I did not see the priest again. Though that came as no surprise, I was certain that I had been forced to bear cruel witness to what happens when someone dares to defy the people currently clenching my kingship in a stranglehold. I had been told upon my trainer’s return that the priest had been reassigned back to an abbey for intense retraining and that he was spiritually corrupt, which meant I would need a different, more advanced teacher to undo the damage he had done. It seemed strange that she would even try to conceal what she had done, her cassock had even been changed before she returned to the training room, it was similar, but the shade was slightly brighter, perhaps the garment was newer and had not been washed as much. Why go to the trouble to hide what had happened while having forced me to hear her terrible deed? It didn’t make sense, though sometimes she did do things that didn’t seem logical to me that had what she considered a greater purpose. Still, I knew of no one else who was able to wield magic the way she did and even further, it felt like exactly something she would do to teach a lesson.

That afternoon, once training had ended and it was typically time to go to religious study, the cleric had begrudgingly allowed me to do self study in my room instead. I supposed that her disposal of the priest had not been on her list of premeditated moves which gave me a strange sort of comfort. Often it seemed like she was always the one pulling all the puppet strings on everyone around her and that she already had decided your fate with little you could do to escape, at last it had been shown that she was not completely omniscient and clairvoyant. Left alone to my own devices, though I made sure to position myself at the desk with a religious book propped open in case someone were to enter without knocking, I could finally have a moment to properly think without being too exhausted to distract me. Unfortunately the first thoughts that rampaged to the surface were of the priest and of his untimely end, I could still hear the beating in my head like it was still happening. I wondered if he thought perhaps I would be forced to listen so he did not scream or perhaps he did not want to give her the satisfaction.

Glancing down at the page, an uneasy idea entered my head: if I could be forced to hear something happening in another room no matter how far I went, could someone see what I was doing right now? It seemed like a far fetched idea on the surface, but nothing seemed out of the realm of possibility anymore. The cleric could easily possess my body and make it move on her command, what if she could also use my eyes or other sense to spy on what I was doing? For a panicked moment, I scanned my eyes over the words on the page like I was reading while I considered how likely it was, tracking the lines but not actually reading any of the words. I made it to the end of the two pages, then flipped, but stopped, feeling relieved. If she was truly surprised by the priest not teaching me to her specifications, then she had not been spying on the sessions. The seed of paranoia was still there though, making me doubt every little sound of footsteps or murmuring conversation that came anywhere the hallway outside my door.

After sitting for what felt like ages, I decided that if no one had come to check on me or punish me for not actively studying, then I was safe for now. I pushed the religious book out of the way and turned my attention to the bookshelf. I had not forgotten that many of my books had been taken and replaced and I had been curious of the books that were left for me, but this was the first time I had really been awake enough and in a low enough state of pain to give them attention. I glanced through the titles, ignoring the history and other like books that I recognized and grabbed the first book I did not recognize. It was a leather bound tome that seemed not all that old given the pages were not nearly as yellowed as my other books and was entitled “The Fallacy of Fairy Tales.” I cracked open the cover and flipped to a title page with the author presented as A. Hammersmith, it was not a name I recognized. Authors were few and far between in the kingdom and generally books were not something my father really cared about trading for, they were not something he enjoyed having or reading. My mother and myself had been allowed to moderately indulge in our desire to find different kinds of tales to read, but most were only from our own kingdom. Thanks to to my father’s lackluster feelings towards the written arts, there was no current author in the castle outside of the castle historian and the name did not match nor was it a topic he was likely to write about, this meant the book had to be outside the kingdom.

The fairy tale, or as it may more accurately be known as, the fallacy, is a dangerous and insidious part of what is currently considered a normal childhood.

Unlike many of the books I had read, the words were machine printed and dark against the still white page. It was nice to be able to read without having to decipher the usually over embellished handwriting or squint to make out faded text, but it also felt like the book lacked character and soul. Typically the voice that would read out in my mind would be somewhat jovial or at least lighthearted, but the stark black, uniform text made the voice sound stilted and a bit annoyed.

