The room was a storage of some kind, columns of crates and barrels, filled with what most likely be alcoholic beverages, stored for the castle occupants. It was a dead end. The only exit was through the door where they themselves had come.
"No, we can't be mistaken," said Levia, as she pulled back the arrows she shot, wrenching it free from her unmoving victims. "I know the old man's voice. The three of us heard him clearly,"
Pearce nodded, he looked around again, "I know you're here. Show yourself!" he shouted to the room. No reply could be heard. The wine cellar was bigger than most rooms, but the walls from the closest to the corners were only filled with racks and racks of bottles, old and new.
However, judging from the fact that these were elite men that they had fought, there was still a high chance that Sir Burns himself really was here. The only question was where could he have gone? Upset, Pearce took a step deeper to the room, "I am here. Your son is here, father. Come out and fight!"
They couldn't hear a noise, except for the low murmur of the rumbling thunder outside. Zest took over the situation, "Calm down, if he isn't here then we need to search this room for another way out. Or we can head back above and look for His Grace in the upper castle," he pointed out.
His two friends did not nod, to his surprise.
"Any time wasted and the king could be in danger," Zest added, gritting his teeth.
Silence, the two were so captivated in chasing Sir Burns that they seemed to forget that their one and only King, along with the royal family, could still be anywhere inside the castle.
"The throne room. Was King Guinn there before the attack?" Pearce finally asked Levia.
"Even if he did, he isn't there anymore, Pearce. I've checked the place myself," the girl took a look at her friends' worried faces. "There were fightings everywhere, they stormed over and really took us by surprise. Most of our men weren't even in their armors."
Pearce shook his head angrily.
"Did you see Sir Burns then?" asked Zest. "Or the Witch herself? The men we fought just now were supposed to be her own personal elite guards."
"No, but you're right. Still, why would she go down here herself?" Levia wondered.
"To exact her so-called vengeance to her uncle by her own hands, that's why," said Pearce bitterly.
"How would she know where King Guinn is? How would she even know about this room in the first place?"
"It's my father, Lev. We heard his voice," said Pearce. "Sir Burns is showing her the way. There must be some kind of secret passage around this room. Leading to somewhere in the underground parts of this castle. King Guinn must have gone there as well."
"There isn't anything like that, Pearce. At least not in the castle maps."
"No," Zest interrupted. "But our King knows things anyone else wouldn't know. This must be one of it."
His two friends looked at him and nodded. Zest walked away from them, checking every nooks and cranny of this cellar room. The two others did the same, crouching down the crates and shelves, moving the barrels away from the walls. Thankfully, it didn't take long before Zest found what they were looking for.
It was an old, wooden trap door, hiding in the shadows. Its presence was obscure, as it was carefully placed to be hidden from plain sight. The racks of bottles beside it towered up high, and there was some kind of natural-looking magical dust covering it, impossible to be cleaned or blown away. "I think I found it, this is the way!" he called his friends.
Not being hasty this time, Zest raised the trap door open. The loud, creaking sound it made pierced the silence. He could hear Levia gasped in a small voice. What they saw beyond was darkness. A tunnel, old enough that it seemed no one had gone through there for years. The smell was heavy with moss, and dirt, and even a smear of seawater. Although the trap door was small, the tunnel it went to was huge and steep, before flattening and turning, losing itself in the dark.
"Is this it? They went through here?" Pearce raised his eyebrows, reaching for a torch nearby and lighting it. "Let's go then. Now."
And so they went. As they entered the trap doorway, Zest could feel the brick he stepped on crumble and break, and soon there was none of them anymore. He stepped on stones, watery stones, made slippery by the mosses growing on them. He and Levia kept following Pearce as he walked ahead, torch in arms, lighting the twisted pathway of this tunnel. They could feel the presence of the old time creeping on them all around the dim tunnel, from the dark ages, back before this castle was even called Crypthin Castle.
After minutes passed of them walking down the tunnel, the smell of salt and seawater grew strong. Were they really under the sea level now? They had reached the deepest depths of this castle, to the point that the air could choke them if they did not breath in and out carefully. But there was something else to be worried about.
Pearce had stopped walking.
"What is it?" Zest asked his friend.
Then he saw what made the swordsman stopped. There was another door in front of them. An old–, no, ancient door, made of stone, with carvings that resembled some kind of writings, yet Zest couldn't comprehend the language it was using.
"I swear to God this door leads to nowhere," Pearce exclaimed. "I doubt that even the oldest castle map would show anything about all this."
"Then this is where your father had gone," Levia stepped forward and examined the door. True, there were handprints on it that didn't belong to them. Big enough for an old man's.
"Then it is time," Zest said, taking a deep breath of the damp air.
"Aye," Pearce nodded, brandishing his sword again. "A shame I am yet a knight to meet him now." he smiled ironically.
The three of them pushed the door open.