Rosenkreuz: Chapter 2
Title: Rosenkreuz
Word count: 2600~
Summary: Every game has its own set of rules, an objective behind every action. For every action, there is a reaction. It is only a matter of time before Karma strikes.
A/N: This chapter took a lot for me to finish, primarily because I was working on the Undercover fic that just took too much of my energy. And I couldn't decide on how to bring Alex back from unconsciousness. It's sad that I've once again sent him there. Bhput oh well. At least you can now see why the title of my little pet project is Rosenkreuz.
Hopefully, this will help me go back to reworking on Stockholm, where Selene has just gotten a new surname change.
Lock the doors, but never the windows
He woke up to deafening silence this time.
Groggily, he turned his head to the side then to the other, eyes screwed tightly shut as if locking the nonexistent noise out. What the hell happened? He remembered staying behind in his study for a nightcap. He must have dozed off there, because he cannot reckon going back to his room. There was a man; that he could still remember. A man was in his study, saying something that he could vaguely understand...
He gasped. Images suddenly flooded his mind. Fire appeared out of nowhere, burning everything it touched. Smoke filled up the study instantly, so thick he fainted. When he regained consciousness, there was that man who said something he just couldn't recall. The stranger just picked him up before he lost consciousness again.
Alex opened his tired eyes, wondering if he was still in his study.
'No.' The ceiling he was staring at didn't have the gaudy flowery pattern of his study's. It was made of wood with a few cracks here and there. 'Where am I?'
He shook his head and brought himself up, leaning on one hand as he looked at his surroundings. He was in a small and very plain room, completely utilitarian with the most basic necessities: the bed, a night table with just a lamp beside the bed, a small desk against the wall to his left, across him a door and at the other side another door, smaller, that must be the loo. A small, grimy window stood above the desk, overlooking a field and a lake.
He was definitely not at Saturn anymore.
"How do you like your stay so far?"
Alex's head snapped forward, brown eyes staring widely at the man standing by the door. He didn't hear any door open or close. How...
"Why don't you get change, huh?"
A pile of clothes appeared at the foot of his bed. Only then did he realize he was actually naked underneath the bedding.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled.
"No one, kid. Or at least, I'm no one now." And then he disappeared without another word, like a ghost fading away into thin air.
Figuring he had nothing else to do, he grabbed the first cloth of the pile, grateful that at least he wouldn't be wearing anything outside Saturn's traditional wear. The linen shirt was white, and so was the cravat. The trousers, waistcoat and frock coat were of the same shade of dark blue that seemed black in the shadows. A pair of salamanderhide boots sat next to the pile.
He took his time with each article, until finally, he finished by tying the cravat loosely in a last show of individuality. At the bottom of the pile was a note, likely torn from a parchment.
"Make peace with your ghost or be your own ghost."
Dark eyebrows drew together as he repeated the words in his mind. "Well, that was awfully cryptic."
He pocketed the note and glanced at the window before walking to it. After a futile attempt on pushing it open, he settled with whatever he could see beyond the grime, which was not much at all. There was only an empty gravel driveway, a lone man raking brown leaves into a pile.
Minutes must have passed without him feeling it until the door creaked open. He waited, wondering if someone had come to fetch him, but no one entered the room. For another moment he waited, standing very still, and when nothing happened, he let out a breath he hadn't known been keeping and walked to the open door.
Tentatively, he held the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open to the fullest. A sunlight streamed hallway stretched out in front of him, opening into what seemed to be a hall.
It didn't seem like he had much choice here, he surmised. It would mostly likely be for the best to just get on with whatever's presented to him.
The hallway did lead to a hall, the likes of which Alex had only seen in the homes of the noble Houses. But unlike most of the old familial houses, the interior of this one was built of stone, the architecture purely medieval. Whoever was housing him must probably be from a very old House.
Tapestries of various re-enactments of chivalry covered the walls, creating an illusion of historical grandeur that made Alex to shiver unconsciously. There was something off with the place, but he couldn't tell exactly where.
The air around him vibrated. Spinning around, Alex slipped a step back in time before more than a lock of his black hair was chopped off.
Barely an inch next to his face was a broadsword, and when Alex's eyes trailed from the blade to the rose engraved on the leathered wrist of the hand holding the sword, his belly quivered in trepidation. He knew that emblem. He'd seen it once, so many years ago, just before the start of the war.
