A force consisting of over a dozen gnomes and dwarves armed with wands, spears, and axes, arrived outside of Rum’s prison.

  “Your interrogation” said a gnome succintly, before unlocking the door and opening it. He was a mage, Rum could sense it as much as see it from the advanced patterns across his robe. The gnome stood in the gap, looking at him expectantly. Rum promptly got up and shuffled over. At a gesture, he also stepped outside.

  With them two in front, and flanked by veteran warriors, the whole escort marched down the corridor of cells – but not towards the surface. Instead they took Rum left, going deeper into Andertun. A short set of tunnels and stairways lead away from the prisons, passed various doors and empty corridors, until they came to something akin to a round vault’s door. It was huge, even by human standards, and all thick with hard metal and runic magic. As they halted in front of it, a dwarf man came over with an open steel collar, the same magic item Rum had seen some of the prisoners wear. As the dwarf reached up with his hand, he had to stand on his toes to grab Rum by the back of his neck and jank his head down. CLICK! The collar locked around the bent over Rum. Instantly, the wizard could feel a great pressure eminate from the item, suppressing his own magical being. Like being compressed and sealed off all at once. A most uncomfortable experience, but mostly in the sense that it felt unnatural, for it didn’t exactly hurt him. Although it is a bit tight. Too small for me.

  The dwarf eyed the collar around Rum analytically, before appearing to be satisfied. He turned then, and walked over to the side of the huge door, connecting his hands with one of its runes. The magic of the door lit up. Slowly, the door unlocked itself with CLACK-CLACK-CLACK sounds from the inside, before large mechanical parts on the outside began rotating as it opened up before them. Inside, Rum saw a square metallic chamber that looked all empty, at least of people. As he was escorted in though, he discovered two wooden tables near the door. One of them had several simple wooden chairs, and nothing on the table, while the other had a single chair, with an open book of mostly blank pages on top, together with an ink pot and dip pen.

  Rum was led to the end of the chamber and made to sit down on the floor, while many of the veteran warriors surrounded him. Several others sat down at the tables, including one gnome who climbed up the chair into position to dictate proceedings, as far as Rum could guess. Lastly, the lead gnome mage stood in front of him, flanked by a handful of guards as the chamber door, slowly and mechanically, CLACK-CLACK-CLACK closed behind them.

  Despite the large door, the interior wasn’t particularly big, so the couple of dozen armed soldiers in the room made for some crowded corners. The only truly open space became that between the lead gnome, who was standing, and Rum, who sat open legged, patient in his grey prisoner’s robe. He looked dirty down there on ground, like he’d used to be not long ago, his ability to freely cast Clean Body having been taken from him.

  “We know, with a great deal of certainty, given multiple witnesses, that someone matching your description was present and committing crimes before and after the insurrection at Gnomiture” began the lead gnome. “Confess now and tell us everything about this conspiracy against the reformed Miss Boss, and we may see fit to make your stay at Andertun considerably shorter.”

  Rum raised an eyebrow. “Miss Boss?” He looked up into nowhere for a moment, as if thinking. “Miss Boss... Now where have I heard that name.”

  “Shoss” offered the interrogator. “Perhaps your memory is more inclined to remember her by her actual name. The name which the dungeon lords certainly would know her by.”

  “Shoss?” Rum rummaged his memory. “I read a book once, at the university. It was called The Betrayal of Shoss. It was on the curriculum in fact, though not as a primary topic if I recall. Hmm, yes, I remember a friend of mine mentioned Shoss recently too.”

  “A fellow agent you mean. Perhaps an informer? Who is this person?”

  “No” Rum quietly shook his head. “Just a friend.”

  Silence followed the exchange, the interrogator penetrating Rum with a quiet stare, while Rum sat patiently on the ground.

  “So you are not ready to confess. And you will not share what you know” the other mage stated.

  “What is it that you think needs confessing?” Rum raised an eyebrow again.

  “Your involvement at Gnomiture! Your charm magic which’ve severely ruined the lives of dozens of gnomes. And your plans, after stealing the properties of Miss Boss.”

