Chapter Text
Long ago, in the year of our Lord eleventy-twelve, far across the sweeping green valleys of the Kingdom of Holland, a caterwaul was heard.
Now, you would have dared to bravely approach this sound out of either foolishness or genuine curiosity. You would have then found two armoured knights holding hands over their ears, one tied up thug with tears of sheer agony running down his face, and a third knight with his head facing the heavens, face scrunched up in what would look like constipation if it weren't for his wide-open mouth with bared teeth which you now find is the source of the torturous howl.
It continued for a good five minutes, just barely changing tones but still not succeeding with making whatever words that were being mixed with it discernible. Then...
“Alright, I give up! I took the baron's gold, you can have it back, just please, make him stop!” the man who was tied up desperately exclaimed. At his words, the knight promptly ceased howling with finality. His two companions cautiously took their hands off their ears. They sighed in relief.
“Well then, Sir Anticitus, what shall we do with him now?” asked one of the knights, his voice unusually high from the cry's resonance in his vocal chords.
The man named Sir Anticitus – the one previously supposedly attempting at a mating call – replied nonchalantly, “Collect the gold and bring this bugger to the dungeon. We'll have the baron himself deal with his pitiful soul.”
The second knight nodded, “Very well, sir.” He then grabbed the rope trailing from the bonds holding the bandit prisoner, pulling him to his feet to which he let out a yelp. The group then made their way back to the castle that was within a mile of their gaze.
As they got closer to their destination, the first knight overheard a galloping in the distance that seemed to be quickly approaching them. Then, a carriage appeared just above a hill, its driver shrouded in what seemed to be a monk's robe. The knight couldn't quite see his facial features, but regardless, he was trespassing on the baron's territory without permission–and he seemed to have no desire of reconciling his offence.
“Sir,” he asked Anticitus, “Should we stop him?” he pointed towards the speeding carriage uncertainly. Anticitus immediately slapped the knight upside the head upon seeing it. “Ouch, what was that for?!”
“You imbecile! Why in the blazes did you not let me know of this a few minutes earlier, hm?!” he roared in fury. “We could have had him before he had a chance to get to that distance!”
The knight quickly collected himself, rubbing the spot where Anticitus slapped him. “My apologies, sir... it won't happen again.”
Anticitus grabbed him by his lapels fiercely. “Damn right, it won't,” he hissed at him, “Because we are going after him. Now.” He dropped him at the utterance of the last word in his sentence. “Well, then... what are you dim-wits waiting for?” he asked in an authoritative tone.
“Well, sir...” the second knight pulled the string tying the robber's hands together to illustrate his dilemma.
Anticitus merely rolled his eyes. “Then just... tie him to that tree for now. We can't have him fleeing on us again now, can we?” his voice dropped to a sinister level.
The second knight gulped. “O-of course not, sir,” he replied to Anticitus with a nervous smile, “That would be most foolish of – ”
“Oh, just quit your yapping and get on with it, man!” Anticitus commanded, cutting him off, to which he was simply met with a meek “Yes, sir,” from the befuddled knight who then proceeded to tug the prisoner along with him to the tree indicated by Anticitus. Once the man had finally managed to tie the knots properly, he scurried back to the other two members of the party.
Anticitus sniffed before speaking. “Now then, men. Let us charge!”