Spectral Crown: Chapter Nineteen

“Ready to begin my life as a graduated cylinder”

Well, I’m done. I’m finished. Just last Thursday, I finished my very last final for my last class in my last semester of college, and then on Friday, May 14th, I walked across the stage at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. I’m now a graduated alumni of the university, and I have to say, it feels really weird to type that out loud. I have no idea what I’m going to do now, besides the fact that I’m moving to Minneapolis in August. What job will I get? Will I go to grad school eventually (I decided on a gap year for now, at any rate)? Where am I going to live after that? Who will I be? Will anyone ever buy my book? Who knows? But those are questions for another day. For now, I’m enjoying my time as a very recent college graduate, exiting the university at the top of my class and having learned a great deal more about the world and about myself than I expected going in. And I’m celebrating by taking a week off.

Yeah, I know I took like all of last month off from this blog, basically, thanks to cramming school work and whatnot, but this is a week off for celebration, not stress. So it’s a good thing! And I also didn’t have time this weekend anyway, because I was celebrating with friends and family. I’m going to write a long memoir-type piece about my time at college, of course, talking about the people I’ve met and the things that I’ve done, but that’s also something for another time. Probably next week, anyway. Because today, as I write this, I’m actually just taking a break from playing a game that I’ve been wanting to play for a very long time; Resident Evil Village. And it is, so far, even more like Spectral Crown than I thought it would be. It’s, honestly, quite eerie. You literally crawl into a hole in the wall through a fireplace, for crying out loud. It’s unsettling to me. But I hear that only part of the game takes place in the castle, so that’s promising. At least Spectral Crown won’t have too much overlap, if it ever gets published.

So here’s to being a college graduate, and here’s to figuring out later what I’m going to do now. Cheers. And here’s to the previous chapter.

Spectral Crown, by Andy Sima: Chapter Nineteen

Our headlong flight down the corridors was haunted by the sounds that the thing made as it ate the rest of Kolte, and this did nothing to aid our quest to bring Ema back in one piece.  Great and I had each grabbed one of her arms and were now dragging her down the tunnels as one might drag a sack of flour.  At first Ema resisted this, but after a while she simply went limp.  A struggle, at least, would have told us Ema was still alive.  This told us nothing but dead weight.

            I was quite thankful that we had marked our passage down each turn once we reached the part of the passages that twisted and looped in upon themselves.  I thought we passed the arched wall we had inspected earlier, and as we passed it I thought I heard something like a heartbeat, but we had no chance to stop and inspect it further.

            The more we hustled and the more turns we came across, the more I became certain that we had not made this many directional changes on our descent into the castle.  At the same time, our retreat felt significantly shorter than it had on the way in.  But none of this mattered, for we eventually reached a straightaway and found that the opening of the brick that my mother had displaced.  Leaving Ema temporarily in Greta’s sole care, I forced the wall outward into the fireplace, creating a small stone explosion.

            “What the hell?” I heard a yell from the other side, and there was a scuttle of movement.  The dust of the wall that I had forced open obscured my vision, and I scrambled back into the wall for just long enough to help Greta drag Ema through to the side of relatively safety.  Only once the three of us were sprawled on the floor of the fireplace did I notice that the entirety of our remaining fellow servants had now assembled themselves around us.

            “By God’s name, what happened to you?” someone shouted.  My vision was fuzzy and blurred in the sudden light of the quarters.  It was the brightest light I had seen in a long time.  I couldn’t make out who was yelling.

            “Where is Kolte?” someone else asked me.  “Did you find our missing comrades?”

            “Kolte, and our stolen fellows, are dead,” Greta said between heaved breaths.  She stood up, shaking visibly, and slowly helped me stand up, too.  The two of us stood over Ema and helped to heave her into a standing position as well.  She seemed hollow.

            “What do you mean?” Simon was asking.  “What happened to you?”

            “We made our way into the castle, as directed,” Greta said, in a flat air.  “And discovered what we believe to be the fate of our missing members.  And discovered a secret that killed Kolte.”

            “How can a secret kill a man?” someone else asked.

            “A figure of speech,” I huffed.  “There was this… thing in the tunnels.  A kind of golem.  It killed Kolte.”

