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Part XI

Afternoon of Somnus, Eighth Day of Autumnmoon


Cedric spent hours looking over the amended airship specifications with his foreman, Connor. The "black box" alterations did not affect the integrity of the design or violate any engineering principles. In fact, they were completely benign, and he had no good reason to object to them. Except, their functions were still a mystery—and of course, he had not made the changes himself. Still, it was enough of a reason to raise the issue to King Richard.

"Well, that about wraps things up," he announced.

"Then what'll ya do about the changes?" Connor asked.

Instead of answering the question, Cedric posed one of his own. "Were you treated to any stricter than usual security this morning?"

"Aye, we were escorted down here by the Templars. Ya must know the king is in the Substratum today?"

Cedric decided to play it coy. "Oh, really? How fortunate! It would be perfect if I might have some time to speak with him about these devices."

Connor sighed. "That might be difficult, given all the security. The Templars won't want to take any chances, given the recent attacks, eh?"

Cedric's eyes narrowed. "All the same, it'd be a pity to miss such an opportunity. If we have no idea about the functionality of the black boxes, it could lead to mistakes, further down the road. Such a thing would put the entire project at risk."

Connor frowned. He gestured toward a guardsman waiting by the archway to the stairwell. "See that gent over there? He's been keeping an eye on us all day long, and hasn't let a single one of us leave without an escort. I'm afraid you won't have much of a chance getting past him."

Cedric went in for the clincher. "Not unless you help me, Connor."

The foreman regarded him skeptically. "What do ya think I can do?"

Cedric wore a confident smirk. "Distract the guard. Tell him you think you see someone wandering around who isn't part of your team. Ask him to check it out."

Connor's eyes went wide. "You want me to lie? He won't be happy if he finds out I've wasted his time. I don't want to get punished."

Cedric waved his hand. "That won't happen. Just tell him you mistook one of the new contractors. Surely you aren't familiar with all the new faces …."

Connor drew a deep breath and scratched his head nervously. "Do ya really think it'll help the project?"

Cedric smiled broadly. "I guarantee it."

Connor scrunched his face in deep thought. After a few moments, he nodded—and with a casual saunter, headed toward his mark. Cedric made himself appear to be looking at documents, but from the corner of his eye he watched as Connor pointed to the back of the hangar. When the Templar left the archway unattended, Cedric dashed for the stairs.

As he ascended the vertical passage to the higher levels, it occurred to him that his plan had not taken much else into consideration. Now that he was free of the hangar, he had no idea how to find Richard without being seen. The king was somewhere above him, but surely he would be surrounded by Templars who would quickly escort Cedric out of the compound. Though he was a well-respected member of Richard's staff, the Templars answered to no one other than the king. He had to think of a better plan—and do it quickly!

He listened carefully for footsteps. The Substratum's central stairwell was notorious for the echoing clamor of boots on stone, and came with no easy places to hide. But strangely, the long vertical shaft was dead silent. He reached the operations level without encountering a single Templar—even though the stairs had been crawling with them earlier.

The operations level was where the War Room was located, a place where Monarchs and generals had met since the Substratum's early days. Cedric hoped Richard was already there, being briefed by his top brass. He expected to see men of various rank in hallway conversations, officers in between meetings, or at least the occasional lieutenant being sent on an errand—but instead, the halls were empty. It seemed inconceivable that the king was discussing battle strategies against Kitezh, when zero military personnel were nearby.

Cedric crept silently through the hallway, wondering if the occupants were all behind closed doors. He leaned next to a few, hoping to overhear their conversations. Eerily, he heard nothing. He felt bold enough to enter one of the offices, only to find it deserted. Bewildered and more than a bit frustrated, he tried a few others. Some of the doors were locked, but others led to more vacant rooms. Not only were they unoccupied, but they appeared to have not been used recently. A thin layer of dust had settled on some of the furniture, giving Cedric a spooky feeling.

At last, he reached the War Room. It was a large conference chamber with an oval table, maps along the walls, and various props to be used for contemplating strategy. But just like the other rooms, it was deserted. He sat down in one of the chairs and considered the possibility that he might be losing his mind. Then he heard the clomping of boots on stone. Seeing no immediate place to hide, he dove under the table and waited for the footsteps to recede. As soon as he dared, he crawled out and followed the sounds down the hall.

The passerby must have been in a hurry. Cedric moved quickly to keep up, gliding as silently as possible. The footsteps led him back to the central stairway and further up the compound. He stayed far enough behind to ensure he would not be noticed. Fortunately, the person did little to conceal the sound of their movement.

