Bromyr sat on the bed with a glour on his face. He had been trapped within the room for nearly two months now, a prisoner in a gilded cage of the King's making. He had never felt so.... Controlled. Even under the heavy thumb of his father he had never felt so hopeless or helpless. As a Prince it was always his duty to attend the people and any menial tasks his father couldn't see to. Yet within the white walls of the castle he was unable to even leave. He hadn't seen the outside halls in so long he was forgetting the passages to freedom.
More than that he had recently noticed a change in his food. A few days prior he noted a change in the taste of his food. At first it was subtle, he assumed stale bread or sour ale, but he had started to notice himself craving the time his food would be delivered. Not a craving associated with hunger but a craving he recognized as addiction. It was like how he craved his pipe after a long day of work. Except he could deny himself his pipe. He was already sweating in anticipation of his meal, his hands were shaking and his mood was as irate as a prepubescent girl in the full throes of the moons.
He paced the breadth of his quarters like a caged wild Thunder-bird. He could almost imagine himself summoning the storms of his homeland in a fit of rage. There was nothing he hated more than doing nothing. Hearing nothing, knowing nothing, he was a game piece to a human and it was the most humiliating position he had ever been in.
"I was pivotal in the rescue and hatching of a dragon. How is it I've become nothing more than a pawn to such a human? My father would laugh in my face. I would be the royal disgrace... Again." He clenched his fists at the very idea. He had spent years clawing his way back from the brink of political and social ruin. If his entire kingdom would be so ashamed...
He startled at the knocking on his door. Was it finally time? He turned and stood, brushing his clothes off and trying to appear as disinterested as possible. Through the door stepped an unfamiliar woman. Previously one of the robed healers would have delivered his meals with a tight lipped nod. He wondered just where they might have gone as the woman pushed her way through with her nose pointed straight to the ground. .
She was a meek looking thing with short dirty brown hair. She has thin gaunt cheeks and a pallor that couldn't be healthy. The tray she carried shook as if it took every ounce of effort she had to keep it held up. She wore the common smocks of servants in the dull colors of peasants, brown, gray, and black.
"Who are you?" He asked sharply. He may have stood at three quarters of her height but he certainly wasn't going to pussy-foot around her. He couldn't bully the healers into talking to him but she seemed different. More aware perhaps. She flinched away as she lay the tray on his table and pulled the cover from the hot food. He noted his usual ale, stale bread, somewhat molded cheeses, and warmed over meat that was surely from a few days ago. If he didn't end up with food poisoning he'd be blessed by the gods.
The woman turned to go but he managed to block the door. He was starting to shake as the scent of the food filled his nostrils but he could wait to sate his mystery addictions later. For now he was going to get answers, and for the first time the King had thrown him a bone. He only wished he was like Talia, full of bloodlust and weapons.
"Your name, lady?" He tried to keep his tone cordial and kind but he was pretty sure she could detect the iron beneath his words. The barely hidden threat. She stood silently as her body shook, hands clasped politely in front of her. He waited for a few minutes as his impatience grew. She surely couldn't outlast the healers, but as the minutes ticked by he was starting to wonder if she could outlast him.
'You're a dwarf, a prince of the highlands... You've spent more years than she's been alive training for any battle you come across... If you can't get answers from this pitiful creature you dare not claim the title Prince.' He coached himself internally as his focus started to drift from answers to food. What had brought him so low? He felt defiled by the mysterious magics that held him captive. Had the King bewitched him?
"You can remain silent, girl, but I have other means of extracting answers from you. If I have to do it personally or not depends entirely on you." She looked up fearfully, her dark brown eyes pits of true despair. What kind of expression would she wear if she had to face the half giant? Would there be fear? Hatred?
"P...Please sir, I am not permitted to talk to you. I have been ordered by the King to remain silent in your presence." She had a soft voice, warbly and cracked as if she were unused to using it. But it was a start, she had already broken her oath to the King.
"I have one question for you, then I will permit you to leave. Do you know of a woman with fiery red hair who stands about seven or eight feet tall? She has a scar on the left side of her face that runs from her brow to her neck." He made a motion to show just where the scar lie. The woman watched fearfully as she chewed on her lips.
