Location: Olsmere, East of Asterra
Time: Morning
A heavy knock rattled the wooden door of Keith and Mrs. Trinket's home. Keith opens his eyes sluggishly as he climbs down from his bed.
The knock on the door intensifies with every hit, then he swings his door open to find one of the town's women standing in the doorway, her face filled with worry, sweat trickling down her face.
"Mira! the seamstress, she's missing!" the woman said in a worried tone. "She wasn't in her tent last night!"
Keith froze at the doorpost for a moment, confused, before glancing back at his wife.
Mrs. Trinket pulled herself from the bed hastily, wiping the sleep from her face as she hurried to the door.
"What do you mean, child? I was with her last night," Trinket said, with worry already clouding her voice.
"She isn't the only one," the woman continued breathlessly. "Sir George's daughter is missing as well." She gave a quick bow. "Sir George and the council request your presence, Lord Keith."
Without another word, she turned and hurried back down the path she had come from.
Keith's gaze locked with Mrs. Trinket's, fear flashing within their eyes. Then he turned sharply, striding back into the house to get dressed.
Moments later, he arrived at the town hall. Men and women clustered within the meeting hall, their voices low, filling the air with murmurs.
Conversations quickly died down immediately keith stepped inside.
Abel stood near the corner, basking in calm fury, his arms folded, his face dark.
Beside him Sir George, stood with trembling hands and feet, tear droplets hanging at the corner of his eye.
"Keith…" Sir George called out as he walked slowly towards keith. "My daughter wasn't home last night. She was last seen at the clothesline, taking sheets. Shes been abducted!" Tears begins to pour from his eyes.
Keith said nothing at first, turning his gaze toward Abel, whose face remained carved in a grim scowl.
Then he faced the gathered crowd. "Did anyone have contact with mira or sir georges daughter before they disappeared?" Keith asked, his voice cutting through the muttering. "Anyone?"
Suddenly, a small hand rose amidst the crowd, hesitantly.
A girl no older than twelve stepped from the crowd, clutching a small mechanical toy to her chest. Her dress filled with dust, and her hair roped together roughly.
"I… I was with Sir George's daughter last night," she said in a wavering voice. "We folded sheets at the line together. She walked me back to my tent because I was so sleepy… then she went back to get some of my clothes she forgot. I'm sorry… it's all my fault!" The girl said breaking into sobs.
Keith crouched before her, his face softening even as his countenance grew colder. "It's not your fault, little one," he said gently. "Did you see anyone? Any strange man nearby?"
The girl shook her head, wiping her nose. "No… I was too sleepy."
Keith rose to his feet, his hands adjusting the leather gloves at his wrists.
Sir George stepped closer again, his voice thick with regret.
"Keith… When you brought up the matter of that Mira girl being followed, I dismissed it," he admitted. "We didn't have enough crowns to hire proper guards, and since Lord Eryndor's death, no noble army has patrolled our streets. And i thought we were safe… but I was wrong."
Sir georges wife, Ryna, came forward, her face streaked with tears. She immediately falls to her knees before Keith, clutching at his legs.
"She's all we have, Lord Keith! Please help us—save our daughter! Save Mira as well!"
The hall grew still except for the sound of crying. Keith's fists clenched. His face growing dark, burning with barely contained rage. Behind the crowd, Mrs. Trinket stood silently, tears pooling in her eyes as she stared at her husband.
Keith catches glances with his wife trinket, and for a brief, haunting moment, he was reminded of trinket crying over Oriyn's death again—her face twisted in the same agony as now.
Then suddenly abels voice crashes out.
"We need to take this matter to Calensport!" Abel's voice rose, sharp and provoking, as he turned to face the restless crowd. "A low noble like Keith cannot solve matters of kidnapping or abduction. Don't waste your tears expecting him to save anyone!"
"And what do you suggest we do, Abel?" Sir George's roared with anger. "Keith is the closest thing to protection we have—closer than those nobles in Calensport who haven't released a single crown for our recovery since the attack!"
"This is abduction!" Abel shot back. "What can Keith do—stand there and let you cry on his shoulder? We'd do better to go to Calensport ourselves and demand justice!"
"And what would you do when you get there abel?" Keith's voice cut through the murmurs in the crowd like a blade. Calm. Cold. But burnt with restrained rage.
The crowd fell silent as he walked forward, each step measured. He adjusted his glasses with slow precision, his gaze never leaving Abel.
Then Abel's high shoulders flattened, fear sipping into his countenance as he shifted back slightly, sweat beginning to stroll down his temple.
"A-and… what does it matter to you?" Abel replied with a stuttering voice, as he observed keiths aura filled with devouring rage.
Then Keith stopped directly in front of him.
"Everything matters to me, young man." His voice low but steady. "My wife's friend has been taken. Your councilor's daughter is gone. The safety of Olsmere has been violated—and you want to run to Calensport and beg for help? If Calensport truly cared to solve matters like this, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with"
He immediately turns from Abel and faced the entire hall.
"We have been left exposed since the attack on Asterra," Keith said, as his voice echoed around the hall "The acting sovereign, Lord Marric, will not release crowns for the affected towns for security and rebuilding, and this is the result olsmere is left to deal with, while Soldiers in staggering numbers guard Calensport"
The crowd murmured nervously, the air thick with fear.
"Whoever is behind this will pay dearly," Keith thundered. "I will find them. And I will bring them to justice."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Then the people began whispering to one another, hope and fear mingling in their voices.
Keith immediately marches out of the hall, as sir George hurried after him, while Abel stood frozen from keiths confrontation, he quickly adjust his sleeves, glancing around nervously, worried someone would see him shaken.
Outside, Keith found Mrs. Trinket waiting, her face streaked with tears, as he gently pulled her aside.
"Mira said some things last night," Trinket said, her voice trembling. "Things she wasn't supposed to say… Keith, is this what I think it is?"
"No," Keith said firmly, gripping her shoulders. "This isn't political. If it were, they would have taken you too. This looks like a targeted kidnapping, but no demands have been made. That troubles me more."
"Then why them?" Trinket's voice cracked.
"They were alone," Keith said calmly. "When Mira told me about that shadow following her, I investigated. I found heavy male footprints near her the stall she had identified the male figure following her. I even sent messages to Calensport asking for soldiers to guard Olsmere, but we have had no reply."
Trinket's tears spilled freely as keith spoke, her hands trembling as she wiped them away.
"I'll go myself," Keith said, his jaw set. "I'll pull every string I can and find answers."
Then Sir George appeared behind them.
"Lord Keith…" he called out anxiously..
"Take your wife Ryna and Mrs. Trinket somewhere safe," Keith ordered. "Find every able-bodied man in this town and arm them. Post guards on every corner, every road. No one goes missing again." He didn't wait for a reply as he marched into his home,
He pulled opened an iron-bound chest, retrieving a rifle. The weapon gleamed in the morning light as he cocked and loaded it. Stacking ammunitions over his waist. Slidding daggers as well into his boots.
Finally He flips a black cloak over his head, covering himself in a silver decorated and embrioded patterned cloak.
Keith steps before the mirror for a while, staring at the man that reflected back at him—an older man, worn by loss, with deep lines etched around his eyes. His face looking old, tired and angry.
Then he turned, stepped out the door, and vanished into the morning as the light faded behind him.