Chapter 11 The War Room #2
It was around then Slaide stopped listening. I just want my bed, warm bread, and a flagon of ale. So some whoreson would claw his way into the knighthood. Or a murderer. Who cares? He rolled his eyes. These things were always so incredibly boring, and apparently this meeting would be no exception.
As Slaide picked at his nail beds, the conversation quieted. He looked up, a bit surprised to find all eyes fixated on him. He straightened his posture against the wall. “Yes?”
“I was asking if you had a strategy for the first trial? You’re meant to represent House Ragnaroth, Slaide. It is a position of honor, and you won’t squander it. Many will bet good coin on your success.”
“Maybe it’s a good opportunity for them to learn a lesson, then.” Slaide shrugged. “Don’t bet on the horse who doesn’t want to be there. C’mon, Magnus. You know I’ve never been one for the gallant knight charades.”
“Slaide Elias, you never cease to disappoint me.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose as though he could massage away the ceaseless headache that was Slaide Elias.
And yet you keep me around. “I only aim to please, Your Majesty,” he said, sketching a mock bow.
Magnus sighed. “As for our next order of business, there was a small uprising the day before last, on the outskirts of a small village. One of our men was struck and injured by a suspected witch.”
Slaide sneered at the thought, rolling his eyes at their incompetence.
“A young, female witch,” he added.
With this new piece of information, Slaide found himself much more interested.
In his experience, modern female witches were normally of the docile sort, tending gardens and healing injured animals.
Using enchantments to weave and cook. They rarely, if ever, fought back.
Good. This, at least, made things interesting.
“She was apprehended in the end, along with her elderly accomplice. We believe the older woman was training the younger in her ways, though we’ve no solid proof yet. At any rate, the younger of the two is in the infirmary.”
Slaide uncrossed his arms. “Why is a captive in the fucking infirmary?”
Magnus arched a brow. “That tends to be the outcome for those who dare lay a hand on my knights. She’s lucky to be alive.”
Is she though?
“And since we are discussing her fate, we need to decide what happens next. She is currently in the custody of my kingsguard, facing charges of unlawful use of magic and conspiracy against the crown, assault on a member of the knighthood… and so on.”
The two sunken-faced Archmages to the King’s left—Gammen and Oriss—sneered eerie, twin smiles that didn’t quite meet their eyes. Slaide always found the higher mages unsettling, and they reminded him why. They were beyond unnatural.
Well, now. If the Magistry was interested in her, so was he. But he didn’t know enough. Not yet. Time to play games of his own.
“So let me get this straight. You broke down the door of some girl and her grandmother based on, what, a hunch? In some small, seedy town no one who matters has ever heard of? And you really think you’ve accomplished something?” He pushed, hoping Magnus would take the bait.
Magnus did, sputtering in his fury. “One of these days I’m going to cut your tongue out.
She’s a grown woman who was accompanied by an elderly woman, in a cottage full of magical paraphernalia, on the outskirts of a town with a history steeped in magic.
Where, I might add, there are rumors of their citizens growing emboldened and reverting to their old ways. So yes, Slaide, we had a hunch.”
“Fine,” Slaide grumbled. “I’ll take her into my custody and interrogate her. See what I can learn about her powers, if she has any.”
“You’ll do no such thing. She’s being turned over to the Magistry once she’s fit to travel,” Magnus commanded.
“On the contrary. I’ll be taking her. When and only when I am finished with her can those freaks do what they wish.”
“Master Elias, if I may,” one of the Archmages interjected. “The Council will need to conduct a full investigation and interrogation of the subjects in question. Often, the most inconspicuous person has the most to hide. You might be surprised.”
Slaide cocked an eyebrow. He’s giving these mages too much power. Slaide had never been a fan of the kingdom’s Magistry. They were mysterious, conniving, and since the Dampening, the only group of people allowed to use magic.
As far as Slaide was concerned, the creepy, beady-eyed men and women were monsters parading in human flesh.
The Citadel of Stormhold—the Magistry’s capital and home to every mage who didn’t live in the castle—was an impenetrable fortress outsized only by Ravenhold.
And that was to say nothing of the wards they erected to keep everyone out.
Everything about the Magistry and the mages who conducted business within the Citadel’s walls was kept enshrouded in secrecy, from the way they educated their initiates to the contents of their sacred libraries.
He eyed the man. Too much power. “And what, pray tell, will you do if she is found to have access to magic? If indeed it was she who emitted the energy burst? Will you hang her? Burn her at the stake? Dissect her like your other projects?” He shot a glare at Magnus;.
something unspoken passed between them. No.
If anyone is going to interrogate her, it is going to be me.