Slowly, blue eyes rose from the tanned hand to the choker-wrapped neck, then to finally an angular face of authority personified framed by dark ringlets.
'She's tall,' was Alex’s first thought. At least a head taller than him, she stared down at him in such a manner that only made him feel like shrinking.
After a very brief glimpse at her chest, which truthfully wasn't that hard with the noted height difference, Alex confirmed she was indeed a she.
"Miss..."
"Who are you?"
Alex blinked owlishly. 'Excuse me?'
"Uh..."
"Speak." She ordered sharply with a short jab of the sword. Alex had to sidestep it again before it strike him somewhere. Noblemen like him can't afford to have their pretty faces damaged, especially by a woman, Amazonian or not.
"I..."
"Oh, seriously, Ruth. Stop terrorizing the kid!" a loud voice boomed from the corridor opposite this side of the hall. It was definitely male, but then again, seeing the woman currently threatening him bodily harm, it would be wise of him not to judge prematurely.
Turning around without showing his back to the woman, Alex glanced at the other side. There was no one there though, but he was certain there were definitely more than just three people in this castle. There was more of 'them', whatever they were.
"Where am I?" he asked.
The woman, Ruth, from what he figured, didn't look happy with him asking. "You mean who are you."
"Uh, not really. I mean, I know..."
"Answer the question." She glared at him again, but at least she pointed her sword away now. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"RUTH!"
This time, a strong gust of wind followed the bellow, shaking Alex like a leaf. Ruth only glanced at whoever's behind his back with a resigned look before finally sheathing her sword. He didn't want to think what would take the woman to step away from him.
She glared at him one last time before disappearing in a shimmer. He didn't like where this was heading.
"I do apologize for her behaviour."
Alex almost screamed in surprise when the voice became fuller and definitely nearer. A man, or what he assumed should be a man if he was fleshy, floated just over the banister. The invisible man was wearing the current fashion in Uranus, similar to his but instead of trousers and boots, it was breeches, white stockings and what looks like leprechaun shoes.
"What..."
The figure floated over the banister and beside him. He extended a gloved hand. After staring at it for a second, Alex accepted the offered handshake albeit reluctantly. Nevertheless it startled him when the firm grip around his hand tightened.
"I am Dion, and I am the caretaker of this castle. That woman who have warmly welcomed you is Ruth."
Alex cringed. If that was their definition of warmth, he'd rather skip the nasty.
"Now, I believe you were just about to ask where you are?"
Dion raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Above them, the chandelier lit up, bathing the entire hall with golden light. Only then did he notice the large mosaic at the central wall of the hall where the two wings' stairs met.
Alex stared at the mosaic of St. Christian holding the legendary bloodrose. "Bloodrose Castle," he whispered in awe.
"A stuff of legend, but very much real. I assure you, Lord Corvius. You're not dead."
Alex didn't need to ask for which he was being assured of. The unsaid 'yet' hang very heavily in the air.
"You're most likely wondering why you're here."
If he could actually see the invisible man, Alex was sure Dion must be smiling. He carried that wise yet condescending tone perfectly, and he deliberately made sure Alex could feel just how precarious his situation was.
At that moment, Alex was certain this was definitely not Saturn, and maybe not even anywhere in the galaxy. Bloodrose Castle is just a myth found in children's bedtime stories. The only likely place this would be was Valhalla, and if so, God save him, please.
--
The once glorious Corvius Castle now stood in ruins, its fortress defenceless against the wildfire that instigated from within.
Kicking fallen debris aside, Christopher observed the crime scene distastefully. A wildfire, the forensics surmised from the little of what was left. 'More like a fiendfire,' the lord thought. The only plausible reason why the stone structure of the castle survived the fire was because of old blood magic imbued into the foundation upon construction of the familial house.
'And it seemed like the prince was saved as well.'
The lack of body-whole or toasted, Christopher didn't really care at this point-was disconcerting, and until they could find Alexander Corvius III's body, the Ministry would be at fault for this whole fiasco in the eyes of the masses. Only his good upbringing kept him from scoffing aloud at the thought. As if the Ministry needed more conspiracy theories to follow their tail.
"M'lord."
Francis de Vielmond finally arrived, saluting as he greeted, his familial medallion gleaming. Thank God the de Vielmonds didn't follow their cousins' lead to join the Faction's side. The Ministry only have very few Houses that actually worth a salt left loyal to the Queen, the Faction intent on turning them against each other.
