Elliott needed a new life; to hatch out as a new man.

  He was trekking towards that opulent castle in the distance, the one that stood so stark against the crumbling town. His worn boots kicked up the dust from the unpaved roads, which were cramped with others trying to find new jobs and new lives.

  Elliott caught bits and pieces of conversation over the cacophony of chatter. He heard a man ranting madly about how certain he was that fae had destroyed his farm, a young boy talking up his fighting skills and claiming the king’s army was begging for him to join, and the cries of children. When Elliott lifted his eyes from the ground, he found those crying children cradled in the arms of tired mothers.

  It was meant to be spring, but no flowers bloomed there in the dust and mud.

  The closer Elliott got to the castle, the less he was suffocated by the crowds. By the time he could spot the gates, he was alone. He took a moment to look down at the small town of Petteril as he breathed in the clearer air. It was another few hundred feet before he’d be at the top of the hill and, potentially, the beginning of a new job – that new life he needed.

  Now that Elliott was at the gates of Laudine Castle, he had to strain his neck to see the tips of the tall spires. Stone walls and towers spanned so far and wide they blocked his view of the sky and drenched him in shadow.

  Upon the gates was a coat of arms Elliott didn’t recognise, a symbol of an owl against a background of gwythroot flowers, the ones that grew on the border between their safe human lands and the Otherworld. It was a strange design to say the least.

  The guards standing at the iron gates were decorated in much finer cloth than servants were usually allowed, embellished with gaudy tassels and embroidery. They crossed their spears over the gates, blocking Elliott’s entrance.

  “State the purpose of your visit.”

  Though Elliott wanted to scoff at how seriously they took a simple man merely standing before the castle, he knew better than to make a mockery of the performance being asked of them.

  He pulled his bag across to his front and dug around, eventually tugging out a roll of parchment, which was embellished just as much as the guards’ uniforms. “I have an invitation to work for the lord of this castle. I was recommended by the Knight Commander Edward Rhodese.”

  With trained manners and grace, the guard took the invitation into his gloves and read its contents.

  Elliott had only been there two minutes, but the amount of pomp and circumstance expected of the servants was already worrying him. While he was no stranger to being dressed up in garish clothes and preened into a well-mannered piece of high society, he was long since out of practice. The life of being a wealthy child was buried deep in the past and hidden under bloody memories.

  Once the guard had finished reading, he stared at Elliott intensely. “Sir Stride? As in, Sir Elliott Stride?”

  Elliott swallowed before he nodded.

  The guard rolled up the parchment and bowed to him. “It is an honour to meet you. It is thanks to strong, brave men like you that we are now able to enjoy a new era of peace.”

  Elliott winced and dismissed his praises, “War is not won by one soldier, you don’t need to thank me.”

  Thankfully, the guard merely nodded and guided Elliott inside. The sheer wealth of the castle’s owner was made even more apparent when the heavy entrance doors were pushed open by no less than four fit guardsmen.

  The interior was ornate from the masterful murals painted on the ceilings to the perfectly polished marble floors. The place was hardly sterile though. Elliott had been privy to other manors and they were always quiet, with dust gathering in the unused halls. But in Laudine Castle, he heard echoes of cheery chatter and the pattering of servants tirelessly attending to their various duties.

  Elliott also took keen notice that every servant was either unbelievably beautiful, or wonderfully handsome, and decorated with exquisite uniforms made custom for each of them.

  The extravagant appearance of the servants’ uniforms carried over into the art pieces, which were varied in material, shape and culture, collected from all over Gala. He stared especially hard at some paintings that appeared to move and crystal statues that were carved into gravity-defying poses. They hardly looked like they were even made by human hands.

  He was eventually stopped at another tall set of doors. The guards informed a steward of the situation and he disappeared inside the dark room.

  Elliott waited patiently, with the etiquette training he was taught as a child coming up from the recesses of his mind and reminding him to straighten his back.

  After over thirty minutes though, he became bored and fidgety. He stared idly at the intricate paintings upon the ceiling, trying to decipher what fantastical events they were even depicting.

  He was abruptly snapped out of his bored trance when he heard movement from behind the door, accompanied by a talkative voice that grew louder and louder.

  The doors then burst open. “Ah, Sir Stride! So good to finally meet you!”

  Elliott was shocked by the sudden introduction. His eyes only got a brief moment to flick over the absurdly overdressed, large man in front of him before his brain caught up and he properly bowed. That man was clearly his potential new employer, Lord Cyneric Haytere.

