~AN~ Hullo, all. I'm currently running on two hours of sleep, having done a high ropes challenge course and other activities out in the pouring rain yesterday and getting five hours of sleep the night before, so I'm a bit out of it…happy, but out of it. *bounces up and down* Our computer's getting fixed, which means I'll be up and on the net within the weekend, I found a place to scan some of my sketches so I'll be able to put them up this weekend once we get our computer, and I just received…drumroll, please…A PIECE OF FAN ART FOR THIS STORY!! *faints from the excitement*
Insomnia: *pokes her* I think Avis is dead.
Juno: Several scans show that Avis is in a state of exhaustive sleep, brought on by excessive activity without proper rest.
Insomnia: Oh.
AC: Great. Now we've got to do the author's note.
Bass: Let's just put up the story. No one will care.
AC: Avis will.
Bass: Your point?
AC: True. But then she'd come after us all with Fibui.
Muses: Oh.
AC: So on with the author's note. *ahem* Lunatics and germs, we are Avis' muses.
Muses: *wave*
AC: We will be your author's note hosts for today. What do we do?
Muses: *silence*
Bass: Here. Avis' 'List Of Things To Say In The Author's Note'.
AC: *stare*
Bass: It was in her hand.
AC: Oh. *clears throat; begins to read* Number One: Thank reviewers for solving the Jackle Conundrum. What the heck?
Insomnia I think she didn't know where Jackle was in the game, and then two different people answered her!
AC: Oh yeah, that's right. They reconfirmed what NightDragon said earlier---he's in Soft Museum. Okay, then: Thank you, Dusk and Yami!
Muses: Thank you!
AC: Number Two is Write Nightmaren Theory. Well I sure ain't gonna write one for her.
Bass: She wrote the theory right below that.
AC: Oh yeah. Oops. *begins reading theory* Nightmaren Theory Number Five: More Fashion.
Bass: …shards.
AC: *still reading* Do nightmaren clothes come off? Are they part of the maren's bodies?
Insomnia: I dunno.
Bass: He wasn't asking you, moron.
Insomnia: Oh.
AC: *still reading, ignoring talking in the background* In my universe, due to the 'realistic' side to things, i.e. hair and food and blood and all that, I thought it would be best if clothes were not part of the nightmaren anatomy. Sorry for those of you whose nightmaren can't take off their clothes. *stops reading* That's all.
Bass: That's all? She doesn't even explain it or anything?
AC: Not really, no.
Bass: That poor, poor girl.
AC: Those poor, poor reviewers.
Insomnia: Now what?
AC: Now we tell the people to read the story, and then we go eat a cookie.
Insomnia: Cookie, YAY!
Figment: Go read the story!
Melon: Cookie!!
Muses: *leave*
Disclaimer: "Oh yeah, I forgot about this thing. Okay, Avis owns nothing. Not even her own mind. That was taken over by a bunch of little purple men a long time ago. So she says."
Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk…as strange, as still…
A white moth flew. Why am I grown
So cold?
The Warning, by Adelaide Crapsey
Chapter Eight:
First Steps
That morning dawned dark. The sun rose in the east, half-hidden by the shades of Mystic Forest, and clouds hid the last stars turning in. A lone blue one tried valiantly to shine still, but finally its glow was faded into nothing by the light of the sun that could not reach Nightmare Castle.
Guards strode back and forth, glad to see the sun after a cold, windy night; the winds, however, had not abated, and the sun's rays only lit the sky above the overhanging clouds. It was going to be a very dark day.
Maren waking up were not greeted by the normal rays of light shining in through the windows, and heavy sleepers were roused by their cold counterparts. Tempers ran high and spirits went low. More than one complaint was voiced as the castle's population began to rise.
In his room, NiGHTS woke after a night of uneasy rest. He instantly concentrated by habit, trying to find his brother's energy. The feeling, when he found it, was almost too faint to trace. Reala felt as if he were moving even farther away.
On the other side of the High Seeker's hall, Reala woke from darkness to find the waking was not much brighter. His room, already decorated in deep colors, was hardly touched by the light from the windows. He yawned and stretched, finding a slight satisfaction in the feeling of muscles rippling along his arms; that satisfaction was lost in his remembrance of the task before him. He frowned, steeling himself to face the day as a general should. Glancing in the mirror, he straightened a bit, forcing the edge of his mouth to even out into a stern expression. There. Now he would receive respect.
