Chapter Ten: Promises to Keep

Ripley let out a short bark of triumphant laughter. "Hah! Those worked even better than I'd hoped!" She stepped into the light, and Percy's stomach twisted as she smirked down at him where he'd fallen to his knees. Meeting her gaze, his memories tried to drag him back to the dungeons of Whitestone, to the weeks of pain and blood and despair he'd endured under that same cruel smile. Pleading, begging her to stop, crying that he didn't know what she wanted, damn it, only for the same question to be hurled his way again and again. Always followed by the bite of that terrible hook.

She leered at him, echoes of his and his siblings' screams playing ceaselessly in his mind as he forced himself to maintain eye contact, to not allow her that small victory. "It's just like I told you, Percival," she said. "With a little magic and a lot of ingenuity—"

"Ingenuity?" Vax snorted. "I hate to burst your little bubble there, Ripley, but Percival's been making arrows like that for Vex for months. Your 'ingenuity' is falling behind the curve."

"And that is why I want you, why I need you, Percival," continued Ripley, as smoothly as if Vax hadn't spoken. "I may be brilliant, yes. I can reverse-engineer nearly anything you make, streamline and improve it. But you, you're the inventor! Your mind is on another level altogether!" Her voice lost some of its arrogance, taking on an almost genuine earnestness. "Let me free you," she said. "I can free you from the shackles of your moral code, of your fear of your own potential. Let us unleash your genius upon Tal'Dorei, and we'll work wonders together!"

"Never," Percy spat, forcing all of the rage and hatred that surged within him into the word to keep his voice from trembling as terror turned his guts to water.

"'Never,'" repeated Ripley in grinning mockery. "You forget how well I know you. You forget that I know exactly how to break you." She chuckled, and the sound made his blood run cold. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Lord de Rolo: I knew, the whole time. I knew right from the start that neither you nor any of your miserable family knew anything about the ziggurat under Whitestone."

The floor dropped out from under him. All the air seemed sucked from the room. Percy could only stare at her, dumbstruck, for an eternal moment, her words impacting as though propelled by black powder. The only reply he could muster was a breathless "What?"

Ripley's chuckle became a full-on laugh, deep and throaty and viciously condescending. "I let the Briarwoods think you did, of course. Seeing your lordly siblings brought so low, so completely under my power—I just couldn't get enough. Until, of course, they just… gave out on me, one by one. The weaklings. First Julius, then Vesper, Whitney, Oliver, and little Ludwig. How old would he be by now? Nine?"

"You keep their names out of your fucking mouth!" Percy snarled.

"And then you!" she crowed. "Once I found your weakness, I couldn't let you go. The exquisite agony in your eyes as Cassandra screamed and writhed under my touch was"—she kissed the tips of her fingers—"oh, such perfection. And now here we are, and I have two of the people you love most in this world under my power, and I can see it all again."

Percy pulled desperately at his bonds, but his wounded shoulder screamed in protest and the silken ropes gave not a fraction. "No!" he gasped.

"Unless," Ripley added with a predatory grin, "you come with me."

"I…" Percy's mind spun, searching for an angle. There had to be a way, if not to save himself, to at least get the twins out. If he could keep them safe…

Only one solution presented itself. He hung his head as if in defeat. "All right," he muttered softly.

Behind him, Vex and Vax erupted in protests. "Percival, no!"

"What are you doing, de Rolo?!"

But Percy turned and silenced them with a look, then returned his attention to Ripley, forcing himself to look her in the eyes again even as his heart pounded. "On one condition."

"Oh?" Ripley purred, hands on her hips. "And what condition is that, Percival?"

"Let Vax'ildan and Vex'ahlia go. I'll give you nothing until I know they're safe, and far away from you." He drew a deep breath, steeling himself for what must come next. "But once they are, I'll come with you. Willingly. And I'll do whatever you ask."

"I see. A tempting offer." Reaching into the bag at her side, Ripley pulled out a pepperbox not unlike Percy's own. She made a show of loading it. "And how do I know you won't turn on me the instant they are free?"

"I swear it."

Ripley scoffed. "Words."

"On my family's name."

"Meaningless."

"On my life!"

"Forfeit." Ripley leveled her gun to point it straight at his heart, then shifted her aim to Vex. "Come now, Percival, you're asking me to give up quite a bit of leverage. You'll need to give me something more in return."

"Damn you, Ripley, I'm already giving you my soul!" Percy ground out through clenched teeth. "What more do you want?"

"What more, indeed?" Ripley mused. She thought for a moment, then said, "Here is my counteroffer: I will release one of your friends. I'll even let you choose which one. The other will remain as my guest, unharmed. Unless, of course, you need… hmm, reminding."

