Stick awoke on the cold, unforgiving stone floor of the Palace dungeon. His body ached, his head heavy with the kind of drowsiness that came from restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes, groaning softly as he pushed himself up, but beside him, Shadis was already awake, his eyes sharp and clear. He sat calmly, as if he had spent the night on a feather bed, not the damp, hard ground of a cell.
“The youth of today,” Shadis muttered when he heard Stick getting up.
The sound of metal clinking spread through the cell block. The guards were coming. Stick could hear the rhythm of their footsteps long before they appeared. He pulled himself together as the familiar gleam of silver armour with gold lines caught his eye.
“Out,” one said the moment the cell door opened.
The guards walked them out of the cell block, their armour pristine, but Stick’s gaze drifted down the hall, toward the far end of the dungeon. Twenty cells down, separated by two sets of iron bars, was a cell block that held only one prisoner. A massive iron door, layered and reinforced, loomed over the hall, with a small barred opening to allow air inside. Two guards stood in front of that door, wearing eerily familiar armour—armour that resembled Stamos’. The helmets were particularly menacing, their sharp, angular designs giving them a cruel and imposing appearance. Their shoulder plates jutted out like jagged spikes, and their presence filled the corridor with an ominous energy. Stick shivered at the sight. Stick had seen them the night before, and after a night of speculation, he had a solid guess on what that door concealed. It was where Carnifex locked up the most dangerous criminals—or rather, criminal. What did that guy do wrong?
Stick’s thoughts were interrupted as his eyes caught another oddity: PP. He had been placed in the cell next to them, and now the guards were taking him too. Stick raised an eyebrow, confused. PP isn’t a suspect, is he?
The three prisoners were led up the stone stairs, their shackles clinking in a slow, methodical rhythm. Stick’s heart leapt a little as they reached the surface, a breath of fresh, crisp morning air filling his lungs. But his brief moment of freedom was snatched away as they were quickly funnelled into a side entrance of a fortress-like building, its looming walls casting long shadows over the courtyard. Inside, they passed rows and rows of Carnifex soldiers, all in identical silver armour. They marched in perfect unison, their boots thudding against the stone floor in a militaristic cadence. Stick’s pulse quickened as he watched them. Their synchronicity was unnerving, as if they were part of some vast, well-oiled machine. And then, turning a corner, Stick’s heart sank as he entered a vast hall. You can’t be serious!
He saw a sea of soldiers, nearly a hundred of them, all draped in the colours and symbols of Carnifex. The golden bull with the crimson helmet was everywhere—on banners, on shields, on armour. It was impossible to miss. There were letters and documents spread out over desks, maps of an island hung on the wall and chalkboards with lists, graphs and numbers, that only made sense to those who wrote them scattered all throughout the hall. Stick took in the sight with growing dread. He recognised the silver armour of some soldiers, but many others wore crimson gear, similar to the soldiers he had seen at the Estate. However, it was the ones in darker, more intricate armour that made his skin crawl. They moved with confidence and power, their gear far superior. A quick inspection confirmed Stick’s worst fear. Most of them are LVL 50.
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The organised chaos of the hall buzzed around him as officers in Stamos-like gear barked orders, directing the soldiers to different quadrants of the city. Stick’s stomach churned. Shadis nudged him.
“Take a good look,” he whispered. “This isn’t even their main army.”
Stick could barely process what he was seeing. This is what we’re up against? We struggled to just defeat Reacher, but this… this is something else entirely.
The group was led out of the main hall, down another corridor, and Stick’s heart lifted slightly when they encountered a familiar face. Becket greeted their guard with a brisk “Good morning,” but the guard, stone-faced, didn’t respond. Becket’s smile faded slightly, but Stick, on impulse, greeted him back.
"Good morning."
A fleeting smile crossed Becket’s lips at that. The tension in Stick’s chest loosened for a moment as Becket took over from the guard and they continued through a huge iron door that opened into an enormous hall with a high, vaulted ceiling. Stick recognised the massive glass entrance to his left because of the huge marble pillars he saw outside gleaming in the morning sun. To his right, a pair of circular marble staircases spiralled upward, wrapping around two golden statues. One statue depicted a knight, sword held high in a victorious pose. The other, a king, stood with arms crossed, his posture regal and commanding. But the king’s smile unnerved Stick. It was meant to be triumphant, no doubt, but the light reflecting off the marble floor twisted it into something… sinister.
image [https://i.imgur.com/zquM6zW.png]
Shadis’ face fell upon seeing the statues. “Where have you been?”
As they passed by, Stick’s eyes caught the inscription at the base of the knight’s statue:
Ιν μεμορυ οφ τηε Γρεατ Ηερο Αρσλαν, Βικτορ οφ Δεατη, Λιβερατορ οφ Μανκινδ, Λεαδερ οφ Β4
Stick frowned. What were those letters? B4?
The plaque at the base of the king read:
King Ahlgren of Carnifex, Victor of Life, Leader to Free-
He didn’t have time to finish reading. A nearby guard barked an order, and they were forced to continue up the staircase. Stick’s eyes lingered on the king’s sharp features as they ascended. From the side, the smile looked even more devilish than before. Is this really the king of Carnifex? Is he really the highest authority to everyone else I’ve seen so far? What kind of monster is he to allow this mistreatment of NPCs?
Stick swallowed hard as his imagination ran wild with ideas of what the superior to Baron Bonatelli or that inhumane High Council member could be like.