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Brewing Bad Ch. 77
🕑 Added 2024-09-02 14:00:11 +0000 UTCCh. 77 - Where it all Started
Though he was conscious when he fell, that became less certain over time as he was disarmed and trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey. Whether it was because whatever drug they’d put in the oil was continuing to take its toll the longer he breathed it in, or because it was in higher concentrations as the heavy fumes sank toward the floor, he didn’t know, but after a couple of minutes he could no longer associate meanings to the words that were being said, and shortly after that, the world faded to black.
The darkness was dreamless and fitful, and he was woken several times as two large men wrestled his insensible body downstairs. He tried to struggle then, but it was impossible. He lost consciousness again before whatever happened next was going to happen, and he was only woken up sometime later by the cold.
That was when he found himself in the back of a barred wagon, trundling over the cobblestones toward the castle at the center of Lordanin. He shook his head in disbelief.
All that work and I ended up right where I started, he thought, in disappointment. He had no idea how he was going to get out of it this time, though.
The cold, clean air had returned him to consciousness, but his head was still fogged over, so he didn’t bother trying to figure out what he was going to do exactly just yet. Instead, he lay there, staring out the back of the wagon between the heavy wooden slats at the slowly retreating city as he breathed and tried to stay calm.
Even that mental discipline didn’t keep the recriminations away, though. It was stupid to have gone to the Orchid with only one man. Of course, ten would have passed out in the strange gas she’d used just the same way, but all of them would have been warned by the first one to drop, and maybe a dwarf would have been resistant. If he’d brought Kra’gandin to assist in the negotiations, then maybe…
Lucas sighed. There was no point. He could go in circles all day long about this. What was important, aside from whatever fate the man he’d brought with him turned out to be, was that he’d been so sure she was interested in money more than anything else. He’d been right, too, in the worst way imaginable. Now, he was going to have to pull a rabbit out of his hat, or he was going to get his toenails extracted by whoever the Prince replaced his last torturer with.
Just the thought made him clench his fists as a shiver went down his spine. The mental image was gruesome, but the gesture was enough to note that he was still wearing his ring. That brought a smile to his face. They’d taken everything from him except for his most important and expensive possession. It was enough to laugh if he wasn’t trying to keep his poker face.
Still, Lucas grinned and gripped the ring tighter. He wasn’t going to use it yet, of course. There was no point when he was tied up and locked in a cage, but it was definitely a trump card to be played at the right moment. He had to get out of here after all; not only did he not want to get tortured for what he knew, but he was going to have to make that bitch pay for this.
She betrayed him for a bounty, she almost certainly killed his man, and now he was going to have to burn her whole world down around her ears. Lucas wasn’t much for killing and still regretted the small amount of blood he had on his hands, but if he could get his hands on Artesia, right now, then woman or not, he’d choke the life out of her with a smile on his face.
The ride to the castle took longer than he would have thought, and he was shivering by the time they reached the gate. Not even the cold could mute the anger that blossomed inside him as the drugs faded. He’d gotten himself all ready for a fight as soon as they loosened the ropes that were binding him, but all that changed the moment the guard said, “You sure we’re bringing this guy to the drawing room and not the dungeon? I coulda sworn he was a criminal, fancy clothes notwithstanding.”
“Half the men that come in and out of this castle are criminals. You know the captain decides who goes where.” the second guard said with a laugh. “Don’t mean that the Prince plans on treating them all the same, now does it?”
“Suppose not,” the first one mused as they dragged him from the wagon.
After that, they weren’t too rough with him, though. Though Lucas wouldn’t say they treated him with deference, they treated him with something akin to respect. It would seem that when your fate was uncertain, even the cretins they hired to make up the city guard had no desire to make enemies they didn’t have to. That surprised him, but the surprise was doubled when he realized that these two knuckleheads were the same ones he’d dealt with the last time he was here. The tall guard and short guard just kept popping up like a pair of bad pennies.
While they escorted him into the castle proper and used the servants' hallways to navigate the labyrinthine interior, Lucas spent that time wondering if he should have them offed the next time he got the chance or if he should put them on the payroll. After all, if they were going to be turning up this often, they could be useful. Of course, all that was predicated on the idea that he was going to get through this and have that option.
There was no guarantee that torture, the gibbet, or any other number of grisly endings wasn’t still on the table, but things were looking better. He’d much rather be guided to an overstuffed armchair and left under the watchful eyes of these two bozos than shoved back into a crowded cell.
