The pair followed the short steps up into an adjoining kitchen and swiftly closed the door to muffle the cries coming from within the locked ale barrel. Holsley now sported a tight-fitting uniform — tight because it was draped over his other clothes.

The room smelled gorgeous, rich in the scents of herbs, spices, meats, and a thousand tantalising meals recently cooked in the five or so impressive-looking ovens. Just sniffing the air made their stomachs whine, and it almost made up for how insanely warm the kitchen was.

Holsley was sweating like crazy.

They needed a plan. Based on what they had gathered from Jayson and their knowledge of how the keep operated, the pair would need to head to the top floor without arousing suspicion and steal the rapier from under Love’s nose.

‘Look at this.’ Roland had gone a little ahead. Fortunately, the kitchen was empty in the late evening, but that hadn’t stopped an order from coming in. Roland plucked a written receipt off the shelf and read it aloud. ‘One pheasant; cooked medium. Sauce on the side. Potatoes, beans, and carrots. One wine goblet filled with Gem’s Feast. Swift cooking time, intended for her ladyship.’

‘That’s why Jayson came down to the barrels then,’ said Holsley. ‘He was retrieving the wine.’

‘What?’

‘Gem’s Feast.’ Holsley tapped the name on the ticket. ‘That’s a kind of elvish wine.’

Roland was about to query how Holsley knew that when they suddenly heard a jaunty whistle. The rogue ducked behind the counter, entirely out of sight, while Holsley remained where he was, blind-sighted by the approach of a stranger.

The chef, for that’s what the big hat told Holsley he was, came into the kitchen through one of the doors and approached one of the ovens. Holsley hadn’t even noticed the lambent glow of fire emanating from the edges of the cast-iron stove. The chef moved past him, barely acknowledging his existence, to don some gloves and check on the meal inside, which, Holsley noticed, looked like a roasting bird.

‘That’s done,’ the chef chimed. He was a well-shaven human with a gut that told Holsley that he probably enjoyed his own meals. ‘Her Ladyship was still hungry, so she asked that we reheat something for—’ He turned to Holsley suddenly and gave the bard a suspicious eye. ‘Who are you?’

‘Uh, I’m the new…kitchen boy.’ Holsley gulped. ‘The other one, Jayson, caught the ick and had to be—'

‘New kitchen boy?’ The chef replied, astonished. ‘I wasn’t told about any new kitchen boy?’

‘Oh, uh, I was hired this morning.’ Holsley leaned in to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I was told the new guy wasn’t working out. Kept messing up deliveries.’

‘Did Sam hire you?’

‘Yup, good old Sam.’ Holsley leaned on the nearest counter. ‘He said I was the only person for the job.’

‘Sam’s a woman?’

‘Yeah, she, sorry, it’s, uh, hard to tell when people are wearing the uniforms.’

The chef gave him another suspicious glare. Holsley replied with a sheepish smile. Eventually, he relented, returning to the meal and shrugging his shoulders.

‘Well, I suppose it’s better than none. What’s your name, new kitchen boy?’

‘Holsley,’ replied Holsley.

He heard Roland slap his forehead.

‘Do you know how to deliver?’ he asked.

‘Uh, I know how to make lamb, chicken, and beef?’

‘What?’ The chef replied, once again astonished. ‘No! Not do liver, de-liver? Take the meals upstairs? Have they trained you on that yet?’

Holsley heard a harsh whisper from around the corner of the cabinet, begging him to say yes.

‘Yes,’ Holsley said finally, shooting him a finger gun. ‘You bet.’

‘Good.’ The chef took the bird out of the oven, grabbed a sharp knife, and expertly began cutting it into pieces and carefully curating a nearby plate. ‘This is Her Ladyship’s pheasant. You will take this to her promptly. If you were paying attention during orientation, you’ll know the way. It’s the big dining hall. Do you know it?’

‘Of course.’ Holsley grinned with his teeth. ‘No problemo.’

The chef pulled a nearby wooden trolly and started moving the bird over to it. As soon as the meal was plated and looking exceedingly extravagant, he covered it with a silver platter and sat the wine next to it.