Unbeknownst to many non-scholars, fairy tales are quite often based on pagan rituals, rights, myths, or legends. The older the origin of the tale, the more likely it is to have a dark and unholy origin that has been muddied and forgotten over time. This lost knowledge of tale origin leads to otherwise pious and holy people to fall prey to not only reading and enjoying such tales, but to go on to spread the pagan words to others, even their own children!

I frowned and peered back at the bookshelf. Whomever had swapped out my books, and I had a good idea of who, definitely believed the same as the author. This must have been left as a tongue-in-cheek explanation as to why certain books in my library were taken.

The spread of pagan ideas is vast thanks to a lack of education provided by the leaders of the Great Church. Terrifyingly, this seems to be true due to their own lack of awareness about the origin of common folk tales and even lead them to spew the pagan filth directly from the pulpit! This is completely counter to our mission to rid the world of its dark, pagan past and lead people towards the light and there must be a concerted effect to cast these tales from the collective knowledge of our societies.

The bell announcing the evening meal chimed throughout the castle and I opened the middle drawer of the desk to retrieve a fabric bookmark. I flipped back in the religious text I had cast aside to the page number I was currently reading in the new text, then shut both and put the new tome back in its place on the shelf. I was not sure yet if I was meant to read any of the books that I had been given and I was inclined to keep that I was secret until I could determine for certain. Though it seemed like it would be something my trainer would be delighted to know I was consuming, her motives and intentions for me were anything but clear and I was not willing to do anything to invoke her ire. A second chime of the bell rang out and I hopped to my feet, I didn’t want to raise any suspicions by taking too long to get to my meal. While the food was plain and nothing to look forward to anymore, I was still generally ravenous by the end of the day and usually one of the first to arrive. As soon as I exited my room, I hunched over slightly and walked as if in greater pain that I was actually in. I did not like the idea that the cleric knew I was not in quite as much pain today as I had been prior despite the typical, viscous start to my day and I did not want to start an escalation of her violence. I knew now that she was not above taking someone’s life and therefore was someone I feared even more than I had before, even though I didn’t think it would have been possible. I would feign being injured wherever I went if that is what it would take to protect myself from a similar end.

“Ah, here he is.”

I almost stood straight up in shock as I entered the dining room, there was a duplicate of my trainer.

“Mm yes,” the duplicate said, “I have observed him from afar, but it is nice to see him up close.”

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. One of her was enough, but no matter how much I blinked, a second sat next to her, staring at me with a sadistic smile.

“Oh have you?” the original trainer said with an uncharacteristic laugh in her voice, “I should have known, you always want to see before being seen.”

My feet felt glued to the floor and a lump was growing in my chest, pressing the air from my lungs. The cleric already brought a pang of fear and unease whenever I saw her, but this new version of her was somehow even more unsettling. They looked identical, but there was something about the way she moved her body and looked at me that was much more like a hungry predator. The cleric was definitely a predator as well, but she could hold back and bide her time, consider her actions and perhaps be persuaded.

“The boy is afraid,” the duplicated laughed.

“I have been teaching him well,” the cleric said, then motioned to my normal seat at the table. “Sit, we have a guest for dinner and it is very rude to stand there and not join them.”

Knowing I had no other choice, I did as commanded, though I refused to take my eyes off the guest.

“This is my twin,” the cleric explained, “though if you had not figured that out by now, then you truly are a helpless case.”

That made sense and I felt stupid for not having it occur to me immediately, though it was a big shock, the person who haunted my dreams had appeared to miraculously doubled.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the twin said, extending a gloved hand across the table to me. Her lips were curled up in a smirk and if I did not fear what would befall me if I didn’t accept her gesture, I would have not accepted it and assumed it was a deadly trap.

Her hand gripped mine like a vice and locked as soon as my hand touched hers. Pain radiated from my hand up to my shoulder and I had to grit my teeth to keep from grimacing or crying out. She let out a satisfied chuff of air and let go, nodding her head like I had passed some kind of assessment.

“So this is the boy king?” she asked her sister.

“Indeed, not much to him as of yet.”

Both looked to me, not moving their eyes as their elaborate meal of roasted fowl and potatoes was delivered along side my plain porridge.

“Yet,” the new twin emphasized.