Author's Note: This week, we find out who's been making Drake's life miserable... and how he's going to kick their ass.
The rest of the day passed in solitude. While the board game Lydia had taught him the basics of before she left was intriguing—it reminded him a little of chess, except the movements each piece was allowed to make were different—playing it against himself wasn’t all that entertaining, especially after the eighth repetition.
With his chair to the wall and his face to the door, he tried reading some of the books provided for his entertainment, but they were all simply historical accounts of real events. Since people in this world couldn’t lie, it seemed that did even extend to writing fiction. Some of the stories were interesting, especially the one involving an account of some well-known explorers’ short visit to a kromian city, but Drake was too anxious to concentrate on enjoying them.
Why couldn’t someone just try to kill him already? Someone had tried to kill him almost every day since he arrived. Now, now when he actually wanted someone to try and kill him, they were jerking off in a corner somewhere? He couldn’t catch a break.
Lunch arrived, which Drake, this time, wisely ordered be slipped through the slot beneath his door. He doubted it could be poisoned, but even if it was, his burnished regeneration rarity should take care of any problems. At least the food was good. The noble court had chefs who were almost as good at seasoning meat as Meryl.
As time marched on, he alternated practicing with his sword and reading non-fictional accounts of weird shit. He even felt like he was starting to get the hang of the weird chess-like game enough that he could play someone in it. Yet none of this was what he wished to do.
His second night in protective custody arrived with no word from the Judge and no updates on any thwarted assassination attempts. He hoped Lord Frostlight was as bored as he was. She better not be taking a break or sleeping on the job. While it took Drake some time to get to sleep, he did sleep... lightly.
He was dreaming about being a pizza delivery driver back on Earth—a job he’d never actually done—and was annoyed that he kept getting the address to deliver the pizza wrong when a loud, firm knock on his door snapped him awake.
“Lord Gloomwood!” A cold voice came through the door. “Your steward is here to speak with you!”
Drake fumbled his palm across the tile on the wall, which would turn on the lights. He had no idea if it was the next day, but it didn’t feel like the next day. He was groggy and felt like he’d only been asleep a few hours, but adrenaline woke him up fast.
His steward? If Lydia was here to talk with him, why not simply announce herself? Had the enemy lords made one of the capital guards think Lydia was outside, but it was instead the assassin sent to kill him? Was it finally time to spring their trap?
He snatched his sword from beneath the pillow beside him and padded to the door on bare feet. The knock sounded again, which told him whoever was outside was impatient. He wasn’t about to open the slot until he had a better idea who was out there.
“If she’s out there, have my steward announce herself!”
“Lydia,” the man’s cold voice said. “Announce yourself to your lord.”
A soft voice followed. “I am here, Lord Gloomwood.”
That did sound like Lydia, but she sounded... depressed? Forlorn? Was he being tricked by this rarity that forced him to see things? How could he be sure?
Drake slipped open the door slot against his better judgment and peered out. He made sure to keep his borrowed sword down far enough none of them could see it through the slot. Three capital guards in ferrocite stood outside, frowning with hard eyes. Lydia stood between two of them, and I took Drake only a moment to process two legitimately disturbing sights.
First, Lydia’s wrists were bound in metal shackles connected with a chain. She was wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt and pants instead of her battle maid uniform. Second, the top of a small, black, glowing disc resting just below her collarbone, visible where the first few buttons of her shirt sat undone. Drake knew what that disc was.
Lydia was wearing an obedience fetish.
Drake gripped the sword tightly enough to hurt his palm. “The fuck is this?”
“Lydia,” one of the guards ordered. “Explain to your lord why you are here.”
Lydia shuddered visibly as if in pain before she spoke again. “Lord Gloomwood, I have come to learn whom you wish to name as your successor.”
Drake glared at the guards outside. “You stuck an obedience fetish on my steward?” He was sorely tempted to open the door, step out with his sword, and stab them all. “I am in protective custody, and this was never part of our arrangement! Where’s the Judge?”
“You won’t be speaking to her,” the guard said coldly.
“And who told you that, numb nuts?”
“The Judge.”
So these guards had seen a fake vision of the Judge ordering them to stick an obedience fetish on Lydia and bring him here? Why would she even allow that to happen? Where was Lord Frostlight? How could the Judge even double-cross him when she couldn’t lie? Even if the Judge saw something she couldn’t explain, she should know not to trust it.
