As Wendy had conjectured, the pain began to subside about a day later. That said, it was easily one of the longest days of his life.
They say things get worse before they get better, and that was definitely the case with this hex. It went without saying that he wasn't able to get up to eat the food Wendy had left for him. As it got worse and worse, he found himself audibly screaming. Of course, the rotating dungeon guards only laughed at his struggles.
It felt like it would never end, but eventually it did.
It first started subsiding in his hands and feet, then the entirety of his limbs. Within minutes, the pain finally subsided.
He realized he was covered in an extremely thick pool of sweat. He was also incredibly thirsty.
Slowly as to not push himself, he sat up, joints lightly cracking. Part of him was still sore, not from the hex, but from having laid on a shitty dungeon slab for days.
He was also now able to fully take in just how dark and dreary this dungeon was.
As Wendy had claimed, he hadn't received any other food in the dungeon. He stretched his shoulders and stood up, going to the untouched plate she provided him. It was covered in flies. Shooing the flies away halfheartedly with one hand, he began to eat. It had gotten a little stale from sitting out, but it was tolerable for him.
The guard completely ignored the change of his condition. Craig decided it would be better to mutually ignore him.
A piece of potato dropped from his hands and onto his lap. Quickly, he reached to pick it up. It was then for the first time he realized that the pants he had on were not his own. They had changed him into prisoners garments and took his hat. Instinctively, his hand reached for his chest.
It was gone.
His hands balled into fists. It was no use, he was probably going to be executed soon anyway. He was probably kept alive so they could make an example of him. A public execution in the city square.
Unless.
Unless, he was able to escape. Maybe he could pick the lock, overcome the guards, sneak away from the city in the silence of night.
It would be very hard for him to ever rescue Clyde that way.
He sighed. He just wish he had his pendant back, as stupid as it was.
He failed.
That fact was only just starting to hit him. It came with crushing disappointment that he would rather not think about.
As if to intentionally interrupt his thoughts, suddenly he hear footsteps approaching in the distance. Possibly the guards changing shifts, he figured. He had no concept of what time it was, but he knew they did every so often. If he wanted to consider escaping, he should pay careful attention-he certainly wasn't able to before while withering in pain.
Part of him wished he had thought to pretend he was still in pain. It would have helped him, strategically speaking. Oh well, hindsight always seems to be like that.
"My Lord, it is of the utmost honor-"
"Oh come on Larry, don't talk to me like we didn't just get shitface wasted together two weeks ago."
Craig's attention was piqued. He recognized that voice. He quietly put down his plate of stale food.
"Uh...Yes. Well, this way M-My Lord," the guard's voice grew louder, "If you're still sure you want to meet him. You do realize what he-"
"Obviously I'm sure if I came this far."
Mere seconds later, Lord Marsh stopped right in front of Craig's dungeon cel, his face expressionless. The guard opened the gate and let him in.
"Larry, could you please leave us alone for a few minutes?" he finally spoke.
"I don't think that would be wise-"
"I was trying to phrase it nicely, but that wasn't really a request."
"Ten minutes, and then I'll be back," the guard sighed. Craig and Lord Marsh both stayed silent as the clanking footsteps of the guard faded into the distance.
"Why did you come here?" Craig finally asked as the footsteps finally disappeared.
"We told you you'd always have an ally in House of Marsh, didn't we, Feldspar?" he answered, "Though to be fair, we didn't think you'd go out and actually try and assassinate the Grand Wizard."
"I'm more surprised trying to assassinate the Grand Wizard didn't null that," Craig raised an eyebrow.
"Well yeah, you are on pretty thin ice."
"So what's my status?" Craig stood up, "I don't want bullshit. Am I a dead man walking or not?"
"What do you think?"
Craig stretched his arms, still sore from the days of laying and withering in pain, "I think if that was 100%, you wouldn't bother coming here to see me. You also came at almost the exact time that awful fucking hex wore off, which I don't think is coincidence."
"Smart boy," Lord Marsh cracked a smile.
