Nico came to, his vision swimming blurrily into focus. He was in some kind of office. Before him was a live-edge oak desk scattered with pens, papers, and personal effects. A set of tuning forks were scattered around a polished violin. Where the hell am I?

His hands and feet were bound to the chair. His head felt heavy, his body lethargic — had he been drugged?

“Hello Nico.” A man spoke behind him. His voice had an icy, imperious edge to it. The voice of a man accustomed to obedience.

“Who… who are you?”

“Who I am,” he said, in the same level tone, “is immaterial. I need you to answer some questions. Who is your employer?”

“The Pathfinders guild.” The words came out of his mouth unbidden.

“What is your occupation?”

“Adventurer.” He tried to lie, but his tongue could find no purchase on the words. His body simply would not obey. It was a queer sensation; it made him feel naked and exposed in much the same way the Mindlock enchantment had. With effort, he forced himself to speak before his unseen interlocutor could ask him another question.

“I've done nothing wrong.”

“An odd declaration… for an innocent man.”

“You have me in manacles.” It felt odd talking to a man he could not see.

“I'm familiar with you and your ilk. I know how… slippery… you can be.”

“You've drugged me. With Immotalus.” Immotalus, the truth serum. The same serum Duke Ferdinand II had used on Tomasso. This man was asking him baseline questions.

“Yes.”

Nico was taken aback by the man’s forthrightness. He wished he could rally his spirit, to use his wits and somehow extricate himself from his predicament, but he could barely think. His mind was a muddle, his wits were foggy, and he felt so very, very tired.

The man continued, “Several days ago you were hired by Cosimo Medea, a Qirini man with an avowed interest in Ilhen deathtraps. You must understand something: Cosimo Medea is a pawn. And you, Niccolò di Manarola, are Cosimo's pawn. Neither you nor him understand the stakes of the game you are playing. Your present efforts threaten to upset a delicate balance of power. And that is a possibility I cannot allow.”

“What's your question?”

“I have not a question, but a proposition.”

“Then … then why give me… Immotalus?” He could barely say the words. Exhaustion was consuming him.

“Because I want your honest answer. I want your sincere commitment. I need you to gain Cosimo’s trust, if you have not already.” He paused, the silence pregnant with tension. “I want you… to be my mole. My agent. Together we will unravel just how deep this conspiracy goes. I need you to…”

But what was said after that Nico did not hear, as his feeble mind drifted back to sleep…

***

“Nico? Are you awake?”

Nico could hear the words, but he barely registered them.

“Check his pulse.” It was a man’s voice — Leo’s voice, Nico realized belatedly.

“Hard to, with these damn binds in the way,” said Gianna. Small hands fumbled at his ankles.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Nico’s eyes fluttered open. He was still in the office, still bound to a chair. Leo, Gianna and Danieli stood before him. It was a bit like deja vu; after the Mindlock enchantment, Leo and Gianna had woken Nico under similar circumstances.

“Nico! Are you ok?” Gianna asked.

“Wha… How did you find me?”

“I availed my great powers,” said Danieli in her dreamy voice, “and divined your location. I can no longer read your thoughts, but there remains a tenuous connection between us due to the Mindlock Enchantment.”

Leo said, “Someone snatched you. I didn't even see it happen; one moment you were viewing the painting, the next you were gone. Danieli was able to triangulate your position… she still has a link to your mind evidently. Then Gianna nicked keys off the curator.”

“Acquired them,” said Gianna. “They were dangling from his pocket, practically begging to be taken. Hold still, I'll cut the binds.” He heard her unsheathe her knife and begin carefully sawing at the binds.

“Someone… Someone was here…” Nico said sluggishly. It was like his tongue weighed twenty pounds. It took great effort to speak. “Someone… here… interrogating me.”

“Who?”

“I dunno. Didn't see a face. Black Cabal maybe.” It seemed the most likely possibility — perhaps the only one. Who else would have the audacity to kidnap him and recruit him to their cause? Perhaps a rival adventurer? It seemed doubtful.

Leo eyed him skeptically. “You seem — you seem drugged. Are you okay?”

“No,” Nico replied. The truth serum was still limiting his body autonomy, forcing him to speak honestly. “He administered Immotalus to me. We need to leave before he comes back. Where are we anyway?”

“Underground,” Leo said, “below the Musea. Curator’s office. Here, come on.”

Gianna finished cutting the binds and Nico stood up, swaying unsteadily. He took one step and nearly lost his footing. Leo caught him from reeling.

“Steady, mate. You sure you can walk?”

“No,” Nico said, though he wanted to say yes. “Sorry, the serum is still clouding my wits. Still forcing me to tell only honest truths…”

Gianna smiled. “I could really have some fun with this… Hey Nico, does Leo look stupid wearing three swords?”

“Yes,” Nico said automatically. He cringed at his words, but Leo and Gianna chuckled heartily.

“Who is the number one best apprentice in the Pathfinders guild?” she continued.

“Gianna di Verona.”

“Ha! I knew it. But still, that’s so sweet of you, Nico.”

Nico stepped away before she could continue her casual interrogation. Glancing around, he found an office that was sparingly appointed: a globe, decorative hanging lanterns, a rack of potted succulents. On the wall there was a famous painting by Prezi, an Impressionist watercolor long thought lost. Even now, his mind muddled, Nico could not help but be intrigued by it.

“Where’s the vault?” he said. “We need to find the vault. If the original is anywhere, it’s going to be there.”

“Well mate,” Leo said, “let’s leave that mystery for another time. For now, we need to get the hell out of here.”

***

Back aboard the Mint, Nico apprised Cosimo of the latest events, including his detainment and the fact that someone (possibly the Black Cabal) had tried to recruit Nico against Cosimo. Nico had been debating whether or not to mention this. He feared Cosimo might overreact, might even choose to abandon the Quest entirely and scurry back to the Free Cities. But Cosimo seemed unfazed by this pronouncement.

“The Empress and her spies will not move openly against me,” he said. “I line their pockets.”

“Is there anyone in the Discovered World who is not in your employ?” Leo said with a halfhearted chuckle. “Or are we the last ones to fall under the grace of your munificence?”

“Well I daresay that Max’s days are numbered,” Cosimo said icily, leering at the bard, whose face was bright red. “One more infraction from that buffoon and I’ll have him keelhauled behind the Mint.” He turned back to Nico, eyes hard as granite. “The Black Cabal does not daunt me. Fear not on that account.”

“However you look at it,” Nico said, gripping his cup of tea to warm his hands, “we have become ensnared in something political. Something the Mad Duke and the Empress herself have taken an avowed interest in. Each step forward we take poses a greater threat to them, to the Empire. They may not move openly against you now, but do not think for a second that you are invincible.” His words were sharp, perhaps sharper than they should have been. Immotalus’ physical effects were wearing off but he still felt an odd compulsion to speak truthfully.

Cosimo considered these words in silence, before finally nodding. Nico could see the bravado fading from his eyes. “Very well,” he said.

“We have been treading dangerously close to the line of no return,” Nico continued. “At some point we are going to cross it. I think the next phase of our Quest might be that moment.”

“Why? What’s next?”

“A heist,” Nico said. “We’re going to rob the Musea di Ortiva.”