Grand Game 209: Why Won’t They Stop? (Patreon)

Day Five

I awoke to a loud bang.

Sitting up, but making no move to leave the warmth of the bed, I rubbed my eyes. What time was it? Checking the state of my mental concealment ward, I saw that little over six hours had passed.

It’s too damn early, that’s what, I thought grouchily.

A fist hammered on the door again.

Who is disturbing me at this hour?

“Open up!” a voice barked. “If you don’t unlock this door right this instant, I’ll bloody well kick it in!”

From the sounds of it, I had a knight at the door, and he seemed to be in a fine mood too. Slipping off the bed, I yanked open the door just as the player was about to pound on it again.

My early-morning visitor stumbled forward and nearly fell but caught himself in time. “Who’re you?” I asked before he could get a word in.

“Teg,” the knight replied. Straightening, he glared at me. “What took you so long?”

I folded my arms. “I was sleeping. Now, explain yourself. Why are you disturbing me at this ungodly hour?”

“The knight-captain wants to see you,” he responded curtly.

I stayed where I was. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good, not if the citadel’s commander wanted to see me. “Why?”

“Come with me and find out for yourself!” Teg growled.

My lips tightened and I contemplated refusing.

The knight jerked his thumb behind him. “If you resist, we’ll be only too pleased to drag you to him,” he said, eyes gleaming at the idea.

