“And… we’re here,” a dark-haired girl announced as the ornate carriage pulled to a stop. The door swung open as the coachman unlatched it, and the silver-haired man opposite her stood up, leaving the carriage. Vincent turned around and held out a hand to help her down… which Lucille blatantly ignored to jump down off the carriage step on her own.
Disgruntled, her aide pushed up his glasses as he gazed at her. “I believe etiquette dictates that it is customary for a lady to be helped down by their escort,” he remarked dryly.
Lucy didn’t look at him, humming as she observed the large building in front of them. “Well according to someone, I’m not a lady.”
“She might not want to be helped,” the voice of a young boy piped up. “But I do. I’m stuck.”
She sighed and turned around, gazing at the silvery-winged snake currently trying to manoeuvre himself over the fold-out series of steps. His wide wings were caught, and he wasn’t able to wiggle his body to slither down the steps in any practical way.
“This is beastism, I tell you. When will they make snake-accessible staircases…” he grumbled as Lucy managed to fit him through. She lifted him onto her shoulders, where he raised his head above hers like he normally does. Once he was in position, he flared his wings. “All right! Time to gamble!”
Lucy scowled and raised her cane to whack him on the head. “There will be no gambling today, Mr. 15-year-old. Besides, what money ‘you’ have is actually mine.”
“Come on! You don’t go visit the most famous casino in all the realms just to do nothing!”
She sighed again while Vincent watched them with amusement. She jabbed a finger at the amphiptere. “No running off and bothering the casino staff. Don’t bother the people who are obviously not normal customers of the casino. And do not try to find the entrance to the black market pocket dimension.”
The silvery snake flapped his wings indignantly. “But that’s where all the fun happens!”
“If you enter that place, you’ll lose more than your non-existent assets,” she retorted. “I happen to recall several illegal Legendary elixir recipes that require the heart of a hybrid primal descendant. You are ludicrously valuable when transformed into body parts.”
“Um…. then maybe I won’t go in there after all….” he muttered sheepishly.
“Smart idea,” she replied flatly, pulling out her pocket watch and checking the time. She turned to Vincent. “Then I suppose we head in.”
The three of them were heading into Ravimoux’s largest casino, The Black Lily. It was a tall, wide building, made of dark stone and roughly twenty stories high. A giant lily was being projected above the building, formed out of black, indigo, and dark-blue mana, and the large sign above the entrance was flashing, composed of many mana lamps. A red carpet led through the immensely large, ostentatious, dark-brown lacquered doors, two staff members in black waistcoats greeting those who entered, and a long stream of people going to and from the casino. As Lucille and Vincent drew close, she held up her violet pocket watch for them to see. Both of their eyes widened, and they bowed.
“Commission Head,” one began. “The Count has told us of your visit. He has said to tell you he is in the VIP lounge, which he kept clear for your visit. One of our staff will direct you once you are inside,” he told them.
Lucy nodded to him in thanks and stepped through into the warmly lit area on the other side of the door.
The grand chamber before them was filled with the loud rumbling of thousands of people talking, playing games, drinking at the bar, or just chatting. The whole venue was filled with the theme of black, the chandeliers with pale blue mana lamps glowing, the embroidery over the couches, everything was some shade of black. The staff all had black waistcoats as they ran about the place, platters of drinks balanced on their hands. One of them spotted Lucy, Scytale and Vincent, and ran up to them. She showed them her pocket watch, which made them also bow, and they asked them to follow them.
As they walked past the throes of people, Vincent whispered into her ear. “I can feel the stares of everyone on my back,” he told her, rather irritated. “Why did you have to pick such an attention-drawing colour?”
“You appear to be selecting one minor fact out of several other details that would make us eye-catching,” she replied wryly. “Namely, the fact I have a very shiny winged snake bond across my shoulders, I wear a half-mask or the fact you have Evisenhardt’s signature silver hair, which is not very subtle, I might add.”
“Yes, but once they notice those details, they continue staring at us because of your clothing!” he complained.
“I’m just wearing the correct theme for the Commission Head. Evisenhardt wears white, Chavaret wears red, Alichanteu wears blue, and Ravimoux wears black. It may change occasionally, but you all wear your County’s colour. Violet just so happens to be the Founder’s colour,” she responded, following the casino staff member up a series of dark wood stairs at the back of the first casino floor.