"I just wanna know how the hell I could even have a remote possibility of the Grand Wizard deciding to let me go after...you, know trying to assassinate him in his sleep and all."
His smile faded. "It won't be easy."
"What's your angle, then? I hope you actually have one and aren't just wasting my time."
"Why did you try to kill him?" Lord Marsh asked as he sat on Craig's bed slab, "Are you an assassin? Did you get contracted to?"
Craig was thrown off guard by the question, even though she should have known to expect it. "He banished my best friend," he finally said. He quickly averted his gaze from the older man, looking to the floor.
"And you wanted revenge?"
"I-" Craig paused, those obnoxious feelings of emotion raising up in him, "I hoped that if he was killed, then maybe...Maybe the Princess would-"
"How much do you know about her?" Lord Marsh cut him off suddenly.
Craig turned back to face him, "How much should I know?"
"If you hope to walk away from this? Nothing."
"Okay then," Craig answered, "It was outta revenge. I was all hopeless that my only friend was banished from all of space and time and wanted retaliation."
"Maybe."
"You still didn't answer me. What's the angle?" Craig asked, more accusatory, "You convince him I have some good excuse that's forgivable and then what? I can just walk out of here a free man?"
"Not exactly," he explained, "The 'free man' part, anyway."
"Oh, so send me to the 'workforce'?" Craig rolled his eyes, "Like that's much better than dying."
"No, not that," he explained, "More like, the Wizard has been looking for someone for a mission of his. With your skills, we're thinking maybe you could do it, in exchange for your freedom."
"A mission?"
"It'd be pretty dangerous, and I'm not sure if the Wizard is going to go for it," he sighed, "But it's the best I can think of. To be honest, I was thinking of you as a possible candidate, even before all this happened."
"Are you going to explain more, or leave it intentionally vague?" Craig rolled his eyes.
"The Wizard will explain it to you," Lord Marsh stood up, heading towards the gate where the guard would return in just a minute or so more to rise it. He looked down at the pathetic plate of half-eaten stale food on the plate Wendy had given to him. With a snap of his fingers and use of his magic, the food was turned as good as new. Fresh, uneaten.
"Why are you doing all this for me?" Craig asked, "All I did is help return a piece of jewelry."
"That was a reminder of my missing son," he looked away, "I was thinking...if you do go on this mission, maybe you can find him...Tell him-"
"Okay, I get it, the jewelry was sentimental," Craig cut him off quickly. He really didn't want to be caught up in the Marsh family drama, especially with Lord Marsh's delusions about his long dead son.
"Oh, about jewelry," Lord Marsh stopped in his tracks, "That necklace you always wore. You didn't steal it, did you, Feldspar?"
"No!" Craig objected, "It was a gift, a really important one. Actually, if you could do anything for me, I'd really like to have it back."
"Who gave it to you?" he asked.
"Does it matter?"
"It's just that I recognized it from when I was a lot younger. It belonged to Lady Laura of House Tucker. It just seemed kind of odd that you would have it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Craig managed to force out instinctively.
He laughed lightly, reaching into a pocket of his long cloak, "I know you try to be pretty cautious, but you're really going to have to be more careful than that."
"What do you-?"
Lord Marsh pulled something out and tossed it to him. It was his mother's necklace.
With that, the guard's footsteps began approaching. The guard reached the gate and told him his time was up. He raised the gate and led the magician out of the dungeon. Before he left, however, he cast a spell on his plate, replenishing his food and making it as good as new. Craig was left alone in his dark, dreary cell once more.
Several more days passed before anything happened, only the guards who mutually ignored him. Craig wondered if he was completely forgotten about, left to rot in his cell for all eternity.
It did somewhat annoy him, waiting to be talked to about some plan, some mission. It made him wait it out, instead of going through with an escape plan. He ended up spending most of his time lying around uselessly.
He examined the feldspar necklace closely.
House Tucker.
In all his years with his mother, she never mentioned exactly were she came from. She never mentioned her family. No parents, no siblings, nothing. She talked about the life of a noble in a general fashion, but she was always extremely vague about her own life.
He had never heard the name "Tucker" from her before.
