Chapter Twenty-One -- The Slave-Owner
As the Buláshckt family and Silvítya were fleeing south, the Grand Duke spent several days surveying the ruins of the capitol and listening to reports about the evacuation. The fire had gone as planned, leaving the entire area within the city walls completely cleaned out. The only structures left standing were the Great Temple and a few nearby ancient buildings, the main cathedral and two other churches built by the Roman Church during the 1300s, and a few stone armory buildings near the castle. However, not everything had gone perfectly and unfortunately there had been some casualties. As the day progressed, Royal Guards and workers searching the smoldering ruins found several burnt corpses.
The Guards had no way of knowing who the bodies belonged to, with a notable exception. The captain of the detachment guarding the castle saw that Protector Alexándrekt Buláshckt was missing. He knew Protector Buláshckt had a nice house located within the city walls and decided to check its ruins. The men made the ghastly discovery that Alexándrekt Buláshckt and his entire family had perished inside their house. It seemed strange that someone as smart as Protector Buláshckt would not have made it out of the fire, but the guards speculated that his wife must have stayed in the house waiting for him and by the time he realized where his family was, the fire cornered everyone in the residence and they perished.
The Grand Duke took the news of Alexándrekt Buláshckt's death stoically, but inwardly he was very upset. He lost one of his best guards, but even worse was the loss of one of his oldest daughters. It was regrettable that the girl was only a year away from being ready to be taken into the castle: she would have had her hair braided in just six years and be ready to marry off. The Grand Duke looked at the charred bodies, hoping his offspring was not among them. Unfortunately there was a corpse of a nine-year-old girl that corresponded with the daughter, so she had indeed been lost. That was most unlucky. The ruler ordered the bodies to be taken to the military cemetery and buried with honors. A Prophet from the Great Temple would lead the funeral, which was a privilege usually reserved for ministers and nobility.
When the Grand Duke returned to the castle two days later, there was more bad news waiting for him. His favorite concubine Silvítya was missing. No one had a clue what happened to her. The ruler checked her sleeping chamber, only to discover she had left behind her jewelry.
The other women were extremely worried of course, and seemed to suspect that the ruler himself had been responsible for her disappearance. The Grand Duke said nothing, figuring it would be best to let the concubines speculate about their spokeswoman and wonder what she had done to displease him. The Grand Duke never directly asked anyone what happened to Servant Silvítya. If the other concubines were scared that he had killed her, then it was unlikely they had anything to do with her absence. The Royal Guards and the matrons also took it for granted Silvítya had somehow run afoul of the Sovereign's temper and that he was responsible for her death. If he started asking a bunch of questions, it would be apparent that she instead had run off, and it would look like he had lost control of one of his servants and lose honor. So, it was better to let everyone think he had secretly executed her. Besides, even if she had run off, it was likely she perished in the fire, given that she would have had to cross the entire city to reach a gate. If that was what happened, searching for her body would be futile. It would be one of several severely charred corpses found in the ashes and would never be identified.
So, the disappearance of Servant Silvítya remained a mystery for the Grand Duke. Why would she leave the safety of the castle? How did she get out? Did she go looking for him? Was she trying to find Protector Buláshckt? Was there someone else she was trying to find? Well...whatever happened, it was best to stay quiet and use Silvítya as a "lesson" for the other concubines. When they did anything that even hinted at irritating him, the ruler commented:
"You know...it is most unfortunate what happened to Servant Silvítya. Hers is a fate you wouldn't wish on anyone, is it not? But I trust you understand your Path in Life better than she understood hers."
As for the ruler himself, he was troubled by the vanishing of his favorite woman, but life had taught him to hide his emotions, even from himself. Love always led to tragedy and the loss of Servant Silvítya was just one example out of many why it was best to avoid becoming too emotionally attached to anyone. The Grand Duke pondered that Servant Silvítya could just as easily have betrayed him as simply disappearing and that he had made himself ridiculously vulnerable. Well, he'd have to ensure that never happened again. He'd replace the girl with another "favorite", console himself by indulging with the remaining concubines, and move ahead with his plans for the Duchy.
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The speculation about Servant Silvítya's fate showed up in the writings of several former concubines and castle staff-members. A popular poet wrote a fanciful story claiming that Silvítya was not killed by the Grand Duke at all, but instead fled the castle to escape the Destroyer. As she ran through the city, the "Profane One" pursued her and spread fire to prevent her from turning back. Thus, the "Girl with No Name" caused the Destroyer to pass through Danúbikt Móskt and was indirectly responsible for the city's subsequent burning. A song-writer took the poet's Destroyer idea and incorporated both the execution rumor and the story from Rika Héckt-nemát; that the Girl with No Name had called out to Beelzebub the Destroyer to save her from a second death sentence. Yes, she was indeed spared, but at the cost of another city, the Danubian capitol.
Several other poets and song-writers added their variations to the story and in doing so unwittingly served the interests of both Silvítya and the Grand Duke. The truth about the Great Fire of 1755 lay buried under increasingly thick layers of elaborate myth and fanciful tales.
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The former Royal Guard and the former Royal concubine entered the forest and spent the late afternoon walking through dense old-growth trees. They were still ahead of most of the other refugees and the road was mostly clear. However, they had lost precious time trying to find the parents of the children they rescued, so the guard insisted on walking as quickly as possible. As they moved along the road, Alexándrekt periodically whistled what sounded like a strange bird-call. He listened, waited several minutes, and whistled again. Finally his efforts were rewarded with a response. He changed the whistle, as did his respondent. He oriented himself through several more exchanges and led Silvítya away from the road. They arrived at a clearing, where a wagon and three horses were partly concealed by trees. An attractive woman dressed in a caravan outfit like Silvítya's and a 12-year old boy stood guard with crossbows over the campsite and three children. The children, a girl and two young boys, huddled together under the wagon. Alexándrekt introduced Silvítya to his wife, Stepkakta, and a nephew, Nowáckt.