Yes. That could still work. "Your terms are acceptable," said Percy stiffly, and it took all his willpower not to flinch as both twins cried out in despair and betrayal. "Release Vax'ildan."

Pike had barely finished disassembling her spell setup before another knock sounded at the door. She sat back on her heels as she slipped the last candle into her bag. "Come in," she called out wearily.

This time, her visitor was a young woman, hardly more than a girl, whom Pike recognized as one of the Count's pages. "Miss Pike, ma'am?" the girl said. "Sovereign Uriel requests the presence of Vox Machina in his chambers immediately."

Pike pushed herself to her feet with a groan. The scrying spell had taken a lot out of her, not to mention the emotional toll of what she'd seen. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed, pray that the Everlight would protect her from the inevitable nightmares, and sleep for a week. But when the Sovereign called, one answered, without question or complaint.

"Of course," she said to the page. "Lead the way."

As they traversed the castle toward the Sovereign's chambers, the page stopped and collected Keyleth and Grog along the way, but otherwise remained silent and solemn. Like the Count himself and the rest of the household and guard, she wore a black sash over her uniform, stark and plain against the shimmering blue and gold. She seemed to be holding back tears.

She stopped before knocking on the Sovereign's door, and turned to Pike, wringing her hands. "Is it true?" she asked tremulously. "About the Lady Kaiya? Is she really dead?"

Out the corner of her eye, Pike could see Keyleth's eyes widen.

"I'm afraid so," Pike said gently. She studied the girl for a moment, then laid a hand on her arm. "She was special to you?"

The girl nodded miserably.

Pike gave her a sympathetic smile. "What's your name?"

"L-Lydia."

"Well, Lydia, my friends are out there right now looking for the monster who did this, okay? They'll make sure she's brought to justice." She squeezed Lydia's arm gently. "I know it's not enough. I know it hurts. But you will be okay."

Lydia sniffled. "Okay." She swiped the tears from her eyes and straightened her uniform. "I-I should announce you to the Sovereign."

The door to the Sovereign's chambers had a large brass knocker on it, and Lydia gave it three authoritative raps. The door swung open, and she stepped inside and bowed. "Pike Trickfoot, Keyleth of the Air Ashari, and Grog Strongjaw, of Vox Machina, Sire."

"Send them in, Lydia. Thank you," said Uriel. When Pike, Keyleth, and Grog stood before him, he said, "Vox Machina. I shall be leaving Castle Gildspire tomorrow morning to return to Emon. In light of recent events, however, you will not accompany me. The Count has volunteered a contingent of his personal guard to see us home, so you may consider yourselves relieved of that duty." He made eye contact with each of them in turn. "Instead, you will go with Count Gildspire's men to assist in the apprehension of Anna Ripley."

"Yes!" Grog exulted, and Pike had to agree.

Time seemed to slow.

Ripley snapped her fingers and pointed at Vax, and two goblins appeared out of the shadows, stepping behind him to cut his bonds. He surged to his feet in an instant, daggers reverse-gripped in each hand, and stabbed backward, eviscerating both the stinking creatures with a single strike. Looking up at Ripley as they fell, he prepared to lunge at her—

"Vax'ildan, stop!"

—and pulled up short to stare incredulously at Percy, whose voice had suddenly carried such a tone of command he almost hadn't recognized it. All of a sudden, even bound, wounded, and on his knees, Vax could see Percival de Rolo III for the noble lord he should have been. Dignity draped of his shoulders like his ever-present greatcoat. There was determination in the set of his jaw, and haughty defiance in his piercing emerald eyes. He leveled that lordly gaze at Ripley, but continued to speak to Vax. "Get out of here, my friend. And remember your promise."

Vax froze.

Yes, he'd promised. But he hadn't thought at the time that it could truly come to this. Could he really do it? Could he really cut down his partner in crime, his friend, the man his sister so clearly (loved) cared for, in cold blood? Would it really be the mercy Percival thought it would be?

Slowly, dagger still in hand, Vax, backed further into the tunnels, toward the exit. He let the shadows swallow him from the humans' view, but Vex's Elven eyesight followed him. She narrowed her eyes as he hefted one of the daggers, shifting his grip to hold the blade. One good throw was all it would take. If he struck with pinpoint accuracy, as he knew he could, Percy wouldn't feel a thing.

I'm so sorry, Percival.

"What promise?" Vex whispered to Percy, and when he didn't answer, she called out to Vax, her voice climbing in pitch. "What did you promise him, Brother?"

He raised the dagger. Aimed.

"Vax, no!"

And let fly.