  When Elliott raised his head again, the man was far too close. His hands were behind his back and head cocked to the side. “You are different from how Sir Rhodese described,” Cyneric said as he began to circle Elliott, appraising him. Although Elliott didn’t appreciate the treatment, he remained still with his lips sealed shut.

  “Forgive me if I may seem rude, Sir Stride, but, after being told of your incredibly impressive feats as such a fine, famous soldier, I didn’t expect you to be as small as you are!” A hearty chuckle followed Cyneric’s blunt statement.

  Elliott used all his effort to keep his perfect composure. “I take no offence, my lord. I have heard it many times before.”

  “Oh-ho, have you now?” Cyneric clapped his hands together and turned back to the room he’d entered from, motioning his hand for Elliott to follow. As they walked, he continued to chat, “Oh, I can imagine the scenes on the battlefields! I can see your enemies saying that very thing, ‘this man here believes he is going to take me down? How foolish!’ And then they are struck down by your swift hand!”

  For a moment, disgust showed on Elliott’s face before he swiftly hid the emotion. So many people had already begun to turn the Tenth War with Gyffesland into mythic tales of heroic soldiers defeating the odds, but it had never felt like a fairy tale. “I could not have accomplished any of what I had without skilful commanders like Sir Rhodese, my lord.”

  “And humble as well!”

  He’s certainly chipper, Elliott thought.

  They entered an enormous library, lined with thousands of books, leather-bound and emitting the musky scent of long unread literature. The carvings etched into the columns, staircases, bookcases, chandeliers and fireplace were all at the highest level of artistic ability.

  Cyneric led him to the grand fireplace and plopped into a plush seat. After being invited with another wave of a bejewelled hand, Elliott took the seat across from him. Cyneric exhaled a sigh and looked towards the burning fire.

  Another stunningly beautiful servant was tending to the firewood. She reached up to the mantel and gracefully took down a small pouch, opened it, then gently sprinkled a fine powder over the fire. The flames flickered many brilliant colours before settling into a deep purple, illuminating the area in the royal hue. The other lights within the library slowly dimmed until it was all drenched in darkness, save for that purple light. Elliott could no longer tell that just outside the doors was the bright light of day.

  “Fascinating, is it not? A marvellous find by my lovely expedition team,” Cyneric said with a relaxed tone.

  Elliott stared at him, transfixed by his peculiar nature, the absurd castle, the beautiful servants, the eccentric art pieces and the increasing mystery of it all.

  He shuddered once he realised that all of those oddities throughout the castle were treasures from the Otherworld.

  He took in Cyneric’s appearance better as well, taking note of his immaculate, soft-looking hair and perfect skin. He seemed, most likely, to be in his fifties, but there was a glow of youthful energy and good health to him.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Cyneric met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “I can tell you have questions.” He gave a low chuckle before he continued, “You know, Sir Rhodese told me you were from a very wealthy household before you were whipped up into the war. Very curious.”

  He looked Elliott’s dirty travel clothes up and down. “And you seem to have travelled all the way to Petteril on your own despite being able to afford a carriage. Very curious.”

  Elliott shrugged dismissively. “I enjoy travelling on my own two feet. I got used to it.”

  The servant returned and placed a decorated goblet on the table beside Cyneric. Without a word of acknowledgement, he took the goblet to his lips. Another servant seemingly appeared from nowhere to gift Elliott the same drink before they both shuffled away into the darkened surroundings.

  Cyneric held up his goblet, signalling for Elliott to do the same. “Well, Sir Stride, I am allowing you to be honest with me as we speak here.”

  Despite his words, Elliott knew better than to completely forget his place, and he obediently lifted his own goblet and let the fine wine slide down his throat.

  “I do not allow just any person to work for me. I want skilled people, of course, but I strive for even more than that in this world that I have built for myself. I need to learn as much about you as I can so that I may make an informed decision. I hope you understand, yes?”

  Elliott nodded and Cyneric replied, “Well then, fire away with your questions!”

  Elliott furrowed his brow, confused.

  “Well, you see, there is no better way to discover if a person is right for you than by asking what they, themselves, are most interested in about yourself.” Cyneric sat back, triumphant in his belief that what he’d just stated was coherent.

  Elliott took another sip from his goblet, buying himself time to think carefully about what he should ask. “Well…” His curiosity was tempting him to betray his politeness and ask what he wanted, which was a dozen questions about those treasures from the Otherworld. Owning such things was a ridiculous risk to one’s own wellbeing; at least, that was what Elliott had been taught.

