Even with the dull curtains drawn, harsh light still seeped from the window and lit up the room.

Rollen winced at the ferocity of the rays as they pierced his eyes. He forced them shut hastily, not wanting to experience the wrath of the sun. The red of his eyelids thrust an image of dark spilled blood. Instantly he pried them open. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted slowly to the light. After a few seconds, his vision was bearable enough to take in his surroundings.

He lay on a small bed with two thin sheets over his body. They barely retained his body heat, not that he was cold, but instead brushed against his skin. As the thought sank it dawned on him that his torso was bare. Glancing down at himself, he realized he had been stripped of his attire. His eyebrows rose in astonishment. He peeked warily beneath the covers before letting out a sigh of relief. He wasn't stark-naked after all; instead all he had on was a pair of black shorts. 

Satisfied, he let his gaze rake over the rest of the room. He was in a confining cubicle with whitewashed walls. It was bare of furniture but a single chair and small wooden table to his right. Though there was only one window, it was enough to show him he was still within Allyn's Tower restrictions. Rollen frowned, rummaging his mind for memories of how he had ended up here.

The blast of recollections sent him jerking upright, only to be stabbed by a fierce ache at the back of his head. Instinctively he reached for the raw spot and his fingers grazed cloth—a bandage, he noted —making him wince. Earlier activities played before his brown eyes. Dead men in front of the Tower, large gaping doors, thick darkness, a thief - no - Arcane...  His hands curled into a fist, clenching his jaw. The Arcane had taken the Xiordite. Taken it and fled, but not before leaving a few marks on him. He tried to straighten his backbone but a crack responded, a dull ache spreading all over his body. Letting out a sigh, he lay back gently on the pillow.

The damned Arcane. A twisted demon-spawned people who deserved to burn in Efrir, forever bathing in the eternal flames in their Afterlife. The magic wielders who craved nothing but death and destruction on others. Just the thought of them left a bitter taste in his mouth, as though his throat was choking on ash. A few people - a very small fraction, thank the gods - believed they were gifted by Aslin, the Spirit of Blessings, with miraculous abilities. Such obscenities made his rage bubble over. The encounter from last night - was it the previous night? - had not been his first encounter with a magic user. And he'd be damned if it was his last.

The door clicked open, shaking him from his dark contemplation. Peering ahead he noticed three people were entering. Tilting his head carefully, he stared at the approaching forms. A woman was at the front, draped in a red robe lined with silver silk and adorned with tiny gold sparks. The gold chain with sun charm circled by a bronze ring marked her as a trained apothecary. Such women had studied the ancient ways of healing, mastering the art of using ones energy to speed up their recovery - based on the victim's strength, that is. The process itself, Rollen knew, was physically and mentally draining but it was a small price to pay. Even from here he could see the dark ringlets around her eyes.

Beside her was Colonel Brazen, who looked composed but his eyes were filled with concern and curiosity. A few ways behind, poised in a commanding stature with hands clasped behind his back, stood Colonel Fresier.

The apothecary sat at the narrow bed's edge. She placed the her palm over his forehead, thinning her lips as she checked his temperature. Satisfied, she helped him sit upright. Rollen felt her hands wander on his back in concentration, and though it wasn't meant to be relaxing, he felt as though he was being massaged soothingly. Murmuring something to herself, she dropped her hands and inspected the back of his head. After a few moments of scrutiny, she finally laid him back down and got to her feet.

"His fever has broken but his back is bruised. It should heal in a few days. His skull has a hairline crack, barely worth much fuss, but he still needs some rest. Whatever you do, do not overexert him." Her tone sounded slightly protective, and in another time Rollen would have laughed. "Otherwise I shall leave you with him and will be back momentarily." With that, she strode off, crimson robe flowing in her wake.

Once the door shut behind her, Colonel Brazen tuned his focus to him. "How do you feel, Rollen?"

Rollen shifted in the small cot. "I feel alright, Sir. No permanent damages, I believe, so I should recover fast enough."