  Rum shrugged. “I haven’t stolen anything. I’m an adventurer, don’t need to steal to make my living.”

  “An adventurer? Yes. But it was only a few weeks ago since you became an adventurer, isn’t that so? You pop out of nowhere, and don’t even start from the bottom, but jump straight up to the more advanced dungeons, where, I must add, you clearly knew exactly how to deal with the dungeon.” The mage pointed an accusatory finger at Rum. “I have information that you were in fact critical to your party’s survival. Surpassing experienced adventurers, and devastating the forces of the lord there. We even know that you were, incredible as it might seem, responsible for the slaying the dungeon lord called Jorteg. By YOURSELF. That is not a feat which should be possible for any new adventurers. And it is awfully suspicious that you just happen to achieve that, in only your second dungeon run.”

  “–third” Rum injected.

  “Pardon?”

  “It was my third. I joined with another party from The City Forest in between runs.”

  The interrogator raised both his eyebrows high, mouth gaping. After a second, he swiftly turned around, speed-walking over to a bag of papers next to the door, and frantically searched through them.

  “No, no” he flipped through bundles of sheets, “no – NO!” At last he slammed a chunk of paper on the table full of seated guards, some of who jumped slightly in surprise. “This has not been documented!” the interrogator announced to all present. “We have incomplete information on the activities of this agent. This will not do!” He swung around, pointing to the scribe. “Make a note of it! We must find out what the subject has been doing in The City Forest. Who he has been dealing with, and why.”

  “The elves aren’t likely to cooperate” came a voice from the other table. Both the interrogator and Rum looked towards the table to see a female gnome in a robe speak up, her hand dangling a wand. “They hate it when we interfere in their district.”

  “I don’t care!” Retorted the interrogator. “This is for the common good of the city, and the alliance! We cannot overlook agent activity, even if it’s outside our territory.”

  The scribe dictated fervently while the room fell into another silence. The interrogator moved back in front of Rum, before starting to walk back and forth, a thinking hand on his lips as he gave Rum sour glances. When the scraping of the pen finally stopped, the interrogator stopped too, and focused fully on his prisoner.

  “Tell us now why you were at Gnomiture. You were there, we know it. Why!?”

  “To buy furniture” Rum said. “Why else?”

  “LIES!” The gnome aggressively flung a finger at Rum, his expression swelling with red rage.

  “I think I might have a receipt. I did buy a bed. There should be a record of it.”

  The gnome narrowed his eyes at him. “What, was the real reason you were there. I don’t care about receipts!” Though as he had said that, the gnome snapped back to the scribe. “Note the mention of receipts – we must find them!” Snapping back to Rum, the gnome walked a half circling in front of him. “The real reason. Why were you at Gnomiture. What did you do?”

  “I bought a new bed.”

  The gnome shook his head furiously, before giving a firm nod to one of the veteran warriors. The warrior took a single step behind Rum, before grabbing his ear with a mighty hand, and janking him up from his seated position. “Aaah!” escaped the pain from Rum’s lips, his face grimacing.

  The gnome moved in close, looking Rum directly in the eye. “The real reason.”

  “Look” Rum’s legs moved up to a squatting position to avoid him hanging by his ear, “I grew up in Ermos. My parents, you probably know, visited me in prison. They live and work in Ermos. They’re completely ordinary people. They grow potatoes outside the city. I have even studied at The Flipped University! They have records of me, and they know me there. Do I really seem like an agent of the dungeon lords to you? Does any of that match up with what an agent would be like!?”

  “While your genesis towards agenthood will be interesting to uncover eventually, it is not the reason for this interrogation.” The gnome’s expression turned marginaly less angry. “We are here to figure out what you were doing, and why. So – TELL US!”

  Rum felt spit land on his face as the other wizard barked at him. Rum took a second, and let out a breath, which could’ve been a sigh. He closed his eyes, and tried to feel inside himself. What can I tell them? If they find out I inadvertedly caused the insurrection, I’m doomed. If they find out about the furniture living with me, my furniture friends will be doomed. While thinking in darkness, Rum’s attention derailed and diverted to the magical suppression he was under. He could not help but be a little curious of it, and so he tested his magical senses. Prodding, he recognized that they worked, but collar was creating some external interference, the extent of which he could not determine. Rum opened his eyes. The gnome was staring at him.

