Heroism

Chapter Eleven: Cracking the Truth

"He's not going to be happy to hear this, you know that, right? I mean he was already in a sour enough mood this morning as it was... Are you sure you really wanna go in there?" A young woman questioned as she stood with one hand propped against her hip. The man next to her shuddered, his lips pulling themselves into a frown as he nodded his head. The two stood in front of a pair of large, ornate black marble doors with a gold pattern. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward and pressed his hands against the doors. Placing her hand on the man's shoulder, she gave it a small squeeze to try and reassure him.

Gripping his resolve, he pushed the doors open before making his way inside. Getting down on one knee, looked down at the ground. "Your Majesty, I have news. Disturbing and awful news." He could feel King Detsoldue's piercing, hot and intense crimson red eyes stabbing his skin like daggers. King Detsoldue calmly rested his chin on the back of his hand, his lips slowly pulling themselves into a cold frown. He gestured with his hand for the man to continue. Swallowing nervously, the man spoke up. His voice was a wobbly amalgamation of fear and hatred as he talked.

"The woman we have prisoner... She is not the hero. In Athlina today, there was an incident. A young woman who looks identical to the one we have was spotted fighting someone. She had the marking, I was able to see it due to my ability. We have the wrong person." The air turned bitterly cold as King Detsoldue's stare intensified. Getting to his feet, he slowly began to approach the man. Swallowing nervously, the man continued to stare at the ground. Folding his arms behind his back, King Detsoldue approached him with a dark shadow looming over his features.

"Thank you for this information. You are dismissed," he patted the soldier's head, though he didn't smile as he did this. His face was completely unreadable. Nodding his head, the man quickly got to his feet before scurrying away. Folding his arms behind his back, he made his way to the doors that lead to the throne room and pushed them open before exiting into the corridor. Walking past the guards who protected his throne room, he made his way through another set of double doors. Rika quickly scuttled after him and only stopped jogging once she had matched his pace. Looking up at him, she could see a dark shadow crossing his features. A dark aura radiated from his entire body as he walked.

"Based on the fact that she looks exactly alike to our prisoner, I'm going to guess they're siblings. Which means that no doubtabley she's come in search of her sister. We could use her as bait, to lure the hero here. However, since our prisoner is not the hero, we're not going to execute her anymore are we?" Rika questioned with a frown. King Detsoldue remained silent as he pushed a large, rotting oak door open. Descending the cold stone staircase, he walked down to the dungeon, with Rika closely following him behind. Her black wings flapped and her tail flickered slightly from side to side as she looked to him for an answer.

After a couple of moments, he finally spoke up. "We'll have the girl moved to a more secure location. As for the execution, I suppose it is unnecessary. However, I want some information out of her. I want to know more about this hero. I want you to contact Charles, see if he can get any information out of her. While I would trust you to do this, I know that you can sometimes be a bit too soft, and that's not really something I can have right now," he stated with a frown and a blunt voice. His footsteps made an audible Tap, Tap, Tapping noise against the cold stone floor.

"Alright, I'll go and fetch Charles now." She quickly hurried away, leaving him to stand on his own in the dark and decrepit dungeon. Sighing, he continued down the damp corridor. The walls were caked in thick black mould; its musty, earthy and rotten stench was permeating through the air, it was almost enough to make anyone gag. But he had grown accustomed to the smell a long time ago. The slippery sludge that coated the floors clung to his black leather shoes; however, he paid no attention to it as he walked. Hands clawed through the bars and the desperate pleas of the owners echoed throughout the dimly lit hallway.