Gideon and Frederick made it to the bottom of the secret staircase, winded but still alive. Axeton was struggling to maintain his grip on his volatile payload.

“I can hold it for a while,” his friend offered. Gideon nodded, and gratefully handed over the jug. He stretched and flexed his tired arms with their newfound freedom, as they stood in front of the entrance door to the storage area.

Gideon turned to Frederick. He was slightly shorter, but stocky, with dark brown hair and eyes. His arms were strong, but not long enough to hold the jug safely in one, so he cradled it against his torso with both. Those brown eyes flicked to Gideon’s belt.

“Where’s your sword?” Frederick asked.

Gideon huffed. “Back at my dorm,” he sighed. “I tried to get it, but Dorian already had a guard posted.”

He pulled out the small dining knife from his bag. “This is all I have.”

Frederick stared, then set his face in a determined glare.

“Take mine,” he ordered, gesturing his head towards the blade sheathed at his hip. “And don’t argue with me. You’re a better swordsman than I am.”

Gideon nodded, then walked to his friend, unsheathing the weapon. He studied it for a moment; Frederick came from a line of blacksmiths, and while he wasn’t the best swordsman in the Knights, he took very special care of his weapon. He had forged it himself before coming to Grenfield, and was immensely proud of it. He had never allowed anyone to touch it.

Gideon slashed a few times in the air, getting used to the weight of the blade. It was lighter than his own, but the craftsmanship was exquisite. The slightly curved steel shone in the candle his friend had carried down.

“Take good care of her,” Frederick asked, knowing full well that Gideon would.

He nodded, then opened the door to the storage. There was no indication of recent activity, and none of the sconces along the walls were lit. The pair made their way through the dusty labyrinth of underground tunnels. Dorian had chosen the headquarters for this exact purpose; anyone who didn’t know the way would undoubtedly become lost.

Time seemed to drag for the pair as they slowly and methodically made their way through the tunnels. Checking every corner, keeping as quiet as possible, constantly being on guard. It was exhausting for both of them, and the gravity of the whole situation with the Knights was beginning to take its toll as Gideon couldn’t shake the overwhelming anxiety.

Suddenly, the tunnels became pitch black as the candle Gideon was holding burned down, burning his hand and causing him to drop it. He swore, feeling around in the dark for it. He heard shuffling behind him.

“Fred!” Gideon called out into the expanse. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright!” his friend called back. “I put down the jar to check my pockets for any more candles. You need another one?”

Gideon found the one he had dropped. It was too small to be of any use.

“Looks like it,” he replied. He walked over to where he last saw his friend, and took the new candle from his outstretched hand. He lit it, and continued through the maze.

Gideon was glad to have been right about Dorian, he had spread the Knights too thin and the headquarters was deserted when they arrived. The lanterns and sconces were still lit, but based on how far they had burned down, the place had been clear for hours.

Frederick placed the jar onto the rug in the center of the room, then stretched in relief. “Looks like the coast is clear,” he mused, looking around.

“Yeah, seems like it,” Gideon responded. Give me a minute, I need to grab something.”

“Sure,” his friend replied. “I’ll be here.”

Gideon ran to Dorian’s office, and after picking the lock with his knife, made a beeline straight to the bookshelf. He found the blue tome his master had showed him earlier that day and stared at it in his hands. The student took one last look around his master’s office. He remembered the day he was first brought there; he had only been at Grenfield for a few weeks, but was escorted to the secret base because Dorian “saw so much potential”.

“What a crock,” Gideon said, the office looked innocent to anyone who didn’t know Dorian, but he knew that all the subterfuge, murders, and back alley deals were orchestrated right here. It made Gideon sick to his stomach thinking that at one point, he looked up to Dorian and wanted this place to be his home forever.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

This treasure doesn’t deserve to be in his hands, or go up in smoke, Gideon thought, placing the book into his bag.

He made his way back to the central room, where Frederick was standing, still near the jar.

“Got what you came for?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Gideon replied. “Let’s burn this hole to the ground.”

Frederick smirked, then saluted his friend and popped the cork from the mouth of the jar. He walked around, pouring the clear, potent alcohol onto every nearby surface nearby.

“Do you know the secret back entrance?” he asked, as he finished spreading the last drops onto the carpet.

“Yep,” Gideon replied. Dorian had built it shortly after acquiring the space; a stone door pivoted at the back of the main hall, which led straight outside. “In case of emergencies,” he had told the Knights.

