Treachery in the Kingdom

by Dan Zangari

  Ignoring his subordinate’s jesting, Cornar continues while picking up the conjuration anchor and motions it toward Nilia.

  “Nilia, take this. Once we’re out, Tilthan will guide us to a quiet place to remove our invisibility, then we’ll make our way to the League’s headquarters. I hope you remember where it’s at,” the warrior says the last as he looks to Tilthan as he hands the ancient black device to the young conjurer.

  “Pfft,” Tilthan remarks then adds, “Like I’d forget. I’ve wanted to level that place for years.”

  “Good,” Cornar nods his head then adds, “If I remember correctly, it should only be about thirty G.P. from here.”

  * * * * *

  Several hours later, as the sun is setting in the east, the six companions travel through a crowded street which runs from east to west.

  “I think I see it,” Tilthan says and looks back to the others then points to the northeast at a watchtower rising four stories in height at a nearby intersection.

  The tower is circular with a dome at its top; its entire fourth story is open with intricate circular pillars supporting the dome along the edges. Similarly styled walls branch off from the base of the tower, rising three stories in height and running adjacent to the intersecting streets.

  “Nilia,” Cornar glances to his former maid, “Once you’re ready, find a tavern near the gate and wait for us. You know what to do if things go awry.”

  “Okay,” Nilia smiles and nods her head and steps away from the others, walking toward the pristinely crafted wooden and stone structures on the south side of the street.

  After a few minutes, the small party reaches a pair of gates housed within the aforementioned walls which surround the compound of the League of Surveilors. Four members of the Kingdom Guard are positioned outside, each stalwartly standing at attention with their fanisars.

  “Let me do the talking,” Tilthan whispers as he looks back to the others then steps up to the guard stationed nearest to the western side of the gate.

  “May I help you?” the guard demands in a strict tone as Tilthan and the others come within arm’s reach of him and the gate.

  “We’re looking for an old friend of mine,” Tilthan speaks up then clears his throat, “I heard from a mutual acquaintance that he’s one of the heads of the League. His name is Demitru Fladin.”

  “Yes,” the guard nods his head, “I know of him.”

  “Excellent!” Tilthan smiles and his fat illusionary face widens. “Is he here now?”

  “I’m not sure, but you are welcome to go find out. Step into the gate house and they’ll clear you; it’s just inside to the left of the gate.”

  “Much obliged!” Tilthan cheerily states and skips toward the opened gate.

  Without a word, Cornar and the others follow Tilthan through the gate. The warriors cautiously look around as they wait for Tilthan, who has disappeared within a small stone structure to the left of the gate.

  Immediately beyond the gate, a beige stone roadway leads directly to a fountain a hundred and fifty phineals from the gateway. On either side of the fountain, two covered walkways branch off to several buildings on the south eastern and western areas of the League’s compound. The coverings have barreled roofs and are held up by pillars which match those on the towers and the walls.

  “…And they’re with me,” Tilthan says as he emerges from the stone guardhouse with another member of the Kingdom Guard.

  The guard looks at Cornar and the others with a stern expression then says, “I’ll be searching you, spread your legs and raise your arms.”

  Each of the four men comply with the guard and after he finishes frisking his armor clad hands through their clothing he motions toward the fountain at the end of the path, saying, “Enter the main building. They can direct you to your friend.”

  “Great,” Tilthan says with an excited smile then looks at Cornar and the others.

  At that same moment, a grey feathered bird flies over the walls of the League and rests upon the roof of the guard house. It intelligently looks down at the men and squawks, as if awaiting a response.

  In reply to hearing the bird, Cornar looks up and smiles while nodding his head. He touches his right index finger to his forehead then turns toward the fountain and nonchalantly lowers his hand with his finger extended.

  The bird immediately takes to flight and flies in the direction Cornar had slyly motioned.

  “Lead the way Tilly,” Cornar chuckles.

  “That’s not funny…” Tilthan sighs and shakes his head.