"Still nothing?"
"Non."
Christopher frowned grimly. Where could Alexander possibly be? He wouldn't dare run away and burn down his own House, would he?
'No.' That wasn't anything like Alexander at all, not the Alexander he knew. Alexander Corvius the Third is an honourable man, if not idealistic beyond comprehension.
'But people chance, don't they?' a small voice within his mind whispered snidely.
For Alexander's sake, he hoped not. He hoped not.
--
84% Processed...
He bit his lip. Frayed patience compelled him to lean closer, hazel eyes almost glued to the screen.
87% Processed...
He willed the program to read faster. 3 minutes; he only has 3 minutes. Beyond that, it’s prison for him. He’d chose death over that hellhole any time of the day.
93% Processed...
Why did he even agree to the plan? It was a suicide mission. It was, really. They were testing him to see how strong his resolve was, to see how far he could bend for them.
100% Processed...
Loading index...
He stabbed the receptor chip into the open slot below the screen.
Reading DRIVE K...
DRIVE K INSTALLED.
AUTORUN: FACTION
His hands instantly flew across the control panel, typing the code to activate the virus in the receptor. He checked the time; a minute and fourteen seconds left. It’d take two minutes to properly install the virus and five seconds to contaminate the entire Ministry’s database.
OPERATION FRISSION ACTIVATED.
It took every bit of his belief in karma not to break into a cheer. Best not to jinx it.
He counted down to ten. The virus should have entered the database by now, finding its way around the server undetected. Whoever the Faction had hired as their programmer was one bloody genius. Not even he had encountered such a virus strong enough to withstand the Ministry’s virtual defences.
GHOST DRIVE DETECTED.
His eyes widened.
‘Oh, Jove, please, no!’
GHOST DRIVE: CONTRA ACTIVATED.
A ghost drive. A fucking ruddy ghost drive.
“Shit!” he hissed. It was just too good to be true.
The alarm behind him rang its siren, blaring so loud he gritted his teeth. The thundering sound of running footsteps against metal floor boomed outside.
‘Bloody fucking hell.’
He’d been played.
--
Alex stared at the room he’d just entered. There were so many twists and turns and stairs climbed before arriving here.
The walls were bare and stained with decades old of piss. The wood of the floor creaked when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. There was a moth-eaten bed to his left, a couch that seemed sliced like a rind against the wall opposite it.
Everything looked like it’d seen better days. All except the large table with no chair in the center of the room. That, Alex could tell, was a recent addition.
“How did you like your stay so far?” Dion’s voice floated into the room, his body floating close by.
It was eerie, talking to an unseen man, but not something that Alex had never done. Working for Father had enabled him to work with all sorts of creatures, including some that didn’t want to be seen.
Yet Dion was different from the others. He hid his body but not his identity. Alex didn’t know how the castle’s caretaker did it, but it was definitely not something done by anyone in the galaxy.
This thought only made him believe even more that he might be in Valhalla. Not a really nice thought, mind you.
“It’s been quite pleasing. Your staff’s hospitality far outweighs the Ministry’s.”
The additional compliment was pushing it; no one in this galaxy would want to be compared to the Ministry. But Alex didn’t really care, not anymore at this point. He would wake up from this any time soon. He was that certain this was all a dream. Valhalla didn’t exist and neither did Bloodrose Castle.
“I see,” Dion said. “We’ve always make it our objective to have our guest... feel at home.” His voice took on a lilting tone that raises Alex’s alarm. He didn’t like that change of tone. Nothing good happens when people change their tones.
“You are, after all, our most awaited guest.”
“Who are you?” Alex snapped. “Are you responsible for setting the castle on fire?”
Dion laughed. “Quite au contraire, Lord Corvius. We are the one who saved you.”
“But why...”
If he could see Dion’s eyes, Alex guessed this was where they’d be narrowing. “You were chosen, M’Lord.” The tone of Dion’s voice was grave and serious, far different from before that Alex knew he no longer had the room to be careless with his words.
“You were chosen by His Majesty the Esteemed Lord Rosenkrantz, Lord Alexander Corvius the Third, to be a part of the Order of the Rosenkreuz, and it is my utmost duty to acquaint you with the procedures.”
One moment Alex was staring at the caretaker incredulously, thousands of questions on the tip of his tongue, the next the ground beneath him opened up and he was falling, darkness closing in on him.