Before Brazen could reply, Colonel Fresier spoke up, his voice demanding. "What happened last night to you?"

So it had been last night. "Someone broke into the Tower, Sir. I saw the bodies littered outside and rushed in with hopes of catching the culprit before any more harm would take place."

"What were you doing out that late?"

Rollen swallowed, knowing how suspicious it would seem. "I was taking a walk. Couldn't sleep."

Fresier's expression was doubtful, just as he'd known it would. "Why didn't you contact anyone for help?" he prodded. "That was the first thing you should have done."

Rollen's expression hardened. "Yes, but I saw dead men, Sir. By the time I would have alerted the guards or an officer about the situation, it would have been too late."

"Perhaps. But you weren't so successful either way." Rollen suppressed a flinch, the truth of the words burning into him. "You went up there alone and you didn't even have a gods-damned weapon!"

Unease filtered through his anger, mingling into a riot of emotions. The Colonel was right. No matter what he had done, the outcome was consistent. The only difference was that he had been injured on account of his decision. Upon seeing the plain embarrassment on Rollen's  face, the Colonel hid a triumphant smirk.

"Exactly. You overruled protocol and charged in defenseless. As a result you were attacked and the thief got away."

"I wasn't defenceless!" Rollen snapped. "This wasn't just an ordinary person. He was an Arcane."

There was a slight pause, air heavy with tension and unspoken thoughts. "Yes," Fresier responded finally. "We know."

Rollen gaped at them incredulously. "You know?"

"Of course. No mere human could pry open those doors."

Rollen turned to Colonel Brazen. "I thought you said no one could open the doors besides the King."

"Yes," he began carefully. "That is what I said because it was assumed to be true. Not even an Arcane should be able to remove the barriers."

He stiffened, unsure of the implication. "So what does this mean?"

Colonel Fresier beat him to it. "It means the one who penetrated the enchantments bore more than the usual power. He had access to magic far more superior to Arcanic magic."

Rollen's eyes widened. "But —That isn't possible."

Fresier snorted. "After learning what you have recently, I thought you would drop the assumption that stories didn't hold a sliver of truth in them."

Clamping his mouth shut, Rollen fought the urge to glare at him.

"What we don't understand is how he learned of this location. The knowledge of Allyn's Tower is very limited and only a select few knew of it." He eyed Rollen. "And I don't believe in pure luck."

Rollen felt the hidden meaning behind the words, but was too tired to decipher it.

"Don't you find it odd that just after you learned of the Tower's significance it went under attack?"

Rollen clenched his jaw as realization slowly dawned on him.

Colonel Brazen looked at Fresier sharply, face masked in disbelief. "What are you implying? That Rollen was behind this?"

"I merely find it hard to believe that that the day Captain Palanor learns of the Xiordite is when it goes missing."

Rollen noted that he hadn't denied the accusations. Finally, he replied angrily. "You suspect me of stealing the Stone?"

"No," Fresier shook his head. "You couldn't have done it yourself. You gained information before contacting your allies. That was when they struck."

"Then why was he injured?" Colonel Brazen demanded. "What's the point of that?"

"To deem him innocent in our eyes. To place him as a victim to avoid suspicion." Before Brazen could launch another inquiry, he interrupted. "Colonel, I understand you are fond of the boy"—Rollen gritted his teeth at that—"but do get your head out of your heart for a moment. Think about it. Does this seem like a mere coincidence to you?"

Brazen opened his mouth before clamping it shut. His gaze shot towards Rollen, his eyes a sea of emotions roiling too fast for him to decipher.  Silence reigned over the atmosphere.

Rollen could see hints of a smile ghosting on Fresier's lips. "Exactly. Which is why I have taken extra precautions." He moved to rap twice against the door. Immediately a soldier marched in in long strides that were hindered by the small space. Belatedly, Rollen noticed the chains clutched in his palms. Swiftly, the man reached for him and bound his hands to the bed's rail before standing back. Rollen was too stunned to try resisting.