“Lydia,” the guard said. “Tell your lord what is to be his fate.”
Again Lydia trembled, teeth bared as she ground them and tried to resist. With a gasp, she almost fell. The only reason she didn’t collapse was because the guards caught her by the arms. They lifted her as she continued trembling. Finally, through gritted teeth, she spoke.
“Lord Gloomwood, you are to be executed on this coming morning for the crime of attempting to deceive the noble court.”
Something had gone horrifically wrong somewhere in the plan he’d conceived with the Judge and Lord Frostlight, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what had happened and how to stop it right now. Not with Lydia practically killing herself to resist the compulsions of an obedience fetish.
“I will talk to my steward alone, right now,” Drake growled.
The guard shrugged. “Lydia, you will not attempt to free your lord from this room. You will not take any action but to speak once you are inside.”
Lydia shuddered again, then bared her teeth. “Lord Gloomwood... open the door.”
“Oh, we’ll also be taking your sword as well,” the guard said. “Unless you want to take your chances with all three of us and watch your steward die.”
“You think I’d let you kill her?” Drake challenged.
“Lydia,” the guard said. “Tell your lord the order I gave you.”
Lydia ground her teeth before she spoke again. “Lord Gloomwood, if you attempt to harm these men, remove this fetish, or stop them from searching your room... they have ordered me to die.”
His blood ran cold as he understood just what a fetish could do. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” the guard said smugly.
Drake frowned at the man. “Just so you know, I’ve never killed a capital guard.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If I have to, I’m going to start with you.”
The man chuckled. “My understanding is you can speak words you do not believe. That grievous crime against the Eidolons is just one reason you are soon to be executed by the noble court. So forgive me if your threat doesn’t inspire the fear you hoped.”
So it seemed, somehow, the Judge had been convinced Drake could do what Lord Redbow accused him of. Lie. And now, the noble court was going to execute him for it.
Time to use his safe word.
“Guard?” he said. “This is some bullshit.”
The guard frowned at him.
“Did you hear me? Guard? This is some bullshit.”
“Open the door,” the guard said.
“This is some bull shit.” Drake stressed each word.
The guards glanced at each other. One shrugged. The other sighed and pointed back down the hall. Without another word, that guard left, hopefully to go speak to the Judge.
Now, Drake had to speak to his steward. “I need your word you won’t harm me if I open this door.”
“None of us will harm you,” the guard said. “We will, however, search your room and seize any weapons you might have in there. Your execution is for the royal court.”
Drake unlocked the locks as Lydia stared outside, forlorn and lost. She must have allowed them to slap that obedience fetish on her because it was the only way the Judge would allow her to speak to him now that he was to be executed. It made no sense otherwise.
Once the door opened, Drake stepped back as two men walked inside. He considered bolting, but he couldn’t without Lydia. One man took his sword while the other walked around and calmly tossed the room. Pillows, blankets, books, and everything else ended up on the floor as the man efficiently searched every nook and cranny for weapons.
Once Drake’s once nice guest room was thoroughly disheveled, the guard rose and turned to his fellow. “No other weapons.”
The first guard nodded. “Lydia, step inside the room and stop inside the door.”
Lydia stumbled forward, grimacing, and stopped just inside the door.
“Lydia, don’t move from that spot until we return,” the guard said.
“I demand privacy,” Drake said. “No listening outside my door. We will speak in private.”
The guard frowned. “And what makes you think you have any right to ask that?”
Drake stepped forward and glared. “Because I’m still a fucking manor lord. Until I die tomorrow, I have the right to speak to my steward in private, even in the capital. Or did you not read the same laws I did?” He couldn’t believe he was finally grateful for all those boring lessons from Samuel.
The guard shrugged. “We will stand at the end of the hallway. We will not be leaving, and there is no way you can escape.” He motioned to the other guard. “Let’s step outside and give the soon-to-be-executed Lord Gloomwood some privacy. You have ten minutes.”
After the guards all stepped out, Drake slammed the door behind them and locked it. Finally, he turned to Lydia. She stood facing away from him at the same spot where she entered the room. She couldn’t even turn around. That fetish had absolute control.
Drake hurried around in front of her and gently touched her arm. She was trembling, and it physically hurt him to see her like this. “Are you okay?”
She blinked fiercely. “I have no intention of allowing them to execute you.”
“I know that. But first, do you have any idea how this happened?”
“I do. But first, you should know the noble court executed Lord Frostlight last afternoon for the same crime they plan to execute you for this morning.”
