There was, sadly, no decision to be reached, for as soon as they all had looked at the statue; as soon as the other paths had disappeared and as soon as Piero had stepped closer to look at the stone figure, they had all been brought across the threshold. They were no longer in Endless Sorrow.
It was very dark and clearly nighttime. The moon was large and silvery, illuminating their path but not much else. The sky was clear, and studded with stars forming very unfamiliar constellations. Whatever semblance this land had to England disappeared as soon as they were inside of it. The sky was foreign. The trees were of unrecognizable species and massive; much larger than they had originally seemed. And what's more, the King's meadow and the statue had completely disappeared.
They were on a solitary road within the forest. It was well marked by the trees and lit by the moon. The trees gathered around it were thick; it was difficult to look into the dark green forest. Behind them was the road leading, presumably, back to the meadow, though nothing would indicate that. It led endlessly into the forest. In the other direction, the path was better lit. This was most likely the route they should take. There were no sounds at all.
They only had one direction to go in. Should they follow the stark road among the trees, they would find it was remarkably straight, like the King had said.
Were they to look into the trees, they would see something faintly moving among the branches-- there was also a shimmering. Intentional or not, the glamor was there; perhaps because the travelers had not yet become accustomed to Faerie. Tarquin, apparently, could see what it was, and he stayed very much to the center of the road. For once, he pulled Gay with him, leading the boy by the collar of his shirt. Tarquin was also holding back tears, but he didn't speak at all.
They came to a clearing. As they approached it on the road, there was the sound of water.
On the thorny trees around the clearing there hung the bodies of men in various states of decay. They, and several like them, had been decorating the road and forest the entire time. Some looked fresh, others were practically skeletons in rusted armor. A handful wore clothing that was more recent, but not many. The roads to Faerie had supposedly closed centuries ago. Nonetheless, individuals somehow managed to wander in. Apparently.
There was a brook directly between the path and the clearing, and a small bridge led over it.
Behind the bridge, there was a great, high tower made of rough-hewn stones with a single lit window. A silhouette could clearly be seen there. There was a wooden door at the tower's base, but it had no handle.
Before the tower there was a young man wearing medieval plate armor, though he had no helmet. The style of his armor would probably have been in vogue roughly two hundred years ago. He clutched his sword, and he looked haggard and pale, with dead eyes. His tabard bore the crest of a dead house; There was a great, oppressive feeling, tangible in varying levels depending on awareness (1).
"I am the Champion of the Castle of the Plucked Eye and Heart. I offer challenges to those who would come to offend or harm the Lady of the castle."
Tarquin's mind was racing, and he exhaled in a greatly strained manner, looking with genuine fear at Eliza and Gay. He fully blamed them for the group's current situation. He stepped to the front of the group, lightly pushing Gay into Eliza. "You will both be quiet. You have done more than enough. Good God!" The first part was definitely a command, and his tone was nasty and exasperated. In the same breath:
"Sir!" Tarquin called, and his voice seemed muffled by the thick forest. "... did... you... kill the men that hang on the branches of these trees?" He gestured to the trees without taking his eyes off the knight.
"Some," the knight replied, "I hung them on the branches of the thorn trees, like the ones who came before me."
"You serve the Lady?"
"Yes."
"... For what purpose? What will you gain from your service?"
"I do not know. I do not know her." said it with such conviction that it would be easy to think that such service was normal.
"Well! Well well well well well." Tarquin was hoping to bide time, brushing the front of his clothes with the backs of his hand, not stepping forward.
"Do you mean to fight?" The knight asked.
"Sir! We have neither harmed nor insulted your lady." The knight stepped forward, and the leaves and corpses rustled and everyone felt the irrepressible urge to fight the knight (2), and Tarquin panicked.
"For you see!" Tarquin blurted, stuttering, the energy changed; the urge to fight lessened. "We are bound to another master, who, is, at this very moment, in wait, for, our, return. No fighting. No, no fighting. No offenses. No harm."
The figure at the window seemed to lean forward, and Tarquin whispered panickedly to the group at his back as he himself took a step back, "Whatever we do, we mustn't kill him or harm him. We must get to the tower without challenging him or causing offense. I think the lady is there. There, in the tower. I don't know. I don't know. We cannot fight here. There will be no turning back from it."
(1) Depending on INT.
(2) Irrepressible only if WILL <5. Otherwise it can be felt, but it can be repressible.
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