A smug expression displayed itself on Fresier's face. "From now on you are to be held under custody and will be under careful surveillance during your stay in the healing room. A trial will be held, with the King of Norlay presiding over it. Any attempt of struggle or escape will deem you an accomplice, for which the penalty is death."

*

Rollen stared blankly at the whitewashed wall, mind teeming with wild raging thoughts.

Once both Colonels had left Rollen in the cubicle, two guards had taken their place. One was stationed outside the door while the other was stood by his bed. The man was rigid, hand hovering over his sword's hilt as though he expected Rollen to come free of his binds and attack. Even with the looming presence beside him, Rollen managed to ignore the sentry and drift into his thoughts.

He did it. He actually did it.

Though the rivalry between Fresier and Rollen was mutual, the Colonel hated him much more. Rollen had once wondered why the man despised the young soldier that much but decided to let it alone. Whatever the cause, the brewing hatred against him made Rollen return the feelings in kind. 

Thinking back to his conversation with the Colonel the day he arrived, he recalled his words. "I suspect you were in the plot... I will find it and expose you." He had wanted to break Rollen. Wanted to see him fall and watch his bones shatter beneath him. And he achieved his goals. Dreams do come true, he thought bitterly.

Rollen shifted once more, making the manacles rub against his sore wrists, but he barely felt any pain.

He knew he ought to feel enraged at the accusation. And he did, at some extent, but not as much as he should have. Instead he slipped into a blank state, not acknowledging anything around him. Rage wouldn't help him now. Only a clear head would be beneficial. So there he lay while time flew by around him.

*

The click of the door shoved him out of the dull haze. He raised his head to view the incomer, pain long forgotten. Tyford shut the door behind him and met his gaze. A flood of relief washed over Rollen. Treading slowly to him, he shot a glance at the sentry by the bed. With a nod, the guard left to stand by his comrade outside, leaving them some privacy.

"You look terrible," Tyford pointed out. 

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Thank you for that. I appreciate it." For once, Rollen meant it. Tyford's bluntness was a balm on his jittery nerves.

"No problem." His friend's voice was light and nonchalant, which meant he was hiding something. A jolt of dread drowned his earlier relief. 

"What's wrong?"

Tyford inspected the plain room, an obvious attempt to avoid meeting his eyes. "Other than the fact that you need a bath?"

"Tyford." Only one word, but it was filled with enough command to make him look at the soldier bound to the bed.

He sighed. "I've been sent to deliver some information."

Rollen grinned. "Promoted to a messenger hawk, have you Tyford? Your mother must be proud." Despite his calm facade, Rollen's heart thumped heavily in his chest.

"It's a message from Colonel Fresier." Rollen's guard shot up instantly. "The King will not be of attendance due to some unforeseen events. And for that reason, you will be trialed by the high ranking officials in the area. Their judgement will determine your fate."

Rollen sucked in a breath through his teeth. A trial sounded fair enough, supposedly giving him a chance at freedom. But it wasn't. With the Norlain King coming, His Highness could easily detect if Rollen was lying which meant that he would be deemed innocent. For that power the Ephiran race had, Rollen was grateful. But now the fate of his future lay in other hands. Unjustly hands.

"Tell me, Tyford, will Colonel Fresier be among the judging council?"

Tyford paused. "Yes," he admitted. 

With that, his hopes of freedom withered and died before his eyes.

"But so will Colonel Brazen and three others," Tyford added quickly, as if sensing the despair within him.

That information didn't give him any reassurance; though he knew Brazen would be fair and just in his ruling, he couldn't rely on the others. His fate rested on their hands. Hands that might receive bribes to make sure Rollen's head would be speared onto a pole.

Rollen stared at his long-time friend. A man he had shared so many memories with him. He didn't want to ask, not sure of the answer he would receive, but he decided on getting a true answer, rather than burdened with false hope. "I know what people think. I don't have to hear it to know. I'm sure rumors have already spread within this place, despite the few occupants. Which is why I have to ask: Do you believe the rumors?"

