Chapter III. Safety.

“Caddiceus Umber: Son of Ralian Umber. Loyal to House Bluewealth. Antiquarian Scribe of The Blue Keep.” Read the leather cover. The embroidery of thatch upon Caddiceus’s journal faded with age. Sitting closed, once again hiding the studies of cognitive arcana that intrigued him. Caddiceus stared at the book laying across from Celiah, then his sight came to another. A book bound in leather hide, dyed red like bull’s skin, a journal Caddiceus had never opened. The journal of his father.  

Cedric had his share of high regard for the Senior of the Umber name. In the days before the curse, Ralian held respect for his articulate historical records and their preservation. When the flames of damnation burned through the Keep and her neighboring lands, the records were preserved in immaculacy. Cedric’s lordship, the history of the Blue Keep, and each individual who served in its halls were documented with precise detail. A service priceless to Cedric and his family, allowing them a grasp at times that could have been lost forever. To wear dresses and trinkets again, to light the halls with torches, to find meaning in the objects of a long forgotten time. When they awoke, they could remember less than their own names. Because of Ralian, there was meaning in their droll undeath. It did bring the inhabitants of the Blue Keep happiness, without it they simply would have gone mad. 

Caddiceus respected his father’s legacy, but that didn’t mean he had enjoyed the man. Reclusive in life, clinging to the passing moments as they went, always a terrible attitude. He had made every decision for Caddiceus as a child never once nurturing the curiosities that led his developing years. “Safety for safeties’ sake,” He’d always say. Caddiceus had not known an expression of free will until the day his father passed, one of the only possessions he kept was that old journal. That man had crammed enough words onto those pages, Caddiceus couldn’t make a thing out of it even if he wanted to. Only his father could read the writing, he would overlap notes on top of another, spelling a horrible mess. Oh, how dreadful the thought was of Caddiceus’s father scolding his attempts to calm the poor thrull. Some lecture of restraint and how important it is to keep within your limits. The finality of failure with a life and how even the weakest of creatures hold individual importance. Not that Caddiceus disagreed, but he always despised when he was talked down to as if he was neglectful before. Like he could’ve been better.

Celiah had laid a shawl over the corpse. She had an acute fondness for the servants, one of the few things that brought them joy was assisting the lady in the garden. A pleasure this unfortunate one could no longer enjoy. Thrull deaths were common at the Blue Keep, especially nowadays. Some days they would simply pass on in their dreams, others from exhausting amounts of stress culminating in a complete decomposition of their bodies. A grisly fate for any. Caddiceus would almost envy them, if not for the fragile bodies and minds they possessed. Almost every thrull held identical features from one another. Only Celiah took any interest in distinguishing one from another, even giving them names. Naming them would be no use, they would often forget or accuse others of ‘stealing’ the names they were given. To think they were once such loyal hands to the houses, such dedicated soldiers survived from the scores of war, and now what remains are their husks animated with cruel intent. Surely, the forces of their former king would prefer they all had taken the forms of thrulls, perhaps there is a mercy reserved for their souls. No matter how much Caddiceus jeered at his fiery head and cold skin, he would always know there was something far worse. They were so plentiful at first and have aged so terribly. Maybe it was pity that put Celiah in such a caring position for them.

“You promised me.” Celiah spoke.

“This is different, Celiah.” Caddiceus responded with his chin lowered into his cloak. “This isn’t like before.”

The husk of the thrull was hoisted over Caddiceus’s shoulder, they were to provide a proper burial for the creature at the Lady’s request. The study was left a mess, which Caddiceus was not fond of. He could not go against Celiah’s wishes however, the thrull was to be buried without delay. The two of them made their way down to the catacombs below the Keep, the chambers only a couple floors from the study. At one time, Caddiceus had tried to study mankind’s anatomy from the bodies stored here, but far too much time had passed. The youngest cadavers were petrified statues, hollowed bone, and brittle to the touch. When he was bored, he did analyze the corpses of thrull cadavers from time to time. The bodies were similar, but some thrulls were so delicate that their bodies would fall into pieces if not handled with generous care. Caddiceus loathed the crypt, mostly due to his father’s grave being the most recent addition in its walls. An upsetting sight as Caddiceus was met with it upon exiting the spiraling stairwell.

“Same as I left you.” Caddiceus muttered in the direction of the grave. “Don’t go off anywhere.”

Celiah wasn’t amused.

“Your father would’ve broken your hands and locked your books away.” She scolded. “There is no place for sorcery that devious and destructive. Infiltrating the mind is a new low for you.”

