Perception (Book 7) | Chapter 03 - Rule Breaker (Patreon)

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“Markos!” The door to my medical wing slammed back into the wall as if it were the one responsible for shouting my name, it would have chipped the stone if not for the stopper.

“There’s no need to shout,” I answered without looking up as I pulled the stitches tight on the gaping hole of a flesh wound. Two of the wall guards had gotten into a disagreement, one fell, the other was here getting stitched up. There’s a reason they’re the lowest rung of governance, their lack of intellect is dumbfounding.

Achaicus took in the breath to shout again, but stopped. Taking in the room with myself, the injured guard, three nurses and my assistant, all frozen in place looking at him, he instead set his shoulders straight and lowered his voice into the dangerous tone of a displeased heir. “I require you, immediately,” he ordered.

I feigned an exasperated sigh and gestured my assistant, Radomir, over. He was a skinny awkward thing, not suited for battle and useless in the guard, he had been reassigned to me as a nurse. I had no use for that, so I trained him in medicine. He wasn’t exceptional by any means, but he was gifted with his mother’s tenacity, and looked to me as if I would throw a ball for him at any moment. 

“Remember to keep your energy balanced while you work, otherwise, you’ll poison him,” I cautioned as I handed him the energy thread to continue the mending. 

The boy nodded, sensing the opportunity to prove himself. It’s too bad I didn’t care to watch. Wiping the blood from my hands on a nearby rag, I motioned Achaicus through into my private office. Usually cold and calculating, he now looked boyish and uncertain in a way I hadn’t seen since he was a teenager.

He delayed speaking, staring off far into the distance out the window like a shell shocked soldier. His mouth opened twice, but the ability to articulate words failed him. His complexion grew paler until he was a sickly shade of green and looked stricken with plague, perhaps he was, after all, it wasn’t every day one encounters a ghost.

“I think…” he swallowed hard, and continued in a whisper, “I think he might be my brother…”

“The Illusionist?” I clarified, sitting back in my chair with a thoughtful expression. The man must’ve been clever indeed, to fool even Nathaniel’s twin and I wondered what he could have said to convince the living sibling.

Achaicus’s eyes flicked to me, “You have to go check. You’re better at interrogations than I.”

“Are you imposing any limitations on my methods?” I enquired. My little cousin looked positively panic stricken, and while I was certain I could break the Illusionist, it was almost more fun to watch Achaicus writhe.

“No. No limitations, just- figure it out.”

I smiled, “Wonderful, may I borrow your sword?” 

***

In Dunkel, the prison is located in the below chambers. Deep in the labyrinth of stone corridors, lit only by the dim glow of wall mounted torches where the air is stale, and dry enough to crack leather. My boots clacked against the stone in even rhythm as I travelled the endless halls. It’s easy to become lost down here, if one does not know the way.

With me, I carried my work tools in a small briefcase, a fold out bench under one arm and three swords. A cool breeze of unknown origin disturbed the moth starved cobwebs growing in the highest corners of the tunnel, and caused the flames to flicker. Two lone guards stood at the beginning of the prison chambers, standing each steadfast in their duty–I bet they were slacking off until they heard my approach. 

I stepped past them without a word of greeting, they weren’t important enough to warrant the effort it would take to adorn the mask of pleasantry. Small cold stone cells lined the walls on both sides, barred by iron grates and reinforced with binding spells to prevent escape. It had been my suggestion to make the bars of iron and the floor of crystallized salt. Truly a stroke of genius in my opinion.

The Illusionist wasn’t the only occupant. Caged shadows melted back in their containments as I swanned past at a leisurely pace, hoping not to be the ones selected for my rigorous research into the mechanisms of the body. 

I can mend anything I break, except for their minds. I found the imposter twin in the second to last cell, restrained in shackles as he was with dried blood staining his face and down the front of his shirt. He looked positively derelict. His clothes were travel worn and his hair uncombed. He glared over at me as I opened the cell to enter, and I returned the gesture with a warm smile. 

“Good evening, I hope you’ve found your accommodation to be adequate? Quite the view, no?” I began with genial small talk as I prepared. 

Taking the utmost care, I unfolded the small wooden table I’d carried in under my arm, dusted it off as if it were dirty, and laid out a clean cloth, placing the briefcase beside it. The key to a good interrogation is fear, anticipation. With painstaking precision, I carefully selected one item at a time to lay on a cloth, humming a simple tune to myself as I went.

“Do you play these stupid games with everyone?” the prisoner muttered, unimpressed by my theatrics. His eyes held no fear, only a deeper pissy resentment for the situation that did indeed remind me of the less friendly of the twins. Curious, considering.

“Of course not! The long lost Klein heir returning is a special occasion. It wouldn’t be appropriate to treat such majesty with common techniques, now would it~?” I finished setting up and turned my attention to him in full to begin the initial examination. Selecting a scalpel from the assortment I stood and languished over to him. 

