Chapter Fifty-Three: I’m the best. Jamie, Run 2, Part 2.
Sweat flicked off the chain coif attached to my helm as I took it off my head and leaned back against the wall. My hair was matted against my forehead, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe the sweaty hair away, but I didn’t even take the gauntlets off. Instead, I rested my head against the cool metal of the cleaner gauntlet.
“Man, no one ever told me combat would be so exhausting and gross.” I groaned, slumping against the wall. “ I don’t know how the Kingsguard did it every day.”
I didn’t want to whine, but I already smelled, and bits of blood were stuck to the bottom of my boots and to my right gauntlet, where I had clocked a zombie in the face.
[It smells like success to me. And Treasure. Loot the zombies, please!] Malice exclaimed, his crystal shining brightly despite the dark color.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, forcing myself to ignore the stench as I worked to steady my racing heart. After a minute, I felt okay to continue and got to my feet.
I would have liked nothing more than to go past the zombies and collapse onto my bed. Instead, I did as asked and got to my feet before trudging over and kicking each zombie in the arms or legs.
[You have received ten gold coins and one slightly used Halberd, zombie not included.]
After I finished looting, I finally took a good look at the hallway, and my brow furrowed. My room had the same layout I was used to. It had a king-sized bed, five wardrobes, and giant glass windows to see the city. But outside my room was the east wing second hall, just off the servant's hall. In an act of defiance against my father for all the extravagant decisions that had torn our country apart, I had purposefully chosen the smallest royal suite. It was my quiet rebellion, a way to reject the opulence he valued.
And, somehow, he had agreed. He had let me use the relatively diminutive room.
I walked out, expecting the creak of old wood underfoot to be warm, familiar, and comforting. Instead, my boots met polished marble that resounded with each step, casting cold, unfamiliar, and discomforting sounds in the air.
Where the cramped, shadowed passageway of the east wing should have been, a grand corridor stretched out instead, bathed in white and silver. This was not the east wing's second hall. It made no sense; even if a giant playing dollhouse had picked up my room, they wouldn’t have so seamlessly moved it.
Walking out into what had to be the West Wing, I looked around the hall, wondering why the same number of zombies were in two different hallways. I turned right, heading for the main foyer. As I walked past the pristine white wood and silver chandeliers, their delicate tinkle mingled with the eerie groan of the expansive hall. Each step I took echoed ominously down the long, empty corridor, punctuated by the occasional distant crash of something unseen falling apart.
It did not take me long to figure out why there was a breeze. A musty, damp smell assaulted my nostrils as I entered the foyer. The air was heavy with the scent of mold and the iron tang of fresh cannonball wounds on ancient stone walls.
I stood, stunned into inaction, as I stared. My childhood home had been destroyed.
The palace creaked ominously as the wind continued to whistle through the holes. "What– What happened here?” I stammered, my gaze darting around the ruined foyer as I struggled to comprehend the damage.
[This is the future of your home, Jamie,] Malice said, taking on an unusually serious tone. His light grew brighter, elongating my shadow across the room past the shattered remains of my home. [That’s what Penance is showing you. Your sins lead to this. Or rather, they could lead to this.] His voice dropped to a whisper, laden with threat. [If you manage to leave one day, you can fix it. You can change the outcome.]
I wanted to scream that he was wrong. That my home could never be attacked. That the city, the people would be destroyed first… My thoughts flickered back to my first view of Penance out of the window.
I spotted a bolt of fabric flying in the wind before me, caught by a few strands against a piece of splintered wood. I moved to the hole and grabbed for it. As I lifted the fabric free, I was struck by its unexpected weight. Each thread was soaked with regret and blood, sticking slightly to my fingers as if reluctant to let go of the tragedy that had been wrought upon it. The symbol, a dragon eating a necromancer, was beyond recognition. A single wing remained, and the rest of the pennant burned beyond recognition.
I may not have cared for my father's choices, but my people... their plight gripped my heart as I clutched the pennant in my hand. Had my poor choices, the waste of money, and my refusal to stand up to my father led to this? Then, only one choice remained. No longer would I allow circumstances to dictate my actions. This choice—to stand and fight—was mine. I would break out of Penance and free my people.
[Are you done with the internal monologuing? So lame. It’s way less cool than when I do it. Watch: Oh yes! Treasure! Killing zombies! Oh yeah! I’m the best.]
