The dining room of Skole's house, now lit dimly by the wrought iron lanterns along the walls, had been transformed into an interrogation room. Two guards stood by the doorway, their heavy-lidded faces crinkled in obvious annoyance for having been summoned for duty this late into the night. Like most of the guards, they wore leather armor and a surcoat bearing the insignia of Brix: four gold pickaxes against a sable background, to either side of a vertical purple stripe. Both of the surly large men held spears, as well as the all-too-familiar clubs hanging around their waists.

  At the table sat both Alby and the wizard Aldor.

  The latter lounged in a chair at the foot of the table, looking very pleased with himself. The man had a broad forehead, accentuated by a high, receding hairline. He kept the back of his brown hair long, however, and it cascaded down around his shoulders like a curtain. Candlelight gleamed in his eyes, casting angular shadows under his sharp cheekbones. He wore typical mage's robes, deep red in color. The shoulder pads pointed up, giving him a prickly appearance.

  Above the tabletop, Aldor’s fingers were moving slowly in strange, repetitive motions. He was in the middle of casting, tying invisible strings of magic together in some kind of continuous spell. Though there was no sound or glowing tendrils of magic to go by, all it took was one look at Alby to figure out what kind of spell the wizard was weaving.

  Halfway down the table, Alby sat unnaturally still, rigid like a board. His eyes bulged, looking this way and that. His lips twitched—as if he were trying to say something, but had no control over his own mouth. At his side, his thin arms hung limp and unmoving.

  Aldor motioned to the seat beside Alby.

  Max obliged without protest. He could read a room. At this point, it was probably best to cooperate with his captors. Alby didn't exactly look...

  Well, comfortable.

  “Your friend tried to yell and run,” came the wizard’s thin, haughty voice. “I silenced and bound him. Try anything, I’ll gladly do the same to you.”

  “Employing a wizard who specializes in crowd control was the best decision I ever made,” explained Skole, who had taken a seat of his own at the head of the table. “Restraining a couple of low-levels like yourselves are hardly sweat-breaking for him.”

  Aldor inclined his head forward in acknowledgment.

  “How did you know?” asked Max.

  “Did you really think I just leave my home unprotected?" The proprietor waved a meaty hand in dismissal. "There are enchantments woven around every window and door. Once again, compliments of Aldor.”

  Inwardly, Max cursed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d heard of notification spells before. There were a variety of applications, but their main feature was sending a notification to the caster, wherever they were—even in the real world. It made complete sense. Why hadn’t he considered that?

  “Still, I admit I am somewhat impressed,” Skole continued. “It’s been years since someone has tried to steal directly from me. Out of all the rats in this camp, I was surprised to find you two.”

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

  “Can’t judge scrolls by the cut of their ribbons,” said Aldor, hands still moving lazily.

  “Very true, but very unfortunate. I hate losing trained labor. Oh well. Not all investments pan out.”

  “It was all my fault!” Max blurted. The way Skole was speaking... it sent a chill up his spine. He opened his inventory, took out the lootbag and dropped the heavy sack on the table. “It won’t happen again, okay? You can have all your stuff back. Just don’t kill us.”

  Skole laughed, this time in genuine amusement. “I can have all my stuff back? Such a gracious thief!”

  “I know, I’m stupid.” Max’s mind raced. How could he get himself and Alby out of trouble? What did he have to trade? “Look, we’ll work for free! You can take all our profits for a month."

  “A tempting offer. However, I understand you are one of our least productive miners, no? And now that you’ve been in my house uninvited, I feel violated. Tell me, how can I bring myself to trust you again?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything?” Skole placed his chin in the crook of his hands and rubbed his beard. He frowned. “Are you sure? Don’t offer me something you don’t know you can do. That would be irresponsible. I hate irresponsibility.”

  “Anything,” Max pleaded. “Please.”

  “Okay.” Skole produced a dagger from within his sleeve—a long, vile looking thing, inlaid with silver and etched with runes along its curved edge. He tossed it onto the table, where it clattered and came to rest right in front of Max. “This is my favorite dagger. She’s been thirsty for so long, ever since I gave up adventuring. She been begging for a good, long drink. Will you give her one?”

  “Wh—what do you mean?”

  Skole pointed a thick finger towards Alby, who was still stiff as rock. “This is your friend, right? I’m told you two talk often. In the tavern, in the mines, chatting when you should be working.” The proprietor’s grin dripped with venom. “Stick that dagger in his heart.”

  Behind them, the two guards chuckled. They were enjoying this.

  “Prove to me I can trust you. Maybe I will let you stay on,” said Skole.

  Max hesitated, looking from the dagger to Skole.

  “Someone has to pay. Is it going to be him? You? Maybe both of you?”

  Max crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair. He’d rather die than give Skole and the others in the room their morbid spectacle. All they knew were relationships of power. Well, friendship still meant something to Max. He sensed Alby beside him, trembling against the wizard’s magical bindings.

  The proprietor too noticed Alby’s strained face. “It looks like your friend has something to say,” he said. “Perhaps he will take me up on my very generous offer?”

  At a nod from Skole, Aldor altered the movement of his hands.

  Next to Max, Alby shook his head, as if clearing his mind of the spell’s influence. The boy took a deep breath, fixed his eyes on the proprietor, and shouted—

  “FUCK YOU!”

  Aldor was quick. His hands shifted rapidly and Alby fell back into his chair, fully immobilized once again.

  Skole chuckled. “If there’s one thing I respect about you bottom-feeders, it’s that you know how to stick together. Like rats.” The big man stood up. “You know, I don’t blame you. Really. But at least now its clear neither of you can be trusted.”

  The proprietor gave Aldor a look, and suddenly Max found himself mute like Alby, unable to utter a single word in protest. He tried to move his feet, his arms, anything, but it was like they were fixed in cement. He couldn’t move at all, despite how much he strained.

  “A shame, turnover has been high lately. Wonder why that is,” Skole said. He pushed back his chair. “I’m going back to bed. Aldor, take them out through the small gate, into the forest. I don’t want the other workers to know anything. They might get certain… ideas.”

  The wizard bowed. “Of course. I’ll make sure to recover your possessions from the difficult one.”

  Max wanted to scream, to flail around, but there was nothing he could do. Both he and Alby were powerless. They were much too weak, and Aldor’s binding spells were unshakable. The guards grabbed them by the backs of their shirts and the next thing Max knew, he was facing the ground, being dragged along the floor...

  As easy as a sack of gems.