            “So Kolte is dead now, too?” Franz asked quietly.  He was situated at the back of the room, probably at Freda’s request.

            “And the two we were tasked with finding,” Greta reminded them.  “We think they have been consumed by the Blestemats.”

            There was a sudden murmuring stirred up by this statement.  “Consumed?”  “They were eaten?”  “What does this mean?”  “The Blestemats are cannibals?”  “We are but cattle!”  “What kind of devilry is this?”

            “Kolte is dead,” Ema mumbled to herself, standing and staring at the floor.  “Kolte is dead.”

            “Great,” Simon said under his breath.  “That’s four down, and two insane.  Plus the soldiers are still unaccounted for.  We’re dropping like flies.”

            “Simon,” my mother said.  “You’re upsetting people.”

            “I’m upset, Josefa!” Simon hissed.  “I knew these tunnels were a bad idea.”

            “It doesn’t matter what you think, Simon,” my mother said.  “We need to maintain order.”

            “Kolte is dead,” Ema said again.

            The crowd surrounding us assaulted us with further questions, of which I had no wits to entertain.  I was unfeeling, save for a sudden, desperate hunger.  “Food,” I said, standing in the center of attention.  “I need something to eat.”

            Or maybe I did not say anything at all, for there was no indication whatsoever that my request had been heard.  Instead, Greta, Ema, and I were bombarded with more questions, most of which Greta answered in terse, controlled statements.  I had to admire her ability to hold up after such intensity as we had faced.  I was about to faint from this unexpected hunger.

            “Greta,” I heard my mother ask clearly, “what became of Kolte’s body?”  It was a question no one else had asked so far.

            “He’s been eaten,” Ema said, bursting in before Greta could answer.  “That thing ate him!  It’s eating him now!”

            “She’s become unhinged,” someone muttered.  “Just like Franz.”

            “How do we know she tells the truth at all?” someone else said.  I didn’t hear the answer to the question that Greta gave, for Ema shouted instead.

            “If you doubt me, go and see for yourself!” she yelled.  “I have had enough of this castle.  I must leave immediately!”

            “There is no way to leave!” Franz called from somewhere.  “I’ve tried, sister!”

            “We must find a way!” Ema cried, and suddenly ran from my vicinity.  I didn’t see where she went as I stood there, unable to react properly to anything that was happening.

            There was a slamming of a door, one that I assumed was Ema running into her quarters.  But then there was a second, even more forceful slamming of a door, and then I saw Reinhard’s little form making his way to the middle of the group.

            “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, hopping up and down towards Greta and myself.  The crowd parted and let him through.  There was no way we could hide this from the little man now.

            “Good evening, Richter,” Greta said, testing the waters by using the mayor’s first name.

            “That’s Reinhard to you, crone,” the unstable man said.  “Where have you been all day?”

            “We have been here,” Greta said calmly.  “Right, Saelac?”

            “Of course,” I answered, swaying ever so gently.

            “Is this true?” Reinhard turned and directed his question to the assembled crowd.  They shuffled their feet and looked away.  The only one who met the man’s gaze was my mother.

            “They have been here all day, Richter Reinhard,” my mother said.  “Do you doubt my word?”

            “Yes,” Reinhard said.  “I do.  I believe you have been leaving, and I want to know how.”

            “Figure it out for yourself,” Greta prodded.  Before this expedition she had barely spoken a word.  And now she was openly insulting the king’s own executioner.

            Reinhard got red in the face.  “How dare you,” the man said.  “How do you say that to a man of my status, a man of my heritage?  I am an Uradel Royal!”

            “You’re still here with us,” someone said.  Reinhard pretended not to hear it, and instead drew himself up against Greta.

            “Explain your comings and goings now, or I will end your sorry existence,” Reinhard said.  Greta simply stared at the man, frowning and displeased.  But, perhaps sensing something I did not, stepped out of the man’s view.

            “Suit yourself,” she said, and directed to the fireplace behind us.

            “What does this…” Reinhard started, but then trailed off as he saw the pile of bricks that still dusted the ground.  He spiraled over to them and crouched down in the fireplace, looking into the tunnels behind the wall. 

            “Perhaps,” Greta whispered, “the castle will take him next.”

            “This space in the walls; you have been cavorting in and out of here these past two days?”

