Jovis, Year of Severus, 15, I.R., the 29th day of Fall, Arenfall Castle

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It took the Commander a moment to answer Adaloun. He wasn't able to wrap his mind about how he got transported to that dark and gloomy hall. Somehow, he had to answer that question, that would be rude of him if he didn't.

"To be honest…" Lord Prestonheim tried massaged the bridge of his nose. "I am not even sure how. I was just sleeping a while back. How about you? How did you managed to be in this place?" He asked back.

The freed slave's eyes twitched as he tried to answer the question. "Well…I…was lost in my effort to escape." Adaloun said. "My Lord, I have been running around this castle trying to escape from the crazy red-haired slave for almost half a night now, what time is it?"

"Half a night?" The Commander looked as baffled as ever. "When did you say you escaped?"

Adaloun tapped his fingers as he counted, "Maybe since the Ifnen." He nodded to affirm his calculation.

Lord Prestonheim thought the answer didn't made sense. Was he affected by one of 305-M's potions? He knew how potent they were. At one point, it even caused an enemy to regress back to his childhood mental state for more than a week. But the severity of the effects depending on each individual, however, the outcome never changed—they would always die at the end.

"A-are you…" The Commander tried his best to simplify the question just in case the freed slave was still intoxicated with 305-M's concoction. "Were you…given something? What I meant by that was…ummm..did he gave you a drink or—"

Adaloun was quick to answer that question, "He placed something in the cloth he gagged me with. I was light-headed for a moment, but I was able to recover from that."

"Gag?!D-did you say gag?!" Lord Prestonheim tried to clarify the freed slave's answer. The Commander was familiar with that concoction he just mentioned; that was exactly the concoction he used against that prisoner before. "Are you feeling well? How many are my fingers? Did you soil your clothing?"

He could see the look of confusion from Adaloun. Right now, the possibility of the poor Adaloun being drugged had been confirmed. The Commander needed to keep an eye on him now, especially because the after-effects of that concoction was proven to be fatal. If he recalled correctly, it had a 9 out of 10 chance of fatality after the side effects.

With the current stage Adaloun was in, he knew it would only take a matter of a day or less before the last stage of the drug sets in. He needed to provide him with the proper cure or at least charcoal to get it out in his system. But how?

Suddenly, a loud creaking sound broke their conversation. He grabbed the freed slave's hand and dragged him to the darkest corner of the room where hopefully, no one would see them. Adaloun quickly turned-off the light in his blade to avoid detection. The door slowly opened, and a faint light illuminated a portion of the hall.

People in robes began to walk inside the hall. Their entrance was accompanied by the haunting tune of drums and a horn that gave out an otherworldly tone. The eerie procession ended at the center of the hall where a huge, sculpted image of a grotesque horned god was.

The Commander couldn't recognize the god anywhere in the Arterian Pantheon. The image looked foreign; too foreign even in the other parts of the Principalia. The horned god sat on a throne with one hand raising a cup and the other hand holding a decapitated head. Lord Prestonheim had difficulty identifying the material used on the statue. But from the way it glimmered on the torch, it seemed to be made out of gold.

The robed individuals kissed the floor below the statue of the idol and began their prayers of weird grunting noises, kneeling on the ground. The Commander looked at Adaloun with a baffled look on his face.

"Where are we?" He asked. "Are we somewhere—"

"We are still inside the castle, that's what I'm certain." Adaloun answered immediately.

The people stood up and disrobed themselves in front of the idol. The Commander's eyes widened as it became clear to him who the people were, the Bieroffs and their handmaidens. Lady Adrena led the worship and asked a young handmaiden to join her in front of the idol.

All of them seemed to be under a trance. Their eyes stared blankly into the nothingness while their bodies continuously moved at the rhythm of the drums and horns.

She kissed the handmaiden on the lips before kissing her neck, down to her breast, then down to her private parts letting out a soft moan. When that was done, the handmaiden returned the favor on her. Her sons also took some handmaidens and did exactly what their mother did and vice-versa.

Lord Prestonheim's jaw was wide open in disbelief at the debauchery he had witnessed. After everyone had their fill with the orgy, Lady Adrena took something out of her robe on the floor. The shiny blade of the dagger glimmered, and as she kissed the handmaiden again, she slowly buried the dagger in her chest.

