The ensuing days carried an air of strangeness for Bruno. Bereft of his usual lessons, he found himself with ample time on his hands, which he predominantly spent scrutinizing, in his head, the intricate patterns of the protective spells adorning the door to Mamun's laboratory. Later, in the alchemy room, he would conduct experiments, meticulously preparing the next batch of elixirs necessary for his ongoing treatment. The objective was clear: to discover a means of unlocking that accursed chamber.
However, lacking any further guidance from the old man and with time slipping away, the task proved arduous to the extreme.
One day, while the old man was still present, during their routine run, Mamadou slowed his pace ever so slightly.
"The hideout is ready. I've written down directions for you," the man disclosed, swiftly slipping a piece of paper into Bruno's pocket. "Study it, memorize, and dispose of it."
"Good work," responded the young alchemist. "I suppose we should establish a signal, in case I, let's say…"
He pondered those rare moments of respite he once enjoyed back in his previous life.
"Let's say... happen to leave this place," he continued, only to feel a tingling sensation on his neck from the collar, a reminder of its power. "We should have a way for you to know. Something that would reach you even in The Hole. Something significant... Let's say a fire."
Mamadou emitted a contemptuous snort before accelerating, returning to the forefront of the group.
From that day onward, an increased number of maids began appearing sporadically in the underground corridors. It was evident that they were keeping a watchful eye on him, but there was little Bruno could do other than exercise greater caution.
He ceased toying with the padlocks, not solely because he had exhausted his ability to glean knowledge from unlocking them but also due to the heightened risk involved. Consequently, these objects remained concealed, mingling with his alchemical ingredients.
In the meantime, the old man seemed to be perpetually pressed for time. The majority of his days were spent away from the estate, and upon his return, he would sequester himself either in the laboratory or his subterranean office.
Bruno observed him intently, desperate to uncover the nature of Mamun's activities, but the archmage was a master of secrecy. One thing became abundantly clear to the young boy: it must be something of tremendous importance, as the old man even refrained from engaging in intimate encounters with the maids.
Then, on one fateful day, as the young alchemist lay on his bed, consumed by thoughts of the protective magic encasing the accursed door, an intruder stealthily entered his room. He jolted upright, instantly recognizing the figure before him—it was Mamun himself.
"What is it?" the boy asked immediately.
"For you, it's nothing of great importance, but for me, it's quite dire. I need to leave for a few weeks to prepare something very, very crucial. I've been planning it for months and even postponed it to observe your treatment, but now you're in your final days, and I believe you've learned enough. There's no need to delay any further. As you may have noticed, I've been working tirelessly these past few days, but my efforts can only go so far from here. So, as I said, I need to leave," he explained. "And without me here to watch over you, I can't allow you to roam outside the estate. Therefore, I'm canceling your morning exercise sessions for now."
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Bruno nodded slowly.
"I understand," he said.
The old man appeared surprised. His eyebrows crept up his wrinkled forehead.
"You're not protesting? That's quite…"
"I've learned my place," the boy interjected, cutting off Mamun before he could finish his sentence. "I won't deny that I'm not angry about it, but ultimately, it's your decision, and I can't change your mind. So, may I go to sleep now?" Bruno made sure to infuse his voice with a strong hint of anger.
The old man chuckled in response.
"You may be remarkably intelligent, but your age does show at times. Yes, you may go to sleep," he said. "Just ensure that you spend your free time focusing on creating more elixirs. Your treatment may be coming to an end, but there will be plenty more to come afterward."
Bruno listened attentively, even as the door closed behind the archmage, checking to see if he would walk away or linger. He didn't have to wait long to detect the faint sound of footsteps receding into the distance.
‘So the sand started to flow,’ Bruno thought to himself. But instead of surrendering to sleep, as he claimed he would, he returned to his ruminations on the magic safeguarding the underground laboratory.
With Mamun gone, it was the sole obstacle standing in Bruno's path. Mamadou had already sent the message and prepared the hideout. That should be sufficient to await the arrival of the ship. Even if they were eventually discovered, the city was large enough for them to elude capture until they could escape to the safety of the sea.
Engaging in such intrusive thoughts required finesse of the mind, and Bruno had become rather adept at it, causing the collar to merely induce a tingling sensation on his neck. Yet, the danger lingered, as a single misstep could end his life.
He swiftly put an end to such musings, focusing solely on deciphering the protective patterns and searching for a way to dismantle them. Occasionally, he would wave his fingers in the air, experimenting with his newfound powers and attempting various techniques in the hopes of breaking through the door or at least moving closer to the desired outcome. However, every attempt proved futile.
After a few hours, deep into the night, weariness washed over him, and he succumbed to sleep.
Upon awakening, he found the old man absent, and the maids had multiplied, appearing in every corner. Some were suddenly seized with the task of sweeping the underground corridors, while others incessantly pestered him with trivial questions and inquiries about his needs.
It became glaringly obvious that Mamun had ordered them to keep a watchful eye on his every move. The only respite he found was in his alchemy room, where they refrained from bothering him while he worked on the elixirs.
It was evident that the old man was assembling an army of mages, driven by a clear objective—to restore the kingdom. However, Bruno remained uncertain of the true implications. One thing he was certain of, though, was his desire to not be around long enough to find out.
To dispel any suspicions, he first initiated the necessary processes for producing the elixirs, then seamlessly switched back to analyzing the protective magic. He would pause only if the processes required his intervention, and once resolved, he would resume his study.
In this manner, even if someone were to enter, nothing would seem out of the ordinary.
He juggled his work with audacity, paying little mind to the maids, aware that their lack of knowledge in the arcane arts would prevent them from noticing anything amiss. All he needed to deceive them was to ensure that the alchemical work appeared to be progressing.
As time passed, days melded together, repeating in a seemingly endless loop.