"Of course not. I don't trust gossip." The answer was quick, without any hesitation. Nevertheless, Rollen prodded on.

"But under the circumstances, do you believe I am innocent?"

Tyford clamped his mouth shut. He gazed at Rollen imploringly as if asking him to understand but he didn't reply.

The silence spoke legions.

*

Rollen was staring out the window when he heard muffled sounds out the door. Ripping his gaze from the starry night, he furrowed his brow. His sentry also heard the voices and took a step forward, unsheathing his sword. Rollen tensed, unsure of what would occur. The noises stopped. Soon after, Colonel Brazen strode in. His muscles relaxed.

"I've come to take the prisoner," Brazen informed briskly. "Relieve him of his bindings."

Relaxing, the guard sheathed his blade and unshackled Rollen. Rollen rubbed his wrists unconsciously. They had angry red welts lining his skin and hurt to touch. He stared at the Colonel quizzically, momentarily confused. He met his gaze. "Don't just dawdle there. Follow me."

Rollen shrugged off his confusion and trailed after him. When the guard started after them, Brazen shook his head. "I can take him myself. Go back to your post."

The guard nodded in compliance before leaving the room. Once he was out of sight, Brazen proceeded. They exited the room and into the small hallway. The other guard had also left. Perhaps he too had been called back to his original station.

Brazen led him out of the building with sure-footed strides, forcing him to lengthen his own pace. Rollen suspected they were heading for the dining hall as it was the largest place to hold a trial. Contradictory to the assumption, the Colonel led him away from it. He veered around the Tower and went to the stables, where at least a dozen horses stayed. Rollen blinked, bemused. What was going on?

The Colonel rushed over to a post where a shirt and a cloak hung. He tossed them to Rollen. "Put those on and saddle a horse."

"I don't under-"

"Do as I say! Quickly, before they come looking for you." His voice, though commanding, held a tinge of doused panic.

Rollen stared at him blankly. He gripped the garb harder as realization struck him. "Are you helping me escape?"

"Yes, but you need to do as I say."

Questions tripped over each other in Rollen's mind, demanding attention. "But why are you doing this?"

"Because I know what actually happened." The words sent shock waves through Rollen's body. "I know the truth but I need to convey it to the King directly. I can't tell anyone but him, and I can't make the judging officials postpone the trial. They will kill you."

"But-"

"Listen to me." His eyes darted around warily, like he expected someone to jump at them. "I will help you escape. One of your men is helping me. He will go with you while I stay here. I will be accused of treason once they find out but they will have to take me to the King for questioning. I will remain unharmed and be able to explain myself before His Grace. Meanwhile, you will be hidden at a different town till the time is right. Do you understand?"

Though he was still bewildered, Rollen nodded. In a few seconds he had put on the clothing. Quickly he strapped on a saddle onto a mare and mounted it. The Colonel did the same but did not climb on. Instead he pulled his horse forward, with Rollen following close behind. Soon they approached the gates. Rollen waited for someone to call out but nothing happened. Instead the large gates cranked open. He concluded that the sentries thought they were going out to a nearby town to gather supplies as it was a normal activity.

Someone emerged from the shadows. Looking closely, he saw it was Colsen, his friend from the military camps. Wordlessly, he jumped onto Brazen's horse and led it forward. Rollen followed. They went at a leisurely pace to avoid suspicion till they trotted past the gates. Once they were out they dug their heels into their steeds. Instantly the horses galloped away, leaving Allyn's Tower behind them. 

Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter. Don't forget to vote if you liked it. So this was super rushed and it'll need editing but time is something I don't have now. I've written at least three chapters over the weekend and they still need work. If you view my profile, you'll see why I'm in a rush. I'll edit this properly ASAP! Hope you understand :) 

(Totally unrelated) We just got over 100 votes! Thanks so much for your support on this whimsical ride! :D