You have successfully dominated Shael, a level 121 half-elf red minstrel. Duration: permanent until death.

Warning: you have cast enslave twice in one day and cannot recast it again today. The blood memory requires a full sleep cycle to recharge.

Releasing my grip on Shael’s shoulders, I staggered back and nearly fell. The dizziness from casting enslave was much worse this time around, and if the Game message was anything to go by, it was the blood memory itself that was responsible for my momentary wave of weakness.

This is not a spell I want to cast in the midst of battle, I thought.

“Did it work?” Shael asked.

Rubbing at my temples as I regained my equilibrium, I focused on the bard once more. “You tell me. Try attacking me.”

A second ticked by.

The bard bit his lips. “I can’t. My limbs won’t obey.”

I smiled. “Then I guess the spell’s working. How does it feel?”

“Not like I imagined it would,” Shael conceded. “I don’t feel any different.” He paused. “Except when I think of hurting you.”

I laughed. “Well, don’t think that!”

The bard smiled, but his amusement was short-lived. He was too anxious for that. “So now what?”

“I ask you a few questions, none of which you will remember after we’re done,” I replied calmly.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” I assured him. “Are you ready to begin?”

He nodded nervously.

“Good. First question: did you kill Saya?”

Shael rocked back on his heels, his expression equal parts shock and outrage. “No!”

“Did you play any part in her capture or death?” I asked, ignoring his reaction.

“No,” the bard growled from between gritted teeth.

“Do you know who took Saya?”

A momentary pause. “I thought it was Loken’s envoy, but after everything we’ve discussed, I can’t be certain anymore.”

“Fair enough. Have you met Loken?”

“No.”

“Do you work for him?”

“No.”

“Are you Loken?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

My expression did not shift or otherwise change. “Answer the question.”

The bard stared at me disbelievingly. “That was a serious question? Truly?”

I nodded curtly.

“You can rest easy then. I’m not Loken!”

“Good to know,” I said, not easing up. “Are you working for any other Power or envoy?”

“No.”

“Have you ever worked for one before?”

Shael shifted. “Well, that depends.”

My eyes narrowed. “On what?”

“On how you define ‘work,’” he replied.

“Explain.”

The bard sighed. “I’ve performed in the safe zone mansions on multiple occasions. I didn’t always know who my clients were, but I’m sure that at least some were Powers or envoys.”

I pursed my lips. “By perform, you mean musically?”

He nodded.

“What about outside of your musical performances? Did you do any other sort of work for a Power?”

“Hmm.” Shael rubbed his chin. “I did bring that message back to you from the Shadow Keep that one time. I suppose that could be considered—”

I waved dismissively. “Forget that, that was at my behest. Anything else?”

Shael shook his head. “No.”

I nodded, relaxing fractionally. Things were going well, and thus far, Shael was everything he said he was. However, now it was time to venture into murkier territory.

“Will you risk your life to save Saya’s?” I asked after a moment’s thought.

“Without hesitation,” the half-elf said.

“What about a lifetime spent on the run? Being hunted forevermore by Loken and his kind. Would you risk that?”

“I would,” Shael replied just as firmly.

I inhaled. That established how far Shael was willing to go for Saya, but what about rebelling against the established order? Would he risk that?

“What do you know of the ancients?” I asked.

The bard’s face creased in confusion. “Uh… I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Have you heard of the Primes?”

Shael cocked his head to the side. “That’s not a title I’m familiar with.”

“What about the Houses, the bloodlines, scions, or the guardians? Heard of any of them?”

He shook his head. “No. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

I exhaled. So far so good. “What if I told you that the new Powers didn’t always stand ascendant in the Kingdom, that before them, the ancients—led by their Primes—were the ones who ruled? What if I told you that I and those allied with me are determined to break the hold Loken and his kind have on the world?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

To my surprise, the bard laughed. “Well, for starters, I’d say you got your hands on the good stuff.” He chuckled again. “But if by some huge stretch, you’re not hallucinating, joking, or otherwise, pulling my leg. If you’re asking what I think you are, then yes.” His expression turned grave. “I’d join your cause if it means saving Saya.”

I eyed him speculatively. “And that would be the only reason?”

Shael hesitated as he gave the matter more serious thought. Patiently, I waited.

“I’m not one for grand causes,” he said eventually. “Living in Nexus for as many years as I have, I’ve seen lots that is… wrong with the ways things are. But I’ve never felt it my place to fix things.” His gaze rose to mine. “I suspect however that’s not the answer you were looking for. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be. Your perspective is no different from most other players in the Game. Indeed, I felt much the same way when I first started.”

“What changed you?” Shael asked quietly.

I shrugged. “Circumstances. Power.” I smiled. “Or perhaps I’m just more contrary than you are. It sticks in my craw to submit to the likes of Loken and his fellows.”

Shael grinned. “That I can understand.”

I glanced at him. “Would you follow me?”

Shael opened his mouth to reply, but I held up my hand forestalling him.

“Would you follow me even after we rescue Saya and knowing I plan on overthrowing the new Powers?”

This time the half-elf did not hesitate. “Yes.”

The last of my tension eased. “Then I guess we’ll not be parting ways, after all.”

✵ ✵ ✵

My interrogation did not end there, of course.

I plied Shael with many more questions, but they all revolved around the same topics, and in the end the bard proved to be exactly what I always thought he was: a dependable, sincere sort trying to make his own way through the Game.

“I think we’re done here,” I said, rising to my feet.

Shael studied me, a thoughtful look on his face. “That was easier than I expected.”

I chuckled. “Really? Were you expecting me to break out the torture-kit or something?”

He smiled. “When you put it like that it does sound foolish, but I’ll admit I was anticipating some degree of pain. This was… effortless.” His amusement faded. “What happens now?”

