Chapter Three Wilde
Two Days Later
On the Road to “Woe”
Plan B
Infiltrating the traveling party from Bane to Woe was less challenging than I’d anticipated. I’d arrived at the castle to find everything in chaos and half the staff missing. Whenever I tried to apply for a position, the remaining staff explained the absences with increasingly ridiculous stories.
“I’m afraid Captain Hector isn’t here right now; he’s visiting his ill mother.”
“The head chef quit in a huff when Prince Brendon commented about the dryness of her cottage pie. Someone else took over the kitchen, and let me tell you, no one is happy about the new cottage soup.”
“The housekeeper is on the roof. Why is she on the roof? I honestly don’t remember. She’s been up there for a long time now …”
“The steward was let go after he was caught sticking his dick in a—”
The rumors ran roughshod over the poor old staffs’ reputations, dragging them through the mud and into murky waters they might never recover from.
Since the staff managers had disappeared, I simply slipped into the ranks, and no one questioned my presence.
A royal traveling party needed several people to ensure a smooth journey.
Attendants to care for the horses and load the carriages, guards to ride ahead and around the carriage.
Any other time, the Bane Royals might have opted for subtlety, but this was an official diplomatic mission that crossed half the region.
In the end, they chose comfort and conspicuous security personnel to deter any trouble.
I didn’t have the build or the skill to fit amongst the outriders. They all carried numerous weapons and rode with a confidence and ease I couldn’t manage. I rarely rode horseback and usually bounced around in the saddle with obvious inexperience.
Which was how I found myself on the back of the carriage, one arm looped through a leather strap, dressed in an attendant’s uniform. The other attendant had joined the coachman up front to rest his eyes until the next stop.
After hours, the town we would be spending the night in finally came into view. It was blurry at first, a few outlines of buildings and the muted colors of people milling about. As we neared, the lines sharpened, and the people came into focus.
The carriage slowed and I braced myself for the stop. The moment the wheels stilled, I hopped down from my perch and hurried to open the door.
Trey stepped out first, barely acknowledging me with a muttered, “Thanks” before focusing on the inn. “Not a bad place,” he called to his fathers as he strode toward the inn’s front door.
Another attendant had already ridden ahead to reserve the rooms. That was an easier job than riding along with the carriage, and more competitive.
The two attendants had squabbled over it until the senior one pulled rank and stole the job for himself.
I’d watched them without comment, having no desire to put more distance between Trey and me.
While the princes settled into the dining room, the other attendants and I carried their trunks inside.
It seemed silly to haul the luggage up two flights of stairs in the evening, then drag it back down in the morning, all for a single day’s rest, but it was part of the job.
At least it allowed me to see the room before we were dismissed for the evening.
The room looked exactly like the one Trey and I had spent the night in before his quest ended.
A canopy bed, a fireplace with a warm fire already crackling inside, a wardrobe and desk that probably wouldn’t be touched on this short trip.
The only thing missing was the tub, which the inn staff might bring up later if one of the princes requested it.
The image of Trey’s naked, pale chest and pink nipples flashed in my mind. Head tilted back, eyes peacefully closed as he allowed me to wash the filthy remnants of a battle off of him. The feel of his wet, slick curls tangled in my fingers.
“You alright, Will? You’re a little flushed.”
The other attendant’s voice drew me out of the memory. Probably for the best. It did me no good to linger on a past that had already been overwritten. “Yes, I’m just tired.”
Connor nodded. “It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. The royal family pays well, and they don’t mistreat us. The same can’t be said for everyone.”
“We live in the Desolated Lands,” I said, lips quirked in bemusement. “Aren’t all employers fair and good?”
He snorted. “Oh, you’re very new. Some advice—don’t buy into that ‘no evil in our lands’ bullshit.
The Good Wizards have their definition of evil, the common folk have their own.
I’d take a showman who likes capturing damsels in distress over an employer who’s heavy-handed with his punishments any day, but only one of them was banished. ”
The Good Wizards only interfered when the problem was magical. The everyday trials and tribulations of the common people—homelessness, poverty, starvation—were beneath them. “Then would you move outside of the Desolated Lands?”
“Gods no!” Connor smiled self-depreciatingly. “It’s still better here than anywhere else in the world.”
If he’d never been to the rest of the world, how would he know?
But I couldn’t argue with him. The Good Wizards may not interfere with the daily troubles of the Desolated Lands, but the kingdoms cared for their people.
Perhaps it was easier when they weren’t paying ransoms every other week for their captured damsels.
We finished our work and headed down the back stairs. I’d hoped to catch one last glimpse of Trey before everyone turned in for the night, but the staff ate their dinner in a closed off area away from the other customers.