“I’m sure nobody would mind if you picked another colour,” he tried to persuade her.
“They shouldn’t mind anyway. I’m the useless puppet leader, remember? I can wear whatever I want,” she replied smugly, as Vincent let out a groan. She gestured to what was up the steps. “He’s here.”
Count Ravimoux was at the top of the spiral staircase, dressed in a black dress shirt and tie as he watched the casino’s proceedings below, his black hair slicked back. Over his shoulder was slung a black jacket, and several silver rings embedded with dark green gems shone on his fingers. When he saw them coming he spread his arms wide with a genial smile on his face. “Miss Goldcroft! How wonderful it is to see you again. It’s been some time since we last met.”
Lucy mirrored his facial expression as she arrived at the top of the staircase, and shook hands with him. “It has. Thank you for accepting my request for a meeting," she replied.
Behind her, Vincent gave a slight bow to the Count, who nodded in return to his greeting. The Count held his chin as he observed Scytale with interest. “And I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” he told him.
“Nope. I know you though. Sharing memories with Lucy and all that compeer bond stuff.”
The Count raised an eyebrow curiously. “Compeer? Are you her familiar?”
The serpent shook his head while Lucy answered for him. “A familiar requires one to bind their mana to each other as well, but only our souls are bound, and not our mana, so I can’t cast any spells through him and he can’t through me.”
“I see,” the Count mused. He smiled and gestured to the large casino hall below their balcony. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a chance to test our services before our discussion? You might find something that will provoke your interest down there,” he said with a wink.
Lucille gazed down at the casino in mock contemplation and then turned to the Count with a wide grin on her face. “I think I would prefer not to gamble away the Founder’s vault just to fill your coffers, Count Ravimoux.”
He clicked his tongue and shook his head in false disappointment. “How sad. You didn’t fall for it. Oh well.” He looked at Vincent and smirked. “Sir Evisenhardt. Did you enjoy the free time I gave you?”
Lucy watched with slight curiosity as the expression on Vincent’s face turned awkward, the Count chuckling at his reaction. “Am I missing something here?” she asked.
Count Ravimoux grinned at her. “You see, when Sir Evisenhardt here sent a messenger to inform me he was coming to formally invite Ravimoux to the debut ball, I suggested he use that time in a more worthwhile way, while I take care of spreading the appropriate rumours on my end to make it seem like he had come. There is no one else he needed to invite, after all.” He shrugged.
“Ah. I have heard… something about how you are the only direct lineage of Ravimoux, but not the specifics,” she replied.
He gave her a smirk. “All the others conveniently died of mysterious causes, leaving me as the only one left. I had no involvement,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
“What rubbi- I mean... A-Ahem, Ahem,” Vincent coughed, trying to cover up his mistake.
They watched with amusement as he tried to avoid making eye contact with them, becoming intensely focused on the goings on of the casino below. Count Ravimoux crossed his arms with a playful smile on his face. “It seems Sir Evisenhardt here has some misgivings about my statement. Do I perhaps have an eyewitness?” he questioned, his eyes narrowed.
Vincent stared at him, incredulous. “Excuse me, sir, but I have some very distinct memories of a certain occasion nine years ago at a County ball where most, if not all of the direct County members had been able to see one of only two Ravimoux heirs at the time be skewered through with a very long dagger by the other heir of Ravimoux, who then proclaimed himself the new Count. Please don’t single me out if you’re going to start listing eyewitnesses.”
“Ah yes, I do indeed recall seeing your face there at the time. You’re two years younger than me, so you were… eighteen? It seems I left an impression on you,” Count Ravimoux mused.
Vincent shifted his glasses, silver-grey eyes narrowed. “I was close enough the blood splattered on my shoes,” he stated flatly.
“How lucky, a front-row seat!” the Count exclaimed cheerily. He chuckled as Vincent sighed, and turned to Lucille. “Then, shall we head inside the lounge? And as for your bond…. well, I suppose he would share your memories anyway, so there’s no privacy issues…” the Count considered.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit through it all! Lucy will just tell me the important bits anyway. Is there anywhere I could go?” Scytale spoke up.
As the Count thought about it, Lucy grabbed the snake’s head in her white-gloved fingers and turned him around for him to face her stern expression. “Not the black market,” she told him firmly.
