The Beginnings of Unrest in the Casle in the Air

Vale’s pacing was arrested mid-step by a frantic knocking on the tiny wooden door. He paused as the key turned in the lock and Gabrielle entered the small chambers.

Her golden hair followed her into the room like a live, sentient animal, flowing in golden rivulets down the back of her crimson red dress. She shut and locked the door behind her.

“They have come,” she said desperatly, searching Vale’s face for some sign of optimism. There was none.

“I know,” he said solemnly, returning to his post at the window just as a plank tore away from the body of the drawbridge, falling through the moat, down, down, straight to the unknowing village below. “He has returned.”

Gabrielle joined him at the window. Felipe and Roland entered the castle to fanfare and applause.

“They will try to convince him,” Gabrielle said, looking into the old man’s tired eyes.

“Yes.” He sighed. “Have you learned anything of Jaque’s whereabouts?”

The young girl stared out the window. “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

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