need your help. You're the best tracker, and you're good with that axe. I need a man like you to help me track them down and get her back." He holds out his hand to Veni, "Will you help me?"

Veni looks at the Prince in surprise. "A demon...took Madara?? What-- you said Katerina AND Amalia took her?? Amalia is...a traitor??" Veni's eyes dart around the room as he tries to absorb all this.
"My Prince-- there are rumors startin' to spread that you went crazy an' killed Madara an' Amalia...I don't know who started these rumors, but I wouldn't go down into the city, if I was you." Veni looks hard at the Prince for a moment, and Reynold can feel a slight vibrational push coming from Veni. Veni inhales through his nose, pauses, looks at the dogs for a long moment as something seems to pass between them, and then he exhales and his face softens. "I...believe what you said just now." Veni's hand shoots out and grasps the Prince's wrist tightly as his eyes bore into Reynold's. "I'll help you, my Prince."
Marcel hurries forward. "Ah good, Veni! Good, good...but you must never address him as 'Prince' again, for he is resigning in order to find our Lady Madara. For safety's sake, please only refer to him as 'my Lord," yes, Veni?"
Veni's eyes shift over to Marcel-- still grasping the Prince's wrist in his hand-- and he nods quickly, and shifts his eyes back to Reynold's. "I'll help you, my Lord." he corrects himself.

Reynold shakes his hand once and nods.
"Veni," he says looking into his eyes, "I would and never will harm Madara." Then Veni's words sink in, "They say *I* killed her?" He lets go of Veni's hand, "Why would they think that-- who would..." his eyes narrow and he turns back to them.
"Amalia..." he whispers fiercely. He looks to Marcel then back to Veni.
"We need to leave quickly before anyone tries to stop us," he motions to Veni, "Veni get the dogs ready," he turns to the guards, "Get my carriage and load these trunks in," he points at another guard, "Go to the stable and get Nanesti saddled up, and hurry."
"Marcel, help me with these clothes. I need to disguise myself so we can leave the city quietly!" He says ripping off his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

Veni nods-- accustomed to responding to orders quickly and efficiently-- grabs the chains connected to the dogs' collars, motions to the guards to follow him, and leads the dogs out of Reynold's chambers, followed by the guards.
Once they have gone, Marcel springs into action. He hurries into the Prince's closet, and in a few moments he returns holding a simple white tunic, brown riding-breeches, non-descript black boots, and a gray cloak. "Here you are, my Lord-- the riding-clothing of any 'normal' man about the land." He takes Reynold's old clothing as the Prince throws each article to him, and then puts the small stack into the back of the closet.
Once the Prince is dressed, Marcel takes the Prince's hands and removes all his rings, placing them into a deep pocket in his robe. He looks Reynold over, and then moves behind him to unbind his ponytail, and then rub his hands over the Prince's hair until it looks a bit messier. "Ah yes-- I have not seen you look so tousseled in all my days...and god willing, you will not again unless necessary! All you need is a bit more stubble, but we cannot help that, now can we? Hmmm...perhaps Veni could help with that, come to think of it..." Marcel puts a finger to his chin as he ponders Veni's flesh-crafting skills, and then suddenly looks at the Prince with realization.
"My Lord, are we not forgetting someone? Your Childe-- Miss Lucia Balan? I believe your Sire would be most concerned were you to leave your Childe in a hostile city such as this, do you not agree?"

Reynold nods, thinking a moment. He turns to Marcel and shakes his finger.
"Hmmm, let's go to her room. Marcel-- I'll get her ready to go, you pack a few things for her. Just the necessities, no frills." He says motioning for Marcel to follow him.
They walk quickly down the hall and Reynold opens the door. Lucia is standing by a mirror looking at a new dress she bought. She turns and smiles at Reynold.
"Do you like it, my Prince?" She asks. Reynold cocks his head questioningly.
"Lucia didn't you hear anything that happened last night?"
"Oh no I was away on business, remember?" She says, a look of concern crossing her face.
"Ah yes, that's right. Well then, *sleep*." he says quietly as he looks into her eyes. Lucia's eyes roll to the back of her head as she crumples into Reynold's arms. He lifts her to the bed and lays her down. He walks over to the closet and opens it with a jolt. He pulls out a trunk.