He tried to think if he had heard the name around in Kupa City before. Perhaps there were other Tuckers running around, perhaps he had run into them. But he couldn't recall such.
He didn't like to think about his mother being a born noble. He hated nobles. He didn't want to do research on her, trying to find out where she came from. She rejected their snobby life, and everyone who banished her were the stuck up filth like all the rest of them. He didn't want to know about them, he didn't want to think of them as related to him at all.
He didn't like knowing the name of his would-be House.
He was, of course, naturally also alarmed that Lord Randy recognized the necklace. He wasn't quite sure for how long. Did he recognize it the day he walked into the city all those years ago? Is that related to why he let him in so easily? He liked to tell himself that it was only when it was confiscated after the assassination attempt, that he got to analyze it closely. But he couldn't fully convince himself of this.
Did Lord Marsh know his true identity? Did he know that he was the son of Laura? If Lord Marsh knew where the necklace came from, how many others could have? How many did?
Craig felt sick to his stomach. Lord Marsh was right about one thing. He did need to be more careful. Or rather, he should have been. All those years, walking around with a noticeable necklace belonging to a cast out noblewoman. Especially when he conveniently arrived after her village was burnt to the ground.
He didn't starve, at least. Lord Marsh's spell not only replenished his food from when he first cast the spell-it replenished as soon as he stopped eating, whether he finished everything completely or ate just a little bit. The cup of water never got lower, no matter how much he drank. He had to be grateful for that, he certainly didn't get any food or water from anyone else.
He thought again that maybe this was all a trick to keep him complacent. He'd survive indefinitely in here, and as long as he thought there was a way out, they would believe he wouldn't try and escape.
Joke's on them, he was getting pretty sick of eating the same food.
Sure, he ate mainly the same food near daily for most of his life. But paying attention to that fact wouldn't help his motivation to get the hell out of this depressing cell.
"So like, I get that dungeons usually just leave people to rot until they become some cliche skeletons shackled to the wall," Craig decided to give a rare attempt at talking to the guard on staff, "But like, I'm just curious. After everything is that really you guys are planning to do with me?"
"Shut up, prisoner," the guard hissed.
"I noticed that I'm not actually shackled," Craig continued, "So like, do you guys wait to shackle dead people to the wall after they become skeletons as part of your weird unsettling decorating routine? Is it even the prisoners? Or do you guys find random dead bodies to do that to?"
The guard ignored him.
"If I am waiting to be executed," Craig found himself pondering out loud, still to the guard, "I've seen executions. Those people are almost always already beat up pretty bad. Why am I not?"
"Would you like me to torture you?" the guard grinned sinisterly.
"You're implying that like it's an option for you."
"Watch your mouth, prisoner," he growled, glaring at Craig directly in the eye from the other side of his locked dungeon cell, "Or I'll take away that fancy food of yours."
Craig raised an eyebrow. The guard wasn't allowed to touch him. "Go ahead. I'm tired of that shit anyway," Craig shrugged turning away.
The guard cursed under his breath, but otherwise did nothing.
He wasn't allowed to touch his food, either. It was there for the purpose of keeping him alive. All of his suspicions were correct.
He concluded that there was really no reason to leave someone like him to rot. They'd kill him, let him starve. Not leave him perfectly comfortable. Or well, as much as he could be in this dark, dreary cell. Maybe there was a plan for him.
He would give Lord Marsh another week.
Almost another week did go by. Craig felt bored out of his mind.
He tried to come up with potential escape plans, some which could possibly work. But more than anything, he was becoming more and more impatient with the supposed plan to get him out. He didn't understand why no one could visit him again. Not just Lord Marsh, but what about Wendy? What about Bebe, who supposedly sent her? Okay, maybe Bebe was probably too pissed to see him. Sending a friend to make sure he wasn't dead was one thing and didn't mean he was spared her anger.
"Someone's here for you," a guard called to him emotionlessly, as if interrupting his thoughts.
Craig sat up straight. "Who?" he asked, trying to tone down potential eagerness with a twinge of skepticism.