Caddiceus failed to find the efforts in him to argue. He sunk his head and lowered the thrull into an open tomb in the stone wall. He was sure to be careful when laying the body, setting it down gently for its final rest. Celiah murmured a soft prayer, lighting the half-melted candles adorned within the chamber as she did so. The candlelight danced with delicacy, one last performance for the poor soul. Caddiceus marked its eyelids with chalk and stared a bit longer than he should’ve. The sunken jowl of the thrull only reminded him of how it once gaped wide to release such horrific screams, his bones protruded from his chest and neck having him die in a more impoverished state than when he lived. Caddiceus, before this, never cared much for the thrulls, he looked onto them with pity. After seeing how scared that one was, he couldn't keep the chills out from under him. How terrified they must be to receive punishment for unsatisfactory work.

“Was he your experiment?” Celiah’s aggravation bore into her hurtful words.

“I was trying to help him, Celiah.” Caddiceus tried not to sound disparaged.

“What help does that to someone?! By the Fires, Caddiceus. I don’t know what possessed you to do this. We could’ve just gotten those idiots to call off their prank!” Celiah was right, they very well could’ve. Caddiceus couldn’t admit to her of the arrangement he had later that day, and why he believed practice was necessary. He had plunged himself into learning cognitive manipulation for the very reason to understand the thoughts and minds of those who perplexed him. Thrulls were definitely in his primary subjects.

“I made a mistake.” Caddiceus admitted. He was as honest as he could be with his old friend.

“This is something I can’t just forgive off of your confession! The things you did to him were terrifying, Caddiceus. Where are you headed with this knowledge? Once you perfect it, what’s next? Will you convince father to call off your tower duties? Force Galus and Berry to walk off a cliff? Will you try looking into my mind and finding my secrets?!” Celiah’s raised voice echoed off the halls of the crypts.

Caddiceus boiled over.

“It’s your father, Celiah!” He confessed.

Celiah’s eyes stayed wide, she covered her mouth to catch her gasp.

“He has me hone my abilities for a greater good. It is for the survival of our people, you have to trust me.” Caddiceus slid his back down the wall and slumped onto the floor. The flame on his head sullied and dimmed. 

“What business does my father have forcing you to commit these taboos? He has no right!” Celiah burst from her past shock.

“You don’t know everything, Celiah.” Caddiceus shook his head.

“What excuses this, Caddiceus? A faithful servant of ours has died and you claim it was necessary? My father had you do it? What is it that the both of you are hiding from me?!” Lady Celiah sparked. The fires atop her head rose sharp like knives and darted higher each time she escalated her voice.

In the midst of Celiah’s uproar, Caddiceus caught the slightest glance of her nostrils flaring. Guessing at first to be a sign of her fury, Caddiceus soon caught a whiff to the true reason for her response. The sugary aroma of cinnamon warmed by wooden hearth crept into the dull air of the catacombs. The dining hall and kitchen were located directly above the dreary place, and the air was undoubtedly sourced from the vents that connected to two floors. The smell may have been inviting and sweet, however, the hearths in the kitchen had not been lit for a lifetime. Every cursed soul that called the Blue Keep home had little use for freshly baked breads and hearty soups, so the thought of feeding anyone had quite rarely come about. The nostalgia to their own memories of warm sweetbreads and the intoxicating tastes between every bite were enjoyed in brief passing, soon replaced with intense suspicion. At least, for the Lady of the Keep. Caddiceus’s gut had sunk to levels lower than the crypt’s, there was only one soul in the entirety of the Blue Keep who had a sweet tooth. They had met only recently.

“Sweetbread? Caddiceus had our maids planned to frivolously waste our stored flour and spices?” Celiah turned to the staircase. “They were explicitly told not to use… unless…” She paused in thought. Then her eyes opened wide, and her words came with a gasp. “Visitors?! We must have made contact! Caddiceus we must make haste to introduce ourselves!”

Caddiceus swallowed the lump in his throat, a feeling similar to swallowing shattered glass. “I had heard no mention of us expecting anyone, and I did not hear Verner sound any bells signalling their approach. The maids wish to relive the days of their labors, that is all.” Caddiceus thanked his curse, if not for his lack of skin he would be drenched in a liar’s sweat.

“We would hear no bells from in here, Caddy. And you can never know when to expect company.” Celiah’s mood had lifted, noticing this made Caddiceus happy. “You can’t tell me you’re not sickly curious about this. You are practically MISTER Curiosity.”

