Moving as stealthily as he could, Turgeon made his way through the dark castle towards Suzette’s chambers and Brigitta’s attached room. Hopefully whatever she was up to she was trying it from there, if he had to search the whole castle for her he doubted he’d be able to find her in time to stop her.

  As he walked a dark thought occurred to him. Why should he stop her? The King despised him, and he wanted nothing more than his Freedom from this place. Surely if the King was dead he could convince Suzette to let him leave. He almost turned back, but he knew that was not the person his brother, Aelfredd, would want him to be. His brother wouldn’t have let Brigitta and the Summorians get away with their foul plot against Falkaria.

  Before he knew it he found himself at Brigitta’s door. He didn’t bother knocking, he just opened the door and barged in.

  The scene inside the room was disturbing in ways he had never imagined it could be.

  Brigitta sat with her legs crossed in a meditative pose in the center of the room amid a ring of burning candles, sweat pouring down her pale waxy skin. Her hair was matted down with sweat, and her eyes were wide open but rolled back as she tilted her head back and moaned from her drooling mouth.

  Turgeon wanted nothing more than to cut her down immediately, ending whatever vile ritual she was performing before it could come to fruition, but there was one problem.

  His old friend Geoffry stood between him and Brigitta, and he was holding a sword with a look and construction that was becoming familiar.

  “Where’d you get that weapon, Geoffry?”

  “Non’ o’ yer business, Turge,” the stable boy replied as he assumed a guard position. “I canna le’ ya ‘urt ma sis’.”

  “I was afraid you might feel that way,” Turgeon drew his own short blade, there wasn’t room in this small space for him to wield the longer. If this was how it had to be, then so be it. “I don’t want to hurt you, Geoffry, but I can’t let you two go through with this.”

  “We don’ ‘ave a choice eitha.”

  “We can stop that man from hurting your parents, Geoffry, if we tell the King about him he can bring him to justice.”

  Geoffry’s eyes widened a bit at the mention of his parents, but he didn’t soften and kept his blade at the ready. “Ya canna sto’ ‘egbert, Turge. Tha King’s guar’ won’ be able ta catch ‘im either. He’s been schemin’ righ’ unda their noses fo’ years, if they coul’ they wouldda done it already.”

  Unfortunately Turgeon knew there wasn’t time to engage in a lengthy discussion with Geoffry, whatever Brigitta was doing looked to be coming to some sort of conclusion as her moans grew louder and she began making wild gestures with her arms. He had to end this, and quickly.

  He wished he had the time to simply disable the other boy as he had with the Thoth twins that evening months ago, but he couldn’t afford either the time or the risk that he would be leaving an angry enemy at his back.

  Turgeon moved on Geoffry, bringing his own blade high on his left side to give the appearance of planning a backhanded overhead cut down at the other boy’s head. Geoffry brought his own blade up to block Turgeon’s in a forward hanging guard, but however the stable boy had acquired his training it hadn’t been good enough to match Turgeon’s own expert training. At the last moment before he would’ve brought his blade sweeping around for the cut, Turgeon whipped it around to the left instead, sweeping under Geoffry’s guard and thrusting straight through his neck.

  As Geoffry’s body hit the floor, blood pouring from his neck wound, Brigitta watched and cackled from within her ring of candles.

  “You’re too late Turgeon, the ritual is complete and soon the King will be dead!”

  “You ‘rupted cold bitch,” Turgeon snarled back, “Your brother just died and you’re laughing about it.”

  “We both know Geoffry was an idiot. He was a loyal idiot, but his usefulness was growing limited and it was only a matter of time before he slipped up and got me caught.”

  “You did that on your own Brigitta, I’m here and I’ve caught you.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to do something about that won’t we,” the skag witch produced a small hand crossbow that had been hidden behind her back and leveled it at Turgeon, who stepped back towards the door carefully as he considered his next move in this precarious situation.

  “That’s enough, Turgeon, stay put where you are.”

  “I’m not the only one who knows, Brigitta. Killing me won’t solve your problem. You’re still going to get caught this time.”

  “Who did you tell, farm boy?” she snarled at him.

  “Why would I tell you that?”

  “You're right, that would be fall foolish. Oh well.” She fired the crossbow at him, but Turgeon was able to turn and catch the small bolt in his left shoulder, where it didn’t penetrate through the tough leather armor he was still wearing from the tournament contest earlier in the day. He wasted no time running back out into the hallway to try to stop whatever monster Brigitta had summoned this time as she screamed her frustration after him.

  As soon as he was in the hallway he heard a loud crash that sounded like a large stone object shattering and shouting from the direction of the King’s chambers, whose door stood open flooding the hallway with light.

  Dangerously not bothering to sheath his bloodied weapon, Turgeon bolted down the hall to the open door. The scene he laid eyes upon when he reached it baffled him, despite his expectations.