Deep in a pile of blankets, Jackle woke with a start, only to find himself in his room surrounded by dim colors and shadowy shapes. He sighed and stared upwards at the ceiling and it's spade and diamond pattern. It was so cold…
Outside the winds moaned about the castle, sounding almost like creatures crying and trying to get in. Slowly a sense of dark premonition settled upon the castle, brought on, no doubt, by the dark weather.
A storm was about to break.
Chaotica smiled brightly as the maren began to pour into the Dining Hall, her eyes seeking out a particular maren in red and brown.
Heckler caught sight of Chaotica's clothes from across the room. Bright colors splotched in random shapes across her shirt and pants and a dark black shawl about her waist helped to identify her from the rest. He threw her a roguish wink and called out, "Hey, Chaotica! What's on the menu?"
"You're getting a good hearty breakfast today!" Chaotica called back. "More like a supper---eggs and sausage!"
"Gee, hope the sausage wasn't someone I knew!"
She shook her head, laughing. "Oh, shut up and get in line, Heckler!"
The dark-clad maren did as told, grinning. He loved annoying people, and he loved making Chaotica laugh even more. Of course, he'd never admit to that.
Luna dropped into a random seat, as usual going for the more calm crowd of table mates. Tessa and Terrance were there; Corbeau and Morgen were not. A scout in training, one who Corbeau had a fast friendship with, was in his place. She gave the sparring instructor a sunny smile.
"So---" began Luna.
"Anything new on the golem?" finished Lunatic. Luna shot the sage-green nightmaren a look.
"Fringe."
"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I know, it's a serious thing. It's just that you bring it up so much, how could I resist?" He looked back to his food, mistake already forgotten due to his nature. He'd been created out of the emotion of carelessness alone, and his personality showed it.
Luna nodded and looked down the row. "Well?" There was a mass shaking of heads.
She sighed and began pushing her food about on her plate with a preoccupied look. "This is not good…"
"It might have been some dreamer's imagination creature," offered Lunatic in between bites.
Luna looked at him as if he'd just sprouted a third eye. "Fringe, this thing wounded Hadrian. Hadrian, the very powerful hand-to-hand fighter? This was no creation of a dreamer---and if it was, then we're in serious trouble where dreamers are concerned."
"This was no dream creature," asserted Tessa from several places down, where she'd been talking with Terrance and had therefore been left out of the conversation. "It was a golem. And it's a threat."
Luna sighed, still moving the food about on her plate. "I have to start sparring lessons again today; waiting any longer isn't going to improve our glorious leader's temper, and nothing's coming up on the golem anyway."
"Can't you use the training rooms downstairs?" asked Terrance from further down the row.
The sparring instructor shook her head in frustration. "No. I've already taught them enough indoors, and they can't learn how to spar around forest growth until they're actually in it. I have to go out."
Terrance nodded, his normally excited expression now calmed into sympathy. "Well, good luck."
"Thanks," she mumbled, and finally started eating.
She looked up again as the room about them grew silent. "What?"
Reala was striding down the rows towards his seat. Normally maren would not have taken notice; after all, even the Seeker General had to eat. Today, however, was different.
He walked with a forceful stride, head held high and eyes taking in everything with an icy stare. His outward appearance was no different from before, but something about his entire body posture said he expected to receive fearful respect. The entire Dining Hall gave it to him.
He dropped into his seat, muscular legs folded gracefully in casual relaxation, and tapped the marble table-top with a set of golden claws. Two maren who worked in the kitchen hurried to serve him, and the rest of the crowd turned back to their own business.
Tessa whistled low. "Looks like someone's got a fresh dose of attitude."
Terrance nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "Did you see how he just dropped into his chair like that? Man, I wish I could look that cool when I sit down…"
Tessa smirked as she lifted a bite to her lips. "Never knew you were a connoisseur of sitting styles."
"Neither did I." Lunatic looked up at the sparring instructor sitting across from him. "What's up, Luna?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing." She shook her head. "I just got this sudden chill for a moment…must be in a draft."
