Having digested what I can see of my dungeonesque operating room(?), I’d deduced a few things about who my captors may be, but I was still left with the same pressing questions plaguing me. In the past, such a situation would have probably paralyzed me in fear.

  “What kind of messed-up situation even is this?” I whispered the word to an empty room. I had wanted to scream them, but I was a little worried that it might call my captors down on my head. I still wasn’t sure if someone might be listening in on my plight.

  Once more, I began to flex the abnormal state of mind I found myself in. Struggling to analyze and define my problems before I get ahead of myself. I needed to determine what was important and what was available, before I could take any substantive action. What can I postulate from what I know?

  “Okay, Gwen, walk yourself through the problem. First question that needs answering. Why was I taken? In all likelihood, I was probably either a convenient target of opportunity, or something about me must have made me the ideal target for something this group of psychopaths needed.”

  I lightly chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought over the predicament.

  “I don’t believe I have any political or monetary value that I am aware of that would insight such behavior.”

  As just one of many faceless court functionaries that served the Lord of Weimar Glenne, I didn’t think my existence was worth the effort spent to capture, strip, and tie me down. It was the functional equivalent of kidnapping an accountant to do your taxes, but I obviously wasn’t here to tabulate the local taxes, given the way I was bound, I doubted very much that they needed me for my skills with paperwork.

  It was possible that my recent research into harvest yields, which had led to finding a small amount of embezzlement by local tax collectors and mayors, could have made me a target for revenge, but that didn't seem likely, as even if I had earned someone’s enmity, my work had only been presented to one man, Lord Weimer, and it work be almost impossible to know who had create the report.

  I had been a live in employee of the palace. A place that by it very nature would be heavily guarded, so it was highly unlikely that I was a convenient target, given what someone would have to go through a great deal of effort to spirit me away. I could draw no other conclusions, then I had been taken because I fit the description of the ladies that had been kidnapped from the capital, and for some reason, that is what this group of brigands needed for their nefarious purposes.

  Where had they taken me to?

  It would have to be some rich merchant or noble family's property. I drew this conclusion based on the evident room décor. Every edge that could be gilded in gold in the room had been, even the edges of the pages in the books I could crain my poor neck to see. Admittedly strapped to a table I could only see so much, but the solid gold chandler that hung over the table gave me the clearest hint I could have asked for.

  Who had taken me?

  Most likely some rich noble or group of nobles, with more money than sense. Darn it, no doubt it would be the type of nobles that I hated most in the world. One who took advantage of the weak, and would have little brain and falsely inflated egos. They would believe that something asinine like, their noble blood made them better, divinely chosen, and exempted from the rules. Idiots that cruelly believe they could get away with anything, and treat anyone they thought of as lesser, as tools for their own devices, and pawns for their wicked games. I dearly hoped it wasn't some noble with a kinky kind of fetish, again based on the ritual room décor. I mean the leather straps holding my limbs in an "x" shape, on a black onyx table, only drew me to the most disgustingly unpleasant conclusions. I shook myself, this was become an unproductive and uncomfortable series of thoughts, but what if…

  Following that line of thought, what was I to be used for?

  I was alone in the room, so I wasn't important enough to be guarded, or they had great faith in my bindings, to be fair I have the physique of a frail functionary. Their was also no one to talk or listen to in order to get a hint as to what had happened or what would be done with me. I guess they could still be monitoring me secretly viewing me from a hidden chamber or with magic. It was very hard for me to tell the purpose of my abduction, but the fact I was strapped naked and affixed to what appeared to be some kind of ritual altar was not a good sign…at the best it means that I had been turned into someone’s plaything (unlikely), and at worst I was some sort of sacrifice or experiment. I had quote a bite of fear, and give a choice, I would forgo the former and later, and try to find a third option. Which of the two scenarios was more likely I continued to muse to myself. What else could I do while strapped to a table all alone. It was important to keep my mind busy.