‘Some advice,’ he said as he handed the trolley's handles over to Holsley. ‘Don’t dawdle. Don’t speak to Her Ladyship unless she speaks to you. Don’t eat any of the food. The last kitchen boy ended up in the dungeons because of that, while every other was excused from the position for failing the other two. Do you understand me?’

Holsley nodded quickly.

‘I’m going back to bed.’ The chef yawned. ‘Good luck. Oh, and please give my regards to the elevator doorman. They don’t get paid enough.’

Roland waited until the coast was clear before he emerged from behind the counter. The chef was gone, but they couldn’t tell if he had left the kitchen or was simply milling around in other parts of it. The kitchens were huge, and doors divided it into subsections. The pair assumed he had a living space in the back and opted to be quick about the next part of their plan.

‘Yeah, this’ll work just fine,’ Roland said, approaching the trolley. He had pulled back the cloth and peered beneath. There was just enough room for him to fit inside. He straightened up and turned his attention to Holsley. ‘Here’s the plan, Holly. I’m going to hide inside the trolley while you escort Love’s meal to her.’

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

‘Okay, sounds good so far.’

‘Once we find her, I’ll know if she has the rapier,’ he continued. ‘If she does, we steal it.’

‘If she doesn’t?’

‘I take her hostage.’

Holsley choked. ‘Uh, excuse me?’

‘I sneak up behind her, hold a dagger to her throat, and we hold her captive until she tells her where the rapier is.’

‘Right,’ said Holsley. ‘Let’s put a pin in that idea. I’m not sure that’s going to work out for us.’

Roland shrugged. ‘Let’s just wing it then.’

‘I mean, it’s what we’re best at.’

Roland squirrelled himself inside the trolley and brought Holsley’s lute with him. Holsley took a final look to ensure the rogue was hidden, and when he was satisfied, they continued to the next part of their sporadic plan.

It turned out the elevator Jayson mentioned was not too far away, just on the other end of the kitchen. Essentially, it was just a big dumb waiter. It wasn’t as fancy as the big elevator going down to the docks, and there was no magic involved, but it still provided a convenient way up and down from the kitchens to the very top of the keep.

In short, it was a lucky find.

Holsley approached it with more than a little trepidation.

One of the houseguards was standing beside the wooden slats. The tiefling looked impatient at his approach. She eyed him. Almost reluctantly, she opened the slats to allow him inside. There was barely any room, and he had to squeeze into the tight space.

‘Hold on,’ she told him. There was a winch next to the elevator door. She took hold of it and began to turn it. With each crank, the elevator moved upwards. Higher and higher, but slowly. Holsley could now see why a house guard was positioned next to the elevator, anyone less in strength, and the device probably wouldn’t budge.

Holsley and Roland reached the top in no less than two minutes later. With a cautious glance to make sure they were on the right floor, Holsley stepped out and followed the corridor. The décor here was lavish, to say the least. The paintings depicted extravagant battles in mid-motion and various objects, like bowls of fruit in pastel colours that seemed so real you could pluck them from the illustrations.

Holsley couldn’t help but stare.

‘Is the coast clear?’ Roland asked from within his hiding spot.

‘Yeah,’ Holsley whispered back. ‘There’s no one up here.’

Roland ducked out and stretched his legs. The corridor stretched out before them in both directions with ornate doors to large rooms standing at an interval of every twenty feet or so. Together, they passed under sparkling chandeliers and by side tables with vases full of vivid flowers, along with literal suits of armour, stood at attention and marble busts of what must have been important people.

Giving in to his basic desire, Roland snatched up the plate of pheasant and dug hungrily into a drumstick.

‘Any good?’ Holsley asked.

‘It’s good.’ Roland offered the young bard the other drumstick, and he devoured it. ‘That chef certainly knew what he was doing. Perfectly seasoned.’

The pair spent the next twenty or so minutes navigating the various corridors that made up the top floor of the keep. They passed by rooms, sometimes other guards on patrol, and places marked by plaques on the doors. One such place, Holsley noted, was a library, though it was down a short set of stairs and inaccessible by trolley.

They turned the next corner and almost choked on what they found.

The décor took a turn for the worst. There were still paintings in this extravagant hallway, as was the case with the other hallways they had passed, but these were portraits in a state of distress. They had once depicted tieflings, as was evidenced by what was left of them, but at some point, they had all been vandalised.

