Queensmen

Chapter 49

~Beg For Death~

Hermes' eyes burned on exposure to the poor lightning conditions of Inae's dungeons. Having grown up under the hot sun of the battlefield, he was well accustomed to being blinded and adapted to harshness of bright glares long before any of the enemy soldiers on the dessert plains realized that he had been defenseless.

The result however, was a stinging headache that stemmed from his eyesight overcompensating whenever he was in an environment with light exposure less than that of twilight.

Even with all the torches around him lit, his head pounded but with his men surrounding him he could not let it show. He had carried the ailment long enough to know how to disguise it behind a mask of indifference.

So far only Mikeal knew of the problem. Hermes had had no choice but to tell the man the day he had fallen to the ground in absolute agony during a night raid.

From then on he had secretly learnt to fight blind, unwilling to be placed under the banner of being disabled and left behind.

"You are all dismissed," he told the guards accompanying him, knowing that they would not question his need to be alone.

They smashed their gauntlets against their chestplates twice then departed wordlessly, their heavy footfalls echoing off the walls of the underground prison.

He grabbed a torch off its sconce on the wall and turned to see Mikeal straightening up from the hunched position he adopted during his act as a servant.

He stretched his hands above his head and bounced on the balls of his feet, his joints crackling as he rose to full length.

"Done?" Hermes asked in amusement, the torch dangerously close to his face.

Mikeal pulled a dagger from his sleeve and marked the wall in front of them experimentally. The sound of screeching metal travelled down the dank depths of the dungeon but didn't echo back at them.

"Quality stone here," the knight commented. "If I decide to do you in, no one on the outside will be able to hear your screams."

Hermes pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and prompted Mikeal to do the same. "This shouldn't take long, and the guards will be back soon so don't get any ideas."

"I've always loved a good challenge," firelight bounced off the man's teeth as he grinned. "No time to waste then."

He snatched the torch from Hermes and skipped down to the slippery stone steps of the dungeon. "The faster you get used to the dark, the sooner I can graduate from being your chaperone."

"I have never had any trysts, and you know it," the emperor shook his head and followed close behind the knight. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can put it behind me."

"I hope so," Mikeal mumbled as they walked past rows of silent cells. "Though, I doubt this was what Magnus meant when he said you should investigate this case yourself."

"You don't expect me to pretend to be ill all week, do you? He probably told the ministers that I had miraculously recovered, just as revenge."

"Magnus isn't that petty," Mikeal said with a smirk Hermes couldn't see. "He probably told a maid who happened to be a spy for one of the man ministers that wish to have you deposed. He would not stop as low as telling them directly."

"Don't remind me," Hermes blinked at the darkness, resisting the urge to rub at his aching eyes. "I still have to go back to all of that when this affair is settled."

"Maybe having a woman show you some good lovin—"

"I do not care for romance," Hermes snapped, a pang of pain hitting him square in the forehead. He clasped his hand over the spot, holding back the moisture building up behind his eyelids. "I do not understand how you feel nothing in this darkness."