  As the five men quickly walk toward the fountain they each look directly to a wide elegantly crafted golden colored stone building exactly two hundred and forty phineals in width: Its main structure rises three stories in height with a rotunda squarely placed in its center, which rises an additional three stories. On either side of the rotunda are two rectangular sections which house narrow segments of the fourth story.

  Directly aligned with the road from the gate and the fountain is a two and a half story barreled portico; its design is similar to the covered walkways around the League’s compound.

  “That’s the main hall,” Tilthan says and motions to the building beyond the fountain.

  “It sure looks extravagant,” Nordal retorts as they reach the fountain, where the grey bird has landed and is looking up at the five men.

  “Nilia,” Cornar glances to the bird as he and the others round the fountain, “Try to keep an eye on us.”

  In response, the bird squawks and takes to flight once again.

  Each of the men stride toward the covered portico, which is devoid of any guards, and ascend three steps which lead to a large doorway; the doors itself rise a story and a half but are surrounded by clear panes of glass incased within intricate frames made of pure gold.

  “Strange,” Kalder observes, “I wonder why there are no guards stationed here.”

  “Who cares?” Tilthan shrugs as he and Nordal reach the doors and pull them open, holding them open for their companions in adventure.

  As Cornar, Kalder and Hagen step through the opened threshold, Nilia’s conjured bird flies above them and into the three story foyer beyond the doors.

  “Oh no,” Hagen squeaks out and dreadfully looks at the bird as it flies into a much larger room to the north.

  “Shh,” Cornar calmly places his hand on Hagen’s shoulder.

  “Well,” Tilthan looks around the foyer, which is eighteen phineals square, “There’s nothing here.”

  “We need to find someone to direct us,” Cornar looks around the room, examining two large paintings positioned on the walls adjacent to the doors.

  Pointing to the large room to the north, Tilthan mutters, “That way I guess.”

  The five men quickly move through the foyer and into the aforementioned space which is sixty phineals wide by a hundred and twenty of the same measurement deep. It rises three stories in height with elegantly coffered ceilings, much like those found in the Main Hall of the Estate of Concorious Knowledge. On either side of the southern part of the room are two small seating areas with maroon colored furniture positioned around the walls.

  Immediately beyond the sitting areas are rows of columns which hold up a third story walkway which spans the width of the room.

  “It’s empty,” Hagen mutters.

  “I think there are offices over there,” Tilthan points to his left and quickly walks to the rows of columns then disappears down a corridor which opens up between the pillars.

  As Tilthan heads to the offices, Cornar and the others look around the grand hall: Further beyond the pillars holding up the walkway and on either side of the room are a pair of curving stairs which rise to the third floor, with their bases to the south, and are nestled into large curving alcoves which swallows the stairs. At the top of the steps and near the middle of the room is a large curving balcony which hangs out partway into the grand hall.

  On the far side of the room is another third story walkway i
n front of the building’s northern wall which is full of large windows similar to the ones surrounding the doorway.

  A moment later, Tilthan emerges and walks toward the western set of stairs, waving for the others to follow after him.

  “It’s on the third floor,” Tilthan states as the others approach, “West wing, corridor six.”

  Each of the six companions in adventure and intrigue cautiously climb the large stairs to the curving balcony. Immediately to their left is a corridor leading to the west wing of the League’s main hall.

  Nilia’s bird swiftly flies toward the corridor as Cornar and the others enter it. They travel past several branching hallways when the corridor ends and splits to the right and left.

  “That’s only five,” Hagen sighs.

  “This way,” Cornar says as he walks to his left and speedily leads the others down the corridor.

  The party quickly follows after their leader and comes to another westward running hallway which Cornar turns down. After eight phineals it abruptly turns right and continues to the far side of the building. All throughout this sixth hallway are short alcoves with double doors recessed within.

  “Which one is it?” Cornar asks as he stops his hasty gait and looks to Tilthan.