Caddiceus would’ve given a pity laugh if not for immense panic that was setting in. Before he could release a single word, Celiah had already taken to the staircase for her ascent.

“Celiah! Slow down, please!” Caddiceus cried out. He knew it was futile, she was already past the floor and the kitchen was not too far ahead. Caddiceus gave up on calling out and proceeded to sprint faster than he ever had even before the withering curse.

Caddiceus chased after Celiah, breaching through the doorway to the ground floor and turning past the stone wall that wedged between the structures. The kitchen sat beside the doorway with just enough travel to have the common dweller forget about the underground graveyard below and beside it. An inviting redwood, bloated and misshapen from age, crested the shape of a doorway open to the dining hall. The floor matched it, neglect set in and it creaked with every step. The low, golden light of the wooden hearth that emit from the kitchen window, patched only a small part of the expansive hall. Weary soldiers and laborers alike, at one time, shared feast and celebration to their heart's content. The decades had washed out those cheers shared after toasts, the drunkard fools dancing on tables and the many slogging mornings after the glimmer of festivities faded. Caddiceus had not returned for a time, as to avoid the sting of those memories setting in and the dread in feeling they’d never return. However, He felt oddly comfortable, a feeling akin to returning home. His eyes scanned the room, stopping on the left corner. There he saw the table time had forgotten, his father’s preferred seat. How neatly his father would leave it after every meal, even the chalice and plates would be wiped clean and sat evenly on the spread. Caddiceus could still feel the swift burn of an unexpected slap on the back of his hand after his father found issue in his etiquette.

“Your wrist will grow twisted carrying your cutlery like that, Caddiceus.” His father said, following the scolding smack.

“My wrist will twist further by your strikes, father.” A Caddiceus of ten muttered. He rubbed the back of his hand, the pain subsided rather quickly.

“You challenge me, but the day you hold your pen with the finesse needed to never wear at your bones, you will remember my labours with you, child.” Ralian always had to have the last word. Reflecting, Caddiceus would have been better with his retorts, hindsight was always his clearest sense.

Caddiceus peared onto the now-filled corridor of the dining hall. Lords, soldiers, scribes and workers alike gathered to stuff their jaws with freshly cooked morsels and wash them down with Lord Bluewealth’s Amber Apple Ale, bearing the flesh they had in their best days. The smells of roasted boar, buttered and stuffed duck, sliced sweetbread and fire-aged Kaladish cheeses feasted the nostrils of the young Caddiceus. All the finest foods in the kingdom, however, would never distract the growing boy from the fancies he felt staring at the descending locks of the Lord’s youngest daughter. He was so mystified, he forgot the many times he stirred his stew in circles and the brooding parent taking count of each time.

“You are better off eating that stew while it is still hot than staring at Lady Bluewealth. She is your lord, the most you will ever be is entrusted to her service just as I am. Nothing more.” Ralian’s words bore into the young one. “They are lords, tasked with upholding this fine Keep and adding their wealth to our King’s holy domain. We are servants, we keep their books in order, dust their priceless artifacts and advise their future decisions. Do not let your childish premonitions confuse you. The blood of an Umber would never mix with the lady purest of their blood. Looking at your development always reminds me.”

Caddiceus choked on undeveloped tears. “Father… I was just.” He could not finish his words.

“Stuck in the worlds of fantasy? Of course you were. A child of ten is barely a child, yet you are still stranded in such immature depictions. The sooner you forgo your blissful ignorance and root yourself in what’s real, will be the time you stop disappointing me, child.” Ralian was far more chilling than Caddiceus’s stew, which sat uneaten and wasted that day. This led to another unrequested tutelage from the apathetic antiquarian. Caddiceus struggled to find the merit in his father’s rants, the reassurance that he claimed at the end of every line started to seem more like an assurance to him rather than Caddiceus’s. The scolding he suffered that night was pale compared to the relentless, empirical belittlement that Caddiceus would suffer throughout his formative years. To see him and the look on him now, realizing that everything that frail man had worked for turned so twisted. Maybe it was best that could never be, the man would be reduced to cinders in an instant. He could never withstand what became of the Kingdom he toiled in, or the curse that robbed what was left.

The Child! Caddiceus beamed to reality and ran forward, brushing aside the bitter memories and pushing the swinging doors to the kitchen in a rush. The sounds of their swings, patting against one another as they slowed, were louder than anything present. The scribe could barely muster what he was seeing was real. The boy sat on top of the cutting block, swinging one leg after the other, patiently waiting. Lady Celiah was there accompanied by three of the Keep’s oldest maids, experienced kitchen staff before eating was as futile as dying. They smiled, giggled and mused amongst themselves as Celiah tore a chunk off the already plucked loaf of sweetbread and fed the eager, still-famished child. She smiled and the boy smiled back.

“Sir Umber!” Old-fashion Balis blurted, dropping her bread pan. The clang of the metal alerted the others and the boy covered his ears.

“Caddiceus! Can you believe this?” Celiah exclaimed. “We must let father know! Malthus too! There are still people…” Celiah’s expression changed to a concerned scowl. “You knew about this.”

Caddiceus’s eyes must have gave it away. He wore the face of a child caught red handed trying to sneak in an outside mutt. “No one else can know. This boy must come with me.”

The three maids looked to each other.

“This boy is a gift, Caddiceus!” chimed Cyra, tallest of the three and the loudest. “This dreary castle is hopeless if not for him! A child… It has been so long since any of us have seen a child.”

“Without hungry mouths, we haven’t even set foot in this kitchen for decades!” Agilia, who had been quiet until now, interjected. “There are only so many pieces of armor to polish, blades to sharpen and walls to brick! We have done it all for this keep, for the promise of one day finding exactly what we found today! You cannot take him!”

The other maids nodded. Celiah’s eyes bore into Caddiceus’s hollow, lit skull. She crossed her arms and turned to look at the child. He stared back with an unaware innocence that only a child could have. She lowered herself with a kneel, leaving herself eye level with the boy. His bewildered eyes shared a look with her pale disks.

“You just have no clue.” Celiah mused. “What we could show you of your lineage, of the proud things our ancestors had done and the kingdom forgotten to the world.”  The boy simply stared back with pursed lips, mesmerized by the ethereal whips of Celiah’s cranial flame.

“Fara. De Fara.” The boy spoke.

The maids gasped. Celiah and Caddiceus shared a reaction of wide open stares.

“He spoke! It’s a miracle! He can speak!” The maids rejoiced amongst each other.

Fara? Caddiceus pondered. An unknown word from a language strange to him. It was doubtful if there was a tome available to assist in translation, the simplicity of it implied an uncouth nature. Proof that the boy can speak was enough to stir the ideas in Caddiceus’s head, but the newfound splendor would be a difficult distraction to deal with. His mind attempted to conjure a solution to placing the boy elsewhere and learning the most he could in the boy’s primitive language. Caddiceus was sure that this could circumvent the invasion into the boy’s mind he was unenthusiastic to commit.

The air grew still for a moment, bearing a brief, chilling presence before demanding recognition. The doors to the kitchen nearly shattered after slamming aside, tearing into the homely facility. The hearth instantly extinguished from the cold wind and the startled eyes of everyone present laid onto the force responsible. The Sorcerous Render, Malthus of Kaladan, loomed over the gathering and stared on with eyes colder than his conjured winds.

“What is this, Caddiceus?” Malthus spoke low and heavy, holding to his patience with everything he could. The splendor of the room vanished in the uncertainty of his scowl.

“The boy had been found after you and Cedric lost him. You were fortunate these few are the only ones who have seen him.” Caddiceus spoke in confidence. “We were just in accord to never speak a word of this to anyone outside of here.”

Malthus’s eyes rolled around the room, analyzing every misplacement, detail and face. His scowl and scorn only grew. “He is to return with me. You would be wise to follow. You are to prepare, Caddiceus.” Malthus’s voice inspired shivers in the scribe’s dead body. 

“I am done with the secrets of you fools!” Celiah challenged Malthus with her shout. “This boy need not be a part of conspiracy! Must his perception of us be that of liars and threats? How are we to gain his trust if not even we can trust the both of you?!”

Caddiceus was grateful Lady Celiah spoke. Impressed by her courage, he began to speak. However, from the brief look he gave Malthus, he had been reminded of how little patience his former tutor had for insubordination. Malthus’s frown cemented in his withered, pale face and his stare invoked power that greatly concerned Caddiceus. Malthus was apathetic to the lordship of the keep and only provided his talents for Cedric out of oath, Celiah was of no importance to him and the foreboding pressure in his gaze assured Caddiceus of this.

“Do your part in the garden, Celiah. It is best you avoid what business you have no place in.” The sorcerer suggested. “There will come a time when the Keep will know of this boy’s presence in it. That time will only be postponed as you continue with this useless squabble.”

