“Every time I leave the Castle and wander through these streets, I remember how filthy the world outside the walls is.”
Otto found it amusing that the seneschal was saying this even before they had made it to Pickled Lane. They were starting to make their way through Castletown proper, cutting through people in the crowds of Rellius Square.
“I don’t think we share the same standard. I quite like this place.” He pointed to the store he and the princesses had visited before they left for the Midnight Tower. “You see that store over there? Very affordable rations. And that armory is top notch; Princess Emerald purchased some bullets there, and none of them were duds. There are some very reliable merchants here.”
“For those who need such things, I suppose.”
“That’s the point of this place. They’re supposed to have everything . . . well, except for those things that are considered a little out of the ordinary. But I suppose you’ll see those for yourself once we enter the darker parts of the city.”
Although Otto had grown up in this town, his father had always warned him about being careful around the shops closer to the back of the Castle. Pickled Lane in particular had quite a reputation. Named for the vast array of preserved creatures and ingredients on display, the Lane was the best place to shop for occult materials, from books to potions to every sort of arcane component. Shops of every level of quality, price, and legality could be found there. Indeed, many said that the best—and most infamous—purveyors only ever sold their wares on Pickled Lane.
In Pickled Lane’s shadowed depths, there were jagged alleys and side streets that led down to tunnels that were known by many as the Underbelly of Castletown, a place where only the darkest sorcerers or toughest thugs would explore. After what Otto had heard of the spy seeing the Riftling, he had no doubt that that’s where they were heading.
From the way the seneschal strode fearlessly through the Castletown streets toward the place, Otto had to admit that he had underestimated the man. Most nobles would quiver in fear at the very mention of the Underbelly like they didn’t even want to admit it existed. Otto worried that his Paladin regalia would stand out horribly in such a place.
He truly wished the seneschal had warned him about where they were going before they had set off—that way he could have taken some of his fellow Paladins for backup should things take a turn for the worse. The risk of ambush here was very real.
“I say, if we are going to be heading into a dangerous place, surely we require more men,” Otto finally voiced as they passed from one district into another that fell under the darkness of the lower Castle.
“They say you cut down a dozen Nether Elves on your own at the Midnight Tower,” the seneschal said, a slightly mocking tone to his voice. “Surely, nothing here will match that as far as threats go.”
Otto was beginning to see the one downside to having the tales of his adventures blown out of proportion. Normally, he would correct people on this, but it had happened so much lately he had all but given up. “Even so, I don’t think I can protect you and myself should things take a turn for the worse.”
“Why, Sir Paladin, you’re sounding more afraid than me.” He called back. “If we just come and go without bothering anyone, I’m sure no one will cause us any harm.”
Otto’s jaw clenched as he noticed the chipper peasants of Rellius Square being replaced by the suspicious, narrowed eyes and muttering frowns of those who occupied the alleyways of the darkened and grimy cobbled streets.
Remarks were made at their passing, everything from, “What do they want ‘ere?” to, “More shifty dealings among the Paladins, eh?” and then grunted a mutter of, “Yeah, yeah, keep moving, fancy-pants.”
Otto ignored them, keeping on the seneschal’s tail. He was beginning to think that the man was less unafraid than naive. Nevertheless, Otto admired the man’s determination to get to the bottom of this mystery even at the risk of his own life.
Unlike in the rest of Castletown, where the sun had dried up most of the rain from the previous days, the alleys of Pickled Lane were still damp, but Otto mainly attributed this to the broken gutters that dripped out onto the street.
The seneschal continued leading them through the maze of narrow streets, his pace quick enough that a few black cats had to scramble out his way. At first, there was still light coming from the windows—a candle from a potions store, the glow of some spell from a psychic’s shop, a glimpse of the sky through a slit in the overhanging rooftops. However, as they continued deeper and deeper into the different alleys, even that small amount of light dimmed until Otto’s eyes had to adjust.
Otto wondered what the man’s hurry was, and why he seemed to choose alleys that gave off the most potent air of malevolence. The seneschal seemed right at home in the most derelict areas of the town, sweeping past menacing figures and clear signs of neglect—broken crates, half-empty bottles, and dripping gang markers on the grimy walls.
Otto was surprised that they hadn’t been ambushed and robbed already. The fact that they hadn’t been he supposed was a testament to the reputation of the fighting prowess of the Paladins—that or the grace of the Goddess was on their side today.
Finally, the seneschal stopped outside one of the darkest alleys. He looked up, squinting through the gloom as he spun around.
“I think this is the place the spy was talking about,” he said.
Otto peered about. “How can you tell?”
“The king’s spy claimed that he followed Jerald into the dark part of Pickled Lane until he was nearly hidden by shadow. Then, in that shadow, he stopped at an alley with a crooked lamppost.” He gestured across the cobbles to a lamppost that had a noticeable bend to it. “Now, if my suspicions are correct, this alley will lead down into the Underbelly.”
Otto froze, surprised the seneschal had knowledge of this but no one else did. “How long have you known about this place?”
“A while now. If there are occultists, organized criminals, or those loyal to the Dark Consul in this town, then this alley is a portal to where they reside.”
The real question was what they needed to do next.
“So, what do we do now, Sir Paladin?” the seneschal asked, voicing the same thoughts a little too loudly.
“If we want answers, we’ll need someone to question.” Otto scanned their surroundings. “Now that we’ve found this place, we can find somewhere to lay an ambush. If someone comes out, we can take them and see if they know anything.”
“Just anyone? Surely the entire Underbelly wouldn’t know of the secrets of the Dark Consul.”
Otto shook his head. “At this point, even a rumor would be helpful.”
“Hmmph, and you think an ambush is the best plan?”
Otto sighed. “Why? Do you have a better idea?”
“No, I just think it’s slightly ironic.” He pointed up just as ropes began to uncoil from the overhanging roofs and several men appeared from the surrounding buildings. “Because it seems like they had the same plan.”
Otto drew his sword and stood in front of the seneschal. “Stay behind me.”
At least a dozen shadows emerged, but Otto’s eyes hadn’t adjusted enough to catch their features. He had known this was a bad idea before they had even entered Pickled Lane. He should have listened to his instincts.
Before the first man could advance on him with a long club, a rope was flung around Otto from behind. It caught his sword and pinned it to his breastplate. Before Otto could cut the rope, the other shadows dashed in, hands grabbing at him.
Otto’s shoulder barged one and kicked another, but before long, their many reaching hands managed to snatch his sword out of his hand and tie more ropes around him, binding his arms to his chest.
“Run!” he shouted to the seneschal, but the shadows surrounded the two of them.
He made out the pointy-eared features of a Riftling in the darkness, and as the seneschal struggled against him, the old man was struck by a good punch.
Otto knew this had been a bad idea—every instinct had told him so. He squirmed and fought for freedom, to no avail. The man with the club swung it at him, and that’s all he could remember before the darkness overcame him.