  “The fourth,” the thief mutters and squints his eyes then moves for the door with the others close behind.

  Without hesitation, Tilthan opens the left door and steps inside.

  Immediately beyond the doorway is a small welcoming room; a small desk is positioned in front of the doors where a balding middle age man is copying text from a parchment into a blank tome.

  Along the right wall of the room is a beautifully crafted sofa and two chairs. Further beyond them is a closed doorway.

  “One moment,” the bald man calls out while focusing on the parchment.

  As the others follow Tilthan into the room, Nilia’s bird flies over head and circles around the space, immediately distracting the bald man.

  “How’d a bird get in here?!” the bald man angrily sighs and rises from his seat, grabbing a large roll of parchment and swiftly moving around the desk.

  “Whoa!” Tilthan blurts out and waves his hands to get the man’s attention. “Don’t mind the bird!”

  The bald man stops near the sofa and looks at Tilthan then asks, “Who are you? And what do you want?”

  Tilthan folds his arms and cocks his head as he replies, “I’m looking for a friend of mine, Demitru. This is his office isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” the bald man answers, “I am his aid, Atrim. Again, who are you?”

  “An old friend from Klath,” Tilthan answers, “I need to speak with him about a business transaction.”

  “Well he’s not here,” Atrim answers, “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “Can you tell us where he is?” Cornar sternly asks.

  “I don’t like your tone,” Atrim says as he wryly looks to Cornar. “And no. He’s busy with a private engagement. Besides, he’s a Kingdom official. I am not going to divulge information about his whereabouts to strange men who don’t clearly identify themselves.”

  Kalder and Nordal briefly look at each other, then to Cornar who is sternly studying Atrim.

  “Look,” Tilthan steps forward and motions his palms down in a calming gesture, “My friend is just anxious, that’s all. I just want to talk to Demitru about acting as an agent for exchanging some goods; something he used to do for me a long time ago.”

  Hearing the last of Tilthan’s explanation, Atrim’s eyes narrow at the thief in surprise which quickly turns to fear, then the aid suddenly bursts to his right toward the closed doorway.

  The two younger warriors swiftly respond by darting forward and reach Atrim just as he pulls the door open.

  Kalder quickly grapples Atrim’s right arm while Nordal grabs him from behind, wrapping his arm around the aid’s neck. In that same moment, the latter warrior punches Atrim in the back, causing him to buckle and cry out in pain.

  With the aid weakened, Nordal swiftly grabs Atrim’s other arm and pulls it back.

  Once subdued, both warriors drag Demitru’s aid back toward the desk and turn him to face the others.

  “What’s wrong?” Cornar demands as he walks toward the warriors and the aid. “Why did you dart off like that?”

  “I know who you are,” Atrim growls as he struggles to break free from the warriors’ grasps. “There are only three men who know about Demitru’s dealings with relics and such: One of them is rotting in the prison castle with his necrotic master. Another is a sea captain that I’ve met, which can only mean,” Atrim looks directly at Tilthan, “That you’re Tilthan.”

  “I told you this was going to get messy,” Nordal grumbles and twists Atrim’s arm.

  “I don’t know how you got in here,” Atrim looks to Cornar, “But you’re not going to leave this building alive.”

  As Atrim says the last he spits in Cornar’s face then adds, “Do whatever you want with me, it’ll only doom you.”

  Wiping the saliva from his chin, Cornar sternly raises his brow and says, “We’ll see about that.

  “Now, we can do this two ways. Tell us where Demitru is right now or my short friend will pry it from you.”

  “Tell us,” Nordal demands and tightens his grip around Atrim’s neck.

  Atrim struggles in response but is closed lip.

  “This is your last chance,” Cornar states, “Tell us right now.”

  “He won’t be pleased…” Atrim gasps for air.

  “Hagen,” Cornar says and motions toward the aid.

  Shaking his head, Hagen reluctantly utters the words to the mind controlling incantation.