“Fuck!” Drake kicked the floor with one boot. “How?”
“The Judge and the noble court revealed Lord Frostlight conspired with you to deceive them regarding placing that sea gate in the Chamber of Council. Moreover, when they placed an obedience fetish on her and compelled her testimony... she confessed her crime before the noble court and all the gathered manor lords.”
Drake stared a moment. “She did what?”
“When the Judge compelled her to say if she had placed the sea gate in the Chamber of Council, she said the two of you did it together. You told the guards on the chamber that day the Judge had ordered them to check the doors on the other side, speaking words you did not believe, and then she slipped inside and placed the sea gate before they returned.”
“None of that ever happened!” Drake said angrily. “Also, how could anyone make anyone believe that happened? I talked to the Judge before we set this all up, and she mentioned none of this. She specifically said she knew I wasn’t responsible!”
Lydia shuddered. “I do not know, lord. I only know that we must free you.”
“And do you have an idea on that?”
She stared with new determination. “Flutterstep.”
He frowned as he saw the same possibility she did. “How would that help?”
“The courtyard where the noble court handles executions is outdoors. The walls around it are at least as tall as our manor and staffed by archers, however, I can flutterstep up to the top of our manor from the ground if I put my effort into it.”
She was serious about this. “So—”
“You burnish any rarity you absorb,” Lydia said. “I am confident that if I allow you to once again absorb flutterstep, you could step to the top of that wall and back off again without injury, before any archers could feather you. Just beyond the wall, you should see a single house with a wolf banner atop it. Samuel will be waiting with Anna inside that house. You need only reach it, and she will teleport you out of the capital to safety.”
“And then what? Wouldn’t the whole manor just be hunted down by the noble court?”
“Not immediately,” Lydia said. “It will take time for them to organize their army and over a week for them to reach Gloomwood Manor. We can hold a large force for weeks. Once we save you, you will flee to Gloomwood Manor and, from there, figure out our next move. But first, we must save you from execution.”
Drake stared at her. “But Lydia, that’s insane!”
She breathed deeply and focused on him with determination in her eyes. “Your manor is of one mind. Either we will save you, lord... or we will all fall beside you.”
Author's Note: This week, we find out who's been making Drake's life miserable... and how he's going to kick their ass.
The rest of the day passed in solitude. While the board game Lydia had taught him the basics of before she left was intriguing—it reminded him a little of chess, except the movements each piece was allowed to make were different—playing it against himself wasn’t all that entertaining, especially after the eighth repetition.
With his chair to the wall and his face to the door, he tried reading some of the books provided for his entertainment, but they were all simply historical accounts of real events. Since people in this world couldn’t lie, it seemed that did even extend to writing fiction. Some of the stories were interesting, especially the one involving an account of some well-known explorers’ short visit to a kromian city, but Drake was too anxious to concentrate on enjoying them.
Why couldn’t someone just try to kill him already? Someone had tried to kill him almost every day since he arrived. Now, now when he actually wanted someone to try and kill him, they were jerking off in a corner somewhere? He couldn’t catch a break.
Lunch arrived, which Drake, this time, wisely ordered be slipped through the slot beneath his door. He doubted it could be poisoned, but even if it was, his burnished regeneration rarity should take care of any problems. At least the food was good. The noble court had chefs who were almost as good at seasoning meat as Meryl.
As time marched on, he alternated practicing with his sword and reading non-fictional accounts of weird shit. He even felt like he was starting to get the hang of the weird chess-like game enough that he could play someone in it. Yet none of this was what he wished to do.
His second night in protective custody arrived with no word from the Judge and no updates on any thwarted assassination attempts. He hoped Lord Frostlight was as bored as he was. She better not be taking a break or sleeping on the job. While it took Drake some time to get to sleep, he did sleep... lightly.
He was dreaming about being a pizza delivery driver back on Earth—a job he’d never actually done—and was annoyed that he kept getting the address to deliver the pizza wrong when a loud, firm knock on his door snapped him awake.
“Lord Gloomwood!” A cold voice came through the door. “Your steward is here to speak with you!”
Drake fumbled his palm across the tile on the wall, which would turn on the lights. He had no idea if it was the next day, but it didn’t feel like the next day. He was groggy and felt like he’d only been asleep a few hours, but adrenaline woke him up fast.
