{"id":853,"date":"2019-06-01T05:24:19","date_gmt":"2019-06-01T11:24:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/?page_id=853"},"modified":"2019-06-12T18:05:54","modified_gmt":"2019-06-13T00:05:54","slug":"bleeder","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/legends-13\/bleeder\/","title":{"rendered":"Bleeder"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-1 nonhundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling\"  style='background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);background-position: center center;background-repeat: no-repeat;padding-top:0px;padding-right:30px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-left:30px;'><div class=\"fusion-builder-row fusion-row \"><div  class=\"fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion_builder_column_2_3 fusion-builder-column-0 fusion-two-third fusion-column-first 2_3\"  style='margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:20px;width:66.66%;width:calc(66.66% - ( ( 4% ) * 0.6666 ) );margin-right: 4%;'><div class=\"fusion-column-wrapper\" style=\"padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px;background-position:left top;background-repeat:no-repeat;-webkit-background-size:cover;-moz-background-size:cover;-o-background-size:cover;background-size:cover;\"   data-bg-url=\"\"><div class=\"fusion-content-boxes content-boxes columns row fusion-columns-1 fusion-columns-total-1 fusion-content-boxes-1 content-boxes-icon-with-title content-left\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\" style=\"margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:60px;\"><style type=\"text\/css\">.fusion-content-boxes-1 .heading .content-box-heading {color:#a0ce4e;}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .content-box-heading,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .heading-link .content-box-heading,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .content-box-heading,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .heading-link .content-box-heading,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::after,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::before,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .fusion-read-more:hover:after,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .fusion-read-more:hover:before,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .fusion-read-more:hover,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::after,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::before,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .icon .circle-no,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .heading .heading-link:hover .content-box-heading {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcolor: #a0ce4e;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .icon .circle-no {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcolor: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box.link-area-box-hover .fusion-content-box-button {background: #f97000;color: #ffffff;}.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box.link-area-box-hover .fusion-content-box-button .fusion-button-text {color: #ffffff;}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .icon > span {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbackground-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .icon > span {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tborder-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}<\/style><div class=\"fusion-column content-box-column content-box-column content-box-column-1 col-lg-12 col-md-12 col-sm-12 fusion-content-box-hover content-box-column-last content-box-column-last-in-row\"><div class=\"col content-box-wrapper content-wrapper link-area-link-icon icon-hover-animation-fade\" style=\"background-color:rgba(255,255,255,0);\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\"><div class=\"heading icon-left\"><h1 class=\"content-box-heading\" style=\"font-size:18px;line-height:23px;\">Bleeder<\/h1><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><div class=\"content-container\" style=\"color:#747474;\">\n<p>Fantasy fiction based upon the medieval superstition which placed young princesses in locked towers. First appearing in in Dante\u2019s Heart, \u00a9 2010, edited by David Fusch and Available with 12 other tales in the collection <a href=\"https:\/\/smile.amazon.com\/Legends-13-Bryan-Lindenberger-ebook\/dp\/B074PBBFVL\/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1543357188&amp;sr=8-2&amp;keywords=lindenberger+legends+13\">Legends 13 available at Amazon.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p>Maturity came for Princess Anne on a lazy June day when raspberries turned plump on their canes and prairie-clover bloomed across the rolling heaths of Brichton. The royal daughter awoke from her afternoon nap and found her sheets stained crimson red. Within moments of reporting this occurrence to her chambermaid, the queen received the news and dispatched armed soldiers to escort Anne to the castle\u2019s highest tower. There she remained suspended in a cage like that of a bird sealed with lock and chain for nearly a year, her feet never to touch the ground until sworn by marriage. The solitude wore on her. She cried, swung on her swing, and taught herself to whistle and to sing. Only the most expendable of staff were permitted access Anne\u2019s lonely abode, which didn\u2019t say much for Bertrand Stills, a cheerful page nearly twice her age.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI smell flowers,\u201d she said to Stills one day. Even in this world without windows, she caught the scent of spring stirring from Stills\u2019 pollen-drenched clothes. \u201cYou\u2019ve been outside?