"Me," a voice called out, the corresponding figure emerging with it.
It was Wendy Testaburger.
She was dressed in official garb, but unlike the usual hard metal of her usual knight's uniform, it was of soft purple and pink material, save a metal plate covering her chest. It screamed diplomatic outfit.
Dame Wendy Testaburger had been trying to peg him for murder for years. She helped him in his cell, but he wasn't sure exactly what her intentions were. He knew from experience that people were often fairweather friends, changing loyalties at the drop of a hat.
The guard lifted the gate and approached him, signaling for him to follow. Or rather, practically forcing him. Craig obliged.
"The Wizard ordered he be blindfolded to prevent any tricks," Wendy stated emotionlessly, tossing over a cloth to the guard.
"Wait a second, I-" Craig objected.
"Either you come blindfolded or not at all," she answered coldly. Craig sighed and against his better judgement allowed the guard to blindfold him. Once it was securely in place, the guard pushed him forward, leading him out of the cell.
"So is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked, as the three traversed their way up the dreary hallways of the dungeon.
The guard snickered, "You're not really in a position to-"
"You'll find out soon enough," Wendy cut him off.
Craig sighed again, but relented. However, even blindfolded, he was careful to memorize every step he took, counting each and every one of them as well as the number of stairs he climbed. The number of left turns, right turns. He listened closely for dripping water, wind that could be coming from cracks or windows, anything that could help him if he found himself needing to escape.
Eventually they stopped him and opened a pair of doors. He could tell from the sound that they were very large, heavy doors. A moderate gust of wind blew on them as they opened. It must be the entrance to the dungeon, he figured.
The guard pushed him forward and out, out into the open. He wasn't entirely sure where he was-the city had multiple dungeons with multiple entrances to help confuse prisoners, but he could hear chatter. He could tell by slight noises from Wendy and the guard that they were attempting to shooing away any nosy onlookers.
Eventually, after a long walk in the open, he was lead into another building and taken up winding stairs of what he could only presume was one of many large towers. Carefully, he was eventually guided into a room. A pair of hands carefully went to the back of his head and untied his blindfold.
The first thing he saw was the Grand Wizard's face. Butters was standing next to where he sit, his face troubled. Instantly, Craig's fight or flight instinct kicked in. He wanted to kill this the Wizard, but just being in his very presence physically sickened him.
"Take a seat, Feldspar," the Wizard gave a cruel, shit-eating grin at him.
Craig probably would have, given that there wasn't like he had any other choice. Yet, he did not sit himself down. An unseen force moved his body, forcing him into the chair. It was as if he completely lost control of his body.
So this was the Grand Wizard's magic.
The Wizard, similarly to how he had seen Marsh do before, floated in two plates of food, a larger one for himself, and a smaller one for Craig. It was a whole miniature chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. There was a glass of wine in a fancy jeweled gold chalice that he knew was probably expensive. A great quality meal he was sure, but he had no appetite.
"So, I'm wondering," the Wizard said with a full mouth as he started eating, "Did you actually think you could kill me? You a thief. Against, me the great and awesome Grand Wizard?"
Craig didn't say a word, only lightly poking at his potatoes with his fork.
With only the slightest movement of the Grand Wizard's hand, Craig's body became overcome with pain, dropping his fork to the floor. He tried to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent a scream, but he couldn't help but cry out. Fortunately, unlike the hex he endured, the pain left him only a few seconds later. As it left him, he found himself gasping for air.
"I asked you a question," the Wizard smiled.
"Shouldn't you be more concerned about why I wanted to kill you?" Craig glared, picking up the fork from the floor.
"Nah. Maybe in a minute, but you gotta see where I'm coming from. I'm like, the coolest, bravest, strongest, most powerful Wizard-no being in all of Zaron. You're just a petty little thief with no magic at all. Imagine some shitty little ant going against a dragon," he laughed.
"Well, I got pretty far, didn't I?" Craig smiled.
His smile faded. "No you didn't."
