Chamberlain Davison pointed a chubby finger at Connor. “Arrest him!” he said.

“What? On what grounds?” Connor said.

“Murder,” said The Chamberlain with a twisted smirk, “just look at the blood on your clothes! We’ve caught you red-handed.”

“This blood belongs to enemies of the city,” Connor said, “and where were the palace guards when the manor was under attack?”

“That is none of your concern, murderer,” Chamberlain Davison said, “guards seize him!”

The guards looked at one another and inched forward like they were approaching a vicious tiger.

They were covered in plate armor from the neck down and wielding longswords. All Connor had was his rapier and one working arm.

It was almost comical.

He briefly considered trying to escape through the workshop, but he couldn’t give away such an important secret to The Chamberlain of all people. Besides, how would he get out again?

Maybe he could kill one of the guards and get by? They couldn’t keep up with him with their heavy armor, but that would only make him look guilty, and make it more difficult for when Victor returned to the palace.

Right now, Davison had nothing except his position to back his outlandish accusations. If Connor attacked, it would only give the bastard more power.

Connor glared at The Chamberlain and gritted his teeth.

The attackers had to have had help getting into the palace, and who better than The Chamberlain to help them? He could’ve called away the guards, and perhaps even led them through the tunnels…

Victor had been getting in the way of his plans for years. He must have finally decided to take action.

Connor’s eyes were dark and filled with murder as he stared at The Chamberlain. How many fingernails would he have to pull before the slime cracked and told all he knew?

The guards tensed up and raised their weapons.

It was so tempting… so very tempting…

He took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to let his anger get the best of him. Without Victor, he had no voice in the palace. If he lost his temper now, he would destroy years of Victor’s hard work.

Better to go with it for now, and open the door for his uncle to discredit The Chamberlain and get rid of him for good.

Connor put on a friendly smile, erasing any trace of his dark thoughts from his face.

He would go peacefully, at least for now… the time to make The Chamberlain pay would have to come later.

“I am innocent, but I am not resisting,” he said.

The palace guards visibly relaxed, but they made no further move toward him. Connor stepped forward, and they surrounded him at a respectful distance, or as respectfully as was possible within the confines of the manor.

He should’ve known. Some of the guards might support The Chamberlain, but many would only follow his orders because they had to.

As the guards walked him past The Chamberlain, Connor looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that everyone involved in this attack is dealt with,” Connor said.

Chamberlain Davison’s eyes went wide, and he paled.

It could just have been from the edge in Connor’s voice, or the gruesome sight of him covered in blood, but Connor took it as further evidence of The Chamberlain's guilt.

“Well let’s be off shall we, lads?” Connor said loudly, hoping Adelia would hear him.

They left Victor’s office and continued down the passageway. He saw Adelia out the corner of his eye, concealed in shadow. After what he’d seen at the docks… she could probably take out the guards despite their armor, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

That would defeat the point of what he was doing. Whatever happened, he’d find a way out with less bloodshed.

He moved his fingers on his left hand. It might seem like idle fidgeting to some, but it was, in fact, the secret language used by thieves, spies, and assassins. Anyone who needed to communicate silently without anyone else the wiser.

“Do not engage. Stay hidden. Find me,” he said with his fingers.

He couldn’t turn to look at her without giving her away… he’d just have to hope she saw.

The guards escorted him out the manor and back into the storm, which was still going strong. The Chamberlain followed, no doubt to make sure Connor was locked away.

They walked through the long palace halls, and up to the doorway leading to the dungeon below. Two palace guards stood on either side. They took one look at the guards around Connor, and the smug look on The Chamberlain’s face and opened the door for them.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Flickering torches and mold adorned the stone walls of the spiraling stairwell. The guards clattered on every step down, and rats scurried away from them.

He’d almost forgotten how bad it was down here.

They reached the bottom of the long, winding staircase and two burly men wearing chainmail shirts stopped them. “Halt,” said the one on the left, “state your business.”

“I have a new prisoner for you,” The Chamberlain said.

Connor glared at the slimy cretin, and he shrank away.

Connor smirked. He was being petty, but it wasn’t like he could make it much worse.

“A new prisoner?” said one of the men. He looked closer at Connor. “Connor?” he said.

“One and the same,” Connor said.

“What’s going on?” bellowed The Warden behind the massive guards.

They stepped aside and allowed Connor, the palace guards, and The Chamberlain inside.

“They’ve brought Connor down,” said the guard, “said he’s a prisoner, sir.”

The Warden stepped forward, took one look at all of them and then glared at Chamberlain Davison. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“He is under arrest for murder on the palace grounds,” said The Chamberlain.

“Do you have any proof?” asked The Warden.

The Chamberlain puffed out his chest and furrowed his brows. “My word and the blood on his clothes is proof enough!” he snapped, “now have him locked away, or shall I tell Prince Cynric of your insolence?”

The Warden looked at The Chamberlain, then at Connor, and then back to The Chamberlain. He gritted his teeth.

“No need for that, milord,” said The Warden, “I’ll take him off your hands. Let’s get him squared away, boys.”

The palace guards stepped aside, and The Warden’s men stepped forward, covered in chain mail and each with a heavy wooden club in one hand.