  “Well!?” he demanded.

  Rum took another, smaller breath. He closed his eyes again, felt inside of his magical being, and found a little spell. He whispered its name, out of earshot of the gnome. “Gay Aura.” As soon as the spell had been called, Rum took full control of the spell as it struggled to unfold out of him. He directed it, down towards the very tip of his toes, where he noticed the collar was weakest. There he gathered the magic, into a condensed ball. A wrecking ball – no – a battering ram.

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  BZZZT! Rum’s eyes shot open. He had no idea how it might’ve looked like, but he heard the same sound as everyone else, and saw the sudden stir of every body around the room, as gnomes and dwarves alike flung their eyes towards his foot. Rum dared a glance downwards and – BZZZZT! – the battering ram flashed a speck of light at the very tip and bottom of his shoe. BZZZZT! BZZZZT! BZZZZZZZZ – panick erupted around the room, but many were too slow to act. Rum’s Gay Aura escaped the confines of his body, and a magic of gold and yellow poured out in gushes of misty color, rapidly spreading everywhere in the viscinity. Behind Rum, the dwarf who’d held his ear janked him one more time painfully, but only to subsequently directed his body and cast him to the right onto the floor. That dwarf had been too slow also. The bright colors rushed him, climbing up his legs and torso, finally penetrating his orifices as the dwarf’s eyes went wide with complete and total helplessness. The only one in the room who seemed to have been quick enough to do anything useful was the interrogator, who immediately cast a barrier of sorts, a dark purple sphere which blocked and pushed back the pouring magic, and also shielded several other nearby who ran into the sphere for protection.

  Much slower to react, but also not useless, the witch gnome who’d spoken before pointed her wand at the incoming magic. She shot forth a large beam of white magic. In the clashes of gold, yellow, and white that ensued, Rum could not from his new position on the floor see what was happening inside that beam, but his magical senses told him, it was doing its job, effectively obliterating his own magic like a great neutralizing effect.

  Rum decided to ignore her, and took a look behind himself next. The veteran warriors who’d been put there to handle him were all either being overtaken by the spell, or were backed up against the wall trying to escape it. All – except one that is. One dwarf had apparently some unknown protection against spell, and stepped over towards Rum. The dwarf was carrying a handaxe along with an angry expression, but to Rum’s relief, the dwarf decided to put the handaxe back into his belt. Instead, he raised fists against Rum, big fists backed by fury. Superbly glad that the dwarf wouldn’t be trying to kill him, Rum was none the less quite terrified as the dwarf stepped forward. His enemy’s arms were huge and full of muscle, while his fingers carried hard metallic rings that were soon going to beating down on Rum, probably until he was incapacitated, or worse. Rum desperately raised his arms to defend, but the blows came in hard. “Skin Toughen!” The wizard hastily uttered, and he squeezed the spell out across his body, fighting the pressures of the collar. As the spell took hold in places, it made the blows feel slightly less hurtful, but not by a large margin. “Body Thicken!” He squeezed the next spell across himself, making him overall more cushioned against the blunt attacks of the fists. Neither spell worked as fully as they should’ve, but Rum took every little advantage he could get. The pummeling fists broke through his arms now and began striking at his face. However by this time Rum was somewhat reinforced, and the hits that should’ve knocked him defenseless were not severe enough that he couldn’t force through at least one, final spell. “Muscles–” Rum’s pronounciation was interrupted by a slam to his face, but he continued “–Grow!” Pain and brokenness rained down upon him, and he desperately attempted to deflect the fists aimed at his face. Gradually, slowly, his body transformed though. His hand shot out and grabbed the dwarven right wrist, its hand poised to strike. The differences in their strengths and the size of their fists had now changed drastically since the pummeling had began. While the dwarf was surprised by this turn of events, he didn’t hesitate long before beating on Rum with his left. He got in a couple of blows before that hand too was arrested by Rum. The wizard, briefly engaged in a test of strength, janked the dwarf over him, casting the other’s body to the floor, before hurrying up to stand himself.