He didn’t even hear himself scream.
Word count: 2600~
Summary: Every game has its own set of rules, an objective behind every action. For every action, there is a reaction. It is only a matter of time before Karma strikes.
A/N: This chapter took a lot for me to finish, primarily because I was working on the Undercover fic that just took too much of my energy. And I couldn't decide on how to bring Alex back from unconsciousness. It's sad that I've once again sent him there. Bhput oh well. At least you can now see why the title of my little pet project is Rosenkreuz.
Hopefully, this will help me go back to reworking on Stockholm, where Selene has just gotten a new surname change.
Lock the doors, but never the windows
He woke up to deafening silence this time.
Groggily, he turned his head to the side then to the other, eyes screwed tightly shut as if locking the nonexistent noise out. What the hell happened? He remembered staying behind in his study for a nightcap. He must have dozed off there, because he cannot reckon going back to his room. There was a man; that he could still remember. A man was in his study, saying something that he could vaguely understand...
He gasped. Images suddenly flooded his mind. Fire appeared out of nowhere, burning everything it touched. Smoke filled up the study instantly, so thick he fainted. When he regained consciousness, there was that man who said something he just couldn't recall. The stranger just picked him up before he lost consciousness again.
Alex opened his tired eyes, wondering if he was still in his study.
'No.' The ceiling he was staring at didn't have the gaudy flowery pattern of his study's. It was made of wood with a few cracks here and there. 'Where am I?'
He shook his head and brought himself up, leaning on one hand as he looked at his surroundings. He was in a small and very plain room, completely utilitarian with the most basic necessities: the bed, a night table with just a lamp beside the bed, a small desk against the wall to his left, across him a door and at the other side another door, smaller, that must be the loo. A small, grimy window stood above the desk, overlooking a field and a lake.
He was definitely not at Saturn anymore.
"How do you like your stay so far?"
Alex's head snapped forward, brown eyes staring widely at the man standing by the door. He didn't hear any door open or close. How...
"Why don't you get change, huh?"
A pile of clothes appeared at the foot of his bed. Only then did he realize he was actually naked underneath the bedding.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled.
"No one, kid. Or at least, I'm no one now." And then he disappeared without another word, like a ghost fading away into thin air.
Figuring he had nothing else to do, he grabbed the first cloth of the pile, grateful that at least he wouldn't be wearing anything outside Saturn's traditional wear. The linen shirt was white, and so was the cravat. The trousers, waistcoat and frock coat were of the same shade of dark blue that seemed black in the shadows. A pair of salamanderhide boots sat next to the pile.
He took his time with each article, until finally, he finished by tying the cravat loosely in a last show of individuality. At the bottom of the pile was a note, likely torn from a parchment.
"Make peace with your ghost or be your own ghost."
Dark eyebrows drew together as he repeated the words in his mind. "Well, that was awfully cryptic."
He pocketed the note and glanced at the window before walking to it. After a futile attempt on pushing it open, he settled with whatever he could see beyond the grime, which was not much at all. There was only an empty gravel driveway, a lone man raking brown leaves into a pile.
Minutes must have passed without him feeling it until the door creaked open. He waited, wondering if someone had come to fetch him, but no one entered the room. For another moment he waited, standing very still, and when nothing happened, he let out a breath he hadn't known been keeping and walked to the open door.
Tentatively, he held the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open to the fullest. A sunlight streamed hallway stretched out in front of him, opening into what seemed to be a hall.
It didn't seem like he had much choice here, he surmised. It would mostly likely be for the best to just get on with whatever's presented to him.
The hallway did lead to a hall, the likes of which Alex had only seen in the homes of the noble Houses. But unlike most of the old familial houses, the interior of this one was built of stone, the architecture purely medieval. Whoever was housing him must probably be from a very old House.
Tapestries of various re-enactments of chivalry covered the walls, creating an illusion of historical grandeur that made Alex to shiver unconsciously. There was something off with the place, but he couldn't tell exactly where.
The air around him vibrated. Spinning around, Alex slipped a step back in time before more than a lock of his black hair was chopped off.
Barely an inch next to his face was a broadsword, and when Alex's eyes trailed from the blade to the rose engraved on the leathered wrist of the hand holding the sword, his belly quivered in trepidation. He knew that emblem. He'd seen it once, so many years ago, just before the start of the war.