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSpring has sprung, M\u2019lady,\u201d Stills replied as he handed food and water up through the bars of her cage. It was a daily ritual, one that Stills looked forward to despite his fear and awe of her. Legend told that a woman in Anne\u2019s condition could sour wine at a glance, and that crossing her shadow tempted death. But Stills overcame these fears at appreciation of her voice and her beauty. He enjoyed Anna\u2019s company, and even her less-than-subtle flirtations sometimes amused him. A young man and not of the superstitious variety, he knew that her solitude had more to do with ensuring chastity than with sour wine or evil shadows. Anne smiled down at him, chewing a bite of white bread and honey.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThen my suitors have arrived?\u201d she asked hopefully.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, M\u2019Lady. More than a hundred, though Queen Grace has narrowed them down a score.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd they are each clever and kind?\u201d she asked hopefully.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHandsome too,\u201d Stills smiled. Three suitors in particular had caught his attention: Prince Eliades of Chace, Prince Barok of Baedun, and the retired Admiral Dulles, current director of the Shipping and Trade League.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWill they spank me the way you used to when I misbehaved? Oh, I hope so!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI never spanked you!\u201d Stills choked, blushing.<\/p>\n<p>Anne sighed and tossed her flaxen hair teasingly. High on her perch, she looked like an angel in that dismal place. \u201cPity,\u201d she said. \u201cI must have dreamed of your firm hand. Tell me, do you suppose dreams come true?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo wonder your parents locked you away,\u201d Stills winked. Of course, he found her attractive\u2014any man of taste would\u2014but his station prevented his knowing her in the Christian sense. They each understood that fully, which was why they could tease and press against innocence so openly. Stills focused his masculine energies into sharing household gossip. \u201cThey\u2019re all good men,\u201d he said, his tone transparently political. \u201cHonest men. Well-bred, yes. Any one of them will make you a suitable husband.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEven Dulles, huh?\u201d Princess Anne wondered, a sandal dangling from her painted, wriggling toes.<\/p>\n<p>Stills bit his lip.<\/p>\n<p>True to his name, Admiral Dulles was a boring sort who rarely spoke except to shout orders at his brow-beaten staff. Apart from one chambermaid, who vowed that Admiral Dulles kept his room as tidy as his books, the entire castle staff quietly rooted against the man though Queen Grace favored him. As sneaky as he was aloof, Dulles noted the Queen\u2019s almost unnatural interest in foreign antiquities and whispered many false promises in her ear.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m sure Dulles is a fine enough man in his own right,\u201d Stills said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd what of Prince Barok?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s a decent enough\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s a brute!\u201d Anne\u2019s eyes flashed in candlelight as she leaned forward from her perch. \u201cYou can say it, Stills. He\u2019s a brute. A brute! Brute-brute-brute!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere do you hear such things?\u201d Stills reacted defensively while not denying the fact. Unlike Admiral Dulles, Barok never stopped talking. He imparted such wisdoms as \u201cReal men don\u2019t bathe!\u201d and \u201cWomen can\u2019t digest beef!\u201d He once stated that the finest women of his land had flat heads, allowing them to carry three buckets of water or milk at a time.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI may be imprisoned here, but I have ears,\u201d Anne said suggestively. She swung forward and caught the bars of her cage in both hands, pressing her pug nose and full lips in between. She had become truly a woman in this past year, a fact that Stills could not deny. \u201cNow, tell me about this third suitor that has all the chambermaids\u2019 tongues flapping\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Stills sighed. Anne referred, of course, to Prince Eliades.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">***<\/p>\n<p>One benefit to Stills\u2019 lowly position was that few bothered to lower their voices in his presence. It came as no surprise when he overheard Queen Grace and Admiral Dulles discuss the many ancient treasures Dulles could procure for her. All he needed was some certainty, some assurance, that he would win the tournament for Anne\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n<p>Queen Grace coyly obliged.<\/p>\n<p>Stills relayed this information of subterfuge to one of the chambermaids, and word buzzed throughout the hive of gossipy staff. Off-duty staff attended the games to win Princess Anne\u2019s hand, and they cried foul at the slightest transgress of tournament rules. They protested the mediators\u2019 calls, argued with the judges, and generally made spectacles of themselves because they had their own favorite to win. The only real challenger to Admiral Dulles and the brutish Prince Barok was Prince Eliades.<\/p>\n<p>Ah, the prince\u2026!<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, he\u2019s a handsome one!\u201d the attendants would say. \u201cSuch a charmer! So brilliant! Did you hear him the other night? Recites poetry like wind through the forest, he does!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When Stills noticed that younger women drew straws to attend to his room, he knew that Prince Eliades was the one. What puzzled Stills was Eliades\u2019 lackluster performance at the games. A little investigation informed him that Eliades was known as the finest rider in Chace, a kingdom legendary for its cavalrymen. Furthermore, Stills learned that Eliades had gained some notoriety as a marksman. So how had he fallen dead last in archery?<\/p>\n<p>The question provoked Stills until, late one night, he wrapped himself in a cloak of audacity followed by a few drinks from the winery and charged upstairs to the guests\u2019 quarters. He pounded at the prince\u2019s door, certain that the man had thrown the games. Before he could think twice of his rash intrusion and sneak away, a voice answered from the other side.