            “Quite so,” Greta said, nodding at the little man.  The people assembled around us shifted uncomfortably, unsure what Greta was playing at.  But I knew now.

            Reinhard turned around and ran back up to us.  His eyes seemed to just about pop out of his skull.  “And you have hidden this from me?”

            “It was for your own protection,” Greta added.  Reinhard was ready to split his own head off his neck, but just as rapidly cooled to a level of frosty detachment.

            “Is that so?” he said, now controlling an air of formality.  “Then, I suppose, you would have no problem telling me what you found there?  For my own safety?”

            “Only death,” I said, before Greta could speak up.  Whatever she said, Reinhard could not know about the Blestemat’s plans for us, or the true gruesome fates of George and Kolte.  There was no telling how he would take the information.  “They are dangerous places full of monsters and madness.  Do not venture into them.”  Maybe, though, just maybe, I could incite him into exploring on his own.  He would not survive that, I was sure.

            “Indeed?” he said, thumbing his chin.  “They are too dangerous for me?”

            “They are too dangerous for anyone,” I said.  I took a step towards Reinhard.

            “Interesting,” the miniature individual said.  He continued to stroke at his face.  “Very interesting.  And you, Saelac, know the most about these tunnels?”  I was about to confirm his statement, but something stopped me.  A glint in his eyes I did not like.  But my hesitation told Reinhard all he needed to know, regardless of what else I might have said.

            “I understand now,” he said.  And with a sashay of his garments, the man poked his way back through the crowd.  “I leave you to your own matters.”  I knew he would not be leaving us to our own matters for long.

            Once he was gone, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, but it was short lived.  Simon soon spoke up.

            “So now that everyone in here knows of the tunnels, Reinhard included, I say that we stop all excursions wholesale,” the King’s attendant said.  “Too many lives and minds have been lost already.  And what have we gained?”

            “An understanding of the Blestemat’s inner motivations,” Greta said.  “Which is not something to be taken lightly.”

            “It has given us that,” my mother agreed.

            “But how can we use that?” Simon said.  “It does not give a chance to escape.  It does not give us something to fight back with.  And what you learned may not even be true!  It simply gives us a way of measuring our own demise.”

            “It may come in handy yet,” someone said.

            “I fail to see how,” Simon grumbled.  “Either way, can someone propose a good reason why these expeditions should be allowed to continue?”

            There was silence, as I was too out of it to make any argument, and despite her steely exterior, I could tell Greta did not want to return to the place behind the wall.  Even my mother was silent.  She must have seen my state by now, stonewalled by hunger and fatigue.

            “In that case,” Simon spoke aloud to the group, “I propose that we brick up the hole in the wall and forget about it.  What happens now, we cannot do anything to stop it.”

            “We’re all going to die in this place,” Franz muttered from somewhere in the back.

            “No, we’re not,” Simon said.  But his voice did nothing to mask his own fears.  “Once the Blestemat Princess and Uradel Prince are married, we shall be free of this place.”

            “We’re all going to die in this place,” Franz repeated, unaltered by Simon’s own sorry excuses for optimism. 

            “Does anyone have anything to eat?” Greta asked after a few moments of silence.

            “We have some food that we saved from dinner for your return,” my mother said.  “You have been gone all day.  We assumed you would be hungry.”

            “Famished,” was all I could say in response.

            The crowd that had drawn around us began to disperse, either returning to their own parts of the quarters or banding off into small groups at separate tables and making small talk about what Greta had related to them.  Greta and I sat down, and someone brought us out a covered tray of foodstuffs.  They were just as appetizing as all the other meals we had eaten, though the mashed potatoes had a frighteningly similar consistency to the monster that had just devoured Kolte not more than an hour before.

            After I had eaten a fair share of food and with only so much as a gruff “goodnight” to Greta and ema, I made my way back into the butler’s quarters and drifted to my bed, where I fell asleep, painfully aware of both the raven overhead and the fact that my dreams of the night would be full of monsters.  Somewhere else in the room, Reinhard chuckled to himself.

Ayyyyy I don’t have much to say this time besides thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next week with a more meaningful post that isn’t just the next chapter of this book, I promise.

Ah, yes, Castle Dimitrescu. What an imposing fortress.

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