Marcel moves into the room then, and quickly goes to the closet. He finds all of the fighting-clothing Lucia wore when she was pretending to be Madara, which have been altered to fit her new, curvier form...as well as a few of her finest dresses, just in case...and packs the trunk in a minute. He comes out holding one of Madara's old outfits-- tan boots, breeches, and a white shirt with embroidery around the collar and cuffs, as well as a brown cloak. He hands them to Reynold as Reynold dresses his Childe, suddenly looking somber and thoughtful.
"If anyone sees Miss Lucia wearing these-- maybe holding Lady Madara's sword, as well-- with her head covered, the rumors that you killed my Lady should begin to die down. I think, though, you will perhaps need to awaken Miss Lucia to complete the illusion?" he suggests.

Reynold steps away from her, realizing these clothes look like the clothes Madara always wore. He backs away a bit and turns his back.
"I...yes that would be best. That's a good idea, Marcel. I am glad I have you here to think of these things." He turns back to her and reaches hesitantly to touch her forehead.
"Awaken..." he says softly.
Lucia's eyes open and she yawns. She sits up and looks at her clothes.
"Are we going hunting, my Prince?" She asks getting off the bed and checking herself in the mirror.
Reynold nods, "Yes, yes we are. Let's go."

Marcel smiles softly and takes Lucia's hand, patting it. "We told the men that Madara would be joining us..." he hands her the cloak, which has a wide hood. "If you would be so kind as to...encourage this subterfuge until we are into the woods, as you have done many times?" Marcel leans in, lowering his voice and glancing at the door. "It is imporant that those in the castle believe that Madara is no longer sneaking about these walls, if you understand my meaning?" Marcel raises an eyebrow. "We have had a breach in security, and the Prince means to find the traitors and bring them to justice."

"I see-- well then, let us begin our deception!" she says with a smile at Marcel. Reynold walks over to the door and opens it, holding it for her and Marcel. He closes the door, and as Marcel and Lucia begin to walk to the stairs, he follows them and catches sight of his bedroom. The door lies open and for a moment his memories come flooding back. He stands there but a few seconds, but the entire twenty-five years he called this place home comes to him. Madara coming in to see him, her laughing or scowling at the women who left his room. Her reports...her excitedly speaking of the latest ball. Their last night together...
"No...no, not our last night...our first night together," he whispers and then turns and joins the others walking down the stairs.

Marcel walks beside Lucia while carrying her trunk, and whispers with her-- just as he would were it Madara-- and Reynold can hear slips of "latest fashion," and "gaudy head-piece" escape from their conversation. Lucia keeps the hood of her cloak down, and speaks in a slightly-higher voice-timbre-- and it's a good imitation. Marcel addresses her as 'Madara,' and the guards they pass stand at attention in surprise when they go by. Finally they exit the palace and see the carriage waiting. One of Veni's ghouls is sitting up in the drivers seat, and another stands below holding the carriage door open. Attached to the carriage are 2 of Madara's ghouled horses and 2 of Veni's. Veni is riding on his favorite beast-- one that he's subtly flesh-crafted-- and is holding Nanesti's reigns, waiting with Miskos and Davra for the Prince to mount-up.
Marcel hands Lucia's trunk over to the waiting ghoul, leads Lucia to the carriage, and helps her climb up beside the driver, and then climbs into the carriage. The ghoul by the carriage door bows to Reynold.
"My Lord, will you be riding Nanesti?" he asks politely.

Reynold tries not to hear Lucia imitate Madara's voice and looks at Nanesti. Nanesti turns her head to look at him with an expectant look in her eye. Reynold returns the look and surprises himself.
'It's as if she knows...' he thinks.
"I will," he says as he mounts her. He wheels her around to face the carriage.
"Follow me," he says wheeling her around again. He clicks his tongue, and Nanesti begins a decent pace out of the city. Reynold watches the city as he trots by-- gazing at it for, perhaps, the last time.
'We built this, and now we all have abandoned it to whatever fate lies ahead without us to guide it.'
'Fare thee well, Belgrade,' he says to himself as they near the city gates.

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