  The room itself, an antechamber to the King’s bedchamber, was exactly what he would’ve expected it to be. Opulent and posh, it contained what looked to be the most comfortable chairs Turgeon had ever seen, overly stuffed with padding. The walls were decorated with fine tapestries depicting events from Falkaria’s past, and sculpted busts of Falkaria’s great kings sat on pedestals about the room. One of those busts had been knocked from its pedestal and lay shattered on the carpeted stone floor, likely the source of the loud noise he had heard from the hallway.

  King Maebric himself stood in the doorway opposite in his night clothes watching the scene unfold before him in shock and horror.

  In the middle of the room, his friends Dael and Ted struggled to fend off another one of Brigitta’s monstrous creations.

  This creature was the most frightening one yet, which did make a strange sort of sense. The previous incarnations had failed to achieve their goals, so of course Brigitta would strive to make an even more monstrous beast this time around.

  As with the beast that had sent him to the infirmary months ago, this one was massive in size, even larger than that beast by a fair amount, and more muscular too. It too stank, and had fangs and claws with which it was attempting to rend his unarmed friends as it fought through them to reach the King.

  Without hesitation Turgeon stepped up behind the beast and deftly removed its head with his sword.

  Dael and Ted could be forgiven for thinking that was the end of it and letting down their guard. Most living creatures could not fight on lacking a head, but this was not a living creature. This was a necromantic undead beast, and it did not receive its impetus from anything like a human brain. Ted turned his back on it to check on the King too soon, and the claws that raked down his body from his neck to his thigh cut deep. Blood spurted from the wounds and he fell to the floor with a soft gasp.

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  “Ted!” Dael cried out, moving to stand between the beast and their fallen friend to prevent further injury, but Turgeon knew from those wounds that it was already too late. Even if Melora had been here in the room he doubted she could’ve saved him.

  Tossing aside his short sword, Turgeon drew the longer blade he had strapped to his back. Now that he was in a space with a high ceiling and room to swing it he knew he was going to need it against this monster. In one smooth motion as he drew the blade he brought it down on the creature’s stump of a neck, his blade cutting smoothly through the rotting flesh as it cleaved the monster in two from neck to groin.

  The two halves of the creature writhed and twitched on the floor for a while yet as Turgeon and the King watched in horror. Dael ignored the monstrosity, kneeling and sobbing over Ted’s lifeless body. Turgeon moved to join him, but before he could reach him, Dael stood up and wiped the tears from his face with his shirtsleeve.

  “Thank you for saving me, Turgeon.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Ted…” he began to apologize but Dael cut him off.

  “Save it for Ed, Turge.”

  “What are you even doing here? This was my fight.”

  “Ed told us what you were about when we visited him in the infirmary. He overheard most of your conversation with Melora.”

  How could that be? Ed must have unnaturally good hearing to have heard them through the closed door to her office.

  “You shouldn’t have come, Ted,” Turgeon admonished his friend's corpse pointlessly.

  “If we hadn’t the King would be dead, Turgeon. We did what we had to do, Ted gave his life for something good, he died a hero for Falkaria.”

  Having had his own doubts about saving the King Turgeon couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t a good enough reason for his friend to die, but now wasn’t the time to voice that thought.

  “Yes, Duke Ko, yes. Thank you both for what you’ve done this foul night,” the King’s shaky voice popped the bubble of focus Turgeon and Dael had over their fallen friend. “Your friend will be given the full honors of a hero’s funeral for what he did here tonight.”

  Turgeon suspected that wouldn’t be enough to soften the blow for Ed.

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  “Thank you, Turgeon, Duke Ko…” the King trailed off as he stared at Turgeon’s hand, his eyes drawn to the ring Turgeon had forgotten he had put on earlier with all that had happened since.

  “What are you wearing there, boy?” The King demanded with his more typical rageful tone, all gratitude for what Turgeon had just done evaporating in a heartbeat.

  “This?” Turgeon held up his hand to show off the ring.

  “Yes, that. Where did you get that? You should not have your father’s–”

  “My father’s what? My father’s ring? Is that what this is? What do you know about my father?”

  “I know you’ve looked more and more like your father each day. Like a ghost come back to haunt me and punish me for my crimes.” A haunted look came over the King’s face, and the rage that had been there but a moment before fizzled, replaced by fear.

  “Why can’t anyone see the truth? I just wanted there to be peace. If Gaedric had just listened to me…”

  “Is that my father’s name? Gaedric?” It would fit, the first initial in one set on the band’s engraving was a G, but what of the second initial, the F.

  It hit Turgeon like a pile of rocks. Falkar. “Gaedric Falkar…” he whispered in realization. Dael’s jaw dropped open and his eyes grew wide with shock. The King’s anger returned in a flash at the name.

