Chapter 7.13: Into the Darkness
With a cold smile, you raise your fingers up to your own left eye. An amused look appears on Skarfeld's face. You had to do this. It would be a bad move to sacrifice a pawn that could be of use to you within the cult. Besides, losing one eye was better than losing two. Steeling your nerves, you plunge your fingers into your eye socket, digging and squeezing in behind the eyeball. It hurt like hell.
A burst of light smothers your left vision as you pry the eye free, and for a brief while you have the disconcerting effect of seeing two different views from each of your eyes; one straight in front at Lamplock, Skarfeld and all the other cultists, and another a view of the dirty floor of the drinking hall, spattered slightly with blood from your exertions. Then you pinch off the last of the ties that bound your left eye to you, and it dropped into your trembling hand gently. You let out a long, deep breath that you didn't know you had been holding in. It was done. Taking in another deep breath, you glare at Skarfeld and stretch your hand out, your eyeball quivering in the cold air.
"I swear my loyalty to the true Emperor, Jannik Inge. This is the proof of my faith, unreplaceable by the flesh and blood of any other person in this world. I would offer no less."
Skarfeld makes a gesture, beckoning at one of the cultists, and she walks over with a container packed with snow. He gingerly picks up the eyeball from your hand and drops it into the container. The female cultist smooths some snow over it and moves back into the crowd.
"You are now one of the Bloodsworn, the ones most beloved of the Emperor," recited Skarfeld monotonously. You could sense that he wasn't altogether pleased at this turn of events. "You have paid the price in flesh, and the Emperor shall return you payment in the form of life eternal. From this day onwards, you live and love and fight and die as one of us, who know the Emperor has returned to us. Ashur Rammu, henceforth you will be one of the lights that guide the ranks of the believers."
He stretches out one big, hairy hand. As you clasp it, you realize suddenly that Lamplock was in danger. You turn to look at him, but the unassuming man already had a dagger in his hand, swinging it at the cultist with an upraised chair behind him. It took the cultist by surprise, slitting his throat and spraying the floor with fresh red blood, but the other cultists were too many and already upon Lamplock. The Watcher did not let out a scream as he was grabbed and beat to death with the furniture that decorated the hall.
Skarfeld pulls you closer and grins again, to the backdrop of the wet, squishy sounds of wood smashing against flesh. "We are sure he was a spy. We do not tolerate betrayal."
"I did not know that, but if he truly was a traitor then this is more than he deserves, brother."
He hisses, low enough that only you could hear it, "Maybe. As it is, we have use for you, whether you are also a spy or not. The Emperor awaits your presence on the third floor." Your heart thumped. Jannik Inge was here. Looking back at the battered body of Lamplock, you knew it was too late to back out now. You were too weary and hurt from digging out your own eye to concentrate on your telekinetic powers.
***
You follow Skarfeld up the stairs, careful not to show too much signs of weakness. Your empty eye socket had been bandaged and packed with clean cotton. He reaches one of the doors and waits, motioning at you to open it. As you move closer, you picked up a being radiating great power from within. It was almost the same feeling you got from Aodh, except immeasurably stronger. You gulp and gingerly push the door open. It was gloomy inside. You step within, feeling the power wash over you until you could not sense anything else. As your eye adjusted to the darkness, you could see a great bulky shape at the other end of the room.
"Is it too dark?" The voice was soft and gentle.
"I have only one eye left to catch the light, Your Majesty. I'm afraid you'll have to pardon the squinting.
"Ah, that is right. Let us fix that." A sudden blaze of fire lit up the room and settled on numerous candles set around the walls. As the light grew slightly stronger to illuminate the center of the room, you saw Jannik Inge for the first time. The first thought that crossed your mind was that he certainly had enough posterior to need two thrones. There was no point mincing word - Jannik Inge was tremendously fat. You had no idea how he even kept himself upright. He reminded you of a gigantic pear, topped with wispy blonde hair and a well-trimmed beard. His eyes, though, sparkled with a dark insight that told you that this man was not all he seemed. He was naked - and sweating, unusual in such a chilly climate - except for a loincloth that you could hardly see wrapped around his waist. A manacle adorned each of his hands, each attached to a chain that led -
"That is tremendously rude of you to think so... Ashur?" grinned Inge good naturedly, breaking your line of thought. You make an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. As a noble on the Shinar council I am used to judging first by appearance, as that is what makes the most impact on the public. Old habits die hard."
Inge nods sagely, agreeing with you. "True, true enough. I would not like you to get rid of your habits just yet. I have use for you in the courts of power. Come, Fenrir." He raises his right arm, rattling the chain. From the corner of the room, a big pile of fur that you had thought to be rugs unfurled itself and padded over to Inge. It was the biggest wolf you had ever seen, dark brown with stripes of silver adorning its body. Its golden eyes shone with a bestial intelligence. You realize that you could read nothing while in this room due to the sheer power overwhelming your telepathic senses.