“If you touch me with that, Markos, I’ll command you to eat your own tongue,” he warned. Creative. Moreover, he must have done his research to know my name, or perhaps Achaicus had let it slip.

“My dear, if I only intended to touch you with it I wouldn’t have brought the cloth,” I pressed the flat of the blade to his cheek to push his face to the side.

If this was illusions at work, it was powerful. Detailed down to the pores. A thin line of blood welled where the edge of the blade contacted and he scowled pulling away, “Don’t be an asshole,” he snapped.

Naturally, I ignored him as I collected the sample with mild bemusement, illusions don't bleed. Interesting. If I had to guess, I would have placed his age between mine and Achaicus’s. If he were truly the twin, there wouldn’t be a discrepancy, still it was best to be sure. I dropped the blood into a small vial I’d prepared earlier to compare with Achaicus’s and left it to sit.

I returned to heal the damage done and wipe the dried blood from his skin to get a better look. It was uncanny how much he reminded me of !Achaicus. He had the same perpetually peeved expression, and the air of arrogance to accompany it. How one could ever replicate that with such perfection is admirable. Someone had done their research for this.

The illusionist’s clothes were travel worn, dirty and scuffed. I cut a strip of the fabric from the collar of his shirt to examine more closely. High quality threaded material, Fae stitch work, and tailoring marks—not something easily come by. His shoes were the same, hand made from leather not unlike our own. He’d spared no expense in this endeavor.

“Why don’t you just ask what you want to know,” he muttered, shifting restlessly in his restraints.

“Because you will tell me that you are Nathaniel, the long lost Klein heir, and you wouldn’t be the first. Unfortunately, such foolish lies would only work on humans.”

Irritation so profound it almost felt familiar glared back at me for the statement. His eyes were the perfect match for the viridian green of the Klein lineage, and the intelligence behind them was frighteningly quiet. He was calculating just as I was. Whoever he was, I would be a fool to disregard the danger he posed.

“Your hair is longer than I remember,” he stated as casually as discussing the weather, but it caught my attention and I narrowed my eyes. What did he mean by that?

I delayed answering as I considered, I hadn’t seen !Achaicus since he was a teen, and it was regrettably public knowledge that my hair was cut short. Did he intend to imply the last time he saw me was so many years ago? Best to catch him in the lie, see how far he’ll push it. “…Pardon?” I feigned uncertainty.

“I didn’t think you would be allowed to grow it back so long after I lied…” his gaze held firm as he answered, and my jaw locked.

Only four people in the world knew that, and of those four, only two remained in existence. Heat raced through my extremities and my heart rate increased as I tried to rationalise. Was that a lucky guess? Had Lazarus boasted to someone? And if so, who? Or had one of the twins let slip all those years ago? No answer fit correctly, but this… this couldn’t be…

“That’s clever, who told you to say that?” I brought the scalpel to the underside of his throat, forcing him to look up and forcing myself to remain neutral to his insinuation of knowledge.

He met my gaze with calm knowing, “Judging from your reaction, you already know.”

“Except, it’s impossible,” I answered with a flippant shrug. This was a good game but my patience was gone. “For you see, the person whom you’re pretending to be has been dead for over fifty years. The legend of the ‘Missing Heir’ is folly, for he is gone.” I had checked the gravesite myself before coming. He couldn’t lie to me.

His eyes widened in surprise, and I smiled to myself. I’d caught him out, he didn’t know.

“It’s difficult to lie to someone who knows the truth, so, I’ll ask again. Who are you, and who sent you?”

The imposter lowered his gaze, thinking through his next lies. “... He killed me in the forest…?” he whispered, as if connecting puzzle pieces together. 

Confusion stayed my hand, I hadn’t mentioned that. How did he know? Was it a lucky guess? The real !Achaicus’s bleached bones lay deep in the forest, his grave is marked only by a tree stump and no one but myself and Achaicus knew of it. To the rest of the world, ‘Nathaniel’ was the twin that had vanished.

I clicked my tongue as I tried to decipher some way to unravel these lucky guesses, “You’re a very good impersonator, I’ll give you that. Where did you get your information?”

“I'm not an imposter. I know what I do from my memories-”

I turned the blade and sliced across his chest just below the collarbone, cutting a neat line that shut him up before more falsehoods could fall from his lips.

“Ow,” he muttered, surprised.

“Oops, must’ve slipped,” I gave an innocent shrug like it was out of my control, “This scalpel has a mind of its own, it doesn’t like regurgitated lies. Now. Tell me your source, purpose, and where you came from.”

He delayed, considering, and I cut him again. Fury whipped a small puff of his energy into ignition, impressive, considering his salt laden surroundings.

“Enough, Markos. You’re starting to piss me off. I’m telling you who I am. I’m Nathaniel Klein. I’m your cousin, his brother. I came here because I need help. I know everything because I am who I say I am.”

“Fine.” I turned from him, to select a new tool. Some of my devices were better used when a participant was not expected to continue talking for any amount of time. A regrettably poor decision on my part, but I could break his fingers… I selected a metal made device that would, with the twist of the screw set atop it, slowly spread until digits separated sideways from their sockets. 

