Otto was panting after checking every room and alcove on the eastern wing of the Castle, and that was after searching the crypt itself. The seneschal must have moved on since Claire had last seen him. He realized he was just wasting time. Even if he left now, he would still be late for the final election meeting.
He growled and sighed and whirled about to return to the Tower of Light. If he didn’t make it in time to announce his withdrawal, he could end up being voted in as captain without him even being there to decline it.
When he reached the main foyer, he came upon Princess Sapphire, who was entering through the main Castle.
“Ah, Otto!” she called. “I managed to find Aelyph, and he said he wants to speak with you again! That he remembered something from his past that he thought you should know.”
Argh, I don’t have time for this now!
Otto didn’t stop running. “That’s capital. But I’m late for a seriously important meeting at the Tower of Light right now. Bring him here, and I will come talk to him after. Oh, and if you see the seneschal, I need to speak with him as soon as possible!”
Princess Sapphire caught up and ran alongside him. “But the seneschal already . . . Should we really bring Aelyph here? The seneschal isn’t the only one who isn’t comfortable with Riftlings.”
“We might need him for what’s to come.” Aelyph was better at sensing dark magic than any of them; he could be useful.
She grinned and said, “I’ll go find him,” before peeling away from Otto and running toward the entrance.
He kept running, blowing past maids and servants and members of the Crown Guard, but no Paladins, of course. They were already in the Council Chamber where he should’ve been, maybe even awaiting his arrival before the second election could begin. Carrying his full armor, he was already exhausted, but when he emerged onto the outer corridor and saw the height of the Tower, imagining all the stairs he would have to climb, he died a little inside.
He had just made it to the entrance when he saw someone at the base of the stairs leading up. Of all people, the one coming out onto the open floor as though waiting for him was the seneschal.
Otto felt torn. Here was the person he had been looking for to confront, the one involved with everything suspicious that had happened in the Castle since Otto had gotten back from the Midnight Tower. And he was now blocking his way to the meeting he was supposed to be at. One part of him—the conscientious and punctual side—screamed at him to talk to the seneschal later, but another side of him—the side responsible for his instincts as a warrior—told him to stop.
And the latter part won out.
Still panting, he came to stop in front of the seneschal. “We need to talk.”
“Why, Sir Paladin, just the person I was looking to see.”
Otto was expecting him to bring up his tardiness to his meeting. The fact that he didn’t made him suspicious, particularly after how much time and effort he had put into helping Otto win the election. He looked around, noticing the open door behind them, where his accusation could be heard by anyone who walked past.
“Maybe somewhere a little more private.”
The seneschal nodded and gestured down the long corridor. “Of course, follow me.”
The seneschal moved off down one of the corridors. Not knowing where he was leading him, Otto followed, determined to get to the bottom of this. The seneschal was a frail old man, but if Otto found out he had been scheming against the Paladins, he wouldn’t hesitate to use force to arrest him. However, he was confused about where the man was leading him.
Because Paladins burned their dead so that no evil spirit could possess their bodies, there was no graveyard or tomb for them. However, down the left wing of the Tower of Light was a type of mausoleum where carvers hired by the king would create statues of those who had fallen in battle. It was this massive hall where the seneschal appeared to be leading him, for he stopped and gestured to the doorway.
“In here, perhaps?”
Otto had no reason to deny him, and they entered the large hall. It was dark inside, with only the smallest traces of the light coming in from the tiny windows high up on the wall. Otto had expected to see a stone carver or two getting ready to start on the likeness of his father and other Paladins who had died on the Nether Rifts Coast, but other than the massive statues of past Paladins all around the walls, the room was empty.
The seneschal walked slowly into the room, stopping in a small spot of light that came in from one of the small windows, and then turned to face him. He smiled wide before he raised his handkerchief to cover it.
“Now, good Sir Paladin, what did you want to discuss with me?”
There was something strange about the seneschal then, something that Otto couldn’t quite pin down.
“I talked to Jerald,” he said.
“And?”