Slowly, blue eyes rose from the tanned hand to the choker-wrapped neck, then to finally an angular face of authority personified framed by dark ringlets.
'She's tall,' was Alex’s first thought. At least a head taller than him, she stared down at him in such a manner that only made him feel like shrinking.
After a very brief glimpse at her chest, which truthfully wasn't that hard with the noted height difference, Alex confirmed she was indeed a she.
"Miss..."
"Who are you?"
Alex blinked owlishly. 'Excuse me?'
"Uh..."
"Speak." She ordered sharply with a short jab of the sword. Alex had to sidestep it again before it strike him somewhere. Noblemen like him can't afford to have their pretty faces damaged, especially by a woman, Amazonian or not.
"I..."
"Oh, seriously, Ruth. Stop terrorizing the kid!" a loud voice boomed from the corridor opposite this side of the hall. It was definitely male, but then again, seeing the woman currently threatening him bodily harm, it would be wise of him not to judge prematurely.
Turning around without showing his back to the woman, Alex glanced at the other side. There was no one there though, but he was certain there were definitely more than just three people in this castle. There was more of 'them', whatever they were.
"Where am I?" he asked.
The woman, Ruth, from what he figured, didn't look happy with him asking. "You mean who are you."
"Uh, not really. I mean, I know..."
"Answer the question." She glared at him again, but at least she pointed her sword away now. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"RUTH!"
This time, a strong gust of wind followed the bellow, shaking Alex like a leaf. Ruth only glanced at whoever's behind his back with a resigned look before finally sheathing her sword. He didn't want to think what would take the woman to step away from him.
She glared at him one last time before disappearing in a shimmer. He didn't like where this was heading.
"I do apologize for her behaviour."
Alex almost screamed in surprise when the voice became fuller and definitely nearer. A man, or what he assumed should be a man if he was fleshy, floated just over the banister. The invisible man was wearing the current fashion in Uranus, similar to his but instead of trousers and boots, it was breeches, white stockings and what looks like leprechaun shoes.
"What..."
The figure floated over the banister and beside him. He extended a gloved hand. After staring at it for a second, Alex accepted the offered handshake albeit reluctantly. Nevertheless it startled him when the firm grip around his hand tightened.
"I am Dion, and I am the caretaker of this castle. That woman who have warmly welcomed you is Ruth."
Alex cringed. If that was their definition of warmth, he'd rather skip the nasty.
"Now, I believe you were just about to ask where you are?"
Dion raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Above them, the chandelier lit up, bathing the entire hall with golden light. Only then did he notice the large mosaic at the central wall of the hall where the two wings' stairs met.
Alex stared at the mosaic of St. Christian holding the legendary bloodrose. "Bloodrose Castle," he whispered in awe.
"A stuff of legend, but very much real. I assure you, Lord Corvius. You're not dead."
Alex didn't need to ask for which he was being assured of. The unsaid 'yet' hang very heavily in the air.
"You're most likely wondering why you're here."
If he could actually see the invisible man, Alex was sure Dion must be smiling. He carried that wise yet condescending tone perfectly, and he deliberately made sure Alex could feel just how precarious his situation was.
At that moment, Alex was certain this was definitely not Saturn, and maybe not even anywhere in the galaxy. Bloodrose Castle is just a myth found in children's bedtime stories. The only likely place this would be was Valhalla, and if so, God save him, please.
--
The once glorious Corvius Castle now stood in ruins, its fortress defenceless against the wildfire that instigated from within.
Kicking fallen debris aside, Christopher observed the crime scene distastefully. A wildfire, the forensics surmised from the little of what was left. 'More like a fiendfire,' the lord thought. The only plausible reason why the stone structure of the castle survived the fire was because of old blood magic imbued into the foundation upon construction of the familial house.
'And it seemed like the prince was saved as well.'
The lack of body-whole or toasted, Christopher didn't really care at this point-was disconcerting, and until they could find Alexander Corvius III's body, the Ministry would be at fault for this whole fiasco in the eyes of the masses. Only his good upbringing kept him from scoffing aloud at the thought. As if the Ministry needed more conspiracy theories to follow their tail.
"M'lord."
Francis de Vielmond finally arrived, saluting as he greeted, his familial medallion gleaming. Thank God the de Vielmonds didn't follow their cousins' lead to join the Faction's side. The Ministry only have very few Houses that actually worth a salt left loyal to the Queen, the Faction intent on turning them against each other.