Jackle staggered out onto his balcony, feeling exhausted after a night of restless sleep. AC flew after him, lighting on the balcony railing and hopping over a few spaces to make room for Jackle. The demi-maren slumped, leaning on the metal weakly, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the cool railing. AC eyed him worriedly but made no verbal comment. Jackle, when he spoke, did not look up from his slump on the railing. "I had the strangest dreams last night…we're not supposed to have dreams, AC. But I had a lot… They were all dark, and I kept finding myself being chased by a giant shadow…and no matter what I did I couldn't escape from it…"
He trailed off, and there was silence for a time; then Jackle spoke again. "I'm not the way I should be, AC."
The crow cawed questioningly. Jackle lifted his head slowly to gaze dully down at the land around them. "Everything's all wrong. I can't control my emotions---every time something unexpected comes up I either lose it completely or act way too bold. I feel so unbalanced. It's like I don't control myself any more. It's like---well, like I'm not me! I just---you know---I'm not."
He paused; one of his hands gripped into a fist. "Not to mention I look like a freak!"
AC cawed protestingly. Jackle looked down at his avian friend with a smile that was unsettlingly touched with cynicism. "Yes, you would say that. But I do, AC, I do---there's no getting around that. I just have to learn to live with it, that's all."
He straightened, now supporting himself with his arms, hands folded as he looked out over the dreamscape again; the smile was still there. "I'll just learn to laugh, that's all," he mused quietly. "Like the voices said. I'll just learn to laugh."
AC eyed him worriedly. Jackle's voice became more amused and cheerful as he continued. "I'll laugh in their faces, that's what I'll do. It worked for Clawz, it'll work for everyone. You'll see. I'll laugh at everything! I'll answer to no one, I'll do what I want to do! Ha!"
The laugh broke out harshly, as if it were breaking through tradition and the rules wrapped about him. It felt so freeing, he laughed again. And again.
AC bowed his head, onyx eyes shining with sorrow, as the demi-maren continued to laugh, letting himself free of the fear that had kept him silent. He'd hoped this would never happen.
Jackle stopped suddenly, eyes widening. "What was…that all about?" he questioned meekly.
His companion looked up at him with an undecipherable gaze. Jackle blinked, trying to focus---why had everything gotten so blurry for a moment?---and when he spoke his voice was like a child's, innocent and confused. "What was I laughing about?"
The crow did not answer him. He blinked again, looked about as if he were re-establishing what his surroundings were, and then stood straight. "Guess I just needed to laugh a little. Felt good, you know. Well, see you later, AC."
AC bobbed his head in response, spreading out his wings in a small version of a bow. Jackle smiled and returned the gesture, cape fluttering about him gracefully, and then turned and went out.
On the balcony, AC closed his eyes sorrowfully. It wouldn't take much more pressure to snap such a fragile mind.
Perhaps it was already breaking.
"All right, who's ready?"
There was a chorus of stomps as every maren straightened, stamping their feet against the ground to be as perfectly straight as possible. Luna walked down the row, nodding. "Yes…yes…straighten up a touch, please, Starlight…yes…good."
Aster looked up fearfully as the sparring instructor came to her. "Please, Miss Luna, my pike's broken!" she hurried to insert before her teacher could speak. "That's why I don't have a weapon!"
Luna paused, then smiled. "I know, Aster, you're going to use mine today."
"Really? Still?" Aster looked about ready to faint from excitement.
"Of course---you didn't think I'd forget, did you?" She smiled, adding on a word of teacherly comment as she continued on down the line. "And as a word of advice: when you're having inspection, don't jump in and tell the inspector why something's wrong. Wait for them to ask you."
"Yes, Miss Luna, I'm sorry!"
NiGHTS strolled into the weapons chamber, hands in his pockets. The weapons hanging on the walls and piled against the corners reflected back at him as he passed, giving the room an intricate violet pattern.
"Looking for me?" called Morgen, peering out at the nightmaren leader from behind a stack of barrels.
NiGHTS nodded and moved up, looking down at the silver-haired maren quizzically. "What are you doing back there?"
"Searching for something," answered Morgen cheerfully. "I can't find---bingo!"
He got up, holding what looked to be a mound of dust in one hand and brushing himself off with the other. "I had a girl come through here looking for this, and I thought I'd help her out a bit…"
The mound of dust puffed into the air as he blew on it, revealing a silver clasp. It was very pretty; no doubt its owner had been heartbroken.
Morgen smiled in a satisfied way and slipped the lost item into a pocket, making a mental note to give it back to its owner later on. Then he looked at NiGHTS. "So, what can I do for you?"
