Next to the bed was a nightstand, though it, like the bed, was twice the size of what it should be. Gods, it's like a giant lives here.
On top of the dark wood sat an unlit lantern, along with a match.
I lit the lantern and let the soft light fill the room. The room was mostly spartan, beyond the bed, nightstand, and a large wardrobe in the corner made of the same wood as the rest of the furniture. There were two doors in the room, one in front of me that likely led to a hallway, and the second was about six feet from the bed, leading somewhere. Maybe the bathroom?
I used the nightstand to steady myself as I rose out of bed, and something crinkled under my fingers as I did so. It was a piece of parchment. I picked it up and smoothed out the creases. There was just enough light in the room for me to read.
It read.
Dear Duran,
If you are reading this, please dress in the attire provided in the nightstand and exit the room. A servant is waiting to escort you to the throne room. You are a guest here, and no harm will befall you, though, I advise you to not stray off the grounds. My guardians are overzealous and are trained to kill on sight.
I read the paper and crumpled it in anger. Damn it, the note all but said I'm a prisoner here. I'd given Gil my armor to repair and stored most of my inventory in my room. I had nothing here.
They'd even taken my clothes. I was completely nude, except for my hairband. And I'm clean as well. I don't smell like my soap either, so someone bathed me while I was unconscious. That's creepy as fuck.
I quickly tied my hair back and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Nearly a dozen outfits were arrayed for me, each a different color, but keeping with a similar theme. Nothing flashy, but all of them elegant. Each of these would cost at least a hundred gold apiece.
I picked one at random and tried it on. It was made of black silk, with silver accents. It sported a sharp v neckline and fit me perfectly. The pants matched and were cut to my figure perfectly. So not only was I bathed, but fitted for clothes as well. Whoever is behind this spent a fortune on making an impression. They've got the money to burn and want to show off.
I had a good idea about who kidnapped me, and I was so screwed.
Though I hoped I was wrong, I took hold of the lantern and opened the door. The dark wood was smooth, and the brass handle opened without a sound. As I stepped out, I found myself staring at a maid.
A literal maid. In a maid outfit.
Now that's just too much.
She was young, but not indecently so. I'd place her in her late teens or so. Short, russet hair cut just below her small, square chin. When she shifted in the candlelight, her hair seemed to change from red to brown and back again. Her eyes were golden-brown, like pools of honey. She was gorgeous, but the lifeless, almost robotic expression on her face made her seem inhuman.
She looked to me, inclined her head, and spoke in a curt tone. "Follow me."
She turned on her heels and walked without looking back, expecting me to obey. My knee-jerk reaction is to start trashing the place, but that's the wrong play here. I need to stay on Magnus's good side. For who else would have abducted me?
The maid led me down hallway after hallway, each of them so identical that I wasn't sure we weren't going in circles. The same rugs along the floors and the same number of doors, windows, and torch scones on the walls as we walked. The castle itself is a trap. If I don't know my way around, I’ll get turned around and picked off with ease.
I tried to memorize the route but lost it after a confusing series of turns, but after almost five minutes of walking, we made it to our destination.
The maid pushed open the heavy door and walked me inside the throne room.
It was huge and resembled a cathedral rather than a throne room. Huge stained-glass windows lined the sides, showcasing wild scenes—things I'd never seen before and couldn't accurately describe. Lands and architecture not native to Nexus and a slew of strange creatures and monsters. All like nothing I could've imagined in my wildest dreams.
I was so focused on the windows that I didn't realize that I'd arrived at the throne. It was a tall black throne that looked to be made of obsidian, and it shimmered in the moonlight that poured through the windows.
Sitting on the throne was a rather unremarkable man.
I was expecting a towering giant; instead, he seemed somewhat ordinary-looking. Shaggy golden hair fell in his face, nearly covering his bright green eyes that sparkled even in the darkness. He sported a neatly trimmed beard and seemed to be in his late twenties or so—no more than thirty years of age.
Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth gave him a much kinder appearance than I was expecting. He was dressed simply, but his outfit was at least as expensive as the one I wore. A simple emerald green tunic with a black cloak that draped around his slight but muscular frame. He wore no crown, nor did he have an air of the monarchy, but I was, without a doubt, looking at a king.
He smiled as I took him in, showing off his polished teeth, and spoke to the maid. "Thank you, Jasmine, you may leave us."
She curtsied and left, sparing me a