  “Never say that name in my presence, boy! My brother was a fool who jeopardized everything I have worked to build and he paid the highest price for it. There will be Peace in our land, and I’ll not have you reopen old wounds and put my heir in danger once again.”

  “Daddy? What’s happened here?” Suzette was standing in the doorway, taking in the shocking scene for herself.

  “Corruption and Fall,” the King swore loudly, “Suze, go back to bed, this is under control.”

  “I will not, father, tell me what’s happening here!”

  “He’s right, Suzette, it is under control. This monster was sent to assassinate your father but we’ve dealt with it. Someone will still need to deal with Brigitta, I suspect she’s left the castle by now though.”

  “Brigitta?” the King and Suzette queried in unison.

  “She was the skag witch behind these monsters, working for a Summorian agent who also led the attack in the Falkwood.”

  “Brigitta would never do that!” Suzette insisted, “She’s my friend!”

  “She’s a Summorian spy, Suzette. Her handler placed her here and kept her doing his bidding by threatening to harm her parents. Her brother, Geoffry, was in on it too.”

  She didn’t appear to fully accept the truth yet, but she would in time. Suzette’s questioning did move on from Brigitta to the discussion she had interrupted though.

  “What were you all talking about a moment ago? It didn't have anything to do with Brigitta or this monster did it?”

  “Your father was just telling me the truth about my father, Gaedric Falkar.”

  “Uncle Gaedric? But daddy you said Gaedric was a traitor to the crown, that he ran away to escape his punishment.”

  “You were too young for the truth, my dear. He ran away but we caught him and he was punished.”

  “My father was a traitor? What did he do to betray you?”

  “He had you, Turgeon,” now the King just sounded sad, and he collapsed into one of the padded chairs before he continued. “Despite my warnings, he had you.”

  “How is that a crime, Daddy? How is that betraying you?”

  “It wasn’t just a betrayal of me, Suzette,” the mercurial King was back to snarling anger at the memories, “It was a betrayal of you, of your birthright. Gaedric wanted his own get on the throne, he would have had this boy replace you as my heir.”

  Male primogeniture was the law of the land, Turgeon remembered from his lessons with Jesphat. With a potential male heir available, Suzette would never inherit the throne. Even if Gaedric had outlived his older brother and taken the throne himself for a time, with no heirs of his own Suzette would’ve become Queen eventually. Turgeon’s own birth would’ve changed that, usurping Suzette’s claim to the throne.

  “I don’t want to be King, your highness,” Turgeon stated truthfully. A position like that would be a prison, trapping him in a role that others would define for him and filling his life with demands. It was antithetical to his ideal of Freedom.

  “That is well, because I won’t let you become King, boy. What we have said here tonight must stay between us or there will be grave consequences for the Kingdom, consequences we can’t afford with war at our threshold.” The King looked meaningfully at Dael and Turgeon, forcing them both to meet his eyes and nod before continuing.

  “Turgeon, Duke Ko, you both have my gratitude for saving me here tonight. I will grant you each a boon, to claim now or at a later date. A favor of your choosing.”

  “I would claim my boon now, your majesty,” Dael moved quickly to kneel before the King.

  “Of course, what is it I may do for you, Duke?”

  “I would see my family’s property returned to its rightful owners, your majesty. Return to me Ko’s copy of Klaaverius’ writings.”

  Benevolence fled and rage once again returned to the King’s demeanor. Clearly he had not had this in mind when he granted the Duke a favor of his choosing.

  “How do you know that book is even in my possession? Who told you such a thing?”

  “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I know you have it, and I want it back.” Now Dael was becoming angry at the King, and Turgeon could do nothing while the situation was rapidly devolving before his eyes.

  “It was that or let it fall into enemy hands, you fool. Summorians had stolen it and sought to spirit it out of Falkaria for good. We couldn’t afford to let that happen.”

  “Then why did you not return it to me? To my family? You had to know we sought its return.”

  “That is none of your business, boy. As King of Falkar it was my prerogative to keep it where I could trust it would be safe.”

  “I will keep it safe, return it to me and it will be well protected. I will not see it fall into Summorian hands.”

  “No. Choose another boon.”

  “I will not!” Dael shouted at the King standing up and glaring down at the seated ruler. “You will return the book to me!”

  The King glared up at Dael, seething with anger but merely stating in a frighteningly calm voice, “No.”

  “Perhaps Ko should be part of Summor!” Dael shouted at the King and stormed out of the room.

  As he left, he was forced to push his way past the castle Steward who stood gawking in the entryway. How long had he been there? Turgeon hadn’t noticed his arrival with everything that had been going on between those already present.

  “What do you want, Quarle,” The King demanded of the Steward.

  “We’ve received a message, your majesty,” Quarle regained his composure quickly, “There is word from the northern outposts. Klaav’s invasion has begun.”

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