Chapter Five: The Line of Duty

With most of the preparations already in place before the death of the Count—I guess that should be "the old Count," Pike thought—the welcome banquet went off smoothly, at least as far as the logistics of it were concerned. The hall looked magnificent, draped in rich reds and golds, hung with flowers and sparkling with crystal. The table settings, though lavish, were laid out with meticulous precision. Each course of the meal arrived at exactly the right moment, cooked to perfection and piping hot. The staff and servers executed their duties flawlessly, with a grace that almost seemed choreographed. It was an event fit for a Sovereign.

But despite the grandiose setting, it was a subdued affair. Once the formalities were completed, conversation dwindled to a heavy silence punctuated by awkward small talk, everyone keenly feeling the absence of those not present at the table. Count Wesley sat uncomfortably in what had two days ago been his father's chair. The Sovereign and his wife maintained their regal composure, but their children fidgeted anxiously. Keyleth picked listlessly at her food, and Pike, too, found herself without much of an appetite.

Grog, as usual, ate and drank with oblivious gusto. Pike smiled wistfully at him, wishing to herself that she could find as much joy in simple pleasures right now.

"So… Vox Machina," said Robert Gildspire, the new Count's younger brother and Admiral of Ships. "Tales of your exploits have spread far and wide. Though I must admit, I thought there were more of you."

Pike felt her face grow warm. "I'm afraid you're not meeting us at our best, Admiral," she said. "We were forced to split up shortly after we left Emon, when one of our number was kidnapped on the road. We sent a rescue party after her, and the three of us"—she gestured to Grog, Keyleth, and herself—"stayed behind to guard Sovereign Uriel and his family." She grimaced. "It's not how we wanted to present ourselves for an occasion like this, but to be honest… well, we're more worried about our friends than anything else right now."

"On the contrary, I think we are meeting you at your best," Count Wesley said kindly. "It takes courage to balance what the heart wants with what duty demands."

"It's our duty to rescue Vex, too!" Keyleth snapped suddenly, then cringed at her own outburst and shrank down in her chair, cheeks reddening.

Count Wesley nodded solemnly. "Of course. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Only that it takes courage—and great faith—to stand by and allow others to fulfill that duty. Believe me, I understand."

"Your sister." Pike bowed her head. "I'm sure you'd rather be out there looking for her yourself."

"Indeed," said Count Wesley. "At this very moment, what guards survived the attack that killed my father are rearming and gathering their comrades, organizing a new search for Lady Kaiya. I trust that they will succeed, but I want nothing more than to go with them. My sister is as dear to me as I'm sure your friends are to you." He sighed. "There are times, however, when our duty to the realm must come before our duty to our families—found or otherwise."

"Well said, Count." Sovereign Uriel stood and raised his glass. "A toast, then," he said as everyone at the table rose with him. "To those not with us today: may the seekers find, may the lost be found, and may the dead find peace."

"Hear, hear!" all the guests chorused.

"Hear, hear," said Pike softly, and she drank deep.

Marcan Lucius folded his arms defiantly. "What do you two want with Anna?"

Anna? Gritting his teeth, Percy stared haughtily down his nose at the alchemist. "That is not your concern," he bit out.

Lucius leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the counter, to snarl in Percy's face. "Then it ain't yours, neither."

The two men held each other's glare for a long moment, neither willing to back down, as Percy racked his whirling brain for something to convince this stubborn peasant to cooperate. Lucius had become belligerent the moment he realized Percy and Vax weren't there to buy anything. And now he was the only thing standing in the way of finding Ripley. And Vex.

Percy's trigger finger twitched.

But before he could do anything he would (arguably) regret, Vax broke in to defuse the situation. "Would a reward change your mind, friend?" he asked smoothly.

That got his attention. Lucius finally looked away from Percy and toward Vax. "Reward, huh?" he asked. "What kind of 'reward' are we talking ab—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Vax had a dagger in his hand. In one smooth motion, he spun the blade once around his fingers and then slammed it into the countertop, burying the tip half an inch into the oak, a hair's breadth from Lucius's hand. "How about I let you keep all your fingers?" he growled. "That woman has my sister, and you will tell us where she is."