“I release you, and we go back to doing what we were before.”

“And I won’t remember anything from this conversation?”

“You won’t,” I confirmed.

“But you’ll tell me everything?” he asked worriedly. “About your allies—” his voice dropped to a whisper—“the Primes, the ancients, and all that?”

“I will,” I assured him. “But not here. Once we get to a secure location, I’ll share all the details with you.”

I’d taken a minor risk in mentioning the ancients and the Primes during my questioning. If anyone had been listening in, they would have everything they needed to brand me both a rebel and criminal. But they would have no more than that. I’d shared no specifics with Shael and wouldn’t do so until we returned to the tundra.

“The important thing,” I went on, “is that I now know I can trust you.” I squeezed the bard’s shoulder. “You ready to proceed?”

Shael squeezed his eyes shut. “Do it.”

Doing as he bade, I reached within myself and severed the blood ties keeping the half-elf bound to my will.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have freed Shael from enslavement. He is no longer dominated.

The bard’s eyes flickered, then opened.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked, throwing me a puzzled look. “Go on, charm me or do whatever it is you intend.”

I grinned. “It’s already done.”

Shael frowned. “What?”

“It’s over,” I replied. “You were bespelled for about an hour. The interrogation is done.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I confirmed.

Still looking dubious, Shael glanced downward and began patting himself down.

“You passed, by the way. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Shael muttered, not looking up.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.

“Looking for dagger holes,” he replied, only half-jokingly.

I laughed. “Well, when you’re done with that, join me. I’ve a chest to find.”

Shael looked up. “A chest?”

“Remember the money I told you about? Nicola has stashed it somewhere in this building. All I have to do is locate it.”

“Nicola,” Shael repeated. “He’s the under-dweller merchant Hugo mentioned?”

“Correct.” Pulling out the key card Nicola had given me, I held it up in the air.

“What’s that?” Shael asked, slipping closer to inspect the item.

“A soulbound key card,” I explained. “It’s supposed to warn me when I’m close to the chest. Nicola would have hidden it well.” I glanced at the corpses on the floor. “To prevent any would-be thieves from stealing its contents.”

“Nice,” the bard remarked, looking impressed. “Your merchant friend seems quite the professional.”

I nodded. “I got the feeling this is not his first blind drop. More like his hundredth.” Waving the card before me, I began circling the room.

Shael shot me a quick look as he kept step beside me. “You’re being surprisingly free with your explanations all of a sudden.”

I glanced at him. “You prefer I stay closed mouth?”

He rolled his eyes. “Please no!”

My lips twitched, but only a moment later, I grew serious again. “I told you, you passed the last test,” I said softly. “I will not withhold anything from you now.”

Shael nodded slowly. “I see that.”

Finishing my circuit of the room, I drew to a halt. “Well, wherever the chest is, it’s not here.” The key card had remained steadfastly inert in my hands the entire time.

“The next room, maybe?” Shael suggested.

“Maybe,” I agreed. Striding out the door, I made my way down the corridor. “Come on, let’s go find this thing.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Thirty minutes later, the card in my hand finally buzzed.

“It’s here,” I declared.

“Where?” Shael asked, scanning the surroundings.

We were in the half-collapsed basement of the yellow house—and the very last place I’d thought to check. Under pressure of the adjacent saltmarsh, the south-facing wall had caved in, letting in its semi-liquid sludge. Gingerly picking my way through the room, I kept my focus on the key card in my hand and did my best to ignore the ankle-high muck I was wading through.

The card’s buzzing reached a crescendo.

I drew to a halt. “It’s in there,” I said, pointing.

Shael’s gaze darted from me to the sludge heap I stood in front of. “You’re joking. Why would your merchant friend bury the chest in there?”

I didn’t blame the bard for his reaction. The heap in question looked truly revolting, and even I had a hard time stomaching the smell wafting off the delightful pile of excrement, rotting corpses and other filth that had washed in with the marsh. “I suppose because it’s the last place anyone would want to look,” I murmured.

Shael shook his head in disgust. “I take back what I said earlier. That under-dweller of yours is entirely too professional for my liking.”

I chuckled. “He could have been less… thorough,” I allowed. Opening my backpack, I retrieved my shovel.

Shael’s eyes fell on the implement in my hands. “Well, you seem to have matters under control here. I should go up and keep watch.”

I smiled. “You do that. I’ll join you soon.” Bending down, I got to digging.

✵ ✵ ✵

It took me far longer than I would’ve liked to find Nicola’s chest, but eventually, after an hour of back-breaking work, I pulled a heavy metal box out of the muck. Prudently deciding not to open the chest in the filthy basement, I dragged the box upstairs.

“You found it?” Shael asked from where he lay stretched out on the floor.

“No thanks to you,” I muttered, feeling far less charitable towards the bard now than I had earlier.

“But you only had one shovel,” Shael protested innocently.

Not deigning to dignify his statement with a response, I set the chest down and began cleaning myself.

“What’s inside?” Shael asked, chuckling unrepentantly at my lack of reaction.

“A whole lot of money,” I muttered. “Or so I hope, anyway.”

Shael scratched his head. “All of this seems like an extraordinary amount of effort to go through simply for collecting a payment. Was there a reason you and the merchant chose not to use a bank instead?”

I nodded as I finished wiping off the worst of the basement’s muck. “Banks can’t be fully trusted, and given the amounts of money involved, the transaction would undoubtedly have been flagged by someone for a deeper look.”

The bard cocked his head to the side. “How much are we talking about here?”

“A million,” I said casually as I kneeled before the sealed chest.

Shael’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“A m-million?” he gasped when he finally got it working again. “What in hells did you do to earn that much?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said with a smile. Placing the key card against the chest, I flipped it open, eager to see what lay inside.