There were perhaps a hundred different portraits with no rhyme or reason as to how they had been hanged, and each one had been aggressively torn from one side to the other, removing half of the painting. Although the pattern was different on each, the rip always removed the eyes and much of the face. That wasn’t all, either. In addition, a single word was sprawled in ink between the blank space the rip had created.

‘Betrayer. Greedy. Stupid. Coward.’ Holsley read a few of them aloud. ‘What in the name of good is this? Why would anyone have this on their walls?’

‘I’m not sure, but they’re all Ravenpeaks,’ Roland said, moving to one of the portraits. He tapped at the plaque fitted below the frame. ‘Some of them are dead, while others, I guess, are still kicking. It’s like a twisted wall of shame.’

Towards the end of the hallway, they arrived at a tiefling portrait they recognised. The stern face, the tight jaw, the overextended manner. It was Kythos, but a younger Kythos, a prouder Kythos. In this light, he looked downright gallant, adorned in rather decorative armour with his chest proudly out.

From what they could see, his was one of only two paintings that had not been defiled. The other was of a regal-looking Ravenpeak that neither of them had ever seen before. He had ram-like horns and a proud chin, and the plaque named him Chariot Ravenpeak.

‘Wanna draw on Kythos’s painting?’ Holsley giggled as he withdrew Merhim’s paintbrush.

‘Did you take that from the gnome?’ Roland asked.

‘He let me borrow it to keep your hair black,’ replied Holsley, wagging it before the rogue’s eyes. ‘Wanna see what he looks like with a curly moustache and acne?’

Roland nodded.

By the time they were finished with him, Kythos was half-blind with an eye patch, as pimply as a teen, missing several teeth and apparently stunk up something rotten by the way the stink lines wiggled out from his clothes. They grinned to see him like this and couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of him discovering their masterpiece.

Roland backed away and was immediately drawn to another portrait he hadn’t seen at first glance. This one was different to the others, and he could tell that immediately because, unlike the others, it was covered with a dusty sheet that had the word TRAITOR dashed across it.

With one eyebrow raised, he withdrew the sheet and beheld the portrait beneath. It was of a tiefling woman, and he couldn’t help but feel like he had seen her before.

‘Check this out, Holly,’ said Roland. ‘Another one that hasn’t been ripped but was covered with a sheet. Does she look familiar to you?’

‘No?’ Holsley leaned forward to read the plaque. ‘Tallhi Ravenpeak. Hmm? Do you want to give her a moustache?’

Roland’s quick hand slapped the paintbrush out of his hand.

He stared intently at the painting, taking in the details, trying desperately to remember where he had seen this person before. She was certainly different to the others. First, they all had blue skin while she sported pink. The others also all wore stern faces and rocky expressions, while her demeanour was joyful and excited. He could see the fangs that made up her sweet-tooth grin and the pink curls that made her bashful face seem a little too geeky.

‘I swear I’ve seen her before.’

‘You couldn’t have,’ Holsley replied, tapping the plaque. ‘It says she died fifteen years ago. You were, what, two when that happened?’

‘Hmmm,’ was all Roland could reply.

A clank of metal. Guards marching towards the next corner. Suddenly, Holsley was standing alone in the corridor and knew that Roland had slithered back inside the trolley in the time it had taken him to blink.

Two tieflings rounded the corner and immediately met Holsley’s eyes. House guards, he knew. Holsley hadn’t had much time to do anything, but he had managed to cover the half-eaten food with the platter and was now slowly pushing the trolley forward.

‘Halt servant!’ The guards approached and narrowed their gazes upon him, but neither was close to hefting their maces yet. ‘Her Ladyship has been expecting her meal for some time.’

‘Sorry.’ Holsley gave them a little bow. ‘I’m new to the kitchens, and I got a little bit turned around.’

‘This does not reflect well on you, boy.’

Boy?

‘We’ll escort you,’ the other guard said. ‘Just be quick to follow us and learn the route for next time. Her ladyship has very little patience for incompetence.’

Holsley didn’t answer. He merely bowed again.

With no other real choice, Holsley followed these strangers. He didn’t see a reason not to. After all, Love Ravenpeak was precisely who they were trying to get to, but something else concerned him deeply.

What would she say when she discovered that her dinner was half devoured?