“Mr. Knight is…” Sophia looked at the doll. He saw some tears welling up in those red eyes of hers—and for the first time, Argrave thought it might not be out of simple fear of punishment. “He’s not mine.”

Argrave nodded understandingly. “Then… your brother’s?”

Sophia looked at him in utter fear. “I don’t have a…” she trailed off, her words failing her. Afterward, she became despondent.

“I’ve heard some things that go against that. It’s okay—I’m not like those other people.”

Sophia shook her head quickly. “I don’t… you can’t find out. Mr. Butler, he talked about, and…” she shuddered. “You can’t get hurt. Getting hurt… hurts.”

Looks like King Norman’s rules didn’t exclude the princess. She’s been drilled to forget her brother, no doubt. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Argrave looked around. The things missing—the lighter spot on the wall where a painting might’ve been, the empty side of the open wardrobe, the unused section of the dresser, and Mr. Knight… that little doll must’ve been the only thing that she had managed to keep of her brother’s. It was a small wonder she guarded it so fiercely. If they were sharing a room, they may have been twins. From Argrave’s knowledge, twins were especially attached to one another.

“I have to go, princess,” Argrave said, rising to his feet. “But there’s going to be a maid coming soon. She’ll tell you that you’re to have lunch with your father. Remember to keep your head up no matter how scary she gets, because she’s a really nasty lady. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Argrave cast [Chameleon] and vanished. Sophia’s eyes widened in surprise and she looked around as though her mind was blown. “Sir Ghost? Come back,” she whispered out loud.

When the knock came, Sophia hid Mr. Knight once again, and Argrave slipped out when the maid opened the door.

I’ll be back, Sophia, rest assured. I need to see what happens to you during the loop. But first, I need to figure some things out about your brother.

#####

Argrave returned to the underground cellar where the Flayer Knight barracks were. While there, he better explored the place to locate entrances and exits. One led directly into the castle, while a few others appeared throughout the city in various abandoned buildings. The barracks themselves had about five hundred knights. They were quite an impressive force by Argrave’s eyes, but they were nothing compared to the king himself.

Argrave entered the cell containing the whimpering prisoner, then cut off sound with a ward and sight with an illusion spell. He conjured light, frightening the man greatly. Then, he healed what wounds could be healed with magic and revealed himself.

The man, frightened, tried to crawl away from Argrave. “Who are you? What is this? What did you do to me?”

“I healed your wounds,” Argrave explained. He was going to sit in the chair, but feared that might evoke some of the man’s trauma. He sat on the floor instead, ignoring the unpleasant sensation. “I’m a spy from a neighboring region, you see. And my efforts led me to you.”

“A spy?” The man studied his body in total confusion. “Did you drug me? I can’t feel… no. I can feel. I’m not bleeding, anymore,” he said, disbelievingly.

“Would you like to leave this place?” Argrave asked point-blank. “I can help with that. I just need three answers from you.”

“You can’t get me out of here,” the man shook his head. “No one escapes Good King Norman.”

“I did. Once,” Argrave smiled. “Called me his darling, the creepy bastard. Yet here I stand.”

“It’s set in stone. He sang it again and again. The fruits of my labor will offer no savior.”

Argrave frowned. “So you can wait to be tortured, or we can get caught, whereupon you’ll still be tortured. Does that compel anything from you?”

The man managed a huff of laughter. “I’ll be damned… you make a fair point. Alright. Ask.”

“Who are you?”

“The former butler of Norman’s Castle. My sister runs a market stall in the city,” the man answered, but his chains jingled. “My throat… have you any water?’

Argrave held his hand out and conjured water, suspending the ball in the air. The man drank it without delay. “So, you were the butler Sophia mentioned. Why were you imprisoned?” He asked as the man drank.

When finished with the drink, the man exhaled. “You spoke to the princess? By the heavens…” he sighed deeply, hanging his head. “I was trying to explain to my lady why she couldn’t… why she couldn’t speak to the prince, anymore. Why he was gone. One of the servants informed on me.” The man laughed. “That’s the true danger. The doubt the king plants, the mistrust, in all of us.”

Argrave nodded. “And what did happen to the prince?”

“The young lord… he is the spawn of the king. If you’ve met the king, and escaped from him as you claim… you must know the unnatural power within him. He was always powerful, yet never as powerful as he’s become now. And it’s because he sacrificed the prince, put a hex over this whole land. He removed his son from existence. To try and speak his name, to describe him, to get into any specifics beyond naming him ‘the prince,’ is to fall prey to the foul forces that King Norman invited into this land. He's given his son. Now, they’ll come again to claim his daughter. That’s all I know.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Argrave cradled his hand as he thought. “Alright. I lied—four questions, and then you’re out. If I free you… can you help me investigate what’s ensnaring this land? Can you help me break its hold?”

The butler went silent, staring at the dank dungeon floor. “It seems to me I’m dead no matter what choice I take. So… why not?”

Argrave held his hand to the chain and cut them free with simple wind magic. The butler looked so bewildered, like he’d never seen anything like this.

“Stay close to me, and we’ll get out fine. And… what’s your name?”