“And why do you care, Slaide? Perhaps I need to keep a tighter leash on you after all.” Magnus raised a brow, his apple-round cheeks reddening.
“I don’t,” he growled. “However, if you’re accusing her of witchcraft, sorcery, demonology, necromancy, or any forbidden magic—which last I checked is all magic they aren’t using,” he said, nodding to the gray-skinned mage, “it falls under my jurisdiction and investigative responsibilities. Does it not?”
Archmage Gammen’s grim face, for once, betrayed his emotion as panic flared in his eyes.
What are you hiding, mage? Why is this girl so important?
“Master Elias, I must insist! We don’t know what she could be capable of. It would be safer for everyone in the kingdom if we have her taken to Stormhold, where she can be properly contained and observed,” whined Gammen.
No, he would not lose this battle. If for no other reason than to keep her out of the Magistry’s grasp as long as possible.
“I’ll make you a deal, Gammen,” he said.
“I will do the preliminary interview and interrogation. Should I fail or should she prove to be too much for me to handle, I will transfer her to the Magistry. Let’s be real here: your order isn’t exactly known for being personable.
Someone who’s just had their entire world upended won’t give you what you’re after if you lock her in a cell and poke her with a stick until she talks. ”
“You underestimate how persuasive we can be, I think,” Gammen hissed. “However, I will agree to your terms with one condition. You will get her to reveal herself in three days. After, we will send someone to retrieve her.”
Gods, he is insistent. But Slaide was struck with an idea.
Whether ingenious or idiotic it was yet unclear.
He looked at Magnus. “I’ve got a better idea.
You said you’re going to throw a handful of criminals into the tournament right?
To make things—how did you put it—interesting?
Enter her as a competitor. If she’s truly so dangerous, you’ll have yourself a new Champion in no time.
If not, she dies and is no longer your problem. ”
Magnus sat there expressionless. “And what exactly is in this for you, Slaide? Because in the years I’ve known you, not a single plan of yours was not self-serving. What do you get if she wins?”
Slaide smiled. “My freedom.”
Magnus tipped his head back and laughed heartily. “And what part of you is not already free to do as you wish? To fuck and kill who and what you please when the need strikes? I see no shackles, no chains. Freedom, ha.”
But Slaide did not laugh. Instead, he leaned in closer. “You know exactly what I’m referring to, old man. And I want freedom from it. Permanently”
Magnus sat back, appearing deep in thought as his joke was turned on him. He glanced at his Cyrus, his Hand, but the man offered no words of advice.
“Fine,” Magnus spoke at last.
Archmage Gammen was close to losing his composure. Oriss shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. Gammen turned to his king, as though to plead his case. “Your Majesty—”
“Or,” Slaide interrupted, “Perhaps, Magnus, we should consider executing her. Tomorrow.”
Gammen threw composure out the window and started sputtering. Gotcha, you spineless worm. They wanted her alive for some reason. But what?
“Enough!” Magnus pounded his fist on the table as he stood from the chair.
“If I have to hear one more second of this bickering, I am going to throw both of you in a cell and leave you there to rot. Slaide gets the girl first. He will enter her in the tournament as his ward and be responsible for her training. Whatever happens after is determined by whether or not she survives. In the meantime, you’re dismissed. Get out of my sight.”
The two gaunt mages pulled their hoods up over their snakelike heads and bowed deeply before exiting the chamber, gliding along the stone floor, two wraiths in the night.
Their disappointment satisfied Slaide in a way he couldn’t describe. He didn’t care about the fate of the girl, but it brought him indescribable joy to deprive them of something they wanted so badly.
Once the doors closed behind them, Slaide turned to Magnus. “So, where’s the girl?”
“Listen here, boy,” he seethed, spittle flying. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I am onto you. If this is another stunt of yours, I will not be as forgiving as I have been in the past. I am tired of the antics and games.”
Interesting coming from someone who plays so many political games of his own.
“I’m not up to anything, Magnus. I am only trying to do my duties as they were assigned to me.
If you handed her over to your mages, there would be nothing left, and I don’t think they would be forthcoming with their findings. The Citadel would swallow her whole.”
Magnus stared at him with the intensity of a thousand burning witches. Without blinking, he said, “She’s in the infirmary being looked after by the healers. It seems she suffered a head injury after the blast.”
He didn’t bother acknowledging the comment about the mages.
Slaide turned on his heel and marched to the door. The serving boy moved to open it when Magnus called out. “Slaide,” came the emotionless voice.
And for some reason, Slaide paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“Don’t fuck this up.”
On the contrary, you bastard. Slaide smirked, turning his back on the king. I’m going to fuck this up as much as I can.