"I managed to breach all of your security, wander the castle unnoticed, and even made it into your bedroom without any suspicion whatsoever. If you didn't have some hex or whatever shielding you, you'd have been dead. All without using any of your magic ricks."
The Grand Wizard stood up, his face turning red with anger. "I'll fucking show you magic-"
"Wait!" Wendy cut him off, "With all due respect, isn't that why you wanted to bring him here?"
The Wizard sighed and sat down. His boiling anger faded, but he still looked irritated. "Don't interrupt me, bitch," he scoffed under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Craig asked incredulously.
"I said this bitch shouldn't interrupt me," the Wizard frowned, "She's already on thin fucking ice as it is."
"N-No, not that. I mean you brought me here because I was almost able to kill you? So what, you think that makes me useful?"
"Not if you don't learn some fucking respect," he spat, "This was a stupid idea. I should just have you publicly burned alive for the way you think you can talk to me alone."
"What do you want me to do, be your bodyguard?" he smirked, "I think I'd rather be publicly burned alive."
"Like I'd want to put up with you?" he frowned, "No, I want you for a mission that would probably get you killed almost instantly, anyway."
"Why do you think I would want to do something for you?" Craig asked, "I mean, like I said, I'd rather fucking die horribly than be your guard, so that should tell you that I'm not super desperate to be spared. What's in it for me, especially if I'll likely die in that mission, anyway?"
"Fine then, you ungrateful asshole. I'll gladly have you executed."
"Wait!" Wendy interrupted again, "Maybe you should ask him why he tried to kill you."
Craig's eyes widened. He knew what Wendy was getting at. His heart started beating rapidly.
"Don't order me around!" the Wizard spat at her.
There was a brief pause.
"So why did you want to kill me?" the Wizard grumbled under his breath.
"For my best friend, Clyde," he answered earnestly, without the sardonic tone he had before, "He worked for you. He went through hell for you, and then you banished him."
"You'd do all that for a friend? Haha, that's dumb."
"No it's not!" he found his temper rising. Then he took a deep breath, to force himself to stay leveled, "He...He was all I had. We'd been through a lot together, and you took away everything! I lost my only family, and now I have to live with the fact that he's banished from space and time, all alone!"
"Yeah, whatever. I remember Clyde," he stared him down, "He was a real fucking idiot. You know, he was probably only holding you back."
"Even if he was, I wouldn't give a shit about that!" Craig found the volume of his voice rising, "I'd do anything for him!"
"Anything?" he smirked slightly, raising his eyebrow.
Bingo, Craig thought. He tried to keep his face straight, not showing the sudden rush of internal relief and adrenaline that was building up inside of him.
"Anything!" Craig tried to put on a pleading tone, despite his internal demeanor growing far more calculative. It was pretty hard for him, he was always a terrible actor. He wished he could put on tears, but unfortunately crying was a rare thing for him, and he especially couldn't cry on demand.
"Well fuck," the Wizard laughed awkwardly, "Can you believe this shit, Butters? He tried so hard to kill me just for that Clyde guy. I didn't even really care about him that much, I probably would have brought him back if he only asked-"
Craig knew he was lying through his teeth in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but it still stung. It made his hatred for the Wizard grow even more.
"-But even now, I could totally bring that dumbass back. If, Feldspar manages to complete my quest. Don't you think that'd be fair, Butters?"
"Uh, I guess?"
"'U-Uh, I guess?'" the Grand Wizard mocked, "You're killing me Butters, grow a fucking backbone like Feldspar here."
"Uh, yes," Butters stammered, "I think it's a good idea."
Craig could feel Wendy lightly touch his shoulder. He still really didn't get why Wendy was rooting for him so hard after she had spent years trying to get him convicted for murder, but quickly realized that wasn't the most important thing for him to think about.
"Alright then, Feldspar," the Grand Wizard smiled at him, "Will you accept my quest? You said you'd do anything for your friend, after all."
"Yes," Craig responded, "But aren't you gonna tell me what it is first?"
"I need you to sneak into the High Elf Kingdom and steal back the Stick of Truth from that piece of shit rat High Elf King Kyle."