"Still nothing?"
"Non."
Christopher frowned grimly. Where could Alexander possibly be? He wouldn't dare run away and burn down his own House, would he?
'No.' That wasn't anything like Alexander at all, not the Alexander he knew. Alexander Corvius the Third is an honourable man, if not idealistic beyond comprehension.
'But people chance, don't they?' a small voice within his mind whispered snidely.
For Alexander's sake, he hoped not. He hoped not.
--
84% Processed...
He bit his lip. Frayed patience compelled him to lean closer, hazel eyes almost glued to the screen.
87% Processed...
He willed the program to read faster. 3 minutes; he only has 3 minutes. Beyond that, it’s prison for him. He’d chose death over that hellhole any time of the day.
93% Processed...
Why did he even agree to the plan? It was a suicide mission. It was, really. They were testing him to see how strong his resolve was, to see how far he could bend for them.
100% Processed...
Loading index...
He stabbed the receptor chip into the open slot below the screen.
Reading DRIVE K...
DRIVE K INSTALLED.
AUTORUN: FACTION
His hands instantly flew across the control panel, typing the code to activate the virus in the receptor. He checked the time; a minute and fourteen seconds left. It’d take two minutes to properly install the virus and five seconds to contaminate the entire Ministry’s database.
OPERATION FRISSION ACTIVATED.
It took every bit of his belief in karma not to break into a cheer. Best not to jinx it.
He counted down to ten. The virus should have entered the database by now, finding its way around the server undetected. Whoever the Faction had hired as their programmer was one bloody genius. Not even he had encountered such a virus strong enough to withstand the Ministry’s virtual defences.
GHOST DRIVE DETECTED.
His eyes widened.
‘Oh, Jove, please, no!’
GHOST DRIVE: CONTRA ACTIVATED.
A ghost drive. A fucking ruddy ghost drive.
“Shit!” he hissed. It was just too good to be true.
The alarm behind him rang its siren, blaring so loud he gritted his teeth. The thundering sound of running footsteps against metal floor boomed outside.
‘Bloody fucking hell.’
He’d been played.
--
Alex stared at the room he’d just entered. There were so many twists and turns and stairs climbed before arriving here.
The walls were bare and stained with decades old of piss. The wood of the floor creaked when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. There was a moth-eaten bed to his left, a couch that seemed sliced like a rind against the wall opposite it.
Everything looked like it’d seen better days. All except the large table with no chair in the center of the room. That, Alex could tell, was a recent addition.
“How did you like your stay so far?” Dion’s voice floated into the room, his body floating close by.
It was eerie, talking to an unseen man, but not something that Alex had never done. Working for Father had enabled him to work with all sorts of creatures, including some that didn’t want to be seen.
Yet Dion was different from the others. He hid his body but not his identity. Alex didn’t know how the castle’s caretaker did it, but it was definitely not something done by anyone in the galaxy.
This thought only made him believe even more that he might be in Valhalla. Not a really nice thought, mind you.
“It’s been quite pleasing. Your staff’s hospitality far outweighs the Ministry’s.”
The additional compliment was pushing it; no one in this galaxy would want to be compared to the Ministry. But Alex didn’t really care, not anymore at this point. He would wake up from this any time soon. He was that certain this was all a dream. Valhalla didn’t exist and neither did Bloodrose Castle.
“I see,” Dion said. “We’ve always make it our objective to have our guest... feel at home.” His voice took on a lilting tone that raises Alex’s alarm. He didn’t like that change of tone. Nothing good happens when people change their tones.
“You are, after all, our most awaited guest.”
“Who are you?” Alex snapped. “Are you responsible for setting the castle on fire?”
Dion laughed. “Quite au contraire, Lord Corvius. We are the one who saved you.”
“But why...”
If he could see Dion’s eyes, Alex guessed this was where they’d be narrowing. “You were chosen, M’Lord.” The tone of Dion’s voice was grave and serious, far different from before that Alex knew he no longer had the room to be careless with his words.
“You were chosen by His Majesty the Esteemed Lord Rosenkrantz, Lord Alexander Corvius the Third, to be a part of the Order of the Rosenkreuz, and it is my utmost duty to acquaint you with the procedures.”
One moment Alex was staring at the caretaker incredulously, thousands of questions on the tip of his tongue, the next the ground beneath him opened up and he was falling, darkness closing in on him.
He didn’t even hear himself scream.