"Just wanted to get Star," replied NiGHTS.
Lucky Star was his sword. Amaranth had forged it especially for him, making the blade out of the finest metal he could find and wrapping the grip in soft black leather. A purple stone shone from the hilt.
Morgen had, after admiring it rapturously, insisted that NiGHTS give it a name; all good swords had names, he claimed. A leader's sword wouldn't be complete without a name!
NiGHTS, after giving him a weird look, had promised he'd give his sword a title to go by. It took him more than a day to find one he liked; for some reason the naming of a sword felt like a very important matter. It certainly seemed important to Morgen.
After thinking for quite some time, he finally decided upon Lucky Star. He didn't know why, as he knew perfectly well that there was no such thing as a star that controlled peoples' fates, but he liked the sound of it all the same. Ergo Lucky Star it was. Morgen was delighted with the name.
Now Morgen smiled, hurrying to the spot where he knew his leader's weapon would be. He lifted it from it's place on the wall carefully, bowing to NiGHTS as he presented it hilt-first. "Your sword, my prince."
"You don't have to bow, I could have gotten it myself, and I'm not a prince," replied NiGHTS, smiling just a bit.
"Ah, but you are, in a way," smiled Morgen, giving him a knowing look. "You're our leader, aren't you? And it wouldn't be proper not to bow."
"Stupid properness," muttered NiGHTS, his annoyed expression melting into a content look as he pulled Lucky Star from it's black leather sheath. The blade shone in the weapon chamber's dim light, and its grip felt soft and comfortable in his palm. He was beginning to truly love his sword, even though he'd only been learning how to use it for a short time.
Breathing a sigh of contentment, NiGHTS slipped it back into its sheath and then attached it to his belt. "Thanks."
"Of course. Anything else I could do for you?"
"No, that's all. See you."
Morgen bowed. "Farewell, my prince. It has been my pleasure to serve you."
NiGHTS gave him a strange look before smiling amusedly and leaving.
As soon as the violet-clad nightmaren was gone, Morgen changed. His expression of cheerfulness morphed to one of concern, and his formerly bright, athletic pose slipped into a more thoughtful posture.
"Well that was odd," he commented to the walls as he began the daily tasks of polishing and cleaning. "Whatever had him so worked up? He was so worried and burden-laden and filled with heavy responsibility and dark thoughts you could practically taste it! Now I know you couldn't," he added to the sword he was polishing, "But I know more about body language than most. He has something awfully heavy on his mind, I can tell you. I wonder what it is?"
Reala watched from a window as a large group left the castle. It looked to be mostly filled with younger nightmaren; come to think of it, that was Miss Luna at the front, wasn't it? So she was taking them out on a sparring course---finally. He snorted. She certainly took her sweet time about it.
He blinked as another maren left shortly after, also heading for Mystic Forest; as he focused on the lone figure, his temper rose. Purple clothing, agile build, very fast. His brother NiGHTS.
He growled, slamming his fist against the windowsill. Wasn't that air-head even going to help him out a little after playing hooky all of yesterday?
'So you just shove all of the work on me and then go off and play your play,' he thought angrily. 'Just like all of the other High Seekers! Fine, then, go ahead and play! I'll take control of this army and whip them into shape all by myself---and I'll be the perfect general Wizeman wants. I promise you that, NiGHTS. I will be the perfect nightmaren leader. And no one's going to stand in my way.'
"Lord Jackle, sir?"
Jackle looked up from his book, annoyed at being disturbed in the middle of a very interesting passage. "What is it?"
"Lord Wizeman wishes to speak to you, sir," explained the young maren quietly. "You and Lord Reala have both been summoned to his throne room."
Jackle's entire body stiffened. He swallowed, forcing his voice to keep from breaking. "Very well. You are dismissed."
The young boy bowed and went out, leaving Jackle alone in the library once more. As soon as he was made aware of this fact, the demi-maren broke down.
'What am I going to do?' he thought desperately. 'Master wants to speak to me, how am I going to hide it from him? He'll see right through me! Master always does!'
He shuddered, wrapping his arms about his stomach in an effort to sate the raging sickness of fear he felt inside. Knowing he could not delay the summons, he stood, wavering towards the door with an uncertain step, his mind filled with babbling thoughts. 'He'll see right through me, what will I do? What does he want? Does he know already? He knows! Master knows! He'll see right through me and he'll know!'
