Samir rubbed the towel over his wet hair and tossed it on the floor. A light knock came from the door.
"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Samir shouted. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head then exited the bathroom. Oscar stood a couple of feet away, lingering by the entry door. His wide eyes followed Samir's motion to the armchair in front of the fireplace.
Samir crouched down and grabbed the wrinkled agenda papers. Caius had dropped them off last night and instead of reading them, Samir found it more interesting to make them into paper airplanes and use his magic to drift them around the room.
Now, he grasped them in a tight fist, they crumbled further, and the crinkling sound joined the few scattered caws of the ravens.
"Wanna take a shortcut?" Samir asked with a mischievous grin.
Oscar's face remained unchanged despite the informal speech Samir used. Instead, the servant glanced at the open window where a dangling rope drifted in the wind. "I prefer to keep my feet on the ground and my head attached to my head, Your Excellency."
"Come on, mate." Samir's eyes lit with delight. "A thousand stairs sound more appealing to you? And call me Samir."
"You chose to live in the West Tower, Your—" Oscar paused, his lips curling down in disdain as he looked over the dainty living space. "Samir."
It certainly wasn't the first chamber Samir had been directed to live in when he arrived. Caius had taken him to a room befitting someone of his statue; a spacious, glamorous room with plush couches and embellished golden curtains. It even had an indoor water fountain at its center and sparkling, diamond chandeliers that brightened the space so much Samir had blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes.
When Caius gave him a tour of the castles, they stopped by the West Tower. His attendant tried to make the visit brief and his uncomfortableness was palpable when Samir insisted on exploring the space more than necessary. At first, Samir had simply done it to jiggle the rod stuck up the old man's uptight arse but then his curiosity propelled him to the chambers he now claimed as his own.
The room used to be filled with mirrors. When he inquired about it, Caius claimed to know nothing, yet presented an intriguing tidbit of information.
"Why are there so many mirrors in here?" Samir asked as he drifted in the empty space, his reflection greeting him with each step. Spiderly webs of cracks shown in some of the mirrors and shatters of glass covered the floor. Smashed stone statues with unrecognizable faces rested in the corners while the bed chamber was darkened by burgundy, velvet curtains. An odd choice of fabric to hang in a castle full of Witans.
Caius followed in his shadows; his chin pointed up as he regarded the mess around them with disgust. "It has always been this way and no demands of change were ever made."
Samir stared at the bed, the comforter in disarray and piles of papers with scribbled text entangled in it. On a desk near the east window were spilled jars of ink. Samir walked over to it and stared at the surface. Scratch marks went across it in jagged patterns almost as if someone had taken a sharp object to it and left behind their presence.
"Who stayed in this room?" Samir questioned, turning to peer at his attendant.
Caius readjusted his position, shifting his clasped hands from behind his back to in front of him. "Seers in the weeks following their visions rested here."
Samir's eyebrows rose at the statement. "Why is that?"
"This room is a refuge for seers after taxing visions," Caius answered, his voice dull and monotone as if reading a list of chores. "Strong visions drained their magic and left them ill for weeks. They rested here, away from the prying eyes of the court so that the healers may work on them in peace."
"That seems rather strange, wouldn't you agree?" Samir twisted on his heel to observe the dark room. There was something amiss, something that didn't sit right with him, and Caius's explanation only added to the growing feeling. None of it made sense, and Samir despised it when things didn't add up.
"It has always been as such, Your Excellency," Caius stated.
Samir continued to search the place. He picked up the pieces of paper but was unable to decipher the scribbled mess on them. Paintings of haunting scenes hung on the walls from depictions of a ghastly forest to desecrated graveyards. Religious books sat cluttered in shelves, and some had pages ripped out or lines of text circled repeatedly.
Finally, Samir came to a stop at the center of the antechambers and clicked his tongue, grabbing Caius's attention.
"This shall be my room."
Caius's face morphed into an expression of horror. "Your Excellency, the room we have prepared for you is of much better—"
"Have my belongings brought up here." Samir clapped his hands when Caius's mouth opened again. He grinned at his displeased attendant. "Now, I want to see the library."
Samir smiled at Oscar. "Fine, we shall take the treacherous and exhausting path to the council room."
"I doubt it is a laborious task for you given the fact that you are training half the guard every other day at dawn," Oscar mumbled, holding the door open as Samir walked into the torch lit hallway.
"I'm sensing some interest in that rather dull voice of yours," Samir remarked as he walked swiftly to the stone stairwell.
"Quite the contrary." Oscar shook his head, his long ponytail flicking with the motion. "I have no desire to pick up a weapon."
"You might not have a choice." Samir sobered. He glanced at the servant who walked a shadow behind him. "What then?"
"Then, I would not have a choice, would I?" Oscar lifted his eyes from the ground to meet Samir's. They reached the stairs and descended in silence.
The wheels in Samir's brain were churning. By the time they exited the West Tower and crossed the short distance in the courtyard to the side entrance of the glass castle, Samir had come to a decision.
Servants making their trek to their duties bowed as Samir passed them. Their wide eyes took in his appearance and narrowed with judgement. Samir smiled at all of them, even waving at an older lady carrying a basket of folded fabric. She bowed, her lips remaining in a pressed line of "don't act like you know me personally."
Oscar's slippers were soundless on the glossy marble floor while Samir's knee-high boots made a light clicking noise with each step. Vases of white lilies created a strong and sweet wafting smell with undertones of cinnamon. The scent was encapsulated throughout the entire castle as if to ward off rotten, illicit deeds.
Paintings with intricate, white patterned golden frames were spaced out along the walls, illustrating the Eastern Slopes and snowy landscapes. Samir never thought either could be displayed with such beauty, not when they both harbored enough danger to frighten death itself.
Samir paused where the hallway split off into different directions, turning towards the way that led to the council room. He looked over at Oscar with a grin.
"There's something I want you to do," Samir broke the silence between them.
Oscar blinked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose—a motion that produced no visible results since they appeared to hug his broad nose a bit too tightly.
"Go to the market at noon and buy some cat pellets," Samir continued. "Then wait on Slope Hill for a while and return to my chambers with an answer to the riddle."
"What riddle?" Oscar stared at Samir as if he was speaking a different language.
"Do you understand?" Samir's teeth flashed in a cheerful smile.
"No, I do not," Oscar responded.
"But you don't have a choice, do ya?" Samir shifted the crumbled papers from one hand to the next.
"I suppose not." Oscar sighed, rubbing his hands along the sides of his trousers.
"I'm glad you understand." Samir started down the hall to the council room, tossing a wave over his shoulder.
Now, it was time for him to make the weathered fools in the council room comprehend the grave danger approaching their front doors. If he couldn't do that, then the plan he'd be forced to unleash will either unravel the very foundation of their kingdom and leave them fragmenting into turmoil or prepare them for a war in ways they never thought possible.
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