My gaze skipped over Teg to the squad of soldiers at his back. “Alright,” I conceded. “I’ll come.”

~~~

The soldiers led me upwards and not down to the foyer as I expected.

Eventually, my escort came to a halt outside a steel door in what had to be the highest floor of the castle. At our appearance, the knight on guard slipped into the room beyond.

Five long minutes dragged by, and still the guard did not reemerge.

Despite the urgency of my summons, it seemed I was to be kept waiting. I turned to Teg. “Where are we?”

He appeared disinclined to answer, but humored me, nonetheless. “Captain’s office,” he said in a clipped tone.

I nodded thoughtfully as I tried to puzzle out the reason for the odd summons. I didn’t know the knight-captain, and as far as I knew, he knew nothing of me either. Why would he want to see me?

The door was yanked back, and the guard waved me inside. “Knight-captain Orlon will see you now.”

I strode forward. Teg stepped forward too, but his fellow’s  hard stare stopped him. “Not you.” His gaze back darted to me. “Him only. Alone.”

Slipping past both knights, I entered the room, eager to discover what was going on. The door closed shut behind me, leaving me alone with the room’s two occupants.

One I knew. It was Constable Richter. The other was a large, bearded man—Knight-captain Orlon, I presumed. Even at this early hour, he was fully armored. His gleaming breastplate was proudly adorned with the Triumvirate’s insignia, and below it were other markings that denoted his rank and office.

“So. You are the one,” Orlon said, fixing his gaze on me with hawklike intensity.

Ignoring the cryptic comment, I nodded in greeting to the constable before turning back to the knight-captain. “I’m Michael.” I held out my hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The bearded knight snorted. “This is no time for pleasantries boy,” he said, ignoring my outstretched arm. “We’ve mantises on our door baying for blood.”

Alarm flickered through me, but I let no sign of it show on my face as I lowered my hand. At least the reason behind my summons was apparent now. What was unclear, though, was how the assassins had found me. I’d carried no scent trail into the citadel, and I had been shielded the entire time I’d been here, even while asleep.

“What, nothing to say for yourself?” Orlon demanded.

I met his gaze, my own expression bland. “Don’t tell me you woke me this early for a pair of mantises? Surely the mighty Triumvirate knights are not scared of—”

The knight-captain barked out in laughter. “Stow the attitude,” he growled a moment later. “I’ve not the time for it.”

“And it’s not a pair of mantises,” Richter said, speaking softly for the first time.

I turned the constable’s way. “Oh?” Did just the one assassin come hunting me this time? But if that were the case, why did Orlon look so troubled? Because despite the knight-captain’s prickly air, I could smell the worry lurking beneath.

“There are five dozen mantises outside the citadel,” the constable said, the tremble in his words betraying that he, too, was unnerved.

My eyes grew round. “Five dozen?”

“And those are only the ones we can see,” Richter added. “There must be many more hidden in the shadows.”

I said nothing, still struck mute by the magnitude of the disaster I was facing. Not in my most pessimistic moments had I imagined the mantises would escalate matters so quickly. And all for what, killing Wengulax and Gintalush?

I shook my head in disbelief.

Orlon chuckled suddenly, and I looked at him in surprise. In the face of my own concern, the knight-captain’s worries had evaporated.

“Not so blasé about it now, are you?” he quipped.

I didn’t dignify that with a response. “When did they arrive?” I asked Richter.

“An hour ago,” the constable answered.

I began pacing. “And you’re certain it’s me they’re after?”

Richter’s brows creased in confusion. “Who else could they be looking for?”

That was true enough. I drew up short. “Maybe they don’t know,” I muttered. “Maybe they’re just guessing I’m here.”

The constable shook his head. “They know, Michael.” Then seeming to choose his words with care, he added, “They’ve demanded you be handed over.”

I wasn’t able to stop myself from tensing or letting my hands stray closer towards my sheathed blades.

Orlon noticed. “Don’t worry, boy,” he snorted. “We are not about to let them have you.” He paused. “Yet.”

Drawing back my hands, I folded my arms. “Then why am I here?”

Again, it was the constable who answered. “To decide how we proceed.”

I glanced at him. “What is there to decide?” I wondered aloud. “Wasn’t it you who told me that the citadel is sacrosanct? That the knights protect their guests?”

A pained expression flitted across Richter’s face. “It is not that simple anymore.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

“Because Menaq has gotten involved,” Orlon interjected. He held my gaze, making sure I understood the significance of what he said next, “The leader of the mantis faction has appealed directly to the Triumvirate. He has requested, most graciously I may add, that we release you into his followers’ custody.”

My anger deflated abruptly. If the Powers had bestirred themselves, then Orlon was right, there was nothing the knights could do to gainsay them.

“What did you do?” the constable asked in the sudden silence. He looked at me with morbid curiosity. “What could you have possibly done to make Menaq want you this badly?”

I saw no reason not to tell them. “I killed his sworn. Three times by my own hand and once with help. He must have not liked that,” I said matter-of-factly.

That surprised a laugh from the knight-captain. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s another point in your favor.”

My brows rose. “Another point?” I asked. “What was the first?”

Orlon waved aside my question. “Doesn’t matter.” He tugged restlessly at his beard. “What we have to figure out now, is what to do with you.”

“You want to turn me over,” I guessed.

Orlon shook his head. “I don’t. But I don’t see that I will be left with any other choice.”

“Then the knights’ much-vaunted honor and adherence to the laws counts for naught,” I whispered bitterly.

I knew that my words were harsh. Orlon and Richter were both helpless in the face of any decision taken by their liege lords, the Triumvirate Powers. But my insides were curdling with dread, and I couldn’t stop myself from voicing the sentiment. Whatever happened, I would not let myself be handed over to the mantises.

Even if it means dying by the knights’ hands instead.

Orlon swung about to face me; his hands clenched into fists. “Don’t you dare mock us. The law is everything. It is what defines us. Believe me, if there was another way, I would take it!”

I opened my mouth with a ready retort, but the constable spoke over me. “I warned you about this, didn’t I? When the Powers get involved, the law counts for little. If the Triumvirate decides it best serves their interest to hand you over to Menaq, then law be damned, that’s what will happen.” He sighed with what appeared genuine regret. “I’m sorry, Michael, but once the order comes through, we’ll have no choice except to comply.”

I fell silent for a moment. Richter’s words had given me an idea. “But the Triumvirate have not decided my fate yet, have they?”

Orlon shook his head. “It is only a matter of time before—”

“Yes, yes,” I said, cutting him off. “No doubt you are right. But until their orders come through, you are free to act. Aren’t you?”

He eyed me carefully. “I am.”

I withdrew the citadel room key from my pocket. “Then I have a trade to propose.” I gesture to key. “I’ll hand this over, freeing both you and the Triumvirate of all obligations to protect me. In exchange, I require only one small favor.”

Orlon’s eyes widened. “What favor?” he asked, leaning forward unconsciously.

I told him.