Interruption Seven

What Passes as Present Day

The Grimnight Forest

Finally Approaching the Former Lord of Grimnight’s Evil Lair

The first minion they came across threw down their spear and hissed, “I surrender.”

Cyril stared at them aghast. “You what?”

The minion—a lacertian, Godwin thought, though he wasn’t always familiar with the lesser varieties of sapient—blinked large yellow eyes at the group. Then carefully, drawing out the s beyond reason, they repeated, “I surrender?”

“This is terrible minion behavior,” Cyril snarled, stomping forward. He snatched the spear up from the ground and shook it near the lacertian’s face. The minion’s shoulders hunched but they remained perfectly still. “Who trained you?”

“The Lord of Grimnight?”

Cyril sneered. “Why am I not surprised? Brutus never paid attention to management classes.”

Furrows formed on the lacertian’s scaled brow as they examined everyone from head to toe. “You are adventurers?”

“No, we are—”

“Yes,” Godwin interrupted.

Cyril scowled and whispered, “I thought I was in charge.”

Godwin ignored him. “We are adventurers here to challenge your lord in glorious battle.” All evil mages had to accept a direct challenge. He simply hoped the apprentice would follow the rules of his own council if he wouldn’t listen to the good wizards.

“The lord is not available,” the minion replied. “Would you like to leave a message?”

“No time,” Godwin said. They already knew the Lord of Grimnight wasn’t available since he currently resided in a crystal in Godwin’s pocket.

“Bring us to the lair. We shall speak to the apprentice instead.” Perhaps if he made it sound like a concession, no one would stop him.

All he needed to do was get close to the apprentice, crystal in hand, and the whole ordeal would end in seconds.

The lacertian scratched their head. “There is no apprentice.”

Was this a stalling method? Or had the apprentice fled to another stronghold? “Take us to the lair so we may see for ourselves.”

“You’re asking me to capture you?”

“Say yes,” Lucinda whispered.

“Yes,” Godwin said.

“Very well. May I have my spear?”

Cyril passed them the spear.

The lacertian turned its tip toward the group. “By order of the Lord of Grimnight, A Great and Terrible Evil—”

The crystal in Godwin’s pocket grew warmer as Brutus reacted to the lie attached to his title.

“—I hereby capture you.” The minion jabbed their spear toward Cyril, off-center and several inches away from him. “Move.”

Cyril rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Idiot” but he moved. Lucinda looped her arm through her husband’s, like this was a pleasant stroll through a meadow and not a march toward an evil lair.

Francesca walked behind them, and Godwin brought up the rear.

The lair sat in the middle of a city currently being rebuilt. A few people stopped their work to cheerfully wave at the minion. One called out, “Ah, the adventures! Do we need to?” Then waggled their head meaningfully.

“I’ve got it, Carl!” the lacertian replied, waving with the hand that wasn’t pointing a spear vaguely at the ‘captives.’

“You were expecting us,” Godwin observed.

“Quiet you … naughty boy,” the minion said uncertainly, poking the air in his general direction. “Captives don’t speak.”

When they reached the doors, only one orc stood guard. “Captives?” she asked. Then she counted heads, brow furrowing. “I thought there were supposed to be five?”

Francesca gasped and whispered, “Do they think we’re …” she let the sentence trail off.

Godwin’s jaw set with determination. Yes, it was clear now that the minions had mistaken their party of similar size for the royal champions. What did they plan to do with the false champions they had captured?

The lacertian guided them into a large, empty room that looked like it had once been important but now was only a shadow of its former self. “Don’t go wandering around,” the lacertian ordered, then promptly left them alone.

Cyril shook his head at the sad state of Brutus’ minions. “Idiots.”

In the distance, something giggled in response. An ominous, fiendish sound.

“Guard yourselves well,” Godwin warned. “We don’t know what the apprentice has planned.”

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