The Count blinked. “Why not the black market? I could always send some adequate guards to protect him if you’re worried…”
She gestured to his wings. “He’s a hybrid,” she stated blandly.
“Ah.” Count Ravimoux paused and then held his chin in thought. He eventually nodded. “Right. I may be in charge of the black market, but let’s not put my control to the test by tempting fate.” He hummed. “Well, the upper floors have some interesting magic items and portraits you could go see…”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Scytale perked up. “Are there cursed items?”
The Count grinned wickedly. “Maybe?” he replied.
“Hell yeah! Point the way Mr. Count dude!” he cried, looking forward to seeing lethal objects that kill people in strange ways.
Lucy facepalmed as they followed the smiling Count through a doorway, leaving the first-floor casino’s balcony to start heading down hallways with red-black wood walls. As Scytale jumped down off her shoulder, Vincent looked at the amphiptere with mild confusion. “Hell… yeah?” he asked.
Lucy just sighed. “Scytale can see all my memories. That means he can also access the knowledge of my world’s slang and unique words. Unfortunately for us, he’s managed to include it into his vocabulary.”
“I see. That makes a lot of sense. I’m still trying to work out what a ‘jazz’ is. Sedric told me he said that when he was complaining to me one time,” Vincent remarked.
“It’s a music genre,” she replied drolly as the Count stopped. He gestured with a hand to a door that contained a staircase carpeted in dark red.
“This will lead to the upper rooms. I ask that you don’t try to enter any that are locked. They’re likely occupied,” he told the snake. “If you happen to find one of the cursed objects I certainly don’t have, don’t touch it and get cursed, please,” he said with a smirk.
Scytale raised himself and flapped his wings. “Even if I did, I’d be fine! I’m a light element beast, after all.”
Hearing that, the Count’s eyes narrowed, but Lucille stepped forward and bent down to whack his head before the black-haired man could say anything. “Scytale. You will not touch anything. Even if it looks cursed. Especially if it looks cursed,” she told him sternly. “I am not risking a light-dark elemental explosion here, and even if that didn’t happen, your light element would ruin several hundred objects that I’m sure Count Ravimoux would markup the price for me when I need to provide compensation. Do. Not. Touch. Anything,” she stressed.
“Um… okay….” he replied nervously.
The Count had a lazy smile on his face as he nodded. “I’m glad that the message has gotten across. But Miss Goldcroft!” he exclaimed with a hurt look on his face. He placed a hand on his chest. “You wound me! Do you truly believe I would charge you an unfair price for compensation?”
Lucy and Vincent both eyed him for a moment. Lucille smiled brightly. “Count Ravimoux, I believe your commonly known ‘fair price’ is a physical limb or two being removed if an individual fails to provide compensation with interest.”
He chuckled. “Well, I suppose that’s understandable.” He turned to Scytale on the ground. “Listen to your bond and don’t bring down my casino, please. It’s one of my better ones,” he told the snake.
“Okay, okay, no touching anything. I got it. Bye!” the white-gold winged serpent said, jumping onto the handrails of the staircase to go up the floors.
Once he had gone, the Count turned to them both with a smile on his face. “Then, shall we head to the VIP lounge?”
They followed him through several hallways until they ended up in a room with several black upholstered couches, and a low table between them. They took up a seat, and Count Ravimoux crossed his legs and intertwined his hands, resting them on his knee. “Now,” he said. “Before we discuss anything. Miss Goldcroft. Were you satisfied by the way I dealt with the… intruder some weeks ago?”
She smirked. “What intruder, Count?”
He laughed. “Well, I suppose that is the ideal response. But shall we say there has officially been nothing between us before the meeting?”
She nodded. “I believe the more professional we keep any relationship, the better. I have no intention of trying to involve myself in the politics between the Counties. I want to be neutral.”
He gave her a sly smile as he held his chin in thought. “But if so, are you not playing favourites already by coming to meet me? My sources tell me I am the only Count you have seen twice so far.”
Lucy shook her head. “I’ve already balanced things out a bit. For Evisenhardt would be Sir Evisenhardt here,” she said, gesturing to Vincent, who remained silent as he listened to their discussion. “I asked Count Chavaret for some guards, and so two Rank-4 members of his mercenary army will be my private guards when I leave Headquarters. Alichanteu has been… difficult, on account of their internal conflict.” She continued, “But I have intentions to sponsor one of their vassal talents, and have other plans in the works. So, I have not yet tipped the scales to favour one group or the other.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Then I suppose I’ll have to see what you intend to offer me today. The ‘intruder’ swiftly revealed his information under pressure from my subordinates so I became aware of your stance.”