“Markos, don’t,” the command momentarily froze me in place and sent a jolt of shock down my spine. That shouldn’t have been possible. “You don’t believe me because you know we switched. You’re thinking that if I weren’t an imposter I would introduce myself as !Achaicus, not knowing any better, isn’t that correct?”

As the order wore off, I turned back to him with renewed scrutiny. “An interesting observation,” I agreed indirectly. Was he trying to say he knew they were switched?

“I didn’t come here to expose my brother, I will bear the name he didn’t want.. It’s been mine for so long now I don’t think of it as anything but the truth.”

“So that’s your claim then? That you are not only ‘Nathaniel’ but !Achaicus?”

“Both are true, so yes.”

“If what you say is true, you will have no problems activating your sword for me then?” 

“Hand it to me,” he agreed without hesitance, and I stepped away to retrieve the sword. I offered him the sword hilt first, but left it sheathed, lest he try to cut me with it.

From his chained position his mobility was limited, but he twirled the weapon once regardless. “This isn't my sword,” he commented. 

“Is that a problem?” I asked innocently. His sword was a well made replica of the twins identical swords certainly, but the real ones would only respond to their owners. So in handing him not his replica, I knew it wouldn’t work for him. 

“No,” he answered with calm assurance, and energy ignited down the length of the blade. It moved in oscillating swirls that lightened the insignia on the hilt as I stared, struggling to comprehend. “Do you believe me now?”

“How,” I growled, dropping all pretense as I snatched away the sword. Was it a trick? I pushed my own magic into the blade to check, but it remained dull, “You are a pile of bones in the woods. I’ve seen them myself.”

He lowered his gaze, “I don’t know what happened to ‘me’ in this past… In my past, Achaicus had wanted to kill me, but we swapped places instead. He must’ve hated me more this time… I…” he delayed before continuing with careful trepidation, “I don’t belong here… I used a forbidden spell.”

I narrowed my eyes, “What kind of forbidden spell?” Necromancy? Those spells never worked this well.

Nathaniel grew quiet, like a child withholding a secret, “I think it was a time shift…” 

“You ‘think’?” 

“It was written in old runes… I couldn’t read it well,” he admitted in a soft whisper. 

“Why?” I asked dumbfounded. !Achaicus was always one for arcane chaos, but why would he go so far?

“Because it was the only way there was any chance… I came to find someone, and need your help.”

“Who?”

“Mercurisson…” 

*** 

“You’re certain?” Achaicus asked as he paced. 

“As certain as you are,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. These twins, nothing was ever simple with them. 

“He could ruin everything.”

“Perhaps.”

Achaicus stopped pacing to slump into the chair behind his desk like a melting dessert. He closed his eyes and his brow creased. “He’s going to ruin my life…” he gave a forlorn groan. 

“Perhaps,” I repeated, lost in my own thoughts. The level of magic it would have required… but he hadn’t failed any of my tests. His blood had no reaction with Achaicus’s, he was able to ignite the sword and command me… he knew things he should never have been able to. It had to be a twin. Was he truly powerful enough for that? Could Achaicus also be that strong? I side eyed the man as he ran a hand back through his hair.

“What am I supposed to do? Just kill him again?”

“… I am doubtful you could.”

“Excuse me?” Achaicus muttered, opening his eyes in annoyance to glare. 

“If he got here the way he said he did, and given his age advantage, I suspect he’s stronger. Certainly he was strong enough to command me… we should proceed with caution.”

He sat forward, placing his elbows on the mahogany and bringing the tips of his fingers together like someone praying for deliverance. “You’re profoundly unhelpful, you know that?”

They even sounded alike, “you wanted me to give my opinion, and I have.”

“I wanted you to tell me I was wrong. That the guilt was getting to me.”

“You feel guilt?”

“No. But I would have appreciated the attempt.”

I snorted, somewhere along the way, Achaicus had become more like his late brother than expected. 

We bathed in silence for what felt like an eternity as we each pondered what precisely to do about this situation. His brothers reappearance could bring into question the rightfulness of Achaicus’s claim to the castle, and the man was likely too strong to be contained for long, or killed. Our time frame for decision making was limited. 

“We need to turn this to our advantage,” Achaicus spoke again, opening his eyes, “Too many people saw him, the rumours have already begun. He’s referring to himself as ‘Nathaniel’ isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I mused, wondering where he was going with this.

“So let’s use him to our advantage. If my ‘brother’ is alive, I’m exonerated, am I not? It’s only dependent on him holding his claim of who he is. If we can convince him to play along, it gives me the chance to remove the problem the right way.”

“You want to kill him, again?”

He glared back as if it were a dumb question, “I want what I’ve always wanted. For him to be gone. He doesn’t belong here, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be useful. This might work out better than expected. If we play it right.”

“And what of his request?”

A small, evil smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, “If Nathaniel wants Mercurisson, fine.”

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