  He decided to slowly build up to that. “How did you amass your wealth?”

  “That is a sensitive question for many, you know!”

  Elliott panicked, thinking he’d overstepped, but Cyneric didn’t appear offended in the slightest. “I did not come from nothing; I will admit that. Should the king die and then his son, then his brother, then his nephew and then his uncle, I shall be king!”

  He laughed at himself. “I have no interest in killing my entire extended family and becoming king, mind you. I have different goals. But I did not just sit on my inherited wealth, no, no! I have always had a fascination with what lies across that border of gwythroot flowers.”

  Elliott was surprised by how quickly he admitted to plundering the Otherworld. Perhaps it was simply less taboo for the ultra-wealthy than it was for the common folk.

  “I’m sure you’re already aware of the many risks that come from taking items from Anneili.”

  Elliott’s hairs bristled when Cyneric invoked the ancient name of the Otherworld.

  “However, I have studied the many different types of beings that live within the realm and have built a strong team of intelligent and careful soldiers that venture in on my behalf. Your previous commander, Sir Rhodese, leads that team now.”

  That seemed odd to Elliott. Edward Rhodese wasn’t just his old war commander, but his dearest friend as well. Elliott had always cowered in the face of magic and Rhodese had been the very one to tease him for it, so why invite Elliott to work for Cyneric Haytere? Rhodese hadn’t mentioned anything about the Otherworld in his invitation letter either.

  While Elliott wanted to ask about Rhodese, Cyneric was still speaking, and Elliott wouldn’t dare interrupt.

  Cyneric adjusted himself amongst the cushions as he rifled around in his pocket, eventually managing to pull out a small vial with a clear solution sloshing around inside. “This liquid right here brought me a vast fortune all on its own. Tell me, what do you think would’ve happened had King Edvin simply poisoned the enemy’s rivers?”

  Elliott was swift and firm in his response, “That would have been a grave mistake. It would have only provoked Gyffesland into enacting a similar kind of inhumane attack.”

  “Quite so, and such things have happened in our past wars with Gyffesland. We were all well aware of that risk, but this…” he held up the vial, letting the purple light of the fire shine through the glass and reflect against the clear liquid, “it poisons the mind in a way that cannot be detected. It rots one’s cognitive faculties. In the thoughts of one unfortunate enough to sip this, rash and foolish decisions are all the more appealing.”

  He smiled with cunning while looking directly into Elliott’s eyes. “Not a soul aside from my team knew of its existence, and it was a delectable tool for King Edvin.” He carefully hid the object back into his pocket.

  Elliott was hesitant, but he still asked, “Why are you revealing that to me?”

  Cyneric shrugged nonchalantly. “This world is not yet ready for magic. Do you truly think our people will believe in your story about some magical potion?”

  Elliott chewed at the inside of his cheek. Cyneric was right. Although everyone knew the Otherworld lay beyond the border, Gala had been safe from its creatures for so long that all they knew were fairy tales. All except Cyneric, apparently.

  He explained further, “It is with these magnificent finds that I have gained my wealth. Before your next question, I would like to save myself from judgement and say that, had I not needed the money to continue my research, I would have preferred not to give away these wonderful items to something as ugly as a war.”

  Elliott held himself back from rolling his eyes at the man. He could call war ugly but, he didn’t know it personally, could still comfortably profit from it. He changed the subject, “Why are all of your servants dressed so…um…”

  “Beautifully?” Cyneric grinned with pride. “I am always saddened when I visit fellow members of my society. They will have these grand homes, expertly painted, decorated with the most luxurious things, and yet they will let their servants walk around those gorgeous halls in rags! What is the point in that? Do they not see how they sully the beauty they were trying to create?!”

  He harrumphed and became more animated as his passion welled. “This here, this magnificent home is my world! It is the only place where I wield complete control and I see to it that every inch, every creature within it, is up to the highest standards of humanity!” Another sip from his goblet and he continued on, “I’m sure you have noticed that they are not only well dressed, but excellently bred as well.”

  Elliott shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he worried over what the man was insinuating.

  “Ah, no reason to fear. I can see what is going through your mind and I can reassure you that I have no actual interest in their bodies, only the beauty they represent.” He shook his head and said, “I have never had an interest in the flesh that lies beneath the clothes, not for woman, not even for man. Perhaps it is a fault in my biology, but I would hardly dwell on that when I am living life as I truly wish.”

  While Elliott did feel reassured that the castle wasn’t some kind of strange whorehouse, the way that Cyneric sought only certain types of humans, as if they were mere items to add to his collection, made him squeamish.