  “You will not escape!” shouted the interrogator. “You cannot escape this room, no matter what level you’re hiding from us!”

  Rum put his hands to his collar, and began to pull at it, attempting to break the metal open through sheer brute force. However, the collar shrunk and tightened around Rum’s neck. Pulling harder and harder at it, that effect was only made worse, as it shrunk and tightened further, until he struggled for air. The dwarf in front of him stood up, and Rum looked at the veteran warrior, his own expression pleading for breath. Mercy though, was not on the dwarf’s face. Instead, the other ran at him with a battlecry and a mighty big fist that flared up with magic, just before connecting with Rum’s face. The wizard was sent flying into the wall. Landing on his feet as if by luck, Rum briefly stood leaning against the wall, before promptly collapsing into a sprawl of limbs at the floor. Seconds passed next, and Rum’s mind faded.

  Rum woke up later in his cell, surrounded by the familiar environment, and the other cells with the other prisoners. His head hurt, his face hurt, his arms hurt. He felt dehydrated as lips parten slowly. “Trinity of Healing.” The barely audible struggled to get started, but eventually managed to find its way when – ZAP! The prison flashed as an arc of magic connecting him with the cell, and he once again experienced for the briefest of moments that most massive headache bursting throughout his brain. Unfortunately, Rum’s spell wasn’t done so quickly though. It continued to heal all on its own now that it had found traction. ZAP! Rum was struck again. ZAP! A third time. ZAP! Another time. And so the prison cell continued to torture Rum, over and over again, until he grew mad with the pain and the healing spell blissfully decided that its job was over. Rum, dazed and feeling quite blown to bits in his head, could do nothing but lay there on prison, sheer stupor on his face.

  “The first strike wasn’t much of a deterrent I see” spoke a familiar voice from the other side. “You don’t look too good.” That voice, Rum’s mind took some time to recognize it, but it was the old man named Trym, the only one so far who’d taken a friendly interest in him inside of Andertun. Time passing, Rum eventually managed to roll his head over to the side to look in Trym’s direction. Of course, the spotlight in his cell was entirely hindring him in that regard, instead he saw the silhuette and faint details cast by the shadow of a prison guard who surveyed him cautiously. The guard had their eyes on him for about a minute, before Rum was apparently no longer interesting to look at, and they continued their patrol.

  The wizard rested in peace after that, unable to will himself to talk or to stand up. Failure. What was I even thinking, trying to magic them all? My spell wasn’t nearly powerful enough against that crowd. I need something more. Something... greater. His hand moved up to his neck. He was wearing the collar now, even inside his cell. He’d joined the collection of other prisoners he’d seen wear it. A mark of some kind, he was sure, although its meaning may be unclear.

  An hour went by with Rum blaming himself and feeling depressed, before he got a visitor – of sorts. Rum’s interrogator from, was it yesterday?, stood outside his cell, looking over and down at him.

  “Eight members of Andertun’s elite guards had to be dismissed this morning. Eight people, losing their jobs, because of your actions.”

  Rum’s eyes went the gnome’s shadowy figure, but his body and mouth remained unmoving.

  “Your magic is a crime in and of itself, and your actions here have only furthered to burry your fate inside Andertun, Rum Warmhud. The day of judgement will be upon you soon enough, and that will be your last chance to make yourself useful to us. Or, you could stay in this cell for the remainder of your life.”

  At last, Rum slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Why did you dismiss them?” he asked softly.

  “Everyone touched by your magic is corrupted by its influence and can no longer be trusted. They... were no longer themselves.”

  “I beg to differ” Rum responded conversationally, before deciding to push himself up further and stand up. He took steps towards the bars. “I’d say my spell is the only way they could be themselves. Be free. Your world is a prison of the mind. My world” he gestured to the cell, “is a mere prison of the body. You dismissed them because they might act themselves. And you didn’t like that.” Rum felt some of his mood return with the words coming out of himself. Opposition reconstituted his thoughts.