The guards offered him no answers, and he didn’t ask for any because he decided a person as important as he seemed to be to someone probably wouldn’t do that. Instead, he sat in silence, feigning patience while they chatted amongst themselves, and waited for whoever wanted him.
His paranoia told him it was Lord Torvin who was behind this and that Lucas had fallen into the man’s trap somehow, but that was not the person who came striding into the room almost half an hour later. Instead, it was the Prince himself.
This wasn’t the first time that the two of them had met, so Lucas recognized Prince Raston instantly. He was surprised by that. The man hadn’t had a look of a fiend at the party he’d gone to, and he didn’t know either. Clearly, he was missing some piece of the puzzle.
As the Prince strode over to Lucas, he looked at him with distaste. For a moment, Lucas thought he was about to catch a beating, but instead, the man said, “What is the meaning of this? Why haven’t you untied him? This man is my guest, not some common criminal.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the tall guard said, stepping forward and drawing his dagger to cut Lucas free. “He came in the wagon, so we weren’t sure what to do with him. We thought—”
“No one pays you to think,” the Prince said with a dismissive gesture as he sat down on the couch across from Lucas. “You bind men that are going downstairs; you make the ones you bring inside comfortable. How complicated is that?”
“It’s not your lords— highness, err, Majesty,” the guard stammered, obviously flustered. It was a detail that only made the Prince’s smile wider as he looked at Lucas and studied him like a predator.
Lucas sat there quietly while the guard sawed at the ropes and considered everything that was happening as his situation gyrated wildly. Up until now, Lucas had just assumed that the man was a playboy who left the running of the kingdom to his father’s advisors while the King himself lay on his deathbed. That clearly wasn’t the case. In fact, that so clearly wasn’t the case right now that Lucas was suddenly those rumors were planted on purpose, which made the man he was sitting with even more dangerous.
“Not even any refreshments for the man? No tea or wine?” the Prince scoffed, making the tall guard stiffen before he turned and yelled to the short guard, “Go on, fetch a servant or three. This man looks like he’s been through hell today and is in no fit state for the important discussions that are about to happen.”
The Prince’s critiques made the short guard bow and scrape before he rushed from the room, while the tall guard cut all the faster in a bid to do the same. Less than two minutes later, he and the Prince were alone, sitting in what Lucas assumed to be one of the smaller rooms somewhere in the heart of the palace.
Despite the fact that there were no obvious indicators that he couldn’t try to make a break for it, a little voice in his head whispered that such an action would be extremely unwise. A man of this power in a world of magic must have a dozen ways to protect himself or slay his enemies in ways that weren’t much more complicated than the ring that Lucas wore on his finger.
So, he didn’t try anything. Instead, he said, “Thank you for the hospitality,” as he rubbed his numb wrists. “That’s very kind.”
“You should always bait the hook with kindness,” the Prince said, with an expression that suddenly became serious without any warning. “It makes it harder for the fish to get away, and you, Mister Blue, are one slippery fish. It took half a year an unconscionable amount of gold to get hold of you, so you aren’t going anywhere.”
“Well, if I’d known that I would be invited to the palace rather than sent to the dungeon for a second time, then maybe I would have stopped by sooner,” Lucas lied.
“Yes, well, that was regrettable,” The Prince said, a shadow passing across his expression. “Truthfully, I’m glad you escaped and survived. It would have made things quite awkward to bring you in only to kill you by accident.”
“Oh?” Lucas asked. “I assumed you just wanted to politely ask me for my recipe before you tortured me to death for it. If we’re being honest here.”
That seemed to amuse the Prince, and his eyes glittered darkly, but before he could answer, the doors flew open, and a smartly dressed maid came into the room pushing a cart with a silver tea service on it. She poured both of them a cup of tea and laid out a platter of pastries on the coffee table between the two of them while they regarded each other silently, and then she was gone again.
The Prince started speaking again almost as soon as the door closed. “Kill you? Torture you? I could certainly do that, the Prince agreed. I don’t want your recipe, though, Mister Blue. Well, not precisely, and I don’t think that forcing you to help me rather than paying you to help me would get me what I want exactly.”
“And what do you want?” Lucas asked.
“I want what you have… only better,” the Prince answered cryptically, leaving Lucas to wonder what in the hell he could possibly mean by that.
Comments
D. Winchester
Pity I didn't name him Prince Gus-staf. Maybe I should retcon that.
Darastrix
I feel like hanging from this cliff reminds me of something, must not be important enough if I can't recall it. Oh well.