“And he told me he went down into the Underbelly to try and scope the place out for an attack.”
The seneschal tittered. “And you believe him?”
“I do. After all he’s done, even before I left on my quest, it makes sense.” Otto studied the seneschal, trying to find what it was that he was missing. “His story contradicts your spy’s, particularly the part about the Riftling bearing the mark of the Dark Consul.”
“So what you’re saying is . . .” The seneschal raised his eyebrows. “The spy is a liar.”
“One could deduce as much.” Otto glared at him. “If there even was a spy.”
“So you think I’m lying to you?”
Otto narrowed his eyes, scanning the seneschal’s body. “I’m still trying to work out why. For what reason would you have to cause a division in loyalties among the Paladins? Either you’re trying to undermine the order, or . . .”
Finally, his gaze came to where the seneschal was holding his tissue. All five fingers of his hand were still there. It was the same with his other hand. The thugs had taken one of his fingers, yet all his fingers were still there.
“. . . take over?” the seneschal finished.
“Your finger’s back.”
The seneschal raised his hand. “Oh, my mistake.” And the finger that was taken vanished again. “Now, is that better?”
Otto drew his longsword and hissed, “Who are you?”
“What a shame,” the seneschal said as he began walking around Otto. “And you had almost finished your part as my pawn. All you needed to do was accept your votes and take leadership. The rules and punishments would have been so much fun to implement while everyone thought I was you.”
As the seneschal moved out from under the light, Otto thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, for his form changed and suddenly the seneschal was no longer in the room with him but Sister Claire.
“Oh Otto, we could have been so happy—together forever, a Sister of the cloister and the captain of the Paladins.”
Otto gasped at the perfect imitation of her voice. “Sister Claire . . . where is she? Is she still alive?”
The seneschal continued to circle him, staying out of sword range as he moved slowly around him to the door. Tempted to withdraw his sword, Otto had to remind himself that this figure was only an imitation of Claire.
“She’s alive . . . for now. You see, in order to take someone’s identity you need to keep them around to steal as much information and as many mannerisms from them as you can. Granted, Claire has been very tight-lipped. Considering who I’m willing to take the place of next, I see no reason to keep her around any longer.”
“How long?” Otto asked as panic pulled in him, wondering if this monster had been feeding her. “Where is she?
“Somewhere close.” The fake Claire’s smile widened as she then shifted into another form, this one a gruesome, flabby monster with what looked like a slender tail wrapped around him. “But you shouldn’t worry about her right now.”
Otto’s gaze remained locked on the monster. It was larger than him but looked unarmed, and he thought he could fight it if necessary.
However, he then heard a rumble behind him. He glanced quickly over his shoulder as a familiar monster lumbered out behind one of the larger statues of a past Paladin leader. It was the same troll that he had fought to get through the hidden entrance. He froze as he saw the eyepatch covering its left eye. It was swinging its club like a pendulum with a low, slow laugh, as though anticipating its revenge against one of the men who took its eye.
No wonder it was asking how the seneschal had gotten free, Otto thought. It’s one of the guards this shape-shifting monster had set to guard him.
“Who you should be worried about . . .” another strangely familiar voice called behind him, along with the sound of running footfalls.
He whirled back, expecting an attack from the shapeshifter. However, the new figure rushing at him made him pause. It was in Paladin’s armor, and as he saw the form’s face, he gasped. It was Otto himself: the form that the demon planned to use to take over the Paladins. With a quick shove, the shapeshifter, using Otto’s form, pushed him farther into the room.
“. . . is yourself!”
The shapeshifter then opened the door and darted behind it. Before Otto could return to his feet and catch him, there was a click, and the door to the mausoleum was locked from the other side.
Otto pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He spun just in time to see the giant troll running toward him, its club raised to swing.
It had taken him, Aelyph, and the monk Raiken to defeat the troll in an ambush before, and Otto didn’t like his chances on his own. Nevertheless, he dove to the side to dodge its first blow and raised his sword.
“You don’t scare me!” he growled. “I’ve faced dragons larger than you!”