Inge absentmindedly ruffles Fenrir's soft fur for a while, and then looks back at you. "Ah, so your name is Diogenes, not Ashur." Your heart skips a beat, but you say nothing yet. "You should've told me earlier! I cannot be a good Emperor if I do not remember the names of my faithful."
"My Emperor, I may be born as Diogenes, but I am known as Ashur to everyone else in the cult. Diogenes is my secret name, one that only my closest family know." A blatant lie, but if you judged Jannik Inge correctly, it would not be a problem. Still, even if Inge did not seem to mind, you weren't so sure Skarfeld wouldn't. "Do not worry. We are your family now. Of course, even family must have its secrets, and your secret is safe with me." Inge gave you a grotesque wink, the jowls on his face quivering as he did so. He seemed amiable enough, but something about all this seemed wrong to you.
Fenrir stretches open its jaws in a great, fanged yawn. Inge looks to his left, and grins. "I have not introduced you to my other pet." He raises his left arm, rattling the chains again. "Come, Dagrun." A trembling, naked boy crawls out of the gloom, moving towards him on all fours. It was the young Crown Prince. Jannik Inge gestured with a smile at a familiar looking container in front of him. "Feed me a snack."
The boy crawled towards the container and peered within. You spot a look of disgust flash over his refined features. Still, he reached his arm within to pick up the contents, and in that same instant Jannik's smiling face turned into a mask of black anger. He pulled his left arm back, yanking the boy backwards until he rolled underneath the Returned Emperor's chubby feet. Inge stomped down on the boy furiously once, then twice. "You need more training, pet. Do what I say." he growled.
The boy nodded mutely and crawled back to the container. He put his face within and picked up the contents tenderly with his mouth. It was your left eye. Inge smiled beneficiently like some saint. "Feed it to me." The boy moved to Jannik, putting his mouth close and dropping the eyeball into his gaping maw like a mother bird feeding a grotesquely large baby. Jannik Inge began chewing your eyeball.
As he gulps down the remains, he smiles.
"Thus our bond is established. You are now part of me, Diogenes."
You nod, keeping your head down. "I am all too willing to serve, my Emperor. Now that I am a part of you, whatever I do to help your cause helps my own."
Jannik laughs softly. "Good. Good, that is what I like to hear. Now, to business. I have a task for you, one that you are well suited to do. The parents of my pet here has been very naughty as of late. I want you to take an axe to that well-pedicured hand and bring it back to his mother. That will probably shock them into doing something drastic against my believers... something that will gain me more support." His eyes flashed darkly, his face now cold and calculative. "However, I want you to do it in a way that only the royal family would believe, and not anyone else. It must only be seen as a rumour, not truth - preferably, the royals must be seen as liars grasping at excuses to attack the faithful. I'm sure that is an easy thing to accomplish for someone like you."
You close your eye for a moment, thinking. "It does not have to be Dagrun's real hand, does it? The hand of any child would do." You cast a glance at the boy, who stared at the floor without making any sign that he had heard your conversation.
"No, he has a birthmark on his right hand."
"Easily replicated, my Emperor. I might be able to find someone to do it for you." It did not matter to you if Dagrun lost his hand in the slightest. You cared not for the Prince in any way. Still, if he survived this, and remembered this conversation, he might feel a shred of gratefulness.
Jannik glares at you. "Fakes backfire easily. I will not take that risk. Are you saying... no, Diogenes Camna?"
You don't have to do it, you know? You can kill him right now and solve this dangerous situation you're in at once.
A strange voice floats into your mind, but you keep your eyes trained on Jannik. As if all your problems weren't enough, you were starting to hallucinate...
***
A. You follow his orders and remove Dagrun's hand.
1. You follow Inge's plan to the letter, luring the royal family into attacking the cult. For now, you don't see how doing otherwise could benefit you. In the chaos you should discover better opportunities to deal with Inge.
2. You bring the hand to them and inform them of Inge's plot, allowing them to make their own conclusions.
3. You swap the hand for a fake, asking your Watchers to procure a similar hand from another boy the Prince's age. The birthmark can be scrubbed away to 'prove' that their son is still intact. Attacking the cult in a blind rage would not solve anything right now.
4. You toss the hand away when you're sure no one's watching. Fuck this shit. You've had enough of this freezing hole. It was time to get the hell out of here and return to Ankida.
B. Jannik Inge will not be talked down. The time for words was over. Though you still had difficulty concentrating through the pain, you had recovered sufficiently to use your telekinesis again. You grab the axe, pretending to obey, and attack Jannik, attempting to kill him right here.
C. Time to run. You refuse to cut off the Prince's hand, and instead bolt for the nearest window. Sure, it was the third floor, but if Aodh can survive a higher drop, you're sure you could too.