The staff were invited to spend the night in a communal room with bunks, but the princes’ retinue was so large we couldn’t all fit.
“I’ll sleep in the stables,” I offered.
Connor laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “You’re a good kid, Will. Here, take an extra blanket.” He grabbed the one off his chosen bunk and tossed it to me. “The straw is warm, but it itches worse than a witch’s curse, so you’ll need this for insulation.”
I didn’t intend to sleep in the straw, but I also couldn’t explain why, so I quietly accepted the blanket and stepped outside. Guards were posted at both the front and back doors to the inn. They glanced at me when I passed them but showed no other interest.
A few others had already spread out in the stables, with one snoring loudly in a corner. I pretended to settle down for the evening, then muttered a quiet excuse. No one paid attention to me as I slipped out the back of the stable.
Once out of sight, I teleported back to my bedroom in the lair.
“Master Wilde, Master Wilde!”
How do they always know when I return home?
I opened the bedroom door and leaned against the frame to keep myself upright.
Every muscle in my body ached from the day’s hard work.
All I wanted was a hot bath and a good night’s rest in my own comfortable bed.
But I knew if I didn’t deal with the imps now, they’d interrupt me at an even worse time.
Bitsy inhaled a gusty breath before launching into the problem, “The new minions are arguing over kitchen duty. The lacertians say they have a special diet laid out in their contract, so we offered to cook, and then Mimsy accidentally blew up the stove—”
“Mimsy,” I sighed and glared at the green imp in exasperation.
“I was helping!” it insisted with no explanation of how they were helping.
My arms and back throbbed with the knowledge that I needed to fix the problem tonight. The bath would have to wait.
I teleported directly into the kitchen. The smell of burnt vegetables, oil, and heavy spices smacked me in the face.
My eyes watered and I choked, stumbling out of the open kitchen door to gulp in fresh air.
“Mimsy!” I shouted, but the imp was two floors above my head and either couldn’t hear me or pretended not to.
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned toward the lacertian standing awkwardly outside of the kitchen. Iridescence shimmered over their scales as they flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, Lord of Grimnight, Master Wilde, sir …”
I wasn’t the Lord of Grimnight, but I had taken charge of the lair, so I motioned for the minion to continue.
“I’m sorry about all the fuss, but the imps thought that because we’re reptilian we ate rodents.
When we tried to explain our preference for fish, they caught some live ones, and we don’t really eat raw fish.
So we wanted to build a campfire to cook it, but then one of the imps claimed we aren’t allowed to start fires inside the lair—”
At least they remembered that rule.
“—outside of the kitchen. None of us had ever used a stove before, so the imp offered to help, and, well.” The minion gestured helplessly at the charred kitchen.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I will write up some instructions for the stove. In the future, never trust the imps around fire, even when it’s contained in a metal box.”
I turned my attention back to the kitchen, surveying the damage.
The oven had become a black, twisted mess with smoke spilling out of it.
Whatever food they’d tried to cook was splattered all over the ceiling and floor.
Even the small dining table hadn’t escaped the destruction, though I didn’t know why it was missing two legs or a chunk from the middle.
Sighing, I focused on what the kitchen had looked like previously—the decades old stove; the blue and white tiles; the white ceiling; a clean, intact table. I held that picture in my mind as I waved my hand through the air, the same motion as wiping a window clean.
The charred scent was sucked out of my nostrils so quickly I sneezed. I struggled to hold my focus on the spell through the distracting sensation of the air shifting around us. Wind could technically move any direction it wanted, but this was distinctly backwards.
The oven righted itself, expanding back into its previous box shape. The metal was dark but no longer burnt. A pot of boiling vegetables appeared on one burner, bubbling pleasantly. Heat wafted from the oven, carrying with it the scent of seasoned fish.
Then Mimsy popped back into its position at the stove, stirring the vegetables cheerfully. When it spotted me, it waved excitedly and exclaimed, “Master Wilde! You’re home! I’m cooking dinner!”
“Out of the way,” I said, shooing Mimsy to the side. “How many times have I told you not to play with fire?”
“I’m not playing, I’m cooking,” Mimsy insisted, but it relinquished the spoon to me and fluttered off to find its companions.
The lacertian stared at me from the doorway. “How did you …”
I snorted. “You work for an evil mage, but can’t recognize magic?”
“That wasn’t just magic, that was …” They shook their head and backed out of the room, leaving me to finish fixing their meal.
I couldn’t guarantee the taste of anything, but at least I wouldn’t burn down the lair. Once the vegetables seemed sufficiently softened and the fish thoroughly cooked, I took everything off the stove and set the table. “Dinner’s ready!”
I didn’t stick around to eat with anyone. A bath was calling my name, and I had a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow.