Chapter 12

We walk through the twelve-foot high cedar double doors that lead into the castle. From the front door there is a red carpet with golden triangles laced on it. The carpet extends straight ahead into the interior rooms. In this, the front room, there is a blue and black tiled floor everywhere except where the carpet is. On the walls, which are made of grayish-blue bricks, are extremely large framed paintings of King Barthalamos and other high ranking nobles. In between the paintings, large velvet drapes hang from the ceiling rafters. Slightly off to the side of the drapes is a series of armored statues. The castle design gives off a vibe that screams, “This is the dwelling place of kings, queens, knights, princes, and countless other over-privileged nobles with their noses stuck up high enough to scrape against the ceiling.”

Katherine and I walk slowly through the castle in silent marvel. The room is filled with numerous other tourists just as starry-eyed as us. I used to live in a large estate myself, but it was a far cry from a castle.

Step by step, we make our way through the front room and past the arched brick ceiling divider between the front room and the first of the interior rooms. From there, there are four corridors. One to the left, one to the right, and in front of us directly on the opposite side of the room is a corridor leading straight ahead from the left and its matching corridor on the right. I don’t know which way to go. Thankfully, there is a signpost with the rooms labeled for visitors. I check the sign to locate the quest manager and then head down the first corridor to the right.

Carefully, I count three doors before I grab the doorknob, turn it, and push. Katherine and I enter into a small chamber where there is a counter with a bored-looking knight in chainmail armor sitting behind it on a tall stool. There are also two stools on the left wall and two on the right for quest takers to sit in as they wait for their reward documents to be processed. At the moment the room is vacant save for the bored knight. Seeing that there is no queue, I walk directly to the knight.

“Hello. I am here for a quest.”

“What kind of quest would you like milord?” he recites indifferently.

“I’m here for the death mage quest.”

The guard livens up. “What do you mean?”

“I heard that the inquisitors are having trouble with a death mage. I’m here to help.”

He suddenly becomes defensive. “There ain’t no death mage quest! I don’t know what you heard, but you better bug off.”

I try again. “Look I’m a powerful mage, if you just give me the details–”

“Get out!”

“But”

“Get out!”

“Fine.” I firmly tuck my staff Guilt under my left arm and pivot on my axis. To salvage my dignity, I stomp out of the door and slam it shut. That was not what I expected. I don’t know why he denied it. It’s obvious that something is going on from the very way that he reacted. This whole affair is starting to turn into a bizarre story. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m determined to find out.

Katherine and I retrace our steps. As we turn the corner into the front room, we find ourselves on the wrong side of a platoon of inquisitors walking in a V-formation like ducks. We try to get out of their way, but the one in the front completely plows Katherine over. “Ahh!” she screams as she’s thrown to the floor. I immediately rush to her side.

“Katherine are you okay?”

“Oww. I’m okay Master.”

I furiously chase after the inquisitor in the front. He continues walking as if nothing happened. I catch up to him and shout, “Hey! You need to apologize to my servant!”

He continues walking without even looking my way. I catch up to him again. This time I walk alongside him as I shout, “Apologize to my servant!”

He continues on again without acknowledging me. Losing my mind with rage, I charge directly in front of him. I plant my feet and point my staff at his face in a fighting stance. Finally, he stops walking. Behind him, the entire platoon of inquisitors draws its swords. He silently raises a hand into the air and then presses it downward. The inquisitors behind him resheathe their weapons. I keep my eyes and my staff fixed on his face.

“Fine,” he says. “I accept your challenge.”

I tilt my head confused. “Huh?”

“You pointed your weapon at me. I assume that means that you want to fight. I accept your challenge.”

Actually no. That’s not what I intended, but it’s too late to tell him otherwise now.