[piosenniel]

Firefoot’s post

Harold wandered through one of the two aisles of a small store in the village near his home. Usually he would have sent one of his sons or workers to get supplies, but today he had decided to go himself and get a break from his business. His business. It still gave him pleasure to think how he had finally outsmarted his brother and gotten the Lightheart inheritance.

Other than Harold, there were only two other people in this small building. A man, and the storekeeper who he was talking to. Harold realized that they probably didn’t know he was there when he heard what they were saying.

“Do you remember Sandrina? You know, the daughter of Henry Lightheart?” the one man was saying. Harold stiffened at the names of his dead niece and brother. He wondered what news there could possibly be concerning her. Unless... “I heard she’s alive,” said the man. Harold could feel the rage rising up in him, and he stalked out of the store without buying anything or waiting to hear any more. He mounted his horse and heeled him into a gallop, heedless of anything but his own angry thoughts. Those sons of mine will be hearing it from me. They said she was dead! And now... Harold realized that he had to do something. It wasn’t the girl he was afraid of - far from it - it was her father. Henry would come after him to kill him; Harold had little doubt of that. I would be a fool to stay here. However, his pride warred with the thought of leaving. Only cowards flee, and I am certainly no coward.

Harold’s sense and his pride battled within him the entire way back to his property. The bay horse was lathered with sweat from the long gallop, but Harold had finally decided that, pride or no pride, he would rather be a live coward than a dead fool. Harold handed his horse off to a groom and saw his son Arthur crossing the yard.

“Get Samuel and come to my study,” said Harold thickly, not bothering to hide his anger. “But first spread word to my men that they are to meet and wait for me behind the house as soon as possible.” Harold knew that his son would know which men he meant; they were the select few that he had informed of their plans of Sandrina. He had not told them all at once, for then they might have told Henry. Rather, he had fed them the information bit by bit so that by the time they knew the whole plan, not only was it too late to save Sandrina, but it was also too late for them, because if they had gone to Henry they would have been every bit as guilty as Harold and his sons. Arthur hurried to do as Harold had said, and Harold made his way to the study to wait for them, every minute causing him to be more and more upset.

When his sons finally made their way to his study, Harold exploded. “Sandrina is alive. How hard could it have been to kill a weak, foolish girl? And yet you two seem incapable of even that task! Do you realize what this will cost us? Your error is forcing us to flee the property, because if we stay, Henry will come and kill us. That girl that you could have killed - should have been killed - is alive, and when she makes her way back to Henry he will come after us. No more Lightheart business for us! We won’t even be working here anymore! Instead we are forced to flee like cowards. Now, go and join my men behind the house. If you have something to say to me, you can say it there. I will be there shortly.” Harold was so mad that he was quivering slightly. He sat for a moment to calm down a bit and collect his thoughts. Then he got up and followed his sons outside.

Samuel and Arthur stood a little apart from the rest. Harold ran his cold blue eyes over everyone, silently making sure everyone was there, each one shifting uneasily when his gaze rested on him. When he was satisfied, he began to speak, his voice quieter than it had been for his boys, but holding no less intensity or anger. “In case you have not heard, Sandrina is alive.” This news brought murmurs from the group. “We can no longer stay here, or else Henry will come back, and do not expect him to have any mercy on any of you! We must leave, but before we go we are going to carry off everything that we can possibly take from this estate.” Harold wasn’t sure where that had come from, but he rather liked the idea. “The other thing that needs to happen is someone needs to get rid of Sandrina once and for all. Someone more capable than my sons seemingly are,” said Harold with a pointed glare at Arthur and Samuel. “One or two of you should suffice. Now, does anyone have any ideas, thoughts, or opinions?”