This is the next post in the ‘Rescue, of Sorts’ storyline, which can be found at this tag: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/tag/character:+daxton
It took them a week to escape the castle, although their eventual bid for freedom was far less dramatic than the first time they’d met. “Just want to scout the countryside,” Daxton assured his parents, and, “they want us to rule something, we ought to see what we could rule,” Esha told her captain.
Nobody believed them, of course. The beauty of it was that it worked whether it was considered truth or lie — let their friends and family think they were off working on the next generation of Ducal heirs. In a sense, they were.
The manor house they found had been carved from a mountainside and built outwards from the stone they’d pulled. Aside from a population of wild mice and some small mountain foxes, it hadn’t been tenanted in a while, but the walls, built when the world was a stronger, stranger place, were still true and strong.
There was a barracks on site that, with some work, could house a mercenary troop in far more comfort than they were used to. And there was a village nearby that could use the protection of a strong force so close.
“It’ll take work,” Esha pointed out. “A lot of work.”
Daxton’s smile was crooked, more amused than pleased. “Still better than a dungeon.”
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