I fish-hooked my right eye at Malice. He had been weird so far, but that moment pushed it.
“Right, I’m the lame one.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.” You just called yourself the best.”
[Nothing wrong with stating the truth.] Malice responded with a tone that conveyed a scoff before continuing with his usual fervor.
[Treasure, treasure, treasure! Let's go kill zombies!] Wherever that serious Malice had come from, he was gone.
“Fine, fine,” I conceded, my voice tinged with reluctant humor as I shook my head at his undampened enthusiasm. “But we need to figure out where everything has moved. I have a feeling the basement is no longer through that door.” I added.
I pointed toward the massive oak doors that sprouted from the ground like the trees they were made from. Silver handles formed the shape of crescent moons, and the floor was slightly scuffed from repeated use.
As I pulled the door open, a loud creak carried through the hallway, seeming never to cease. If there were any nearby zombies, the element of surprise would have been entirely lost, not that I would have kept it long with my clanking armor.
I thought I had found my resolve, but thoughts fought at the back of my mind as I walked down the new hallway.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
What am I doing? I was a terrible Princess, an even worse Queen, and now I want to play hero?
Though the door had been for the east hall of the silver wing, the one my room was supposed to be in, the one I walked into was not the silver wing. Instead, ornate gold chandeliers threw light to the floor, almost as if trying to replace sunlight entirely.
The opulence before me sparked a wave of fierce anger. Each golden chandelier, hanging with ceaseless care, each tapestry depicting the glories of past kings, and the gilded statues of saints and warriors screamed of the 100,000 aurums squandered here. This was wealth that could have sustained the pauper quarter for a decade.
The floors, inlaid with colored marbles from distant lands, shone underfoot, reflecting their new suns. The extravagance of it all contributed to the mocking parallel of the destruction outside. As rage boiled over me, this untouched royal excess, despite the destroyed outer wall, symbolized everything I vowed to change. I wanted to scream at Malice that I wasn’t the problem—merely a product of my circumstances. It was my father who made those choices. Why, then, was I the one being punished? But I stopped myself; screaming would solve nothing.
I walked down the corridor, listening for moans, screams, or other signs that the undead were nearby. Nothing. I moved forward, Malice whistling some mad tune. “Hey, Malice, there are three doors in this hall. You pick two, and I’ll go looking in one for treasure.”
[Oh, umm, 2 and 3… no 1!]
I rolled my eyes but headed for the first door. The flowery pattern on the door reminded me of Agatha’s room.
But it didn’t make sense—her room was from the missing Silver wing, right next to mine. Nothing was right here; all the rooms, everything about this place, was wrong.
I placed my hand on the crystal doorknob, marking it as a maid’s room, and pushed the door open. What was it Doctor Tot had told me? Gold for kings and queens, silver for royalty and guests, crystal for maids, and diamond for guards? That would probably be important to remember. —Or would it? The layout had changed; surely the door handle system had, too? The door to the basement had been none of these, so I was sure to be on the lookout.
[Are you sure you only want to clear one room? There could be treasure!]
I was sure. For now, I needed to get the lay of the land and figure out how this place worked. Not horde resources like royalty always did. There would be plenty of time for that later.
The door swung open, letting light from the hallway spill into the darkened room beyond. Although lamps lined the walls, I could tell from the doorway they would never be lit again.
“Hey, Malice,” I whispered into the oppressive darkness, “Can you do that thing where you generate light?”
He muttered something about a torch, and then a dark purple—but surprisingly bright—glow radiated from him. Stepping inside, I was overwhelmed by the stench of rotting flesh that overpowered the musty, long-unused air. The acrid smell of blood hung heavily, almost tangible.
On the ground lay a corpse, being gruesomely devoured by a limbless torso and head—a creature that had somehow managed to kill Agatha. The ghastly sight revolted me, and I vomited; the bile splashed against the inside of my helm and slid into my plate armor.
I immediately gagged again, unable to bear the sickening situation.
Driven by grim determination, I charged, my boots thudding against the hard floor, and plunged my spear deep into the zombie’s ear. The sickening squelch of decay pierced the silence of the room.
And then, I felt the tug on my boot, afraid for half a second that it would be followed by a sharp pain as a zombie bit into me. Instead, I heard a rasping sound as the ‘corpse’ spoke.