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI am honored by your interest, young lady,\u201d Eliades said through the door, approaching with the shuffled gate of a tired man. \u201cBut as I stated earlier, I really must get some\u2014\u201d the door opened\u2014\u201crest. Oh, it\u2019s you! Stills. That\u2019s a relief! I\u2019ve had ladies of your castle calling on me all night! Unless you have come to\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI favor the fairer sex,\u201d Stills smiled.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFine. Then what is on your mind, Master Stills?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Had he just said what Stills thought he said? Master Stills?<\/p>\n<p>That was his name of course. But most people including the queen referred to him as \u201cboy.\u201d It was a rather demeaning title for a man of thirty, and he\u2019d grown somewhat used to it. Prince Eliades invited him in, offered him a seat beside his bed so that they might chat informally about the weather and local food, laughing and speaking easily like old friends. Only one thing the prince said irritated Stills, though he should not have let it.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou people here behave,\u201d Eliades said, \u201clike a pack of superstitious, backward-thinking, no utensil-using, barbarians!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Well\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>Perhaps those weren\u2019t his exact words. He was quite careful in his phrasing, but the point was clear. For Prince Eliades, the mere idea of locking a young woman in a lonely tower went beyond the fringe of poor taste. He saw the people of Brichton as quite beneath him\u2014no more than savages for their outdated customs.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo,\u201d Stills groaned. \u201cYou are throwing the game to avoid marriage with Anne?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMy father asked that I come here to compete,\u201d the prince replied. \u201cWell, I have competed. Duty fulfilled, I shall return home defeated.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Stills frowned. The last thing he expected was for the prince\u2019s refined accent to offend him. The prince wore his hair neatly along his high forehead, and his eyes were kind and knowing. Yet his mouth expressed the most about him\u2014not so much the words he chose, but the way his lips curled when he said them. As though he took offense by even being here, in the small kingdom.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI never meant to insult you,\u201d Prince Eliades said, reading Stills\u2019 concern. \u201cLook, where I\u2019m from we make amends over a drink.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He poured, and Stills accepted. The stuff Prince Eliades had in that flask of his from the shelf nearly burned a hole in Stills\u2019 unaccustomed throat. \u201cI don\u2019t normally drink,\u201d Stills said, sounding a bit horse. He held out the mazer for another dose. Sipped. And then drank. \u201cDon\u2019t judge us by our bygone traditions. Princess Anne is so much more than what we appear. If only you could meet her!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo why shouldn\u2019t I?\u201d Eliades said, and his eyes were frighteningly clear. \u201cWhat kind of village would keep her hidden from her prospective husband?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCity!\u201d Stills replied fervidly. \u201cNot a village. Chace is a city. In its infancy, perhaps.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRegardless\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI can arrange something. For you to meet. Not for your happiness, Prince. Though you will find that. But for hers. Should you choose to fully participate.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Prince Eliades smiled, not too broadly. \u201cTo happiness,\u201d he said, raising his flask.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTo the princess,\u201d Stills replied and reached for another drink.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">***<\/p>\n<p>The sky descended darkly over Brichton. Lightning flashed with rain as Stills bundled up his body to attend the games. He cheered as he could from the stands. Prince Eliades performed so poorly that Stills wondered if he\u2019d forgotten his promise. Yet the young Prince seemed eager to meet Anne. Could it be that he cared more about the spectacle of her confinement than the lady herself? The page waited until long after dusk before he led the prince to her room. He carried a torch, having already warned Princess Anne of their impending intrusion. She seemed more frightened than eager.<\/p>\n<p>Her worries scattered at first sight.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh my\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re as handsome as they said\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sighs all around\u2014Stills waited, the room draped in silence except for the rolling thunder outside. Prince and Princess stared at one another\u2014perhaps gazed achingly is a better phrase\u2014without speaking beyond their breaths. Stills interjected at last.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou may approach her,\u201d he prodded Prince Eliades. \u201cUnless you think her shadow will burst your heart!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIndeed, my heart is tempted to burst!\u201d Eliades replied.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThen I shall handle your heart gently,\u201d the Princess smiled demurely.<\/p>\n<p>Stills might have laughed except that to be there, in the moment when young love took hold, meant more to him than anything. Anne offered her hand from the bars of her cage, and Prince Eliades trembled to kiss her knuckles. With a great weight lifted from his shoulders, Stills left them alone to talk and bat eyelashes like lost lovers found again in the night.