His steward? If Lydia was here to talk with him, why not simply announce herself? Had the enemy lords made one of the capital guards think Lydia was outside, but it was instead the assassin sent to kill him? Was it finally time to spring their trap?
He snatched his sword from beneath the pillow beside him and padded to the door on bare feet. The knock sounded again, which told him whoever was outside was impatient. He wasn’t about to open the slot until he had a better idea who was out there.
“If she’s out there, have my steward announce herself!”
“Lydia,” the man’s cold voice said. “Announce yourself to your lord.”
A soft voice followed. “I am here, Lord Gloomwood.”
That did sound like Lydia, but she sounded... depressed? Forlorn? Was he being tricked by this rarity that forced him to see things? How could he be sure?
Drake slipped open the door slot against his better judgment and peered out. He made sure to keep his borrowed sword down far enough none of them could see it through the slot. Three capital guards in ferrocite stood outside, frowning with hard eyes. Lydia stood between two of them, and I took Drake only a moment to process two legitimately disturbing sights.
First, Lydia’s wrists were bound in metal shackles connected with a chain. She was wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt and pants instead of her battle maid uniform. Second, the top of a small, black, glowing disc resting just below her collarbone, visible where the first few buttons of her shirt sat undone. Drake knew what that disc was.
Lydia was wearing an obedience fetish.
Drake gripped the sword tightly enough to hurt his palm. “The fuck is this?”
“Lydia,” one of the guards ordered. “Explain to your lord why you are here.”
Lydia shuddered visibly as if in pain before she spoke again. “Lord Gloomwood, I have come to learn whom you wish to name as your successor.”
Drake glared at the guards outside. “You stuck an obedience fetish on my steward?” He was sorely tempted to open the door, step out with his sword, and stab them all. “I am in protective custody, and this was never part of our arrangement! Where’s the Judge?”
“You won’t be speaking to her,” the guard said coldly.
“And who told you that, numb nuts?”
“The Judge.”
So these guards had seen a fake vision of the Judge ordering them to stick an obedience fetish on Lydia and bring him here? Why would she even allow that to happen? Where was Lord Frostlight? How could the Judge even double-cross him when she couldn’t lie? Even if the Judge saw something she couldn’t explain, she should know not to trust it.
“Lydia,” the guard said. “Tell your lord what is to be his fate.”
Again Lydia trembled, teeth bared as she ground them and tried to resist. With a gasp, she almost fell. The only reason she didn’t collapse was because the guards caught her by the arms. They lifted her as she continued trembling. Finally, through gritted teeth, she spoke.
“Lord Gloomwood, you are to be executed on this coming morning for the crime of attempting to deceive the noble court.”
Something had gone horrifically wrong somewhere in the plan he’d conceived with the Judge and Lord Frostlight, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what had happened and how to stop it right now. Not with Lydia practically killing herself to resist the compulsions of an obedience fetish.
“I will talk to my steward alone, right now,” Drake growled.
The guard shrugged. “Lydia, you will not attempt to free your lord from this room. You will not take any action but to speak once you are inside.”
Lydia shuddered again, then bared her teeth. “Lord Gloomwood... open the door.”
“Oh, we’ll also be taking your sword as well,” the guard said. “Unless you want to take your chances with all three of us and watch your steward die.”
“You think I’d let you kill her?” Drake challenged.
“Lydia,” the guard said. “Tell your lord the order I gave you.”
Lydia ground her teeth before she spoke again. “Lord Gloomwood, if you attempt to harm these men, remove this fetish, or stop them from searching your room... they have ordered me to die.”
His blood ran cold as he understood just what a fetish could do. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” the guard said smugly.
Drake frowned at the man. “Just so you know, I’ve never killed a capital guard.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If I have to, I’m going to start with you.”
The man chuckled. “My understanding is you can speak words you do not believe. That grievous crime against the Eidolons is just one reason you are soon to be executed by the noble court. So forgive me if your threat doesn’t inspire the fear you hoped.”
So it seemed, somehow, the Judge had been convinced Drake could do what Lord Redbow accused him of. Lie. And now, the noble court was going to execute him for it.
Time to use his safe word.
“Guard?” he said. “This is some bullshit.”
The guard frowned at him.
“Did you hear me? Guard? This is some bullshit.”
“Open the door,” the guard said.
“This is some bull shit.” Drake stressed each word.
The guards glanced at each other. One shrugged. The other sighed and pointed back down the hall. Without another word, that guard left, hopefully to go speak to the Judge.