  I can admit to myself that; being low born, with a shorter than average height, unhealthy pale skin dotted with freckles, a malnourished build, and kinky frizzled copper hair, that I wasn’t conventionally attractive. In fact every part of my appearance were markers that I would never be the kind of lady that any noble would want, at least no as a legal wife. My build, skin tone, and height made me seem slightly sickly and fragile. I had done little to change the fact that I’d appeared frail.

  Other then my basic appearance, I hadn't taken after my adventurer parents in the slightest. When I wasn't overworking myself to prove that I was a hard worker, then I was a homebody that rested with my reading and eating sumptuous desserts. I just never had any love for fitness and sun, so I wasn’t going to waste my precious time off, of which I’d little.

  I refused to put the money or time into fighting my unruly hair, as I found a simple leather band or simple twin was enough to keep it out of my eyes while I worked. I loved my hair it was a keep safe of my mother, one of the only things that I inherited from her. I didn’t keep it long because of Mother Mary teachings, "That proper young ladies that served the gods could never cut their hair short", but as a form of remembrance of who I had lost.

  With no living family, noble or otherwise, to offer me wealth or political support. No man grabing for station, would opt to take me into their family, as they would have little to gain in such a marriage or alliance.

  My freckles were the final straw in the stack of why I could never be seen as a true lady in the court of nobles. Freckles were seen as blemishes by most of noble society. Some even thought that they marked me as unclean in some way. The tiny marks of slightly darker skin would forever bar me entry into high society. Ladies of any true station or power in the kingdom had to appear to be perfect and blemish free at all times. Porcelain dolls without even a crack in their perfect skin. They would waste hours a day getting ready just to have a small chance at grasping power or real status within the kingdom. It also didn’t bode well for me that I had an extreme allergy to the heavy white powdered foundations.

  As a child, I hadn't minded my freckles as they were one things me and my mother had shared. Long ago, I had decided that I would rather be myself than itchy, so I never tried to find another solution for my freckles.

  Given those options for my predicament, I was most likely some kind of sacrifice or experiment, just for the sin of being an unwed, 23 year old woman. The only thing that could make matters worse was I didn't have a clue as to when my captors would return to the room, and begin whatever cruelty they’d planned. Something about that thought caused my head to suddenly hurt.

  To sum up my problems, I’d may have been taken by some cult, and I needed to find a way to escape from an unknown number of attackers, from an unknown noble's manor, that is who knows where, and all without having any fighting skills, as soon as possible, as it seemed that I had already been prepared for something very unpleasant to be done to me.

  I did not relish my odds of success in escaping alone without helpful training of some kind of aid. If not for my training as an official, it would be an undaunting task, but there is a simple trick I try to remember for all impossible tasks.

  —

  Lesson 4

  Break through your challenges, by breaking down your challenges.

  ___

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Step 1 - Get off the creepy black sacrificial looking altar.

  Step 2 - Get out of the room

  Step 3 - Find out where I am

  Step 4 - Get off the property

  Step 5 - Get to the guards or adventurers

  It was a simple enough plan for now, and I could fine-tune it on the fly as needed.

  Staring up at the cuffs that secured my wrist to the table, I noted them as being made of a shiny expensive looking treated red leather. To spite the fact they were made of some kind of treated leather they had an unnatural heft to them. The cuffs had minor scrapes and scratches in the surface where they had been struggled against, or had rubbed against the table, were slightly padded to prevent damaging my wrists too badly, and could clear be resized by putting a metal loop through various reinforced holes in the band, and then secured in place with a heavy arcane looking lock. The were used to secure both my arms and legs to the onyx altar with a heavy looking rivet driven directly into the table in the shape of an x, leaving me spread eagle face up.

  Attempting to reach the heavy lock in the crimson bands with my hand was not possible, craning my wrist only allowed for me to barely touch the shackle of the lock with the tips of my fingers. So, even if I had a key, I wouldn’t be able to unlock it myself or pick it even if I had the skills to do so.

