The largest of the cloaked men stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. As he moved, the air seemed to thicken, and Marvin's drunken bravado faltered. The figure raised a hand, muttering words in an ancient tongue that made Marvin's skin crawl.
"Shit…" Marvin muttered, his fists lowering slightly. His mind raced despite the alcohol slowing his reflexes. "He's a magician. I'm so fucked."
Before Marvin could react, the man in the cloak made a sweeping gesture. A cold, invisible force gripped Marvin's body like iron chains, freezing him mid-step. He couldn't move a muscle, couldn't even twitch his fingers.
"What the-!" His words stuck in his throat, panic rising as he struggled against the spell. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled beneath him.
The last thing he heard before darkness took him was the distant laughter of the cloaked figures and the chaos of the brothel fading into nothingness.
When Marvin's eyes blinked open, the world was blurry and unfamiliar. His head pounded like a war drum, and his limbs felt heavy as lead. It took a moment for him to gather his senses, but as his vision cleared, the realization hit him like a slap to the face.
Iron bars. Stone walls. A single, dim torch flickering in the corridor beyond.
"Fuck," Marvin groaned, sitting up with great effort. His back ached from lying on the hard wooden cot, and his clothes were even more tattered than before.
He rubbed his temples, trying to piece together what had happened. One moment, he'd been standing in the brothel, ready to throw fists or bottles—at some cloaked hooligans. The next? Well, apparently, the next involved being magically incapacitated and tossed into a cell like yesterday's trash.
"How the hell did I end up in jail?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
The room was tiny, barely larger than a closet. The only furniture was the rickety cot and a bucket in the corner that he didn't want to think too hard about. The air smelled damp, with a faint metallic tang of rust and blood.
Marvin got to his feet, wobbling slightly as the aftereffects of whatever spell hit him lingered in his system. He stumbled to the bars, gripping them tightly as he peered out into the corridor.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing in the silence. "Anyone want to explain why I'm here? Or, you know, bring me a drink while you're at it?"
No response. Just the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.
Marvin sighed, leaning his forehead against the cold iron. "Great. Just great."
Marvin slumped onto the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the cell, his back pressed against the damp wall. The chill seeped through his tattered clothing, but he barely noticed it. His thoughts were a storm, racing in circles as he tried to piece together the last few hours or days? He wasn't even sure anymore.
"What the hell did I do?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He squinted, trying to push through the fog in his mind. But every time he thought he caught a glimpse of a memory, it slipped away like smoke.
No matter how hard he tried to recall, the gaps remained stubbornly blank. It was like someone had taken a blade and sliced pieces out of his mind, leaving nothing but the ache of effort behind.
"Damn it," Marvin groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes as if that might force the memories to return. But all it did was make his head throb worse. The frustration welled up in his chest, threatening to spill over.
Then he heard it.
Thud... thud... thud.
The distinct sound of boots striking the stone floor echoed faintly down the corridor. Marvin's ears perked up, and his breath caught. Someone was coming.
The footsteps were slow, deliberate, and growing louder with each passing second. Each impact seemed to vibrate through the walls, amplifying the tension in the tiny cell. Marvin's gaze darted toward the hallway, his fingers tightening on his knees as he leaned forward slightly.
Thud... thud...
He strained his eyes in the dim torchlight, waiting for a figure to emerge. The sound grew closer, more defined, until a silhouette appeared at the edge of the corridor.
Marvin's heart raced as the figure moved closer. Broad shoulders filled the narrow hallway, and the outline of a muscular frame became clear. A faint gleam of metal caught the flickering light, hinting at armor.
Then the figure stepped fully into the light.
The man was tall, towering over the average person, with a chest like a barrel and arms that looked strong enough to snap a log in half. His square jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his piercing eyes seemed to take in everything at once. The glint of a polished badge on his breastplate confirmed it, this wasn't just anyone.
"A guard," Marvin muttered under his breath, recognizing the uniform immediately. His brow furrowed. What was a kingdom guard doing here in this dump of a cellblock?
The guard's heavy gaze swept over Marvin, his expression unreadable. As he came to a stop just outside the cell, the faint jingle of keys at his hip sent a ripple of unease through Marvin's chest.
"Well," Marvin said, forcing a weak smirk despite the knot forming in his stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Here to let me out or just here to stare at my charming face?"
The guard didn't react. Instead, he crossed his arms and said, "The king has summoned you to the main hall."
Marvin froze, blinking in surprise. "The king? My father?"
The guard gave a short nod, offering no explanation.
Marvin got up, brushing the dust off his clothes. His thoughts raced as he followed the guard down the dimly lit corridor. My father? he thought, feeling a mix of confusion and bitterness. He hasn't cared about me since my mother died. Not a word, not even a glance, even after banishing me to this wreck of a territory.
The torches lining the hallway flickered, their light casting long shadows as they walked. Marvin's mind kept spinning. Why now? What's changed?
"Why is he suddenly asking for me?" he muttered under his breath.
It didn't add up. Marcus Lacoste had always favored Marvin's older siblings Aeryn, the crown prince, and Venessa, the perfect daughter. Marvin had always been the forgotten one, left to fend for himself after his mother's death.
He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up. Don't get your hopes up, he told himself. It's probably just another scolding or some meaningless duty he wants me to take on.
Yet, despite his bitterness, a small flicker of curiosity lingered. Was there more to this summons? Or was it just another reminder of how far down the family ladder he had fallen?