"Nobody can know," he whispered desperately, even as he moved slowly towards the room he feared more than any other place. "I've got a secret, and now someone will know!"
Luna's senses were working at full power. Every crack of a stick being broken underfoot, every snap of a branch bent back, every mutter of a bramble-scratched student was heard. The latter came more than once, as they were currently in the middle of a blackberry patch.
She sighed as someone complained, making it about the fiftieth time that day. "Ow! Stupid thorns…"
Another sound came to her ears, and she halted, jerking her hand up as a signal to stop. The collective group held their breath.
After a minute or so, after nothing else had been heard of the strange sound, Luna made the motion to continue. As they walked, she could hear someone muttering to a classmate.
"Miss Luna's acting like this is a scouting mission or something!"
"I heard she was worried about that rumor of a golem," murmured someone else.
"But how are we supposed to learn to spar if we can't even stop walking on tip-toe?" returned the first.
Luna sighed. They were right; this was being absolutely absurd. But she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched…
The conversation cut off abruptly as she halted, hand held up for silence, eyes darting about nervously. She'd heard it again. A quiet, soft, almost squishing sound, from somewhere slightly behind and to the left.
Finally someone worked up the courage to ask, "Miss Luna, what is it?"
The sparring instructor answered quietly. "I've heard something twice now. Every time we stop, it does, too. Stay quiet and follow me."
The students, made slightly more solemn by the quiet rumors of monsters, followed her instructions without question.
They continued on for some time without hearing the mysterious noise again; the group was just beginning to loosen up a little when they all heard it. Squish, gulp.
The entire group stopped, and most of the younger maren looked about wildly. Luna, however, was looking straight at her students. "You!"
The boy she had pointed out started. "Yes ma'am?"
"You're eating blackberries."
The boy nodded. "Uh, yes ma'am, I thought that would be all right since we're walking right through them…"
Luna sighed. "Eat another."
The boy's eyebrows raised quizzically, but he did as told, trying to ignore the many stares that were now directed his way. For good measure he ate two. Squish, gulp.
Luna groaned and turned around, continuing on. "Come on. And no more blackberries, any of you."
Jackle stared up at the imposing iron doors in front of him, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He tried to force himself to calm down, to think clearly; his emotions refused to listen. 'Where are those voices when you need them?' he thought desperately.
He looked around the hall. Where was Reala? Should he wait for him? Was he already inside? He didn't want to go in there alone! But Wizeman was waiting---he had to.
Hovering nervously, Jackle whimpered as he tried to bury his secret deep within the back of his mind. It was hard.
Reala strode down the hall, paces firm and even, head high. Maren moved out of his way as he came through, filing back to their former positions to stare at their leader. He exuded a strength that showed through even his gait. No one dared speak to him.
He was perfectly aware of the fear he caused. He'd never had this kind of power over their feelings before, the ability to demand respect merely by walking by. It was as if he was the one thing they feared most---and fear was respect. They respected him with all their souls.
He loved it.
The shadows of the hall fell away as the walls widened out, making the space in front of Wizeman's room larger than that of the other rooms on the second floor. It was a slight psychological trick; one Reala had no need to heed. He was Lord Wizeman's perfect general, wasn't he? There was no need for his ruler to be angry with him.
In front of the door, highlighted by the torches that served as light sources in the windowless hallway, Jackle cowered. He was bent down, his back shuddering, one hand pressed half-longingly, half-fearfully against the cold iron of the door. Looking close, Reala could swear he saw a tear well up in the demi-maren's eye.
"What are you sobbing about?" he demanded, striding up to stand by the card-thrower.
Jackle started violently and jerked his head up, golden-green eyes filled with fear. "Wasn't crying master, wasn't!"
Reala blinked. It was a very old habit of Jackle's to slip into broken English if he was scared; not just frightened, but terrified and near hysterics. "Master" also came up in his sentences quite a bit. The demi-maren was terrified.
'Why?' He stared down at Jackle, who seemed just as startled by his own outburst of hysterics; he gulped in air, pressing a gloved hand against his chest to try and calm himself. Reala couldn't comprehend it. 'Why is he so frightened? Wizeman is our master, he won't needlessly hurt us. Is he remembering the perfection process? That wasn't needless pain, the fool! That was for our own benefit!'
