KINGSLAYER

♕ 5 | 1 ♕

The comment was so ridiculous I snorted, but concealed it by saying, "Do not be jealous you have the facial hair-growing ability of a prepubescent boy."

"You laughed."

"Quiet."

"You think I'm funny," he said in sing-song cadence.

Ignoring him, I pushed open the now-closed door to Professor Niccolier's office. The professor spun on his heel to face us, but Alexander was already blocking the doorway and flipping the lock. Knowing pretending to be a student was out of the question based on my obvious weaponry, I said, "We found a copy of your book in a library a few towns over and merely have a few questions. Answer them, and you will never see us again."

Nervously adjusting the cuffs of his shirt sticking out from his jacket sleeve, Niccolier insisted, "Writing that book was my most regretted mistake. It is better that you forget it altogether, for it was blacked out for good reason."

"You make the mistake of thinking I requested this from you. I am not requesting, I am commanding."

Though there was wild fear sparking in the professor's dark eyes, he still poorly attempted to shoo me to the door. I held my ground, to which he responded in bizarre confusion. Determined to put a stop to this stalling, Alexander moved from the threshold, switching to a calm tone. "Believe it or not, our intentions are toward preventing the usage of one of the artifacts you wrote about. We are not foolish enough to trifle with such things for our own gain; we need knowledge only you hold to stop another from doing so."

At Alexander's words, the professor visibly relaxed ever so slightly. He gestured for us to sit before his wide desk as he debated entertaining this conversation. We did so. "I should have known writing that wretched book would bring people of the likes of you to my doorstep." He eyed my blades once more. "I will only answer your questions in reason," he said finally. "And you must leave covertly right after."

"Agreed," Alexander said for the both of us. "Now tell me, why did you write that book in the first place? It seems to have brought you nothing but misfortune."

The professor gave a grave nod. "It nearly cost me my job here when news broke. My only redemption was that I was only a naive young man when I wrote it, thinking I was expanding the horizons of historical knowledge and exploring our connections with the deities. Doesn't every man look up at the stars on a clear night and truly believe there is something other out there, as if the Gods are looking right back down?" Absentmindedly, he stroked his beard. "I sought to prove the existence of Godly power on earth and ended up with more evidence than I expected. Although as I look back now, I suspect I was also writing a warning note too."

"A warning note," I repeated. "Warning of what, exactly?"

"Why, warning people exactly like you," he said, lip curling, "who have clearly gotten mixed up in things you cannot handle. And due to your impetuousness, you are in over your head." I did not like the way he jabbed a single crooked index finger at me. Still, I held my tongue.

"I made a mistake." His head bobbed again. "In researching the remnants of nonhuman power, I inadvertently taught arrogant readers how to locate them. Such things are meant to be revered, protected. Not used by mortal hands."

There was that same warning again. "Were the conclusions you gathered based solely on historical accounts or exploration of your own?"

"Young lady, are you accusing me of traveling the continent in search of magic? No. I did as all researchers do—I researched. Using both firsthand and secondhand accounts of brushes with the artifacts and their disastrous consequences. That is all. The contents of all five hundred of the printed copies were erased by those above us in knowledge of these things."

It did not elude me that he was vague when describing who enforced this ban on his books. The act made me believe we were only seeing the tip of the iceberg when it came to covert societies protecting their deity-related secrets. I supposed until a few weeks ago, I had no idea there was an entire underground world of Draven's loyal followers either, so it was likely.

"They blacked out all of the copies," Alexander repeated. "Meaning whatever you wrote within them was highly valuable information."

"Of course. There is much yet to be uncovered."

"So tell us: what was bad enough to put your books on a permanent ban list? Surely you recall."

Niccolier warred between unease and sudden courteousness. "I do not."

"I sense a lie," I said softly, my attention not leaving his face.  "If you have information, you will disclose it."

That seemed to break Nicollier's fleeting sense of graciousness. Giving me a once-over of dismissal, he said, "I will not tolerate someone like you speaking to me in such a demanding manner. Allow me to converse with your much more rational partner or risk not gaining information at all."

Nicollier looked to Alexander. "If she always exhibits this kind of behavior, I pity you, Monsieur." As if I was not right there.

Though the open window between his cabinets allowed a draft of cool air, I was hot with rage. Alexander was speaking to him in the exact same manner I was, and yet I was pushed aside. For a moment, I forgot my mother would have been disappointed in me for not keeping my regal grace about me and hissed, "Allow me to reiterate: you will treat me with the same respect you allocate for my partner and you will carry on that same behavior in the future. The Gods do not take kindly to those who treat each other unequally. May your desolate soul rot without relief in Thanatos until the end of time for your close-mindedness."

"Eat shit, asshole," Alexander translated, getting to his feet in a flash and shoving the professor backward until he was pressed against his bookshelf. Papers flew every which way.

"Tell us what we want to know." Alexander tightened his grip on Niccolier's throat. "Relay your terrible knowledge."

Niccolier's eyes widened. "N-no—"

"Chulli's flame. Draven's locket. We want to know it all."

Just then, there was a polite rap on the door. "My office hours," wheezed the professor. "They begin now."

"Then it sure would be a shame if they had to ask their questions to a corpse without a head. Speak." He shook the professor's weaker body.

Another rap on the door. And a group of voices on the other side as well.

Sweating profusely under pressure, Niccolier let out a small breath as his resolve broke. "Yvon Poulin. He deals with sensitive items in the back of the club he owns, La Folie Rouge. It was him that gave me most of the information I required for my book. Really."

"He's involved with Paragonia's black market," Alexander said somewhat flatly. The calls for Niccolier from the hallway were becoming concerned.

Aware that the professor was deflecting our wrath onto Poulin, I still silently beckoned for Alexander to follow me out the door as soon as we had our lead. The students watched us pass with curious attention as we left down the hallway.