“So, he was a scapegoat,” she replied.
“Indeed. He was bottom of the rung,” the Count said, shrugging.
She hummed and then gestured to Vincent, who pulled out a piece of paper from his suit pocket. “There’s something I would like you to see before the offer, though,” she told him.
Vincent passed the paper over, letting the Count read it. As he read through it, the smile on his face grew wider and more malicious. He looked up. “And this is….”
She reclined back on the couch. “A list of all those I saw sending messages to identifiable or unidentifiable forces when I used my spiritual energy to find potential spies after the meeting. I’m sure you know most of them, but….”
“Oh yes,” he replied, a cruel smirk on his face. “At least two-thirds. But the final third, most of which are in the unidentifiable column… this is interesting,” he said, his eyes gaining a glint as he read the page again. “What would you like me to do with them?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you wish.” He looked up curiously as she gestured to the page. “I am only showing you this as it is my responsibility as the Commission Head to ensure potential threats are reported. It is Ravimoux’s job to decipher which spies are too risky to remain, and which can be left alone. Personally,” she continued, “I don’t feel there’s much urgency in removing them any time soon. A new Commission Head will make them all hesitant to move, but if we remove them now, the ones we haven’t caught will be even more careful, and it may be extremely hard to find them when we need to as the restructuring progresses.”
“Indeed,” he replied, nodding. He folded the page and put it in his pocket. “Very well then. I will consider what is the best move for these individuals. I wouldn’t want to hastily remove such enthusiastic, valuable employees if they’ve been talented enough to make it into the upper echelons of the Commission,” he told them, his relaxed smile back on his face.
Vincent coughed and spoke up, “There is something I would like to add though.” The Count nodded, tilting his head, and so Vincent continued, pulling out another list for the man. “I have seen signs that this proxy battle between Olden and Radical has extended into the Counties as well.”
The Count leaned forward, his smile gone as he took the paper. “Now that is pressing news. Headquarters is far less risky a place for them to be, but if this has started infecting the Counties as well… oh dear. I see what the problem is.” He looked up. “These are the main supporters of your mother, aren’t they?”
Vincent sighed, nodding. “I discovered, thanks to Melissa Evisenhardt, that there have been some particularly notable signs of discontent with commoner forces within Evisenhardt. And there’s no way Radical would’ve sat still while Olden expanded their influence, so I’m assuming that Genevieve Evisenhardt is backed by Radical. The other two Counties must have their issues with the two factions too. They’re aiming for the heirs of the Counties.”
“And it’s obvious why I haven’t seen this occur for my County,” Count Ravimoux replied, crossing his arms, and frowning slightly. “I have no heir, and I’m known for keeping a very tight leash on my subordinates’ loyalties, so they would have no chance to infiltrate deeply within Ravimoux.”
“We’ll need to check somehow with Count Chavaret, but it’s obvious Alichanteu is in a terrible state. Have you heard what occurred between Arwen Alichanteu’s messenger and me?” Lucille spoke up.
The Count gained an interested look. “Not yet. What happened?”
Lucy told him what the messenger offered and how it went, and even the Count had gained an incredulous expression by the end of it. “I hope I do not offend…” he began, a strange look on his face. “But just know, that if I ever do get involved in Alichanteu’s succession politics, I will never, ever support Arwen Alichanteu.”
“That is the conclusion I believed you would come to, yes,” she remarked dryly. She rubbed her head with a white-gloved hand. “I believe I might need to take this chance to transfer some of Alichanteu’s management responsibilities to myself once I find out what occurred in that trip in the Permafrost Glacial Abode,” she told him.
“Building up your own force already?” he replied teasingly, but his eyes were narrowed with an analysing gleam.
She gave him a dismissive wave. “It would be a form of punishment for them, rather than a benefit for me, so I wouldn’t keep it. And as a ‘puppet leader’, I can’t directly control anything unless I’m working with people who are bound by a secrecy contract. I’d probably hand the responsibility over to Vincent or the selected participants of the competition.” She paused, having had an idea, and then an evil grin spread across her face. “Do you think the two Alichanteu heirs know about the airship development?”
The Count’s eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed loudly for a while. “Oh, you are terrible,” he said, still chuckling. “No, I don’t think they do. They wouldn’t until they became the Count. Only the older, more influential members would be aware of those projects.”
She smirked. “I don’t need to warn the Alichanteu heirs. They’re not the real forces behind the succession conflict, anyway. But it would be a perfect warning against the real powers within the County. And, because I need to cover up the transfer of the airship development projects, which are supposed to be top secret, they can't reject me if I ask for other responsibilities to be transferred as well. I hope the Vadel heir comes to Headquarters with some useful information,” she added thoughtfully.
Count Ravimoux nodded. “I’ve been keeping tabs on their family. It seems that apart from the heir and the Baron, the Baron’s brother-in-law, a battlemage, will be coming, as well as a young member from a side family.”
Lucille tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “A battlemage?” She held her chin, frowning slightly. “And he’s coming because….”
“Silas Vadel was a Captain in the Main Army Battalion,” the Count explained. “But he’s known for his distaste for politics, something well known because he has repeatedly avoided promotion because of his battle lust and disagreeable attitude towards his superiors. He’s been staying with the Vadels after he ‘retired’, although he’s been offered unconditional permission to return to his old position if he chooses to come back.”
“He’s noticed something off about the mage and the heir, hasn’t he,” she replied.
“That is the conclusion I came to as well. If he notices Efratel Vadel leaving to have a secret meeting with someone, he’ll likely try to find out who he is meeting with,” the Count responded, leaning back on the couch.
“I’ll consider how to talk to him then,” she said, crossing her arms in thought. She shook her head to rid her mind of excess thoughts and smiled. “Now, the offer, rather than more spy removal for you.”
He chuckled and gestured for her to go on.
She smiled, and after using a bit of will to remotely access her dimensional pouch on her waist, a folder appeared with a pop, landing on the table. She passed it over to him. “How willing would you be…” she began, “To have all your black market pocket dimensions linked into one large sub-dimension, financed by the Commission Head herself?”
The evil grin the Count gave her after he read the first page of the folder matched her own with eerie similarity.
“Quite willing indeed,” he replied with malicious glee.
…
They continued discussing Lucille’s proposal in greater detail for a few hours, going over the feasibility and specifics of the plan. Lucy’s idea was to link all the pocket dimensions to a larger sub-dimension, using the smaller pocket dimensions as transport tunnels of a sort. It was a system the dragons used to access their Major Dimension, and three of the four Supreme Institutions also used the method to access their ‘origin planes’, planes that were not part of the main Mystical Realm’s dimension and were located in inferior dimensions.
All-Aeon Athenaeum’s actual Athenaeum, their incredibly large library, was located on their Aeonic origin plane. Pedestal was the Citadel’s origin plane, while the Empire’s origin plane was rumoured to keep their most powerful weapons. Glory Pantheon didn’t have one, but they were responsible for all the weapon clan Tournaments, Champion and Mythos Championships, and the Coliseums spread out all over the realm, their base of power being located in the 1st Eternal Duchy. They also had strong ties with Bastion and the titans, the ‘only’ non-mortal race to use Heroic Power.
The Count looked up from the proposal they were pondering over. “The Supreme Institutions won’t like this, however. They’ll think we’re trying to become the next Supreme Institution.”
She shook her head. “For them, they emphasize their origin planes because they hold their strongest weapons and sources of power. They jealously guard all permission to enter. The Athenaeum’s origin plane is segmented into sections by very firm magical wards and barriers, and you must be an official mage or wizard of the Athenaeum to enter. The Citadel only allows fourth-generation Citadel members or longer to live there, and only those of royal descent can access the Empire’s origin plane. This won’t be an ‘origin’ plane. It’s not our place of origin,” she replied.
“Additionally,” she continued, “The ultimate goal of this would be to link realms together, like the dragon’s dimension, rather than planes of the Mystical Realm, so keeping secrets in there would be a bad idea for safety’s sake. And only those of certain status or higher will be able to enter to keep it as a place of exclusivity.”
