"Pardon, what?" Raith groaned, his body aching like he had slept on a bed of rocks. Well, he literally did.
He squinted up at Clyde, who was grinning down at him with a sparkle in his eye that was both unsettling and annoyingly cheerful.
"Why are you… Ah," he winced, his head pounding like a war drum. "If the Grand Duke's aide is here, then that means it's the Grand Duke who—"
"And you are quick on the uptake too!" Clyde interrupted, his voice chirpy as a songbird in spring. "So, what do you say about a job transfer?"
"A what?" Raith muttered, still trying to piece together how he had ended up here. "One moment, I am in a tunnel, pushing a wheelchair, and the next, I wake up in an underground cell with no idea who brought me here until you come along, and now you are here talking about… a job transfer?"
"Yes—" Clyde started, only to be cut off again.