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">***<\/p>\n<p>The people of Chace were known for many things: their folk art, their music, and a penchant for law and order. But perhaps they were best known for their tragedies.<\/p>\n<p>Prince Eliades played at the games like a new man. He rose quickly from the bottom ranks to the top four, proving his speed and stamina, his hand steady with quiver and bow. The other suitors complained. They said that he was a shill\u2014that he had held back earlier only to mock them. Prince Eliades paid no mind. His love focused him, and twice he was so deep in thought that he passed Stills in the castle halls without a hello or so much as a nod. Stills took no offense. He had seen love before, and he knew the singlemindedness of winners.<\/p>\n<p>As for the castle staff, the games offered them grand theater. They hovered outside doorways and windows, gossiping and tallying scores on their fingers and toes. They placed wagers\u2014contrary to Brichton Law\u2014and some of the ladies spoke of which threaders might best compose nuptial gowns. Wouldn\u2019t it be so much like Princess Anne to invite the staff to her wedding, whatever her uppity mother might say?<\/p>\n<p>Queen Grace, of course, was less than thrilled.<\/p>\n<p>Prince Eliades hadn\u2019t yet caught her attention. She hardly noticed him because the oafish brute Prince Barok had taken the lead from her own choice, Admiral Dulles. One morning while Stills cleared the tables in the Great Hall, he saw the queen take Prince Barok aside. Stills eavesdropped. A good rumor always helped the day go by, and he knew the queen intended to manipulate the man. Stills never guessed the extent.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt appears,\u201d Queen Grace said to Barok, \u201cthat you will soon lose the contest to Dulles.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHah!\u201d Barok barked. \u201cBeg\u2019n yer pardon, Lady, but these\u2019re a man\u2019s games. I see few men on the field \u2019sides myself!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOf course,\u201d she replied, dreaming of the gifts Admiral Dulles had promised her. \u201cThat is why I want only a \u2018real man\u2019 for my daughter. You understand.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNope!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, well\u2014\u201d she cleared her throat. \u201cThere\u2019s been a change of plan. The final days of the games rely less on &#8230; manly strength and more upon matches of wit. Cards, dice, and so forth.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo one told me \u2018bout that!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, I would think not,\u201d Queen Grace replied. She appeared frustrated. True, stupid men are easily manipulated, but one must first learn to speak their language. Queen Grace focused her eyes and her words. \u201cThe others fear you. They fear your &#8230; strength. In any event, I fear circumstances have put you at a disadvantage against Admiral Dulles.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAdmiral Dulles oughta wear a kirtle!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThen you understand why\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s got the legs for it!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes. Then you understand why I don\u2019t want my daughter to marry such a &#8230; weak sort of sailor. That is why\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBoats are for children! Hah-hah-hah!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cQuite. That is why I think we need to take matters into our own hands.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHuh, what\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI want you to rescue my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Prince Barok scratched his thick skull audibly. \u201cRescue her? You mean like, take her off somewhere?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPrecisely!\u201d Queen Grace acknowledged. \u201cThat is why\u2014\u201d and here her voice became so low that Stills had to strain to hear \u201c\u2014that is why I have left my darling daughter bound and gagged in her room.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBound, you say? You mean, all tied up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes &#8230;.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI like \u2018em tied up, Lady!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFool, you will address me properly as\u2014\u201d The queen took a long breath. Her smile was all teeth now. \u201cI want you to take her, to rescue her, from a life with that sniveling little admiral. You will carry her from the tower and through a secret hallway that I will show you. It leads to the postern at the back of this castle. Upon exiting, you will take Anne to a grove just to the castle\u2019s east. You must wait there, hidden. I\u2019ll spread word that some vagabonds have captured her. Meanwhile, I\u2019ll send someone to meet you at the grove and escort you home with my daughter. You need only say that you killed her kidnappers, and you will be a hero\u2014a savior with no need for silly contests!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWon\u2019t Anne tell on me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe herself devised the plan! She no more wants to spend her life with Dulles than you do!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAre you afraid?\u201d Queen Grace gently prodded. \u201cNo, not you. So strong. So virile. My daughter, you see, is quite beautiful. Did I mention she works as hard as ten mules?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTen?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMore like twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Barok\u2019s gaze drifted, as though grappling to imagine a woman so strong. Stills was horrified. Not because Queen Grace would allow this man to flee with her daughter, but because he saw through her plan. The queen meant to have this dullard killed! Caught in the grove with her kidnapped daughter, Barok would face certain death and clear the way for Admiral Dulles!<\/p>\n<p>Stills snuck away to the kitchens. He told what he knew to the steward and several cooks and maids he trusted. \u201cIt could be worse,\u201d the steward said. \u201cAt least there will be one less man for Prince Eliades to contend with.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIndeed!\u201d a serving maid agreed. \u201cOne less competitor for Eliades sounds right fine by me!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut our man can win rightfully!\u201d Stills argued, aghast at popular opinion. \u201cWhy must an innocent man die over this?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMen die by the thousands,\u201d the steward shrugged. \u201cBut we have only one Princess Anne.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe\u2019s like a daughter to us all,\u201d said a chambermaid who\u2019d slipped in for a taste of beef soup. \u201cWe want what\u2019s best for her. Besides, it seems the queen has made up her own mind. It\u2019s none of our concern, I say!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The assembly grew as more staff entered the fray. They bandied opinions in the kitchen, voices rising like the clamor of so many soup spoons stirring within metal pots. None of it mattered. Stills understood now that they could talk and plan, cheer their favorite contender and hassle the judges, but it was all mere entertainment. Political intrigue and gossip kept them busy, but they had no voice. No true sway in public affairs. Looking back, Stills would cherish the night he introduced Prince Eliades to Princess Anne. It was the one time in his simple life where he changed something &#8230; where he reached beyond his realm and made a difference. He had seen the love in Anne\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n<p>Losing faith, he clung to that moment.<\/p>\n<p>Prince Barok managed to find Princess Anne in her room as per the queen\u2019s evil plan. He saw her wrists bound and her mouth gagged and that must have pleased such a boorish type. He tossed her over his shoulder like sack full of eels, carried her through the hidden hallways and tunnels, out through the postern and into the grove. Stills watched helplessly from a window as the figures moved through the moonlight, but no castle guard waited to confront Barok as Stills had suspected.<\/p>\n<p>No, the queen, who made sure Prince Eliades was near, screamed that her only daughter had been stolen, that she\u2019d seen a man throw her over his shoulder like a savage and race to the hillsides. With none other so brave to heed the call, Prince Eliades naturally took it upon himself to rescue the princess. He secured a horse from the livery and rode away while Queen Grace gathered an audience outside the castle gate. She wept and she wailed, and she pulled her dark hair. Her eyes went red, and Stills admired her acting talent as she threw herself to the ground and pounded her fists. He never felt so powerless.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy has he taken her from me?\u201d Grace shrieked, and by now soldiers and castle guards gathered \u2019round. Across the heath, where raspberries grew fat and prairie-clover bloomed, a lone horseman emerged from the dark grove. His sword glistened with Barok\u2019s blood, and upon his horse, he carried darling Anne.<\/p>\n<p>Her face, blank with horror.<\/p>\n<p>Her dress, torn.<\/p>\n<p>Her arms bruised.<\/p>\n<p>The queen and Barok had been less than gentle with the darling girl, but they would take none of the blame. Queen Grace stood, and she pointed her finger.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s him!\u201d she cried. \u201cThat\u2019s the one who stole my princess!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Stills tried to speak. He tried to do what was right. By the time he understood the extent of the queen\u2019s plan, it was too late. A single arrow had taken flight. It rose from the still fluttering bow of Admiral Dulles and landed squarely in Prince Eliades\u2019 neck.<\/p>\n<p>A second arrow pierced his heart.<\/p>\n<p>Men rushed to gather Princess Anne from the dead prince\u2019s arms. Others stayed back, still fearing her gaze, her shadow, in her current condition of young womanhood. None believed her mad cries and horrified protests since she was, after all, afflicted. Admiral Dulles was, of course, a hero.<\/p>\n<p>The furtive glances and secret smiles shared between Queen Grace and Admiral Dulles haunted Stills for the rest of his life. Yet he said nothing. He loved Princess Anne \u2013 perhaps more than anyone knew. Yet he understood his lot as a lowly page, and no good could come of loose talk or meddling. Princess Anne herself knew to end her protests that very first night of the murder. Admiral Dulles soon wed her. Chambermaids helped choose a dress, and serving girls styled Anne\u2019s hair. Stills himself chose the main course for the nuptial dinner, a bittersweet compliment for his years of service. Much fanfare and much celebration ensued. Anne bore many beautiful children and as the saying goes, she and Dulles lived happily ever after.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><style type=\"text\/css\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .heading-link:hover .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box:hover .heading-link .