CHAPTER 5 - ARTH

“You don’t have to go with me,” Arth said as he descended on the staircases, heading to the depths of the underground dungeon. “I can go there alone.”

“Eh? That would be unwise, Your Highness,” Sir Valor replied as he followed along with two of his fellow Grand Knights. “It’s our duty to take over Sir Kael’s absence on your guard. The dungeon is far more dangerous with you heading there alone.”

Arth had to roll his eyes, as if he couldn’t protect himself with the power he had now. He only had one reason for entering the dungeon; to speak with the person whom he had his last visit a year ago. He had to know what’s happening in Glacia right now. Some things he had yet to understand in his kingdom kept on bothering him in his sleep every night.

Darkness crept through the maze tunnels of the dungeon; only the torchlights held by the Grand Knights giving light, with shadows dancing on the walls and floor of stones. The air smelled of smoke and dust. Arth still had no idea how his ancestors had built these complicated pathways right beneath Crown Hill. It was vast and cold, like an entire city built underground, having it more difficult to breathe as they descended further.

Grand Knight Valor took the lead once they reached the columns of cells; some empty, some containing either quiet or mad prisoners.

Eventually, they found the warden talking to a guard behind the iron door. He turned his head once he seemed to notice their presence.

“My King …” said Lorand the Warden, his confused eyes blinking. “What an unexpected visit. Forgive me, but I cannot remember a note informing me of your arrival.”

“It’s quite urgent, Sir Lorand, so I haven’t made you informed beforehand,” Arth replied.

The Warden lifted an eyebrow. “Does the High Council know you’re here, My King?”

“I haven’t informed them either. You cannot tell them, though. They’ll get mad and will have hours of counseling me once again.”

“As you wish,” the warden lowered his head, “Anyway … what brings you to this foul place, Your Highness? If I remember correctly, the last time you visited here was during the night of your coronation day.”

“I’m here to speak with him.”

“Him?” Lorand said, then his face changed into a frown. “My King, I have to say … the last time you rushed into his cell with no high-ranking knights to accompany you, he could’ve hurt you … or worse, killed you. I cannot let you put yourself again at a huge risk like before.”

“He can never hurt me, Sir Lorand,” Arth replied. “You know my strength … and besides, I have three Grand Knights with me. I shall keep my distance and take safety precautions as much as possible.”

There was a moment of debate happening inside Lorand’s mind; Arth could see it as he studied the man’s face. Then the guy shook his head. “The High Councilors will throw me out of my job if they’ll know about this.”

“I won’t let that happen. And no one will know except us. You have my word.”

Lorand’s eyes shifted to Sir Valor and the other two Grand Knights behind Arth. Finally, he resigned with a sigh. “Then I shall lead you there, My King.”

The warden turned and told the guard to open the iron door. The guy undid about ten locks, followed by the sounds of clicking and clanking and screeching from the locks on the other side. The warden explained how both sides of the door must be unlocked simultaneously. It was a new kind of security system they had installed a few months back.

As the iron door screeched open, it revealed another staircase leading down towards the second level of the dungeon. Lorand spoke to the two guards before he made his way downstairs. Arth and the Grand Knights followed.

“I assume you still remember what Lucas did in his cell that gave us no other choice but to transfer him into the deepest, farthest cell underground,” Lorand began, climbing downstairs.

“The councilors only told me that someone was trying to free Lucas … I never got to see the cell myself,” Arth replied. “Can you spill the details, Sir Lorand?”

“It was dark magic arts … used by someone from the Underworld,” Lorand said. “I was awoken that midnight when my men told me a guard had been murdered, the one who was taking watch over Lucas’ cell. I rushed to the dungeon with all the members of the Grand Knight’s Order … Grand Mages and all. Then we found the slaughtered body of the guard behind the bars. Lucas was kneeling on the floor, speaking in a different tongue. We believe he was using the language of demons …”

“Wait … Lucas can speak like them?”

“No doubt he can …” Lorand said. “Anyway, he was speaking to the circular mark on the floor, drawn by the blood of the dead body … I saw a six-pointed star glowing inside that circle … then it had the voice of a woman … a dark voice …”

“Blood,” Arth muttered, remembering how Janshai had used his own blood to open the portal from the Blood Tower. “Only demons can use blood to do something like that.”

“Aye, Your Highness. However, it only lasted for several seconds, as the Arcane Chains that locked around Lucas’ neck had dealt severe pain as punishment for using magic. He endured it as long as he could to hear the woman’s voice, but he ended up fainting. Because of that, we had to isolate him away from any contact. Do you now understand how dangerous it is for you to even see him, My King?”

Arth gave a slight shrug, though his heartbeat was pounding against his chest. “I know the danger. But I think I can handle it.”

Sir Lorand kept on convincing Arth not to speak with the prisoner, but all had been ignored. Arth had to ask Lucas the questions that’d been keeping him awake every night. He wouldn’t stop until he had the answers.

They reached the foot of the staircases and made their way through the long, dark tunnel. As they got into the end of the passageway, Arth found himself entering an incredibly wide space. They stood in the mouth of the tunnel closest to the ceiling, and the floor at the wide center had reached deeply low. When Arth looked down, he saw the metal cage; alone at the center of the wide floor. The darkness had prevented him from seeing clearly to find Lucas in the cage.

“No one has ever gotten close to the cage,” the warden said, his voice suddenly lowered into a whisper. “We use only use that to bring him food and water.” He pointed at the long rope that hung from the ceiling, like a fishing rod … or how a rope and a bucket would work in a well.

“I need to speak with him alone,” Arth said, despite all the dangers the warden had mentioned.

All heads turned to him, showing furrowed eyebrows. “Pardon, Your Highness,” Sir Valor said, “but you cannot. We will come with you.”