The handmaiden groaned as the dagger went deeper into her chest. The young girl laid down on the floor as her life was slowly snuffed away from her. The rest of the handmaidens screamed in terror as the trance wore off. The gravity of the situation pulled them back to reality, but by then, it was already too late.

The halls doors were shut close. Lady Adrena's sons grabbed the other young maidens and slit their throats. As blood spurted the Bieroffs rejoiced and laughed at the blood bath. They chopped the handmaidens' heads off and placed them on the feet of the golden statue and took out their hearts, placing them on the cup.

Lord Prestonheim wanted to intervene, but he was already too late. He couldn't believe what just happened in front of him. The brutality and heartlessness of the ritual made his stomach turn. It would be no use to do something now. If anything, they were far too late for that.

The Commander looked at Adaloun and saw the rage in the freed slave's eyes. He knew what Adaloun wanted to do to them, but he stood idly. Lord Prestonheim held Adaloun's arm, trying to keep him in check before he does the unthinkable.

He could feel Adaloun arms shivering. Being a warrior who dedicated himself to war, Lord Prestonheim knew that type of shiver. It was the same shiver he felt when he learned about his son's fate. It was a shiver of rage.

Lord Prestonheim held Adaloun's arm tight. "Don't do it." He whispered.

"I'm sorry, My Lord." Adaloun replied. "But, that was unforgiveable."

Suddenly, Adaloun's eyes glowed along with his blade. Before Lord Prestonheim could blink, Adaloun was already at the center of the hall confronting the Bieroffs who were still euphoric after the bloody mess they did with the poor handmaidens.

The Commander was too late to stop the raging Adaloun. He watched in horror as one by one the Bieroffs fell to the ground as the freed slave slashed them one by one. Lady Adrena's head rolled on the floor near Lord Prestonheim's feet as he hastily approached Adaloun.

"What did you do?!" Lord Prestonheim exclaimed.

"I delivered vengeance for those poor girls." Adaloun said calmly. "We cannot let it continue, my Lord."

The Commander knew that Adaloun was right. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy of a situation. Lord Prestonheim knew that their deaths might be traced back to him and knowing Senator Lucresia, he knew it will be war.

"Do you know what you just did?!" Lord Prestonheim grabbed him by the collar. "You just started a civil war!"

Adaloun looked at him, "I highly doubt that—"

Lord Prestonheim swung a punch at Adaloun that landed straight on his jaw. The freed slave stumbled back at the impact of the punch. "I should've arrested you for killing the noble family, but even that won't mean anything now. Senator Lucresia would want my family's heads on a silver platter for what you just did."

The commander massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed as he accepted his fate. "No one will believe that a slave was capable of killing a noble. That never happened before. It never will." He glanced at Adaloun. "Adaloun, I want you to go east of here, to the Hillsprung Encampment. Tristam and the rest of my men will be waiting for you there."

"What do you mean by that, my Lord? You don't have to—"

"Silence!" Lord Prestonheim raised his voice. Killing Adaloun wouldn't be a solution either. But making him an ally to them might help their House turn the tide of battle against the Lucresias in the future. "Promise me this, Adaloun. As payment for this offense, I want you to swear allegiance to House Prestonheim until your remaining days! Promise me that!"

Adaloun wasn't able to react. "Did you hear me, damn it!"

It took a while for the slave to answer, "I swore under my name that I will swear allegiance to your house with all my life."

Lord Prestonheim cracked a tired smile. He knew his fate was sealed; it was the end of the line for him. He took Adaloun's arm and escorted him out of the hall. The Commander then closed the door and patted Adaloun's back.

"Walk straight from here. Count three rooms and turn right then walk another 10 paces until you reach a dilapidated room. Once you reach there, make a left then you'll be at the garden. I suppose you can take it from there." Lord Prestonheim said.

Adaloun nodded and ran away. He watched him fade away in the dark blanket of the castle. The Commander had already resigned his fate to the gods. He sighed and went back upstairs, preparing himself for the worse.

He climbed the stairs slowly, as he thought back of the things; he could've done in his life that led him to where he was. He was too preoccupied about it, that he didn't notice the hall's door creaked open and a hand suddenly emerged.