“This way please,” said one of The Warden’s men.

“His weapons!” Chamberlain Davison screamed, “by the gods, man! Take his weapons!”

The Warden sighed. “Would you please hand over your weapons, Connor?” he asked. The Warden’s eyes were pleading.

Connor nodded slowly and handed over his rapier, and his more obvious knives.

He wasn’t willing to be completely defenseless if he could avoid it, even if he did sympathize.

“Right then,” The Warden said, “this way please.”

“Wait! Take his bag too. Who knows what he has in there?” The Chamberlain said.

The Warden took one look at the small bag at Connor’s waist and looked back at The Chamberlain.

“What? In that small thing?” he asked.

A vein pulsed in the chamberlain’s forehead and his nostrils flared.

The Warden sighed. “As you wish, my lord,” he said, “Connor if you’d please…”

Giving up his weapons was one thing, but the bottomless bag contained his potions and his codex. Everything that connected him to his father and to alchemy. He hesitated.

“Please, Connor,” The Warden whispered.

“What are you two whispering about? Get on with it!” snapped The Chamberlain.

Connor handed the bag to The Warden, who put it in a drawer inside his heavy, oak desk and locked it.

Connor stared at the drawer. He’d get it back soon. He had to.

“Satisfied?” asked The Warden.

“Watch your tone with me,” Chamberlain Davison said, “but it will do. Take him away.”

“This way, Connor,” The Warden said.

The Warden led Connor through a heavy iron door. How many scoundrels had he and Victor brought down through this very same door?

They walked down narrow passages lit by flickering torch flames. Shadows danced around them, and a maddened cry came from further on.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Connor said.

The Warden snorted. “I do the best I can, but the palace isn’t fond of treating prisoners with even a shred of decency,” he said, “not that I mind for some of the sick freaks…”

They reached a section that was just a long stretch of empty cells, and The Warden opened one seemingly at random.

“I think it’d be best if we kept you away from the other inmates as much as we can. We still have more than a few that you put here yourself, and I fear that if they saw you, they might get… excited,” said The Warden.

“I appreciate that,” Connor said.

The Warden turned to his guards. “Leave us,” he said.

They saluted and walked away.

The Warden turned back to Connor. “This is one of the best cells I can give you. By the best, I mean it has fewer rats, and the bed doesn’t have lice. I’ll do what I can for you until Victor gets here and puts The Chamberlain in his place… until then my hands are tied,” The Warden said.

“Victor may not be coming,” Connor said.

“He isn’t…” The Warden’s words trailed off.

“No,” Connor said, “or at least… I don’t think so. I believe he was captured or he escaped… I’m still trying to piece it all together myself.”

The Warden let out a heavy sigh. “So what the hells happened?” he asked.

Connor told The Warden about the attack at the docks, and what he found when he returned to the manor. He left out any mention of Adelia, the purpose of his presence at the docks, or anything he didn’t want The Warden to know.

The Warden was a good man, but he was honorable and not much of a liar. Although he was trustworthy, it wasn’t worth the risk of him letting something slip.

“Gods,” The Warden said, “so Davison is involved? I knew that pompous jackass wasn’t to be trusted! I’ll try to get an audience with Prince Cynric. Hopefully, we can get this all straightened out… even without Victor.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, “watch your back, Goran. The Chamberlain is making a power play, and he isn’t going to stop with Victor and I. Anyone in his way is in danger.”

“Don’t worry about me, Connor,” Warden Goran said, “I know how to handle myself.”

Connor stepped into the cell, and Goran locked it. “Try to get some rest if you can,” Goran said, “after the day you’ve had… you could use it.”

Connor sat on the straw bed in the dark cell, staring into space while he massaged his shoulder.

So much had happened so fast that he hadn’t had a chance to stop and take a breath.

Who were The Syndicate? Those rods… were they truly non-lethal? Did they want to capture Victor alive? They’d used the same ones against him and Adelia at the docks… did they want him too? Why?

The only thing he could think of was alchemy, but how could they know?

None of it made sense yet.

Perhaps it was something else… a million thoughts swirled in his mind like a tornado.

He sighed. There was so much to work through. So much to do. Goran was a good man, and he’d promised to help, but it wasn’t so easy.

Chamberlain Davison was second only to Prince Cynric in power over the city, and now, with Victor gone, he would have almost total control over the palace.

Goran was just The Warden of the palace dungeon. Getting an audience with Prince Cynric would take time if it happened at all.

Time Connor didn’t have.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his uncle, wounded and alone waiting for Connor to find him.

He curled his good hand into a fist.

He’d been a helpless child the last time his family was attacked, but this time was different. He wouldn’t give up on his family. He would find Victor, and he would make these bastards pay dearly.

He didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. Victor needed him.

Pins and needles prickled all along his arm from the shoulder to his fingers and his movement slowly started coming back. He paced the length of his cell, shaking his arm as he walked.

He needed to check the workshop. It was unlikely Victor was there, but it would still be worth checking.

Even if Victor wasn’t there, it was possible he’d escaped… if so he’d find Connor, but until then it was best to assume he was captured.

He needed to learn more about the Syndicate, and where they might be keeping Victor if they had him.

But, before any of that. He needed to escape.