"All right, all right!" Lucius leapt back from the counter, holding his hands up. "No need to get feisty, now. Take the south road out of town, and you'll see the old Adrickham manor. It's mostly in ruins, but there's a network of tunnels underneath. Anna's been using those for… whatever she's doing in there."

Percy gave him a tight smile. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he said. "Now, rumor has it you've been making deliveries to her. What kind of deliveries?"

Lucius looked like he was about to protest, but a glance over at Vax, spinning another dagger in his hand, changed his mind. "Alchemy ingredients, what else?" he snapped. "She's got a standing order I bring her every couple of days. Pays me good for it, too. I got the list right here."

"Let me see it," Percy demanded.

Slowly, keeping one eye on Vax, Lucius pulled a sheet of parchment out from under the counter and handed it over.

Percy scanned the list, and his heart leapt into his throat. "Charcoal, sulfur, saltpeter—she's making black powder," he hissed. He tossed the page back onto the counter, turned, and headed for the door. "We need to go, Vax'ildan. Now."

"Percival, stop!" Outside the shop, Vax pulled Percy to a halt. "You need to tell me what's going on here."

"We're rescuing Vex'ahlia, that's what's going on here," Percy snapped. "What part of that don't you understand?"

"I don't understand what has you so fucking terrified!" Vax ground out. "I know you're worried about Vex. I am, too, Gods, of course I am. But something about Ripley has you all tied up in knots. And now she's experimenting with black powder? Making weapons like yours? Percival, I need to know what we're about to walk into!"

Percy turned his head aside, just enough that the sunlight glared off his glasses. "We're about to walk into the lair of a monster."

Vax folded his arms. "That's evocative, but not helpful."

"You know that when the Briarwoods took Whitestone, it was with the purpose of finding the ziggurat underneath. What I didn't tell you was the lengths to which they went to discover its location." Percy kept his expression carefully blank; between that and the reflection from his glasses, his face was totally unreadable. "They thought my family knew about it—we didn't, but they didn't believe us." He swallowed hard. "Doctor Ripley was their… interrogator."

The creepy but cryptic note Ripley had left for Percy flashed across Vax's mind, and suddenly the pieces fell into place. "Fucking Hells," he breathed. "She tortured you."

Percy nodded. "And Cassandra. And Julius, and Vesper, and Oliver, and Whitney, and Ludwig. Their screams still haunt my nightmares. The thought of her getting her hands on Vex'ahlia… the experiments she might… I can't…"

Gods above. With a supreme effort of will, Vax forced back the images his imagination tried to conjure. He could not, would not allow himself to picture such things.

Percy closed his eyes and drew a long, shaky breath. "I have a confession to make, Vax'ildan. The last time we faced Doctor Ripley, I still had Orthax… inside me. Pulling my strings, giving me courage. But now?" He shook his head with a mirthless huff of laughter. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

Vax reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Percival, you're not alone. I'm—"

"I need you to promise me something," Percy interrupted as if Vax hadn't spoken. His jaw clenched, and when their eyes met, Vax didn't like what he saw there: terror, dark and desperate and all-consuming. "If she gets her hands on me again, if rescue isn't possible… promise you'll kill me."

The words knocked the breath from Vax's lungs. "What? No!"

But Percy grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward. "Promise me," he ground out. His eyes flashed, his hands trembled. "Promise you won't let her take me alive."

"Fuck," Vax hissed. "All right, Percival, I… I promise. Now let me go, damn it." He stumbled back a step when Percy released him. "Let's just focus on getting Vex out, okay?"

"Okay." The breath Percy let out was far steadier than the last. "Vax'ildan… thank you."

But Vax shook his head. "No. Do not thank me for that." He turned to walk away. "I may never forgive you for it."