  As the magic clusters around the short illusionist’s hands, Nordal loosens his grip around Atrim’s neck while saying, “You should have told us.”

  Grey magic wisps from Hagen’s hands and moves into Atrim’s nostrils and mouth. A short moment passes when he becomes completely relaxed in Kalder and Nordal’s grasp.

  “Where is Demitru?” Cornar calmly demands.

  “The Alluring,” Atrim says in a monotone, “It’s a establishment for the wealthy and the privileged of Arbath. He’s having dinner there as we speak. However, they won’t let you in, especially dressed like that.”

  “How long is he going to be there? And where is it located?”

  “Why don’t we have him show us?” Nordal asks.

  “Quite some time,” Atrim answers, “He was planning to go to the under-city from there afterwards. And it’s nine G.P. from our headquarters.”

  “Under-city?” Tilthan queries aloud, “What’s that?”

  “I don’t think we should leave him Cor,” Kalder says then suggests, “Perhaps we should take him with us.”

  “I agree,” Cornar nods his head then paces in front of the two other warriors and Atrim.

  After a moment Cornar looks to the bird who is perched on the headrest of one of the chairs next to the sofa.

  “Nilia, move the anchor to a hidden location. We’ll use the crystal inside your conjuration to travel back to the White Duchess and grab that rogulin ring bound to your anchor. We’ll also grab our weapons.

  “Kalder, cover Atrim’s face. I don’t want him to see where we’re moored. And someone gut the bird.”

  * * * * *

  After nearly an hour, Cornar, his five companions and Atrim are traveling up a sloping roadway. Many ornate buildings surround the street, most of which are home to shops and eateries.

  “It is up here to the right,” Atrim says in a monotone, still enthralled by Hagen’s magic.

  “It’s about time,” Tilthan grumbles, “I’m getting tired of walking.”

  The party continues up the sloping road to a smaller roadway which forks off to the right; it continues for half a grand phineal then stops in a cul-de-sac.

  “Which is it?” Cornar asks while glancing to Atrim.

  “That one,” Atrim points to a squared building at the far end of
the cul-de-sac. “That’s the Alluring.”

  Simply nodding his head, Cornar quickens his pace and strides to the aforementioned building with the others following close behind.

  The Alluring is made out of a golden granite-like stone and rises three exaggerated stories in height with two semi-circular portions protruding from the forward corners of the building, each lined with tall windows and rising up to the second story. The exterior architecture is ornate with beautiful stonework along all the corners and faces of the building. Twisting columns line much of the first level and support the second story of the building which protrudes several phineals.

  Cornar gallantly strides from the roadway to a stone walkway which leads up to a covered portico at the entrance of the luxurious establishment. Two men dressed in formal dark green garbs bow as Cornar nears them and they both open the doors for the warrior and his companions.

  “Thank you,” Cornar coldly states then strides through the threshold of the grand establishment and into its lavish foyer.

  Cornar briefly stops just beyond the doors and examines the space; it is nearly thirty phineals wide and fifty phineals deep. It rises two stories in height with a elegant chandelier hanging from its center. A thick dark green carpet runs the length from the doors to a stairwell at the far end of the space; the stairs rise one story then split to the right and left to the third floor.

  On the far sides of the room, between the railings of the stairs and the walls, are lavish seats, slightly resembling those in Cornar’s city abode in Soroth. Beautifully cut wood lines the armrests and headrests with dark green and gold fabric covering the cushions.

  Cornar notices a podium to his right, where another man acting as the host is patiently standing; he is dressed in a similar green garb to the doormen outside.

  Clearing his throat, the host asks, “What can I help you with? You obviously are not here for a meal.”

  At that same moment, the others enter the foyer and Cornar strides toward the podium.

  “We are here to speak with Demitru Fladen,” Cornar sternly states then raises his right hand to the host and wiggles his forefinger, drawing attention to the rogulin ring on it. “We are plainclothes mages from Alath. And the matter is urgent.”