Spending another hour talking to Estak and Torren, Don left their room satisfied and decided to call it a night and return to his room in place of his original plan to investigate the last room, according to Estak the young woman who he saved in the fire was resting there. Don began to walk back to his room, a slight groan erupted from the old door as it swung open. The cluttered room was revealed once again, Don sighed, putting cleaning the pit as his top priority. He laid his eyes on an oil painting, A stone-faced man in his prime. The brushwork was smooth and delicate, it sat in a white wooden frame, expertly carved from what he could tell. Estak told him that the various art works were created by Carthin. "He clearly had talent." Don mumbled. He was curious where the real Carthin was, maybe he ran off to find his sister or simple wanderlust took ahold of him. Don wondered if he should try to leave as soon as he was well enough or try to pretend to be the Baron of Thalais.
Don climbed into his bed, falling into a deep sleep despite the waves of pain. He was awoken by someone dumping a bucket of water on his head! The ice water jolted him into consciousness, and he shot up despite the pain. He looked towards the perpetrator with contempt in his eyes, it was a man in his mid-thirties with a deranged glee. He had slicked back and colourful hair, it seemed each seemed each streak was a different colour; his clothes were in a similar state. Made of some strangely smooth material and with an array of colours scattered haphazardly on his shirt and pants. Behind him a bucket flew through the air but never landed; instead, it zoomed through the room chaotically. Don came to three conclusions. His head injury was far worse than he thought, this man is a jester and the bucket is a trick of his, or this whole thing was one elaborate and detailed prank.
"Get back here you demon!" Don heard Maersk yell. The door swung open and the old knight stormed in with a longsword drawn, aiming the tip of the blade at the throat of the lunatic. The madman casually raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. The various weapons and more dangerous tools that were strewn about the room began to float, collecting above Maersk's head.
"You're the one that invited me here, and Mr. Atral you were ohh so boring; my boy this, the barony that. It was quite dull really, so don't blame little old me that I caught a big old whiff of something a lot more interesting." The man's gaze settled on Don, his eyes an inky black. "Well, it seems I've been quite improper. My name Corus, short for Discorus. Now, what do I call you?"
Terrified and confused Don could barely think, stuttering out his name while trying to avoid looking into the black eyes of the clown
Corus grinned. "Not Lord af Marsal? well Mr. Lee, that means There're only two possibilities at this moment. Mr Atral has lied to me which is a big no-no." Beads of sweat rolled down Maersk's forehead an uneasy look sat on his face. Don took the odd glance at him when he could, on occasion he saw Maersk doing the same. "Or, I was quite right and things are quite interesting, and let me tell you two, I am always right." The man bent down and placed his hand on Don's cheek. The instant he felt Corus' hand touch him a pain tore at every nerve in his body, not even noticing Corus remove his hand a frown slightly. Don then felt nothing but comfort as if he was in a warm bed on a cold night. His muscles relaxed and untightened. His head which was swollen and throbbing shrank done to a proper shape. Gone was every feeling of pain, replaced with tranquility. "Thank you Corus." Don to the colourful man.
"Wasn't a thing, wasn't a thing at all Mr. Lee." Don could tell somehow that he wasn't exaggerating. "Now you have won my curiosity, which is a prize in itself; but I have fixed you up. No need to say you're welcome." A mirror magically appeared in front of Don. It hovered a few inches away from his face. However, there was a noticeable issue this wasn't his face. A pale Caucasian man was reflected in the mirror, dark brown hair which should have been burned away in the fire has been replaced with a well-maintained swath of blonde. A youthful face looked back at him, symmetrical with nothing but a small burn mark on the neck to say anything of the horrible fire. A pair of large ears jutted out of the side of the head, poking out of the blonde hair. "Who is this?" Don mumbled to himself, though Corus managed to hear him. "That my dear boy is your new face, or your old face, or neither; it is fairly complicated and will get more so. I will take my leave now, have a good life, and try not to die to horridly." Don heard another finger snap. The various floating items immediately flew into the walls, most impaling themselves into wood and stone while a few others fell to the floor upon impact. Only one was left hanging about Maersk's head, a large, iron chisel. "Though I should tell you now the other three won't make it through the night."
The man snapped his fingers once more, though instead of raising items he simply started to disappear. His feat firsts, with the rest of the body soon following.
Don caught on to Corus' meaning; if he left then Torren, Estak and the Girl would die. Don couldn't imagine having that on his conscious. "Corus, what do you want?"
"Carthin! Don't make a deal with that fiend." Maersk cried in protest, though he dared not to move.
"Now, now Mr. Atral, he's a grown man he can make his own promises." Nothing was left of Corus at this point but his head, each word from it seemed to echo mystically. "All I want you to do my dear lord Lee is to meet a friend of mine, I'll arrange the meeting, but it will be soon….ish."
Don thought about it for a moment, it was only a meeting it shouldn't be that bad but Corus unsettled him. He felt like he could tear apart the entire building on a whim. "I-I will do it Corus."
"How excellent." Corus said coldly. For a moment he did nothing before looking down and grunting. "forgot my hand isn't here, I would forget my head if it wasn't attached." Floating head chuckled. Corus instead clicked his tongue; three streaks of yellow-gold light flew out of his mouth and into the hallway, no doubt towards the other three survivors of the fire.
With the magic done the head of Corus gave Don one last grin before disappearing. Don got up and tested himself, he no longer felt sore. It was as if he just awoke from a good sleep.
The weapon above Maersk finally flew into the wall, the old giant did not even notice it as he walked up to Don, slapping him across his newly reconstructed face. "My boy, you may have dammed us all."