When you join the Order, there is no choice but to remain. Once the truth about your world has been discovered, you will never be the same, indebted to the Order for life. It is a cruel system, but it is the only one that makes sense, given the circumstances.
Amati Seyen, On the Order
Gwanor awoke when the sun was streaming in from a window. He became aware of a dreadful ringing in his ears and a pain in his head so sharp he closed his eyes for a minute to let the ache recede. Then he sat up and took in his surroundings.
He was lying on a wooden bed. The wood was the same golden color of the walls, writing desk and bookshelf in the room, and it reflected light in pale yellow shimmers around the room. The furniture was sturdy and plain, but with surprising detail-the swirling designs on the bookshelf, the latticed shafts in the headboard of the bed. Gwanor instinctively knew they had all been carved with as much care as the furnishings in his father's palace.
He looked down at himself. He was wearing a soft white linen tunic and loose trousers, quite different from the tight hunter's leggings that he had brought with him. The clothes fitted him surprisingly well. His own clothes were folded in a pile on the floor. That would mean...they had dressed him. Whoever they were. The thought that complete strangers had seen him in his underclothes, dressed him, made him wince, however.
He stripped down to his underwear, which had been replaced with an undershirt and knickers of the same white linen, and hastily pulled on his own clothes, which were stiff with washing-they washed my clothes-then tried the door. It was locked. Figures.
Well, this is just great! The one person I trust to go with me on this journey betrays me, I'm now a prisoner, and I still need to get to Faerie Caverns. When I meet Magorian, he's going to tan my hide, and for once I don't blame him. How stupid can you get? Why would she volunteer to go on a mission of such import with you?
Cursing himself vigorously, he slumped onto the bed. Thwanor had been kidnapped, was in trouble somewhere, and he was stuck in this room until someone came to open the door. Useless.
And Rosebud...the thought of her put a foul taste in his mouth. She had probably known his feelings for her all along, using them to go convince him to let her come. And I just let her. Hell, she probably had hundreds of admirers. What was one more, even if he was a prince?
You're pathetic, you know that? So desperate for a girl to like you, you let her put you in a position like this. And for what? You could never marry her, anyway. Father would never allow it.
He was so deep in his self-pity, he almost didn't hear the door to his room open. He looked up. The man from the bridge was leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly, the noble-looking one with the sharp blue eyes.
He looked Gwanor up and down, and Gwanor had the uncomfortable sense he was being judged, and not particularly kindly, either. He already knew what he was thinking. Spoiled soft princeling who's never seen battle. Then he said, "Gwanor of Greater Faerie?"
"Yes?" It was strange to be addressed without his title.
"You are expected. Come." he said in a calm, sonorous voice. He made a move out of the door, then stopped when Gwanor did not follow. "What?"
"I'm not leaving until I get some information," said Gwanor resolutely. He would not have ordinarily spoken so boldly, but his anger outweighed his better judgement.
The man sighed. "What do you want to know?"
"Where is this place? Who are you people? How long have I been locked up in that room? Why am I being 'summoned'? Am I your prisoner?"
