"I've heard tell that pain is an illusion of the mind." Jack Bannister commented casually.
"Go to hell." I replied.
I'd tried escaping by using the trapdoor as a lever to push the barrel off of it, but one of the hired goons had caught me. Just the one. Of course, he called in six more to beat me into semi-consciousness so I could be dragged back to the cellar.
He just leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Do you mind answering a few questions?"
"I don't have much choice."
"See? You're not a complete idiot. So why bother with the knight business?"
"I'm unredeemed, it's not like I can get an honest job."
"That's not what I meant."
My brow furrowed.
He sighed and shifted. Though he was acting extremely polite, there was a distant coldness behind the mask of friendliness. "I mean the do-gooder attitude. I heard about you and Fisk mock sword-fighting with the travelling players and you beating everyone. You could be the leader of a criminal enterprise."
"You mean, why help people." I realized that a bit too late. "No God looks after man, so men have to look out for each other."
Jack Bannister lost interest as soon as I started into the philosophy thing. "I see. Well, Michael, you just lost your chance to join the winning side." He crossed to the ladder and started up it.
"Wait!" I sat up, causing the chains to rattle. "What about Fisk? Is he okay still?"
"I assume so. He's been travelling."
"So he's leaving me?" I tried to sound happy, but it wasn't exactly the best news. I didn't want him to come save me, but I was still clinging to the hope that all this would end with another wild escape, like it had when Cecil had captured me.
"Oh, no. First he tried to get help from your father. Now, he's bringing the dream team to save you."
"Dream team?"
"Fisk has been joined by his sister—and yours."