“And where will you find this sub-dimension? I doubt the Violet Order or Spatial Tower will be willing to easily hand one over, especially as they want to keep a monopoly over all planar pathways,” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Artificers have a few,” she replied, a grin on her face. “They use sub-dimensions all the time to develop their artifacts and are frequent customers of the Order and Tower. I don’t believe the Order or Tower have ever considered the fact someone might go to the Artificers for their sub-dimensions. And if you throw in a deal to alert the artificers of strange new elemental phenomena they might want to study and imitate in their pocket dimensions to develop artifacts….”
“It seems feasible,” he mused, rubbing his chin.
“Will you not have to deal with complaints from the Athenaeum when they discover this? It might create issues for the Commission’s transport systems,” Vincent spoke up.
She smiled and held up her pocket watch. “I’ll still need their expertise to link the pocket dimensions together. If they’re complaining even after I give them so much money, shut them up by saying all the money belongs to the Athenaeum anyway, as the Artificers are still under the Athenaeum’s authority. It shouldn’t matter to them who I purchase the sub-realm from.”
“The perfect excuse to stop them from complaining if they want to keep up the pretence that the money is being invested in research projects rather than their luxurious lifestyles,” the Count replied, nodding. He smiled as he looked down at the report. “It seems I’ll have to increase my control over the black markets. I believe I’ve done well so far, but occasionally, some idiots try to test me and-”
He paused, seeing Lucy’s facial expression. The Count and Vincent watched in bemusement as it went through a transition of irritation, anger, confusion and dumbfoundedness in the span of a few seconds. Then it changed again. “Can anyone tell me why my snake is watching two assassins battling each other on the rooftop?” she said, with a tight, slightly strained smile on her face.
The Count blinked once and then scowled. “Idiots like them.”
----------------------------------------
Scytale wanted popcorn. He hadn’t felt such strong cravings for food for many years, mostly due to not needing to actually eat to sustain himself for at least a century, but still. He wanted popcorn.
He had originally been going through the many finely equipped posh rooms of the casino, looking at the various ornaments and expensive paintings he came across in the many private rooms on the upper floors. Some were boring, apparently meeting rooms for the Count’s subordinates, some had very fancy decorations, and but some were more…. unique.
He knew that the Ravimoux casino needed to cater to individuals of all the realms, but a black skull with a green mana lamp inside was a bit creepy. The objects he did find had metal plaques underneath their podiums or shelves that told the history or details of the item. The black skull used to be an Archlich’s and was gifted to Ravimoux by the undead lord that killed it. Scytale wouldn’t have a clue why an undead would think a human Faction would be interested in that sort of decoration, but the Count didn’t seem to mind if he was showing off such strange items.
Although, the man himself was strange. Scytale understood that if you spent enough time around it, you’d be indifferent towards death. He was like that himself. But he didn’t joke about it like the Count did. He had met worse than the Count though, and plenty of people far stranger, so Regulus Ravimoux was kinda mellow compared to the type of people who came out of the underworld most of the time.
But Scytale shouldn’t be judging him, because he seemed to like collecting cursed objects! That was neat! He had also tried to at one stage, but Lucy ended up stealing them away from him and sealing them. It wasn’t his fault the collection turned an entire planet into an inhospitable wasteland because they were too strong! It was the item creator’s fault! Their fault for making the items so interesting!
He also found a neat picture at one stage. Apart from just the normal curtains, wallpaper, and mana-lamp sconces, the room with the picture had nothing else, besides the picture itself. It was huge and occupied an entire wall of the room. It appeared to be a painting of a ballroom, with people dancing, and musicians playing instruments. It was very well made, but what Scytale found cool was the fact that no matter what person in the picture you looked at, they always seemed to be looking back at you. Even if you had seen that they weren’t looking at you earlier, the instant you move your eyes to them, they automatically stare back at you. You didn’t even see them move. A less cool detail was the fact that their eyes had no irises and the corneas’ were pitch black, but you couldn’t have everything.
Another cool thing he had found was a window. It wasn’t a real window, because it showed Gilded Seat in creepy tones of black and white with weird shady creatures stumbling around down below on the streets, but it looked like one. He had asked a staff member what it was because it had no plaque, but they replied they had never heard of a window like that before. When he backtracked, he couldn’t find the room again, so he just kept exploring. Eventually, he made it to the top story and found that the rooftop entrance that should’ve been sealed was open. That was when he snuck out to find….
“You killed my father!”
Inigo Montoya? Is that you? Where are the rest of your lines?
….. a real-life action movie playing out.