“What will you do with him then? Tell me and I may allow him to come with you.” Celiah stood close to the boy, she saw how afraid he was in his shivers and returned to Malthus. “Or maybe you can enlighten me on how a boy so peaceful turns to a cowering mess once you enter the room. How eager he was to run away from you, I seem to trust this child’s judgement far more than yours.”

This had proven to enrage the man whose invocations had buried entire insurrections under scorching sand and heavy, red rock. In his prime, he challenged kings, eradicated rivals and toppled organizations who sought to censor his work. Now, he stood opposed by his Oathship’s bratty, entitled daughter with no resemblance of formitablity. He knew to himself, with carefully selected phrases of forgotten prose, that he could reduce her to ashes in the wind. Argument was a waste of precious words, of precious time. What little restraint Malthus had, dissolved in his fury.

“Your ignorance condemns you.” Malthus spoke and the air grew thorns. He reached out his right arm with outstretched fingers, a violet haze drew from his digits and plumed with the promise of powerful arcana of which could decimate any it was intended for. “Ish’karo, K’alame…” With every word, Malthus’s spell grew in strength. Fearing the worst, Celiah turned her back to Malthus and embraced the child in her arms. Shielding his sight from the atrocity to come.

Caddiceus threw his hand, a spark of white and blue enveloped the heavy haze. Dissipating the arcane spell in a tuft of pale smoke, nullifying its harm.

“You dare?!” Malthus looked to his former student with a leer his rivals had witnessed before reducing them to lost history. He swung his arm towards his opposition, and managed to fling Caddiceus towards the wall. The spell drew enough force to slam the flying Caddiceus into the many hanging cast iron pans upon the wall, unhinging them from their hooks and cascading on top of him. The maids rushed to his aid, scattering aside the many pans that painfully buried him. Within the moment, Celiah ran forth from the kitchen, holding the child close to her. She managed to sprint into the dining hall before a sliding table knocked her into a tumble, displaced suddenly by Malthus’s kinetic spell. The boy dropped onto the wood of the table, hitting his head on the hard surface. He rubbed his head when he picked it up, and the first sight was of Malthus. The boy’s face quickly drew to panic, his vision blurred and adrenaline set in. The seething fires on top of Malthus’s head waved and raged like wildfire, ripping into the air, grasping at anything it could reach. Malthus approached, but the boy only saw a consuming fire grow. So he ran, screaming gibberish inspired by mortal fear and springing into the outside courtyard with desperation.

The screams alerted the patrolling eyes upon the bastion’s walls, the scattered watchmen were in full view of the child’s panic and rushed to sound alarm and stir the people. Laborers who tended the lumber dropped their loads, maids left to tidy abandoned their posts in curiosity and determination, smiths inside the forge across the yard dropped their tools to peer from their windows, and guards clattered their armor rushing to the scene. Soon, the boy had been met with every possible exit or path being blocked by a denizen of the Blue Keep. The former human beings gasped, shrieked, chuckled and shouted praise before the horrified child, all experiencing a myriad of emotion to a turn in the depressing manifests of their curse. The boy only saw flames, flames that flooded his fearful mind with grisly memories. His vision compiled the fires of the many heads of the concerned patrons into a wall of impassible, engulfing blaze. He stared on, breathing heavy and tensing his muscles to a frenzied grip. He screamed, fully set in his panic and completely overwhelmed. He turned to run in the direction he came, but before he could finish lifting his leg, he felt a heaviness in his eyes, weightlessness in his chest and before long he grew limp and descended onto the ground with a soft thud. Completely losing consciousness, the bewildered child found rest in compelled sleep. Conjured by his now-merciful apprehender, Malthus opened his eyes he once closed to invoke the slumber. 

Caddiceus assisted in bringing Celiah up to her feet. She did not glance at him once. Her close friend simply reasoned he was to receive extensive finger waving in the future for this and left her to assure the boy’s safety. He exited the dining hall, witnessing Malthus carry the slumbering child in his arms amongst a populace of inquisitive mouths asking more questions than the both of them had answers to. Malthus approached Caddiceus and laid the boy in his arms, they shared a solemn look that Caddiceus interpreted as an apology. Before turning to address the distressed denizens, who clamored for any information they could, Malthus placed his hand on the boy and then onto Caddiceus.

“Our task is now burdened with their watchful eyes, Narrowfly.” Malthus murmured, “There can be no mistakes now.”