  Cyneric pointed at Elliott. “I can say that you have what I look for in my workers. When I asked Sir Rhodese if you were up to my standards, he quite uncomfortably mentioned you were, indeed, “good-looking.” How funny it is how some men feel so apprehensive in merely describing another fellow! Luckily, he was more than right. You have something that is a rarity as well. Handsome men are an ordinary find, beautiful men are not.”

  He chuckled to himself as he finished his point, “I bet you’re always told that you look like your mother!”

  Perhaps the thing Elliott disliked most about Cyneric was how correctly and easily he’d read him so far.

  “Now, it is my turn. I wish to ask you a few questions, Sir Stride.”

  Elliott swiftly felt the loss of power.

  “Firstly, your family, tell me about them. I am deeply curious how someone from such affluence as yourself ends up as one of the army’s deadliest front-line soldiers.”

  Elliott needed to finish his drink in order to answer, “My family perished a long time ago.” He hoped his curt response would be enough to stop Cyneric from prying further.

  “How so?” It had the opposite effect.

  Thankfully, a second goblet of wine manifested itself beside Elliott to help him along. “They were all murdered.”

  “By whom?”

  Cyneric was clearly not going to let Elliott wriggle out of his questioning, and he considered simply leaving the room. Cyneric was only offering him a job, one that Elliott didn’t need since he’d inherited his parents’ wealth.

  But if he left, what would come after? Fear pooled in Elliott’s stomach as he thought about returning to his empty home, becoming trapped with those ghosts once again.

  As soon as Elliott remembered why he’d come to Laudine Castle in the first place, he spat out his answer, “They were murdered by soldiers from Gyffesland. It was just as the Tenth War was starting. It’s well known that the people of my hometown are all wealthy from being extremely loyal to the king, so Gyffesland made an example of them to send a message.”

  “I see, so you joined the fray for the sake of revenge then?”

  It was embarrassing for Elliott to admit it, but Cyneric was spot on yet again. Once the fighting had ended, the sudden realisation of how hollow all his actions had been destroyed what was left of his spirit. Elliott had never even found his family’s murderers.

  The loneliness had driven him to follow Rhodese’s letter all the way to the seat across from Cyneric. He’d even abandoned his role as Lord of Stride Manor, leaving it to collect cobwebs and dust once again. His parents must’ve been rolling in their graves.

  Cyneric eyed his expression carefully as Elliott became overwhelmed by the difficult questions. He pushed further, “And, may I ask, what do you plan to do now?”

  It was the most dreaded question he could’ve asked Elliott. “How do you mean?” he stuttered out.

  Cyneric raised his hands and leaned back, making a grand gesture as he asked, “Well, what do you plan for your future? Do you wish to be married? Become even richer? Do you have a dream you want to achieve?”

  “I wanted to see Sir Rhodese.”

  “And? Surely that can’t be the only reason. Normally, when people come here and ask for work, they either need the money for their family or their dream, or they share a similar curiosity for Anneili that I have. So, why did you accept the invitation?”

  Elliott stared hard at the floor as he tried to think of an answer. He’d been waiting for something to give him renewed purpose for so long, yet he still had nothing driving him to live out each day.

  As the silence stretched on, Cyneric eventually answered for him, “You have none then? No reason at all to be anywhere or do anything?”

  Shame weighed heavily on Elliott’s shoulders. To still be there, to be the sole survivor of his family name and to waste his life away, he felt pathetic.

  “That’s excellent!”

  Elliott’s head shot up after Cyneric’s sudden exclamation.

  “Originally, I invited you here because Sir Rhodese wanted more manpower for the expedition team. However, I have a different job that I could use you for.”

  “What job would that be?”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you yet. I will also need to trial you before making my final decision.” He grinned mischievously, making Elliott even more curious to know what exactly that mysterious job could be. “For now, I’m happy to give you a week-long trial to see if you are a good fit, if you are willing to accept, that is.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly already expecting and perhaps knowing the answer.

  Elliott wanted to answer no just to wipe the smug expression off of his face. And yet, despite Elliott’s dislike for the man, the mysteries of his world had a certain pull to them, and he’d always struggled with ignoring his curiosity.

  He also wanted to see Rhodese so desperately; to remember what having a friend was like.

  The back of his mind was warning him, letting him know he was a mere insect wandering closer and closer to the beautiful allure of a spider’s web. But there was nothing and no one to save him from it.

  “Yes, I accept the position.”