The pursuit took him up to the training level, where the most talented recruits from the Academy vied for positions in the king's elite forces, and were taught by veteran soldiers and wizards. The largest of these rooms was an arena that was set up for the students to practice their moves. As soon as Cedric exited the stairwell, he crept along the wall, and peeked around the corner of an adjacent corridor. He saw his mark approach the training arena's entrance and knock.

A second man answered the door, quickly stepping outside and shutting the door behind him. "You're sure there's no one lurking on the lower floors?" he asked.

"I just checked," the first man responded. "The only men left in the Substratum are the contractors in the hangar, who are working on the top-secret project. Don't worry. They're being monitored closely."

"Fine, then hurry inside. The ritual is about to begin." Both men quickly reentered the room and shut the door behind them.

Cedric stood with his back against the wall, completely befuddled. The top-secret project had to be Zounds, no doubt—but a ritual? What in the Goddess's name was going on? Security in the Substratum had been off the charts a few hours earlier, but now the place was deserted. He wondered if something was wrong with the king. Sensing something terribly wrong, he felt it vital to find out what was behind that door.

He knew of a passage nearby. Close to the training arena was a small closet used to store frequently accessed tools and supplies, such as weapons and armor for the new recruits. At the end of the closet was a wooden hatch leading to a mezzanine level. Suspended high above the training room floor was a catwalk made from a metal grill that spanned the perimeter of the room. Trainers would use the catwalk to hang props for their students to target with weapons or magic. It was wide enough for Cedric to get a good vantage point from inside the room, without revealing himself.

It did not take long to find his way to this well-hidden position. From the catwalk, he saw a room packed shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of Templars, knights, and soldiers. They all faced the back side of the room, where a stage had been erected. It explained why the Substratum had been so busy earlier, only to end up completely barren. It likely included the guards patrolling aboveground as well, explaining the emptiness of the courtyard earlier.

They were all chanting in some kind of foreign language. It sounded a lot like, "Ah, Reh, Men," and the men below shouted it repeatedly.

Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men!

A man appeared on the stage. To Cedric's surprise, it was Richard Cromwell. The king of Angkor spoke to the men in what appeared to be the same foreign tongue. While the words sounded strange to Cedric, the men below seemed to understand perfectly, offering cheers in response.

Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men!

Cedric was filled with both fear and curiosity. It felt like a bad dream—dangerous, but also confusing and nonsensical. In no time, the king concluded his strange speech, and the crowd raised their arms, cheering louder and more enthusiastically than before.

Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men!

When the cheers subsided, a man from the audience joined Richard on stage. He carried a tray with a white cloth covering some sort of object. Cedric squinted to see, but he was too far away. When the man reached the king, he turned, and the light exposed a familiar face. It was none other than the king's new First Advisor, Virgil Garvey. Cedric caught his breath. Trouble seemed to follow that man wherever he went.

King Richard removed the cloth and handed it back to Virgil. Underneath was a clear-colored gemstone, cut in a marquise shape, carefully balanced on one edge. The king grasped the gem, and waited for Virgil to leave the stage. Then, turning to the audience, he shouted words that sounded like magic. The soldiers cheered him on.

Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men! Ah, Reh, Men!

Richard raised the gemstone, and it turned a deep sapphire-blue. Like a nightmare, Cedric watched as his king transformed. The monarch's body twisted and changed, slowly growing to many times its size. His skin turned scaly and gray, and thick horns grew out from his head and chest. The regal robes disintegrated, and in the place of the man for whom Cedric had sworn undying fealty, a gargantuan hulking creature stood.

It sat on all four limbs, with forearms disproportionately thicker than its hind legs. The body was long, like a salamander's, with the tail of a fish. Gills ran up its elongated neck, ending at rows of sharp teeth within a mouth that stretched from ear to ear. The head could have passed as a mutilated but nonetheless vicious shark, except that the upper half was a grotesque facsimile of the former king. The abomination took a deep breath and blew it onto the crowd. From its mouth came blue smoke, which the soldiers blissfully inhaled.

Cedric had seen enough. Shaking uncontrollably, he backed up and left the mezzanine level. Once he returned to the storage closet, he stopped to catch his breath. He felt nauseous, and every pore of his body seemed to ooze cold sweat. His life, his career, his country—he was ready to cast them all aside, just to escape the abominable evil that stood on the other side of a thin rock wall. He had to focus his energy on escaping the Substratum, and then Angkor altogether.