  You might be wondering why I hadn’t tried to break myself out first, but prior to my death I had been rather frail, and I didn’t know that I had the monstrous strength to do so.

  So, knowing that I couldn’t reach the lock meant that the brute force method would be my only option of breaking out of the cuffs. Hell, if I could get myself out of one I could probably figure out how to break the rest. There was little give between my skin and the cuffs, that while I couldn’t slide my dainty wrists through, I could angle my arm and slide the cuff up my arm a short distance, where it became tight and I could use the leverage of the table to pull against the rivet.

  It took little effort and my newly found undead strength to pull my bindings from the onyx altar. I was surprised by my strength, but didn't have the time to analyze it as my captors could be back any moment. I simply had strained my arms and back against the table and the rivets holding the straps in place began to move upwards, inch by inch, until they finally came free with a loud groaning and a snap as the metal strained and broke free of the altar. I almost smacked myself in the face due to the hasty effort. After a few minutes of struggling I was free of the table even if it had granted me a matching set of red leather bracelets and anklets. The heavy arcane lock hurt at my touch, and the leather seemed some how tougher than the metal of the tables rivets, perhaps they we spelled with some kind of durability, seemed stupid to me to reinforce the cuffs, but not the metal that bound them to the table, but may be that was the quality of dolt I was dealing with. Such an oversight gave me a little bit of hope, it meant that perhaps my captors were overconfident and prone to same errors or mistakes. Maybe I could leverage that to my benefit in my escape attempt.

  Being unable to the cuffs proved to be a minor thing, to spite their heft, my strength is up to the task. I had nothing sharp to tear at the cuffs anyway, it would also wasted precious minutes I didn’t know if I had or not.

  Wonderful, my plan was proceeding well, I had already achieved . Free of the table, I took some time to investigate my opulent cell/ritual room. It seemed like a worth while endeavor, as I hadn’t had the best view of the room strapped face up on the altar. Adjusting my plan slightly I decided to explore the room to see if I could find anything that could grant me additional information or aid me in my escape.

  ___

  Lesson 5

  Scavenge for Advantage

  ___

  I needed to know more, so I began to slowly reach out my senses to the dim chill of the room. My head began to ache once more as a rush of unexpected sensory data assaulted me. It was too much all at once, and I couldn’t begin to parse all the new information flooding my senses.

  “Okay? That’s new.” I said while holding my head in my hands.

  Somehow my natural senses had been heightened to beyond all reason. It was like standing inside a ringing church bell, injecting conflicting perfumes in my nose, rubbing myself with a blanket confusingly made or drafty air, all while my mouth became incredibly dry.

  What could you do to a person that would heighten their senses. This was Definity a mark in the strange rituals might be performed on me category, but I hadn’t taken into account that maybe I had awakened after things hand been done to me, rather then before.

  I didn’t understand or have any control once they had been unleashed, like a rabid animal to assault me, and just like a rabid animal the harsh senses had me cowering as if I had been struck. These new sensations were insultingly strong and hard to control. I needed to focus and tune them one by one.

  I took a second to mentally add two new bullet points to my escape plan.

  Scanning the dim of the room I found that my sight could now see deeper into the shadows, almost as if they had been attuned for hunting at night. I don't know why hunting was the first thought that came to mind, it just seemed to be the natural conclusion at the time. Anywhere the light of the sconces or chandelier hadn’t reached, I could see with ease. Were those corners dark enough to hide in? I mused through the pounding of my temples.

  The only light in the room drifted from the golden ornate chandelier that was above the table and human skull shaped sconces that were approximately set every 6 ft along the interior walls. That made the room I was standing in a little over 24x18ft or approximately 432 sq ft. The light from the skulls had the effect of casting dim creepy shadows along the expensive looking stone work of the walls, which appeared to be smooth and polished. The room was clear of dust, debris, and cobwebs, so it certainly felt like some kind of active ritual chamber. They even kept it clean and sterile. It seems that this room may be used frequently. The floor was covered in smooth, expensive tiles in a red and black checkerboard pattern. I was beginning to sense a theme in the colors, but I brushed it off for the time being.