The words were a hoarse whisper, filled with pain, “Jamie. Kill… me… please… kill me.”
Nasty green veins ran up and down the woman in the purple light. I backed up until I stumbled against her dresser.
“Oh, Rellum, she’s still alive. Malice, is there anything I can do?”
[Oh, sweet! Murder her, murder her now!]
“I— I can’t do that.”
[if you don’t, she’ll turn. And you’ll still have to kill her. Besides, can you imagine how much pain she’s in? Unlike you, Penance doesn't limit what she feels. Some people believe that it even enhances sensations.] His serious tone was back, and I eyed him suspiciously.
A moment later, he continued. [Oh man, I miss pain. So much fun.]
“Jamie, please…” The woman’s eyes closed, and she started to convulse as she coughed and hacked blood from her mouth. Horrified and without thinking, I slammed my halberd straight through her heart. Her convulsions ceased abruptly, her eyes flaring open in shock.
The zombie moved forward on the halberd, reaching for me. I tried to back up, forgetting I was between my maid and a cabinet. I pushed against the halberd, trapping her against the bed. I knew what I had to do. It was the only thing that truly killed them so far. I clenched my armor-plated fists, pounding her head repeatedly. Each blow resonated through my gauntlet with a sickening thud. I thought the metal would dent or break apart until I realized that the only item that had broken so far had been the curtain rod.
I was about to talk, grateful for the distracting thought, but I was beaten to the punch by Malice exclaiming, [Baby’s first murder, oh it brings a tear to my eye. I am so proud of you. I think that deserves 10 malice points.]
I heard a sniff as if he were crying, but my own shock numbed me to anything else.
“No, I–What? I didn’t murder her; she turned, so it was…”
[No, she didn’t turn until after you attacked her,] he said, his voice dripping with true Malice. [This was a good thing. The more you kill humans, the easier it gets. Just let the rage flow through you; before you know it, Penance will be ours.]
The inky mist that always pervaded Malice’s crystalline body seemed more tangible in the purple light of the maid’s quarter.
I stared out in pain at the corpse of the Matron. A woman who was practically a second mother to me. What have I done?
[Oh! This was a matricide, was it?] Malice's voice reverberated tauntingly around the somber maid's quarters. [Now I’m even more proud! 40 Malice points!]
Now his voice was slightly higher pitched and genuine. [I will cherish this memory forever. They grow up so fast.]
Malice's words cut deeper than any blade could. How could he find joy in such horrifying and devastating circumstances? I slunk down to the ground again, staring at the corpse. Tears dripped against the metal of my helm, mingling with the earlier mess. I blinked hard, trying to stave off the overwhelming grief.
As I stared down at her still body, the reality of my actions settled like a cold weight in my chest. Was this mercy, or had I crossed a line from which there was no return? What was I going to do now? I had committed one of the seven deadly sins in Penance. The scripture lingered in my mind, a stark reminder of the sin I had just committed.
There are seven sins, the most foul, untenable vices that change the soul. Murder, the domain of beasts, the first and last of all the sins. But was this really murder? It was a mercy, right?
[C’mon, pick yourself off of the floor; we gotta go celebrate! This changes everything.] His chipper voice echoed around the room like a little kid on Rellum day.
Malice was right; this changed everything. I had ended her pain. This was a good thing, right? I decided to ignore Malice and work through my emotions on my own, but his commentary never ended.
[Ignore me all you want, mother-killer. I’ll never forget this moment. Now, don’t forget to loot her as you leave this place.] He almost sounded bitter at first, but his chipper voice was more exuberant than normal by the end.
I pulled the halberd out of her corpse. It wasn’t a very effective weapon against these monsters, but at least it kept them at bay long enough for me to crush them with my fists.
I didn’t loot her corpse. That seemed like one step too far. Instead, I knelt beside her, the cold floor numbing my knees, as I gently closed her eyes. Drawing a sheet from the bed, I covered her with care, a silent vow forming in my mind. I was determined that I wouldn’t let this moment change things. After all, it had barely been murder, right? She turned into a zombie immediately after I stabbed her. The more I thought about it, the less guilty I felt.
Yes, Everything would be fine. This wouldn't affect me at all. I left the room.
[Wait! Where are you going? The loot! Nooooooooo!]