The Cracked Hourglass

The Cracked Hourglass - Part III

Chapter 11: Insanity

27th Faebruary 235 F.E, The Imperial Sanatorium, Palkroso, Pallentein

Caldon, Anna and Luther walked down the empty, claustrophobic hallways of the Imperial Tower; silence a feature of the trio, the light getting rarer and sparser as they trotted deeper into the Tower’s depths. It was true, Anna thought, that the tower was more like a cellar the deeper down you went; cobwebs collected in corners, their owners scuttling into the shadows, away from the bright light dancing in the palm of Caldon as they continued their walk. Anna sidled up alongside Caldon, casting glances back at Luther.

“How does he know so much about the lockets?” he asked suspiciously. Caldon himself glanced a look back at his companion.

“You know him now, he’s a genius, and he knows pretty much everything there is to know. He studies this sort of thing, makes sure he’s got every detail exact and to the letter” Anna nodded in satisfaction at this answer, holding up her own locket in front of her face as they rounded a corner, past moss-covered stone and damp floors, down a spiral staircase.

“I thought only the wearer of the locket could remove it? That’s what I was told during my training, and I’ve had it hammered home since as well… it’s nigh on impossible to remove a pride locket, or a blood locket, through force against one’s will” she pondered thoughtfully, not necessarily as a direct question. Luther, by this point, heard there conversation and himself sidled up onto the other side of Caldon as they walked.

“It should, naturally, be impossible for an outsider to remove the pride locket. Only through the force of own will can a locket be removed. For the Aletions, of course, they have a secondary doctrine where commanding officers can remove the blood locket but only in extreme situations. It forms a… bond with the guard, so to speak, and if you own the locket-“

“-you control the guard, unfortunately” Caldon finished. They had arrived at a long, narrow, dark hallway, empty apart from a guard standing at one end, steam rifle by his side and face stern and concentrated. Moans and shouts, screams, came from behind the barred, metallic doors, the sheer stench of madness and despair evident in such a place, flowing like a poisoned river. Caldon raised an eyebrow.

“Why only one guard?” he asked in curiosity. Luther did not reply. Anna could not quite work it out. “Excuse me, could you tell me where the newcomer from the Vault is being kept? We are under orders from Captain Sylvester to talk to the man” Caldon said loudly into the dull darkness. The guard slowly came towards them and motioned towards a cell. “Don’t try anything” he warned as he turned a set of keys in the door, the lock clanging open and the door swinging open slowly, “the spells around here are powerful. Nobody escapes from the Sanatorium” he added menacingly. Caldon looked at him as he receded back into the shadows.

“It seems the Guard is made up of some rather strange individuals these days” he mused. Anna shot him an annoyed look. He smiled; “All except one, of course” he quickly said, and the three of them entered the cell. It was a very small and dank cell, no windows or access to the outside considering how deep down they were. The only light was provided by a shielded gas-lamp, and Anna sensed a powerful shock spell encasing it in case the occupant decided to try and utilize the gas bubbling brightly. A single, hard metallic bed was present in the corner, bolted and attached to the floor, complete with moth-eaten and worn mattress and dirty, unkempt pillow, a cracked mirror reflecting the scene hanging on the wall. Underneath their feet came a collection of cracked, dirty and murky stones, with water seeping up from the ground below. It felt… dark in this place, Anna decided. She had only been to the Sanatorium once on her rounds before, and that time it had been to check on a killer, a natural-born maniac. His whereabouts were currently unknown. Anna then studied the figure sitting on the bed. They were dressed in the normal silver armour of the guard, but they had no weapons on their belt or strapped to their back. The cape was gone, as were the boots, and the usually blonde hair was stark white, as if it had been sprayed or painted in a rush. The skin was pale and drawn back, in a skeletal nature. Lips were a pale shade of red. Eyes were bloodshot. Whatever magic, Anna thought, this mad had been put under, he was still feeling the effects. He slowly turned his face to them, neck cracking with the strain. Luther held back, arms folded in thought. Caldon went and knelt down in front of him, his face furrowed in thought.