Chapter Thirty Seven
Chancellor Hans Westergaard
ELSA
Elsa opened her eyes, which were still gummy with sleep. She felt awful the second she did, and let out an involuntary whimper. A headache plagued her skull as though she had been drinking heavily the night before.
But no, as far as she remembered, she didn't have anything to drink. The last thing she recalled was being in the office of Stormtide's warden. It had been part of her plan to pry information from the Warden before the brown cloaks came for her. He had seemed truly apologetic for her predicament, and she honestly felt that he was just another pawn in the grander scheme of things.
She had to admit, this was part of her plan. Getting captured by the men in the brown cloaks to find out who was behind it all. At least she had learnt the name of the man in charge. Or at least an abbreviation of it. The High Priest. That was what the Warden had called the man. Or was it a woman? She didn't know. There was an eerie air of mystery to it all, one that would be solved once the person in charge walked through the door.
Her body feeling like butter, Elsa lethargically took the time to survey her surroundings. What she saw surprised her. She had expected to wake up in a prison cell or a dungeon. Somewhere dark, damp and dingy, with stone walls and everything that screamed "prison".
But it was not so. Elsa found herself lying on a spacious queen-sized bed instead of a cold slab of stone. The mattress was so soft that her body had sunken into it. The pillows beneath her head were heavenly too - comfier than anything she had laid on in months - and when she lifted her head she saw that it had left a crater in the pile of pillows. A quilt blanket had been drawn over her, cozy and warm that made her want to remain in bed and drift back into another long nap. Her head still throbbed painfully.
As her feet touched the soft carpet and she inched away from the bed, she half expected to find chains shackling her ankles or wrists to the bed. To her stupefaction, there weren't any. Was she in fact not a prisoner here? Her hand flew to her neck in hope, but the wretched magic dampening collar was still there, clamped round her neck and canceling out her magic.
Damn it. Elsa's heart sank a little, realising that she was still without her sorcery. It would certainly help if she could blast her way out of wherever she was in right now. The fact that the place was the furthest thing from a dungeon made her feel even more uncomfortable and confused. Why did the brown cloaks choose to bring her here and leave her unrestrained?
Her eyes flicked round the large room - or suite to be more accurate - searching for a way out. Painted a light shade of yellow, the walls looked new, sturdy and high. The room itself was well furnished, with big, polished set pieces that made it feel like she was in a hotel.
A table made out of marble stood in the centre of the room, with a small tray of items laid neatly on the tabletop. Elsa walked over to it, hoping to find something she could use to defend herself should the need arise. However, to her disappointment, she only found a smaller tray of ink, and feather pens, with a few pieces of paper. Writing materials.
Going to the window, she drew the thick curtains open to allow light in. Only to find that there was no light. It was dark outside, with only the faint hint of light in the far distance marking the time of day as just before dawn. She surmised that she was on the third or fourth floor of a hotel, judging by the height. Standing at the window, she could make out figures in dark red moving through the streets. Exonian soldiers.
They were not in any sort of formation, and most of them were hauling carts and wagons across the streets, while others were tying ropes around the caissons, and limbering cannons to horses with the barrels facing backwards. Sergeants and lieutenants were at intervals on the road, yelling directions and pushing men off in the right direction. They looked like they were preparing for a battle.
Elsa frowned. Was she behind enemy lines? But that didn't make any sense. How did she end up here? The brown cloaks had taken her, not the Exonians. Or were they one and the same? What was going on? And where the hell am I?
Her questions must have been heard, for there was a click at the door as though a key was turning in a lock. Of course, Elsa thought to herself. The door would be locked.
She braced herself for the person behind the door to enter the room. Would it be the figurehead known as the High Priest? Am I finally going to learn who's leading the brown cloaks and behind the disappearance of the sorcerers? Her skin crawled and her blood ran cold at what she saw next.
A man walked in with a steady gait, familiar and foreboding. With his signature white gloves, he was dressed in a dark blue overcoat, and underneath was a black suit jacket, with a maroon shirt and pinstripe black trousers to match, with a purple tie that added a dash of colour. His hair was a bright auburn shade, combed back neatly and a near-permanent smile etched on his face that was dastardly unmistakable.