  “What nonsense you’re speaking! You made them this way. You changed how they think, how they act. One of them showed up to work LATE today. And when I asked him about it, you know what he said? He said: It’s probably okay. You breed insolence. None of them would dare say such a thing, EVER! Not before you tampered with their minds” he tapped his head, “making them all silly and, and, and–” he struggled to finished, “–useless!”

  Rum’s feet arrived at the bars, and he look through them, down at the gnome. “Considering people are neither things nor tools, being useless at times is not an altogether bad trait to have. Excessive usefulness always comes at the cost of being true to yourself, your needs and desires.” His hands waved gesticulatively. “If we were all useful all the time, what would there be for us to be useful for? My only reason for being useful, is after all to satisfy something of myself, and those I care about. But if they too were being all useful all the time, they would never have time for themselves, so they could never receive my usefulness. And since I was also being useful all the time, I would never be receiptive for them to be useful towards me. When you think about” Rum’s hand stroked his beard, “there always has to be a balance to being useful, or it all becomes a thing just for its own sake. And – wouldn’t that be absurd?”

  The gnome slammed a hand onto the bars. “You keep rationalizing it all you want, but the truth will always be apparent! That person going into your spell, is not the same coming out. And all that happens as a consequence, is your fault. And yours only.” The mage spun around quickly, and looked angry as he briskly walked away.

  “So” Rum nearly jumped at the sound of Trym’s voice, “you’re some kind of mind mage, are you? In my youth I was always pulled towards another magic. Mmm.” Rum raised a hand to block the spotlight. He saw the old man in his prison, nibbling toothlessly on his thumb. “They shunned that magic, here in Ermos...” In his pause, his eyes rose up to meet Rum’s. “Necromancy.” The word hung in the air, weighty under the man’s breath. “They shun you too, don’t they, for your abilities? But anyone who’s given our disciplines their fair chance, they would know: There’s nothing quite like it. The conquest of the mind – or death itself.” The old man nodded to himself, his mouth continuing to absentmindedly play with his thumb, his eyes roaming the empty floors.

  Rum looked at Trym for a while, before lowering his hand and glancing at the floors between them himself. “I’m not a mind mage. I’m not any kind of mage that you’d know about.” He sighed at his own words, knowing that nobody here, not among the hundreds of imprisoned mages, some of which were probably extremely powerful – not one among them would be able to understand or comprehend what he, truly, was. He was that singular pink potato, among an ocean of brown, and a pond of yellows. “At least you are easy to understand.” Rum continued, glancing towards Trym with his hand against the light. “You’re just an unwanted package. Me? People wouldn’t even understand what to do with me, unless I demonstrated myself to them. But even then...” His thoughts went back to his disappointing lecture at the university, several weeks ago now. Before all of it. “Even then, I’m outside of any package. Un-recognizable.”

  A pause entered their conversation as Rum spoke no more.

  “So what kind of mage is that?” Trym broke the silence.

  Rum’s lips drew a little smile. “Rum Mage” he answered, and looked up, only to be blinded by the light, though sensing Trym staring at him.

  “And what does a Rum Mage do?”

  Rum turned away from the bars and leaned against them, speaking as much into the space of his own cell, as for Trym’s benefit. “Surprises the world.”

  Rum leaned for a couple of more seconds, then walked back to the end of his cell, where he sat, and lay down again. Half an hour passed, with him staring quitely up into the ceiling. “Surprising the world” he whispered to himself. He lingered at his own words, imagining their meaning. Maybe that’s what I need to do. Do the unexpected. Do the unthinkable. He rolled to his side, looking at the floor of his cell just to have something else to stare at.

  He noticed a little pebble there. Barely inside his cell, just across the bars. His eyes fixed on it. Where did you come from? He rose up to a sitting position. He went on all fours and moved over to the little thing, grabbing it and raising it up to look at. Did someone bring you with them under their shoes? Despite the poverty of the cell, it was very clean of anything besides dust. There wasn’t a single useful thing inside, except for his very plain bed, the bucket of filth of course, and this pebble. He lowered it to the floor. He looked around to make sure no guards were watching or standing nearby. Then, pressing it against the stone floor, he scraped it across the surface. A curved white line was formed, and Rum’s eyes shot open. A surprise, for the world.