“Bogart,” he answered.

That’s a very butler-esque name, Argrave thought.

And so, with no one the wiser, Argrave and Bogart escaped the cellar. The man’s trembling was so severe that Argrave thought the people might hear his teeth chatter. When the man once again saw the suns above and felt the grass beneath his feet, he fell to his knees and seemed liable to praise the sky. A stern reminder that they weren’t exactly safe in the heart of the city was enough to snap him out of it, however, and they headed to the countryside.

#####

“Tell me more about this sacrifice,” Argrave asked Bogart.

They found a secluded place in a small grove far from town. Argrave didn’t like being in the open, but Bogart didn’t trust that there was anyone or anywhere they might find within the city that could be of genuine help.

Bogart, however, was busy staring at the city in paranoia. Argrave kicked him lightly, making the man flinch. “Oh, the… that’s right.” He turned around. “I… why don’t we talk more once we return to wherever you’re from? I can… we can procure horses. We can try and get away.”

Argrave crossed his arms. “My time is short. You should know by now that spies, kingsman… we’re really quite similar. I saved you because you can help me. I can return you much the same way if you can’t.”

Bogart lowered his head. “Damn it. Damn it all…” He clutched his head. “But you’ll help me after, right? You will?”

Argrave conjured a bolt of fire near Bogart’s feet, and the man jumped back in fear. “Just talk,” Argrave demanded callously.

“Alright, alright!” the man held out his hands cautiously. “I… the Good King Norman, he was approached by a group of strange people about a year ago. They had gathered up four prominent members of the community—the silver-tongued priestess, Sandelabara’s mayor, the elder, and the queen. He… he butchered his wife for keeping secrets from him, but he listened to the other three. That was all that was public.”

“And what happened?” Argrave pressed.

“I don’t know what they offered the king. But he, and the three still alive, became obsessed with what these foreigners offered. The king was always… somewhat insane, yet unstoppable. Few had the power to disobey him and his knights, yet he jealously acquired more power, more wealth, more soldiers to join his ranks. When he learned of the sacrifice, his sole focus became that, most unusually.”

“What did he think he would get?”

“Immortality. Limitless power. He was never specific.” Bogart shook his head. “But I do remember one thing he kept saying. ‘All they asked for was a bit of time, and the lives of my children.’ He repeated that constantly, like a mantra. I think… I think he still says it. But the death of his son has sated him, somewhat.”

“A bit of time, eh?” Argrave honed in on that, but Bogart couldn’t be aware of the implications of that. “And these foreigners… what did they look like, act like, sound like? Tell me about them.”

“The Heralds, they called themselves. They wore white. Robes, masks, gloves, hair… all white. Despite what they were doing, they were strangely pure people. Charity, acts of kindness, humility… it was a far cry from those that normally associated with the king. He disdained them somewhat, yet never openly disrespected them.”

Argrave crossed his arms. “And they’re gone, I presume?”

“Yes,” Bogart nodded. “Until they return to claim Sophia, I’m sure.”

Argrave had certainly never seen anyone in the city or the castle matching that description. Suddenly, a long horn echoed throughout the empty air. Bogart turned his head in fear.

“By the gods…” he clutched his head tightly. “The horn. They called out the horn. Every citizen in Sandelabara will be called upon to search.”

“Yeah. For you, no doubt.” Argrave scratched his chin. “These other three… the silver-tongued priestess, the mayor, the elder… are they still here?”

“What?” Bogart looked back. “Yes, but… does that matter? We have to go! We have to go very far away!”

“Help me find them,” Argrave commanded.

“Are you out of your—”

Argrave cast a showy, yet harmless spell—[Lightningcatcher]. A gigantic ball of lightning sparked in his hand, casting energy in every direction. It was as big as Argrave’s body himself. To raise his intimidation factor, he sent out a few blood echoes to encircle the former butler.

“I’m not like the king,” Argrave declared, ceasing the spell. “I don’t take things personally. But they did teach me a few tricks in spy school. I can create pain that you can’t imagine, targeting specific nerves with lightning. Or I could use fire. Burn your skin off. Then, heal you, as I did before. Again. Again. And again. Do you want that?”

“You’re crazy…” Bogart whispered.

“Not yet. But I can be, unless you get ready to help me. I still have some other things to do after this, and you’re wasting my very valuable time.” Argrave clapped. “Hut-hut. Let’s find these three.”

Even Argrave surprised himself with that one. It felt like the good old days in Heroes of Berendar, where he could do deranged, utterly psychopathic things and then load a save and act like a good boy just after.

#####

Despite some trouble convincing Bogart to be a good sport and play along, he did eventually concede to Argrave’s threats and lead him throughout the city cloaked in magic. They headed first for the most obvious place—the cathedral, where the ‘silver-tongued priestess’ might be waiting. As the owner of the cathedral her position of prominence made her quite easy to find. And the moment Argrave did…

“I believe we’re on to something, Bogart,” he whispered to his unwilling partner-in-crime. “I believe I’ve seen the first light in this dark tunnel.”

“Can we leave now?” Bogart returned.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Argrave shook his head. “If you want to stay invisible, you ought to follow.”