"Hans." Elsa said, narrowing her eyes and doing her best to mask her shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Hans' voice was smooth, but with a touch of deliberate hurt to it. "I thought you would be more thrilled to see me. You know," he gestured at her and to himself. "Familiar faces in a strange, foreign land can never hurt."
"You tried to kill me the last time we met." She said stiffly, glaring at him with the full force of her severe gaze. "And the time before that."
"You should learn to lighten up. Forgive and forget." His casual tone was getting on her nerves.
"But you didn't." Elsa's teeth was gritted so tightly that they hurt. "Otherwise you wouldn't have tried to kill me and my sister."
"Fair point," Hans shrugged in dismissal. "You look terrible, by the way. More exhausted than I remember." He suddenly stepped forward quicker than she could back away, and put a gloved hand gently under her chin. "Grown thinner, have we?"
Irate, Elsa batted his hand away with as much hostility as she could muster. "Where are we?" She asked sharply, feeling in no mood to play his games. "You're working with the men in the brown cloaks? Why?"
"Calm down, Elsa." Hans held up a hand. "One question at a time. I understand you're probably still feeling a little unwell. You've been out for two days."
So it's been two days. Elsa's mouth formed into a hard line. Someone had cast a spell over her that night in the office, rendering her unconscious. No doubt some kind of foreign power stronger than typical magic that she was used to dealing with. "You didn't answer the question." She grated. "Where are we?"
"The beautiful city of Korynes." Hans spread his hands as he walked past her to the windows. "One of the Empire's finest colonies that's about to become the latest war zone tomorrow."
"War zone?"
"Your sister's precious Coalition has arrived outside the city. Tomorrow they'll launch an attack against the Imperial Horde in a bid to claim Korynes and pry it from our grasp, and of course, we will put up a massive fight from the comfort of the city." Hans turned to her. "It's going to be glorious."
"You're insane." Elsa genuinely felt disgusted. He seemed to have grown more unhinged since the last time they had met, but yet he still had a controlled, cunning air about him that made his infinitely dangerous.
"Sticks and stones, Elsa. Sticks and stones." Indifferently, he removed his white gloves and tossed them on the table.
"I assume you're in league with the men in brown cloaks."
"Yes." He removed his overcoat and draped it across the back of the chair.
Elsa blinked. "I didn't think it would be that easy."
"Why not? I have nothing to hide."
"What do you stand to gain from working with them?" She probed.
"That's not really your concern now, is it?"
Elsa set her jaw. As elusive as ever. "Why go through all the trouble to get me here? If you wanted me dead, you could have just ordered me killed in Stormtide and saved yourself the trouble."
Hans clicked his tongue. "I'm disappointed. I would've thought by now you know that I don't resort to such thuggery. No. If I wanted you dead, you would know that it was me who orchestrated it." A sick smile spread across his face. "You should know me well enough by now to know that some things are beneath me."
"So you did bring me all the way here just to kill me then?" Elsa deadpanned. "That seems like an awful lot of effort. I'm disappointed." She clicked her tongue in a particularly loud fashion to show her displeasure. "And here I thought there was a much grander mystery lurking in the shadows."
"Oh, I will kill you. Don't get me wrong. But I have something else on the agenda before we can get to that. I hope you're not in a rush to die."
Elsa raised an eyebrow. "So you're working for the brown cloaks and not with them? I would've expected more from a man of your cunning calibre."
Hans had a slightly offended look on his face, though he hid it well. She knew his weaknesses all too well. Pride and ego.
"No, I don't work for them." Hans said with danger flitting in his voice, walking slowly towards Elsa. "On the contrary. The men who brought you here work for me."
She stood her ground, even as he drew nearer. "Who's the High Priest?" Elsa asked, cutting straight to the chase.
He paused, and something unreadable passed over his expression. "How do you know that name?" There was a very slight hitch in his voice, breaking his usually perfect control.
"Call it resourcefulness. Answer the question. Who's the High Priest?"
There was another lengthy pause, and Elsa waited with bated breath for his answer. To her chagrin, Hans just chuckled and shook his head. "You're better than I remembered, Elsa. And you are formidable, I'll give you that."
"Does Eleanor know you're playing both sides?" Elsa asked.