  I noted the polished onyx table I had been strapped to was a fixture in a grandly decorated hall. The table itself had deep groves and with a grand magic circle engraved into its surface. Looking at the table and feeling the texture of the air on my skin, I could feel a strange warmth radiating from raised scars on my back…did they match the patten of the table?

  A shiver unrelated to the cold settled in my spine. With no mirror present in the room, I would have to verify the state of my back at a later time, but this gave me another moment of pause.

  How long had they had me?

  Had enough time past that they cut into my body, and it had the time to heal naturally?

  Were they cuts, or burn scars? The warmth from my back made me wonder.

  Did they have a healer onsite that could have aided in the ritual and scarifacation process?

  I returned to scanning the room, and attempting to reign in my senses. I felt my chest tighten, as I noticed there were heavy wax treated aprons hanging from hooks near a large set of heavy double doors, fresh blood still dripping from them to the floor, too much blood for me to be comfortable, but before I could panic, the cold rinced over my mind again. Replacing my panic with contipilation.

  There were large windows to one side of the room, and a set of balcony doors. All the windows were barred and draped with thick expensive black fabric with embroider droplets of blood red stitching in a quilted pattern that checker boarded the surface of the drapes. Light from outside the room had been completely blocked out. The choice of the blood droplet pattern tickled something in my recollection, but what I did not know.

  Beyond the glass I could sense something new and indescribable. For some strange reason, a pressure that was pushing at the back of my mind trying to be heard. I found myself certain that it was night outside and that the moons were high in the sky. It was growling at me that it was safe to hunt, like some kind of predator sense tied to my growing hunger. So, knowing that, then it must have been near midnight. I thought I analyzed for a second, but then had to discard.

  Knowing that it was night, meant that it had at least been a day since I was abducted. My last recollection had been walking back to my room very late in the evening. I had stayed up late, as was my habit, finishing reports on taxes collected by region. I was also now certain that something had been done to me while unconscious, as evidenced by my heightened senses, predator sense, strength and possibly my emotional control.

  I could find no other cloth or clothing in the room, and the stiff aprons were disgusting and the stiff wax coating on them proved to make them too hard to move in. With no other option, I tore down one of the embroidered blood drop drapes in a vain attempt to cover my shame. Instead the fabric was just draped over me in a loose undignified fashion, a natural result, as I had not cultivated any domestic skills.

  Back in the palace, the housekeeping staff could be trusted and had truly was amazingly skills. For a little extra coin they would darn and wash my clothes, so I saw no need in learning to perform such a task myself. I am sure in hindsight, that Mother Mary would have chastised me for such laziness, but that mattered very little at the moment.

  I secured the waist of my “robes” with the length of cord that would have been used to tie the drapes open and let the light into the room on a normal day, I mean normal for a crazed group of young women kidnapping magic cultists. Since I often liked to wear loose fitting clothes when relaxing, the drapes were oddly comfortable, and made of far better material they anything I had ever owned. Thank the gods for their quietly as the air itself somehow felt scratchy on my skin. Their thickness like that of a winter blanket, helped to keep off the chill. It was a little cumbersome on my frame, but it would have to do.

  Smelling the air, I was doubly surprised to note that the scent of blood, metallic and coppery hung in the air. It fact it was present everywhere, not just on the aprons.

  I was surprised to find the the scent of blood turned my stomach in an unexpected pleasant way. It was not the upset stomach feeling of nausea as one might expect, but instead it was the craving of the starving. My stomach twisted and writhed as something feral pushed at the edges of my mind vying for my attention. I tried to breathe deeply, not to calm myself, but in a vain attempt to somehow fill my empty stomach with the rich scent of the substance. I only smelled traces of it drying on my neck, back, the aprons, and within the engravings of the altar to which I had been strapped. Not all the blood I could smell was mine, and for some reason I could tell some of it was older than at least a week…shit.