"I have not met such a woman, but there are... Rumors... Amongst the living staff that such a woman has been seen in the upper towers. That's all I know sir I swear it upon the gods." She bowed deeply, by then her entire body was quivering like a mouse in the presence of a lion. His heart raced at the prospects. Suddenly he had a lot more to say.
"Sorry darling but there's more to be said. I have a few more questions, like what happened to the healers?" The woman's face went from pale to ghostly in an instant.
"Why do you persist in talking to me, I can not tell you the goings on within the castle. My Lord..."
"Your lord leaves his people to wither and die while he feasts and fucks his way through everything this kingdom has to offer. He'll leave this place a withered husk and your kind dead in the ground." She flinched and stepped back from the door.
"He doesn't leave the dead to sleep, he uses them like his playthings. There is no escape. He is our King in life and in death and we are expected to serve his will diligently until he releases us to the void." Bromyr shuddered at the implications. At the fear in the girls eyes. What must it be like to live knowing that even upon the release of death your body would still be used to serve the will of a madman? A necromancer? If his father knew of Gordon's powers he would march upon the city and obliterate the sinful magic. Gordon's actions had clearly broken the sanctions of the accords, his abuses could not go unpunished. He vowed that upon his escape he would see to the bastard King's demise.
"I am sorry to hear that, truly, but I can do nothing from this room. I can't even find my men, my friends, or my things. But I would like you to know that given my freedom I would do whatever it takes to aid you." He tried to reach out to her, to make some sort of meaningful gesture but the woman flinched away fearfully.
"Do you think you are the first to try and help? The first to promise change? You are just another prisoner in his web of puppets. You'll die and he'll use you like he does with everyone else." She tried to rush past him but he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her into the wall instead. He pressed her into the stone forcefully, though she didn't struggle.
"I don't care if you believe me or not. I don't care if you're scared. What I do care about is my men and my friends. You're going to find the fiery haired woman and bring her to me." The girl's eyes watered as he dug his fingers into her shoulders. She shook her head quickly,
"I... I can't! I'm not permitted to the upper floors, only handmaidens are allowed up there. I don't even know.... I don't know my way around up there!" He groaned as a spasm shook his body. What was wrong with him? He was sweating bullets, as he released the woman he could see the marks on her clothes where he had left them damp.
"S... Sir I think you should eat, perhaps it will even your temperament?" He slammed a fist into the wall next to her head eliciting a shrill squeak.
"Find the woman, bring her to me. By day after tomorrow. Understood? You dare not return to me after that time lest you have her in your wake." He shoved her harshly causing her to nearly tumble to her knees. She staggered her way out the door with a fearful sob. He watched her go with his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if she would truly comply or if she would simply flee into the night never to be seen again. Should he have been more gentle? Should he have been more tender? He had never been a forceful man, he was more a diplomat and a gentleman.
"What has this hellspawn kingdom done to me? I've been reduced to this..." He ran a hand through his matted hair with an internal wince. What he wouldn't give for a dozen different everyday things. A bath, metal utensils, freedom... He marched over to his table and sat down gruffly. As usual a single wooden fork stared up at him. By now his food was cold and more disgusting than usual, but he couldn't resist any longer. He dug in ravenously without further thought.
Midnight stifled a sigh as Talia's gentle snores continued. The night was fading as early morn started to dawn upon the countryside. It had been surprisingly easy to get Talia to accept her into her quarters for the night. She was curious to see if she could get her to accept again. But one night was all she needed, or it would be. She pulled herself from beneath Talia's warm arm and slid as silently to the floor as she could. The dragon was sleeping a few feet away but it didn't stir as she made her way to the door.
'How easy can this be? Is this a sign from the gods? Will this bite me in the ass...' She contemplated internally as she picked her way through the halls. Anything involving Talia usually got overly complicated quickly. She was certain this would be no different.
As she made her way through the startlingly dark halls she made sure to dispatch any guards unfortunate enough to be on duty and hide their bodies away. It was slow work but her mission was one that required precision and perfection. Or so she had been told.