"Both sides?"
"Working with King Uxzas to rid the continent of sorcerers and working with Eleanor to drag out the war. Does she know her beloved consul betrayed her?"
"Oh, you're wrong on so many fronts, my dear." Hans laughed. "First of all, it isn't consul anymore. It's Chancellor of Exon."
"Congratulations, I suppose."
"And secondly," his voice had gone stiffer and had lost its humorous touch. "I'm not working with that simpleton Uxzas."
"The High Priest then. It doesn't matter. You're still a lap dog running around to please your masters."
"And third, I couldn't care less about whether sorcerers run rampant throughout the world. No, I have bigger concerns."
"Like what?"
"Like what we're about to do here."
"And what's that? Torture again?" Elsa glowered at him. "I thought you would have learnt your lesson after the last time."
"Interrogation." Hans leaned against the table comfortably, facing her. "You see, I do have a certain task I need to accomplish."
"For the High Priest?"
"You're very persistent." Hans sighed, relenting. "Yes. For the High Priest."
"Who is he?"
"It will likely involve torture of course." Hans intentionally ignored answering her question. "But how long it lasts is in your hands. But know that if you choose to make things harder for us, I will take pleasure in making you talk, make no mistake about that." He made a show of putting his hand on his expensive leather belt. "How much you have to suffer is up to you."
"And what has your master sent you to find out?" Elsa asked cautiously.
"Where the League of Sorcerers is hiding." Hans said casually. "We all know that you're the Pilgrim. The leader of your band of do-gooders. Thanks to Uxzas and his reports, we've learnt that you've been spending the past months rescuing sorcerers and escaping to your little hideout. The High Priest is certain that you've stashed these refugees together with the League, wherever that may be, and we want to get rid of them once and for all with minimal fuss.
"And so-" he leaned forward with frightful intensity. "-will you be a darling and tell me, where are you hiding the League of Sorcerers?"
"You must be delusional." Elsa said acidly. "If you think I'm just going to betray my people."
He sighed dramatically and shook his head. "I thought you might say that. And frankly, so did the High Priest. That's why I came prepared."
She raised an eyebrow. "Torture it is, then?"
Getting to his feet, Hans took his time in pulling on his overcoat and white gloves. Then, he waved a hand politely towards the door. "Shall we?"
"Where to?"
"You'll know when we get there." He pulled aside the flap of his overcoat to reveal a knife hidden inside a pocket. "Now after you, please. We don't have a lot of time, so let's not waste any."
Elsa knew when she was beaten. For now. She had no doubt that he would be willing to hurt her in every possible way to get what he wanted. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. Elsa rubbed her shoulders. In a way, she was more worried now as compared to back in the desert. Before, he simply wanted her to suffer and die, with no other complicated ulterior motive. But now, he needed something from her, and she had to make absolutely sure that he didn't succeed.
However, he held all the winning cards at the moment, and so she had to comply and buy herself some time. At least, until her friends showed up. Elsa was quite confident that the Warriors would find her and come to her aid. But the only question was, would they arrive in time? She hoped so.
The door of the suite opened as she neared it, and she stepped out of the room. A red-uniformed guard stood behind it. Glancing down a carpeted hallway, she saw that there were more Exonian soldiers standing guard at intervals with muskets shouldered.
"And I trust you'll be wise enough not to try anything foolish." Hans said as he exited the room after her and straightened out his overcoat. "The guards are on orders to detain you by any means necessary, even if blood has to be shed. I do hope it wouldn't have to come to that. I'll hate to see any of your blood spilt on this nice expensive carpet."
"And here I thought you were talking about torture." Elsa stared defiantly at him. "I'm going to get hurt either way, aren't I?"
"You should know me well enough by now. I don't approach torture with such a…primitive mindset. No, my methods have a far more surgical approach. Though I wouldn't mind stooping to physical torture every once in a while to get the blood flowing, I believe the mind is a far more delicate instrument to trifle with."
"Do your worst."
He gave her a half smirk which sent shivers down her spine. "Oh I intend to. But like I told you before, I don't need to lay a hand on you to hurt you. But then again who knows? It might come to that. We'll see, shan't we?" His grin widened. "Come now, let's not waste any more time."