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-1 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .icon i.circle-yes {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tbackground-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tborder-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}<\/style><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><\/div><div  class=\"fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion_builder_column_1_3 fusion-builder-column-1 fusion-one-third fusion-column-last 1_3\"  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.fusion-read-more,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::after,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover.link-area-box .fusion-read-more::before,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .icon .circle-no,\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .heading .heading-link:hover .content-box-heading {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcolor: #a0ce4e;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .icon .circle-no {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcolor: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box.link-area-box-hover .fusion-content-box-button {background: #f97000;color: #ffffff;}.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box.link-area-box-hover .fusion-content-box-button .fusion-button-text {color: #ffffff;}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .icon > span {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbackground-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .icon > span {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tborder-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t}<\/style><div class=\"fusion-column content-box-column content-box-column content-box-column-1 col-lg-12 col-md-12 col-sm-12 fusion-content-box-hover content-box-column-last-in-row\"><div class=\"col content-box-wrapper content-wrapper link-area-link-icon icon-hover-animation-fade\" style=\"background-color:rgba(255,255,255,0);\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\"><div class=\"heading icon-left\"><h3 class=\"content-box-heading\" style=\"font-size:18px;line-height:23px;\">Fiction<\/h3><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><div class=\"content-container\" style=\"color:#747474;\">\n<p>Fiction by Bryan Lindenberger<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"fusion-column content-box-column content-box-column content-box-column-2 col-lg-12 col-md-12 col-sm-12 fusion-content-box-hover content-box-column-last-in-row\"><div class=\"col content-box-wrapper content-wrapper link-area-link-icon link-type-text icon-hover-animation-fade\" style=\"background-color:rgba(255,255,255,0);\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\"><div class=\"heading heading-with-icon icon-left\"><a class=\"heading-link\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/legends-13\/\" target=\"_self\"><div class=\"image\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/wp-content\/uploads\/fantasy150.jpg\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" alt=\"Legends 13\" \/><\/div><\/a><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><a class=\"fusion-read-more\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/legends-13\/\" target=\"_self\">Legends 13<\/a><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"fusion-column content-box-column content-box-column content-box-column-3 col-lg-12 col-md-12 col-sm-12 fusion-content-box-hover content-box-column-last-in-row\"><div class=\"col content-box-wrapper content-wrapper link-area-link-icon link-type-text icon-hover-animation-fade\" style=\"background-color:rgba(255,255,255,0);\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\"><div class=\"heading heading-with-icon icon-left\"><a class=\"heading-link\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/magic-realism\/\" target=\"_self\"><div class=\"image\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/wp-content\/uploads\/contemporary.jpg\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" alt=\"Woman at mirror\" \/><\/div><\/a><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><a class=\"fusion-read-more\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/magic-realism\/\" target=\"_self\">Magic Realism<\/a><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"fusion-column content-box-column content-box-column content-box-column-4 col-lg-12 col-md-12 col-sm-12 fusion-content-box-hover content-box-column-last content-box-column-last-in-row\"><div class=\"col content-box-wrapper content-wrapper link-area-link-icon link-type-text icon-hover-animation-fade\" style=\"background-color:rgba(255,255,255,0);\" data-animationOffset=\"100%\"><div class=\"heading heading-with-icon icon-left\"><a class=\"heading-link\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/random-text-generators\/\" target=\"_self\"><div class=\"image\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/wp-content\/uploads\/random.jpg\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" alt=\"less than infinity\" \/><\/div><\/a><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><a class=\"fusion-read-more\" style=\"float:left;\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/random-text-generators\/\" target=\"_self\">Text Generators<\/a><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><\/div><style type=\"text\/css\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .heading-link:hover .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box:hover .heading-link .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-link-icon-hover .heading .icon i.circle-yes,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t.fusion-content-boxes-2 .fusion-content-box-hover .link-area-box-hover .heading .icon i.circle-yes {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tbackground-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tborder-color: #a0ce4e !important;\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}<\/style><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><div class=\"fusion-clearfix\"><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":804,"parent":784,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-853","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.3 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Bleeder - Bryan Berg<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/bryanberg.net\/files\/portfolio-fiction\/legends-13\/bleeder\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" 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