Although, he was afraid that if anyone discovered him on his way out, it would cost him his life. So he searched the room for something he could use in self-defense. There were weapons stored along the walls for new recruits, but he needed to find something he knew how to wield. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a crossbow from its mount, and left the storage closet in haste. As soon as he stepped out onto the main level, he ran head first into a familiar face—his lawyer.

"Oh thank Gaia, William, it's you! I …" Cedric's voice trailed off. Next to his lawyer stood Virgil Garvey, wearing a smug grin. The fear and nausea quickly returned.

"Oh, Cedric," his lawyer began, shaking his head.

"It's like I told you," Virgil spoke up, donning a look of disapproval. "We've caught the traitor just in time."

"Traitor?" Cedric exclaimed, his fear replaced with anger. "I don't know what lies you've concocted, but they won't save you this time. I've seen what you've done, and you won't get away with it!" He pointed his finger accusingly. "You and your demonic magic will bring this country to ruin!"

"You have quite an imagination, Mister Curtis," Virgil returned with a healthy dose of condescension. "Of course, I suspect you'd say almost anything, now that we've caught you red-handed."

Cedric's eyes bulged, fury burning in his gut. "What are you talking about, you fink? You're the one who will pay for the dark wizardry you've brought to our kingdom!"

Virgil's façade was calm, but his eyes overflowed with contempt. "I grow tired of your stories, Mister Curtis. Your own lawyer came to warn us that you went against his advice not to speak with His Majesty today. And it's a good thing he did."

Cedric almost doubled over. His eyes went straight for his lawyer. "William!"

The lawyer took a step back. "I'm sorry, Mister Curtis. I felt compelled to report your strange behavior. I was concerned!"

Cedric did not know whom to address first. Virgil stood there basking in an aura of disgusting arrogance, while his own lawyer had just stabbed him in the back. And Richard—a trustworthy and honorable man who he strongly believed would always stand by his side—was now transformed into a hideous force that defied his own imagination. Cedric could not help but fumble on his own words. "You … you won't get away with this! King Richard is right behind this wall, and there are hundreds of witnesses who can verify what I saw!"

Virgil dismissed him with a curt wave. "You mean the brave soldiers who will be going to war to defend our nation? Your excuses are irrelevant, since every single one of these 'witnesses' will tell us that the king is merely bidding our men farewell before they depart to the battlefields."

The sheer audacity of the lies left Cedric's speechless. How could Virgil be sure that every single soldier would cover up the lie? Were they all spellbound? Was the sunstone controlling their minds? Surely his lawyer would not believe any of it. "William, you must listen to me! I'll prove it to you!"

His lawyer shifted his eyes uneasily between the dueling cabinet members. "What exactly is Mister Curtis being charged with?" he inquired to Virgil.

"Isn't it obvious?" the loathsome man responded. "First, Mister Curtis gets mixed up with the concubine of one of the king's Gnostics, who's a known Kitezhian spy and traitor …."

Cedric bared his teeth at the insults, but the wretch continued. "Then he invites a man of known Kitezhian descent to his home, who I might add was also a wanted criminal …."

Cedric wanted to scream in outrage over what happened to Mason Eckerd, but Virgil pressed on. "And then, he insists on seeing King Richard against his own lawyer's advice. And now, we catch him as he emerges from a weapons locker on a hidden mezzanine level, above where the king is meeting with our nation's soldiers. For the Goddess' sake, he's holding a crossbow, my good man! It's only logical to conclude that Mister Curtis is working with the Kitezhian government to assassinate our king."

Cedric looked down at the weapon in his hands, and threw it aside. "You bastard!" he growled, lunging toward Virgil's throat with his own outstretched hands. The First Advisor casually raised his hand, stopping the Grand Craftsman in his tracks with an unseen force.

Virgil sighed. "You've doomed yourself by your own actions, Mister Curtis. Perhaps a few days in the dungeon will cool your temper, convince you to give up your Kitezhian ties, and admit to your treasonous acts." By then, a number of Templars had gathered in the corridor, and Virgil motioned for them to apprehend the Grand Craftsman.

He tried to move, but his joints were frozen in place by Virgil's magic. The guardsmen grabbed his arms and forced them behind his back. His lawyer only shook his head in disgust as Cedric was detained.

"No, wait! William, I'm innocent!" he screamed, but his lawyer followed Virgil down the corridor, impervious to any reasoning.

The guards forced Cedric toward the stairwell, leading him downward to the dungeons. He screamed objections, spat angry invectives at Virgil, and ranted about the monster-king, but it all fell on deaf ears as he was dragged down into the abyss.