Frederick took a lantern from the wall, holding it over the fuel-soaked carpet. After the nod from Gideon, he dropped it.

And the flame died out.

Gideon stared at the floor, then at his friend, before realizing. I can’t smell the alcohol.

“Water,” Frederick answered. “Just water.”

Gideon dove into his memory, retracing his steps back to the kitchen. “But…I got it from the kitchens myself. Fred, what are you doing?!”

Frederick shook his head. “I couldn’t let you destroy this place, Gideon. So I switched the alcohol with water. For the good of the Knights. You used to know better.”

“When did you do this?” Gideon demanded, still in shock.

“When you went into my office, just before I killed Frederick”, came the response.

A dark mist formed around the man, then dissolved to leave Bernhard Dorian standing in his place.

Gideon paled. “...Master. You…killed Fred,” he stammered.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Dorian replied, picking up a sword from the decorative pieces on the wall nearby. “I knew you would come down here, and that you’d go after my book…” his eyes narrowed to Gideon’s bag.

“I also knew that if you felt that anything was off, you’d bolt before I could get a chance to take it from you,” he continued. “Such a waste. I had a notion that Usher would betray me, so I told him to wait for you at the library.”

Gideon’s mind clicked into place. “That’s why he was there. You knew he would help me get down here. Why not just kill me in the library instead?” he spurted, getting angry.

Dorian chuckled. “One, it would have been too messy. Adame would have seen, so I would have had to silence her, then clean that up, then kill anyone else who may have seen…you get it,” he rambled.

“Two…well, I made a bargain. A new Gift, and a new emotion to go with it,” he added, his voice becoming more sinister.

“To use the Gift of Deception, the power and emotion tied to it must be strong. Cruelty. Making you feel that hopeless despair, painted on your face right now…it makes it that much easier to deceive,” he mused, taking steps towards Gideon. “Just give me the book, and I’ll end you quickly.”

Gideon’s eyes darted, bringing his dead friend’s sword up in defense, knowing full well that he could never best his master in combat. Suddenly, he felt a table behind him; he must have subconsciously backed into it. He looked back with a flash, then again towards Dorian.

“I can’t stop you,” Gideon glared at his former master. “But I can take your map away.”

The student reached behind him, grabbing the lit lantern on the table, and whipped it against the nearby corner of the room. It landed on an old couch next to a shelf full of scrolls and books, and exploded. The items caught aflame almost instantly, and while Dorian took another step forward, Gideon ran to the stone door and opened it, letting in a gush of fresh air.

The new oxygen caused a backdraft explosion, the fire roaring outward. The heat seared Gideon’s face, then pulled back slightly while the heart of the fire continued to spread.

Dorian whipped his sword forward, then sprinted towards his old student, his face full of hardened resolve. Through the smoke, Gideon could see the flames glinting off the steel of his master’s blade as it came ever closer.

Gideon plunged his hand into his bag and fished out the blue book, holding it out in front of him as Dorian came to within a few feet. His master’s eyes widened as he saw the book, then he screamed as Gideon hurled it towards the flame. Dorian pivoted instantly and dove towards the book.

Not wasting the precious seconds, Gideon ran through the opened stone door, into the warm afternoon air. He glanced back for a moment, smoke billowing from the fire ravaging the headquarters of the Knights of the Silver Moon. He knew Dorian would survive the fire and assemble Knights to come after him. His old life was over, although he did his best to save it.

Gideon stumbled through the rest of the school grounds, which had become abandoned due to the tall pillar of greasy smoke that seeped up through the stone foundation and turned every classroom above it into a choking haze. Thankfully, the combat areas outside had been cleared, since those would most likely be crawling with Knights of the Silver Moon.

He took a moment to catch his breath under the shade of an old tree, then realized he was still gripping his friend’s sword in his right hand. He looked at the weapon one more time, taking in all the detail and care that Frederick had forged into it. The overall sweeping flow of its shape, the razor sharp edge that came to a satisfying, deadly tip. It was cleaned and oiled meticulously, and Gideon knew that while he needed a weapon to survive, he couldn’t take this one. It was too painful to think of his friend’s death, and there was no way he could fight effectively with it, with such a heavy emotional burden.

Gideon pulled his arm back, and with tears in his eyes, stabbed the sword as high up the trunk of the old tree as he could reach. Of course, it didn’t shatter or bend; he knew it wouldn’t. His friend, and the honor and bravery that he represented, remained in the tree as Gideon ran into the nearby woods, leaving Grenfield behind forever.