Swallowing, Jackle tried to speak, his voice dry and thick-sounding. "I---master's waiting, Reala." And with that he turned around and pushed at the doors.
"Fool!" This time Reala said the name out loud as he grabbed Jackle's shoulder, pulling the demi-maren back with a jerk. "Knock, idiot!"
Jackle gasped, having forgotten that not to knock was a sign of disrespect. He looked up at Reala, intending to thank him for the reminder; and stopped cold.
Reala was glaring down at him like some fury of the night, his deathly pale face framed by a circling of red and black, his blue eyes filled with annoyance and anger. There was none of the lurking sympathy or kindness that had always been there before, hidden deep in a forget-me-not haze. Now his stare was ice.
Jackle swallowed, taking a stumbling step or two back, and then turning around in a hurry to knock. The sound echoed through the hallway. He stood silent, trembling slightly, surrounded by fear. In front of him was an interrogation he was deathly afraid of, behind him a stare like a dagger of ice burned into his back. He gritted his teeth and hoped it would all just smooth over.
A deceptively calm voice answered their intrusion of sound. "Enter."
They did as told, Reala stalking in with an almost feline grace, Jackle skittering along in quick steps like a frightened fawn. He wished he were behind Reala, to have some sort of physical barrier between himself and the hulking stone being in front of them, but he didn't dare just turn around and hide behind the general. He stood as straight as possible, fingers twitching nervously.
Wizeman gazed down at him, his hands floating languidly. Silently he inspected them both. His improved servants were shaping up nicely; Jackle looked frightening, a floating smile and devilishly flashing eyes framed by a flaming cape, and Reala---Reala was perfect. He stood tall, not with the ramrod straightness of a soldier but with the relaxed, powerful stance of someone who knew they could beat anyone who crossed them, and would do it too. His face was nightmarishly wonderful, a handsome visage tweaked a little here and there to become a dark being. His eyes---yes. That was the true test. Reala's eyes were cold, not only with the hue Wizeman had forced them to take on, but with true determination to succeed. Reala had taken on his position as the general of nightmares. He was perfect.
Whilst on the subject of eyes, Wizeman took a look at Jackle's; and was resultantly disturbed. The demi-maren's eyes were flickering about, jumping up to look at his master before scurrying around the room again. Jackle's eyes were large and deep, and very emotive; his emotions showed in his eyes more than any other maren Wizeman could remember. Their deep green flecked with gold seemed to almost change color with his mood. At the moment they were unending wells of fear.
Wizeman frowned. Was Jackle still so horribly unnerved by his improvements? Such psychological scarring had not been expected…
He spoke, noticing their relief when the long silence and inspection was broken. "Have you adjusted to your improvements?"
Reala smiled, satisfaction and pride in his icy gaze. Jackle nodded his head quickly. Perhaps it wasn't the improvements that were the source of his unease, then.
Wizeman's eyes directed themselves towards Reala, showing who he was addressing. "Are you pleased with them?"
Reala bowed low, muscles rippling under the black and white of his costume. "Perfect, my lord. Absolutely perfect. Your inspiration and handiwork still fill me with awe."
Wizeman smiled. Obviously Reala loved his new appearance; the power he was finding he had gave him much pleasure. This one could very well be considered done.
The other, however…Wizeman's eyes focused on Jackle, noting the way the demi-maren shrank back, flinching as the stony gaze was fixed upon his face. "And you, Jackle?"
"It's perfect, master," he managed, his voice high and wavery. Wizeman noted the pronoun 'master' with disappointment. Obviously Jackle was still adapting to being different; but the 'master' said that something else was going on. He only spoke that way when he was frightened, and trying to avoid being hurt. Why was he afraid of being hurt?
One of the hands waved casually, gesturing for Reala to leave. "Very well. You have done well as my general, Reala; I am immensely pleased. You are perfect. You may go."
Reala straightened and bowed deeply, a dark joy running through his veins at his ruler's words. He truly was perfect.
"Thank you, Lord Wizeman," he said, his voice strong and echoing in the dark chamber. "I promise I will continue to serve you to the best of my ability."
Wizeman nodded, acknowledging the oath. "Dismissed."
He held up a hand as Jackle turned to follow the Seeker General. "Not you, Jackle. We still have something to speak about."