Nearly an hour passed before she finally stood at the main entryway to the castle. The large double doors stood sealed, the steel reinforced beam of wood locking them closed from the inside. She rolled her eyes, here was something Talia would come in handy for. She moved instead to a smaller door, usually reserved for the servants. She pulled a key from her pockets and opened it to find herself face to face with the moon-eyed elder woman.
"Ahh, Midnight. Right on time." The woman's grin was unsettling to say the least. Though what was more unsettling was her abilities, foresight was rare even amongst the magically gifted.
"Oracle, I've done as you've asked. What next?" The woman had approached her a few days prior with cryptic messages of the future. She had told Midnight that the time to greet Talia was upon them, that revolution was nigh and the seeds of unrest needed to be reaped. Talia had done her part, albeit unwittingly, and now the cards were lined up and ready to fall.
"Next we gather up some servants and start to do some.... Redecorating. I want everything ready for the time when Talia ascends from her chains." It annoyed Midnight how the woman spoke as if Talia was the main character in some grandiose story, but after seeing the dragon it was hard to deny the fact that the woman was destined for greater things than she had ever given her credit for. It was hard to imagine what it had been like for her to remain a prisoner, unable to walk or escape, fight or kill. She looked haggard, frayed at the edges and unstable. Was she really ready to 'ascend' or was she going to erupt? Midnight knew Talia better than anyone else and more often than not when she was at the end of her rope she would erupt rather than deescalate.
"Whatever you say moon-eyes." She turned and lead the way. The woman pulled her cane from the sleeve of her cape and followed, the dull 'Thock-Thock' echoing down the empty halls. Midnight rolled her eyes, how fortunate it was that she had disposed of any listening ears.
"The kitchens will be best, the cooks will be gathering to prepare the meals for the upper class soon. It is there where we will find the most willing ears." Midnight lead the way dutifully and quietly. She had tried giving lip to the woman at first when she had cornered her at the Inn but it was surprisingly difficult to get under that woman's wrinkly hide.
She arrived at the kitchens to find dozens of emaciated servants bustling busily as they rushed to start the bread and pastries. None looked up as she pushed her way through, at least not until the oracle entered. The one thing Midnight had to admit was that the woman had a presence about her, with her white hair and moon-blessed eyes. She dressed in drab robes but it didn't seem to diminish her presence at all.
"Are you the new help?" An older woman stepped forward with her hands on her hips. She was dressed in a thin gray dress that was suitable for the hot kitchens. Her gray streaked brown hair was pinned back into a tightly curled bun, not a single strand found its way free. Out of all the servants she seemed to be the strongest and most severe.
"No, certainly not madame. We are here to usher in a new era. If I told you that the dragons had returned to life and your Kings thread to this world was soon to be snipped what would you say?" The oracle pushed past Midnight to stand directly in front of the kitchen woman. The servant looked the oracle up and down with a severe frown on her wizened face. With a downward curve of her lips she replied,
"I'd tell you that they no longer send your kind to the asylum, they put you down these days. My advice would be to silence your tongue before the King has it cut from your head." The words were harsh but her voice didn't inflect the iron she was trying so hard to emit. Midnight fingered the dagger beneath her clothes but the oracle flashed her a smile and waved her down.
"I have seen the tides of the future darling. And should you choose correctly you will have a place in it." The woman scoffed,
"Tides of the future? You must think me imbecilic, I assure you lady that despite my impoverished stature I am not uneducated nor am I idiotic. Please, we have a lot of work to get done before the sun crests and you're not helping." She waved the two of them off as she attempted to return to work.
"I would avoid the third oven, it's about to collapse." The oracle smiled as she turned and pushed Midnight out into the dark halls once more.
"Are you really just going to walk away with that little tidbit? What if they still refuse to help us? Are we supposed to get your checklist done on our own? Because I'm not doing all that unless you pay me." Midnight stomped her foot irately as they continued forward. The oracle chuckled,
"Worry not little spider, if it comes to greasing a few palms I have all I need to see it done. But this will work." Just as she finished speaking a horrendous crash echoed across the stone and into the empty halls. Midnight flinched at the sound, was that truly an oven collapsing or was it an explosion? It sounded serious...
"They'll come to us soon enough, and from there we'll finally be able to set into motion the future. Just you wait little Spider, soon this city will burn to the ground."