Now, Drake had to speak to his steward. “I need your word you won’t harm me if I open this door.”
“None of us will harm you,” the guard said. “We will, however, search your room and seize any weapons you might have in there. Your execution is for the royal court.”
Drake unlocked the locks as Lydia stared outside, forlorn and lost. She must have allowed them to slap that obedience fetish on her because it was the only way the Judge would allow her to speak to him now that he was to be executed. It made no sense otherwise.
Once the door opened, Drake stepped back as two men walked inside. He considered bolting, but he couldn’t without Lydia. One man took his sword while the other walked around and calmly tossed the room. Pillows, blankets, books, and everything else ended up on the floor as the man efficiently searched every nook and cranny for weapons.
Once Drake’s once nice guest room was thoroughly disheveled, the guard rose and turned to his fellow. “No other weapons.”
The first guard nodded. “Lydia, step inside the room and stop inside the door.”
Lydia stumbled forward, grimacing, and stopped just inside the door.
“Lydia, don’t move from that spot until we return,” the guard said.
“I demand privacy,” Drake said. “No listening outside my door. We will speak in private.”
The guard frowned. “And what makes you think you have any right to ask that?”
Drake stepped forward and glared. “Because I’m still a fucking manor lord. Until I die tomorrow, I have the right to speak to my steward in private, even in the capital. Or did you not read the same laws I did?” He couldn’t believe he was finally grateful for all those boring lessons from Samuel.
The guard shrugged. “We will stand at the end of the hallway. We will not be leaving, and there is no way you can escape.” He motioned to the other guard. “Let’s step outside and give the soon-to-be-executed Lord Gloomwood some privacy. You have ten minutes.”
After the guards all stepped out, Drake slammed the door behind them and locked it. Finally, he turned to Lydia. She stood facing away from him at the same spot where she entered the room. She couldn’t even turn around. That fetish had absolute control.
Drake hurried around in front of her and gently touched her arm. She was trembling, and it physically hurt him to see her like this. “Are you okay?”
She blinked fiercely. “I have no intention of allowing them to execute you.”
“I know that. But first, do you have any idea how this happened?”
“I do. But first, you should know the noble court executed Lord Frostlight last afternoon for the same crime they plan to execute you for this morning.”
“Fuck!” Drake kicked the floor with one boot. “How?”
“The Judge and the noble court revealed Lord Frostlight conspired with you to deceive them regarding placing that sea gate in the Chamber of Council. Moreover, when they placed an obedience fetish on her and compelled her testimony... she confessed her crime before the noble court and all the gathered manor lords.”
Drake stared a moment. “She did what?”
“When the Judge compelled her to say if she had placed the sea gate in the Chamber of Council, she said the two of you did it together. You told the guards on the chamber that day the Judge had ordered them to check the doors on the other side, speaking words you did not believe, and then she slipped inside and placed the sea gate before they returned.”
“None of that ever happened!” Drake said angrily. “Also, how could anyone make anyone believe that happened? I talked to the Judge before we set this all up, and she mentioned none of this. She specifically said she knew I wasn’t responsible!”
Lydia shuddered. “I do not know, lord. I only know that we must free you.”
“And do you have an idea on that?”
She stared with new determination. “Flutterstep.”
He frowned as he saw the same possibility she did. “How would that help?”
“The courtyard where the noble court handles executions is outdoors. The walls around it are at least as tall as our manor and staffed by archers, however, I can flutterstep up to the top of our manor from the ground if I put my effort into it.”
She was serious about this. “So—”
“You burnish any rarity you absorb,” Lydia said. “I am confident that if I allow you to once again absorb flutterstep, you could step to the top of that wall and back off again without injury, before any archers could feather you. Just beyond the wall, you should see a single house with a wolf banner atop it. Samuel will be waiting with Anna inside that house. You need only reach it, and she will teleport you out of the capital to safety.”
“And then what? Wouldn’t the whole manor just be hunted down by the noble court?”
“Not immediately,” Lydia said. “It will take time for them to organize their army and over a week for them to reach Gloomwood Manor. We can hold a large force for weeks. Once we save you, you will flee to Gloomwood Manor and, from there, figure out our next move. But first, we must save you from execution.”
Drake stared at her. “But Lydia, that’s insane!”
She breathed deeply and focused on him with determination in her eyes. “Your manor is of one mind. Either we will save you, lord... or we will all fall beside you.”