“Its fine, Sir Valor. You can still see me from here. I do not want our conversation to be heard by anyone else. It’s all private between Lucas and I.”

“My King, I may have let you come in here, but as the warden, I can never let you get any closer to that prisoner,” said Lorand.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be fine. If something happens, I have my sword and my ability all prepared,” then Arth started walking past them, “This won’t take long.”

The men were left speechless as Arth climbed downstairs. While descending, the air had gotten much harder to breathe, causing his chest to tighten. Darkness slowly filled his vision. When he raised his head, he found the warden and the knights looking down at him with worry. It was the only choice Arth had, as he didn’t want them to hear the questions he wanted to ask to Lucas.

His palm went cold and moist with every step he took on the stairs. Chills struck his neck to his back. But despite all of that, he tried to maintain a calm expression. It’s not that he’s scared of Lucas—it’s more on his fear of knowing the truth about his questions.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, his eyes slowly adjusted towards the darkness. Lorand’s small torchlight from far above had revealed little of the metal cage at the center of the floor. But Arth could still see it, and slowly getting closer, the image of Lucas appeared amidst the darkness.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” Lucas spoke in a weaker, raspier voice than before. “You know how they say you will never see the light of day once they lock you on the second level of the dungeon … it is true though. I can never tell if it’s day or night … and I never wanted to count days like an old prisoner fool who still wants to know how long they’d been imprisoned. But now that you’re here, why not tell me how long have you been wearing the crown and drinking wine, while I bite on cold bread and drink on piss if there’s no underground water, seeing nothing but darkness in every second that passed?”

Arth stared at the long-bearded man dressed in filthy rags. Lucas no longer had those arcane chains around his neck, which immediately took Arth’s breath away.

When Lucas seemed to notice, he only sighed. “They have injected something in my chest, those damn Archmages. You can stop worrying, I’m no longer able to use magic, unless I want to die from the burning pain it would deal in my chest.” He muttered another curse, touching his scarred neck. “So tell me, Your Highness … how long has it been? Months? About seven or eight, I guess?”

“A year,” Arth replied shortly.

“A year, is it now?” Lucas gave a slow shake of his head. “I never expected you’d still survive leading an entire country for a year … I thought you told me back then in our trainings that you’d never become a leader …”

Arth’s eyes fell to the floor. “I am still that person as before, Lucas. The councilors did most of the work, as I was only following what they’d say what’s best.”

“You are the king,” Lucas said with a hard emphasis. “You don’t have to follow what they’d always say. You are slowly giving them all the power you have to rule.”

“You don’t understand … I’m not like you …”

“Like me?”

Arth’s hands rolled into fists. “I was not born to be a leader, okay?” he said with a sudden raise in his voice. Silence struck his ears after he’d spoken. Then he let out a huge breath. “I just wish I could lead the same way you did in our team before.”

There was silence again; with Lucas studying Arth’s face for a long time.

“You mistake leadership as something that is given only to a few,” Lucas said in a monotone. “Everyone in this world can be a leader … that is, if they choose to pursue and work hard for it—”

“I’ve had enough counseling already from the High Councilors … I am in no need of yours.” Arth took a step forward, not minding the close distance he had to the metal bars. “I came here because I have questions that need answering from the only person who’ve caused all of this to happen.”

Lucas stood from his wooden bed and took a slow walk forward. “Questions?”

Arth swallowed the lump in his throat, preventing himself from breathing too loudly. His right leg twitched a muscle, telling him to step back. But he stood in his position as Lucas approached.

“And you still think you can trust my answers after how I betrayed all of you?” Lucas said, raising an eyebrow—his dark, sharp eyes looking down at Arth. “You have not learned anything about trust, have you?”

“Yes, I have.”

“You don’t see it yet. You put more trust in others than you do on yourself. You let those old councilors take over when you can exercise your own power to rule the country—”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Lucas,” Arth interrupted, not wanting to hear any more of it. “I’m here for answers, not for a lesson.”

Arth never realized how close Lucas had gotten towards him … not until the man reached one hand through the metal bars and grabbed Arth’s collar. He flinched, smelling the foul scent of Lucas’ hand. His heartbeat raced and pounded against his chest, but he tried to calm himself down.

“Looks like it’s not the answers you will be getting from me.” Lucas lowered his voice into a whisper, tightening his grip on the collar of Arth’s garment. 

“What’s happening to Janshai?” Arth blurted out, darting his sharp eyes on the man.

Lucas’ face changed; his eyes turned blank, his lips pursed. Then slowly, his grab loosened until he freed Arth’s collar out of his grasp.

“Tell me,” Arth said. “Why is he sick? It’s been months, and he’s growing weaker every day.”

The man turned his head sideways, avoiding Arth’s eyes.

“Lucas … I need to know. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Daemon Anathema …” Lucas muttered under his breath, his expression unreadable. “It has already begun.”

Arth stormed his eyebrows. “What are you saying? Tell me, Lucas.”

“Non dico vos …”

“Lucas!” Arth’s tone burned, suddenly like a spark.

“Your Highness!” Lorand’s voice echoed from behind, followed by the sound of footsteps climbing down the stairs. “We’ve got no time left.”

Arth kept his attention to Lucas, who was now muttering unfamiliar words, as if speaking in a different language. He stepped forward and held the cold metal bars with both hands. “I need you to answer me … what should I do? Lucas …. Lucas!”

Lucas paused, then he raised his unreadable eyes to look at Arth. “Watch over Janshai. I warn you. If they get their hands on him, it’ll all be over.”

Arth’s lips parted open, frozen for a short moment, then he said, “They? Who are they?”

Lucas gave no more replies but a shake of his head, then he turned around and went back to sit on his wooden bed.