After that, Mr. Bryer didn’t argue. He spilled his guts. He told Simon whatever he wanted to hear. Unfortunately, none of the answers were satisfying.
Why did he kill people? Beyond the fact that he enjoyed it? Because the duke ordered it.
Why did the duke order it? For political power, and nothing more.
Simon had trouble believing that, but dull as his sight was in that moment, he sensed no magic. He only felt duty and bloodlust, and both disturbed him in equal measure.
“That’s not true,” Simon insisted. “You told the man in question that it was a shame, and that he might have been of use to you, just before you killed him.”
“That does sound like something I’d say,” Willis agreed, “But unless you’re going to tell me who it is I’m supposed to have taken out, I really can’t say.”
Simon obviously couldn’t do that, but still, he tried to dig into the evidence for a larger cabal. He was convinced that there was more to it, but Mr. Bryer insisted that wasn’t the case. “Listen,” he said, holding his hands up to make sure that he wasn’t a threat. “The knights… the nobles… You and me, we all have the same job. We make the world a safer place, we help the lands grow, and we keep the people who work them safe. You and I just focus on different sorts of evil doers, that’s all.”
“You can’t tell me that you only kill wicked men,” Simon answered, “I know with certainty that’s not the case.”
“Your job is to kill evil men,” the courtier retorted. “My job is to kill… well, I deal with traitors, the stubborn, loose ends, and anyone that my lord finds inconvenient. If you want to see if your friend is on my list, you can take a look in my ledger. It’s in that black book there, just by the poems I was reading before you came in.”
Simon glanced over to see what he was talking about, and as soon as he did so, he realized he’d made a mistake. In a flash, Willis struck. He lulled Simon into complacency by cooperating so completely that the momentary distraction allowed the man to produce a knife from his sleeve and lunge toward him. Simon saw the poison on it, though, and took the blow in his wooden wrist, taking the blade from his opponent, even as he landed a right hook into his opponent’s jaw, stunning him.
The two wrestled then. Simon tried to bring his own dagger to bear, but his opponent was stronger with two hands than Simon was with one. Still, Simon was definitely stronger overall, and once weapons were out of the picture, he pinned Willis down by the throat and squeezed the life out of him.
That took long enough to be gruesome; fortunately, it was blessedly silent. When the man’s lifeless corpse stopped thrashing beneath Simon, the room was eerily quiet save for the sounds of Simon’s heavy breathing.
“I can’t believe that worked out,” he told himself. “I didn’t find out what I wanted to know, but maybe I can summon his spirit one day and find out what he was…”
His words trailed off as the sound of the door opened behind him, sending an icy knife of fear up his spine. In that moment, he knew he dreaded the idea that he’d have to kill whatever maid or servant had picked that moment to intrude, but it turned out to be even worse than that.
“Bryer, I need you to get me…” the duke’s voice said, before trailing off as he caught Simon red-handed astride in his man’s corpse.
“What in the name of the gods…” the noble gasped as Simon turned to face him. “What have you done? You killed my man? He was no warlock!”
The duke had just finished closing the door behind him, but even as Simon insisted the other man attacked him first, and showed the weapon still jammed into his wooden arm, it was clear that the duke didn’t believe him. Instead, Duke Brin drew his sword and cursed, “Zealots, the lot of you. I told my brother we’d best be rid of you, but he disagreed.”
“Your Mr. Bryer was clearly an evil man,” Simon answered, not immediately drawing his own blade as he tried to calm the situation. “I didn’t want to—”
“Zealot!” the duke growled, lifting his weapon and charging toward Simon. He barely had enough time to draw his own weapon before the battle was joined.
The fight that followed was brief. Simon didn’t want to kill the duke, but after what he’d seen, there was no way he could let the man live. Their swords clashed three times, and the duke’s lighter blade scored one glancing blow across Simon’s forearm. That was all the damage he did, though.
Even one-handed, his sword was heavy enough to power through the noble’s guard, rendering the older man’s parries useless. He might have been a warrior in his youth, but his strength had abandoned him long ago, and soon he was bleeding from two deep wounds in his chest.
Simon felt bad about fighting someone who was clearly so far past their peak, but there was nothing he could do. The duke clearly wasn’t listening to reason. All too soon, though, that blood loss slowed the man, and then, shortly after that, Simon ran him through.
With his dying breath, Duke Brin cursed Simon, but he couldn’t make out everything the man said. “...on your head…” was all he made out before the man crumpled to the ground and slumped off Simon’s blade. Then the room was quiet again.
On the one hand, Simon didn’t feel guilty he’d killed the man, but on the other, well, it was the right thing to do. Still, there would be consequences, and even as his sword dripped blood, they whirled around him. Any future level that has to do with the war with the Murani is probably screwed, he realized. No, scratch that, every future level is probably ruined, one way or another. If you replace the future king, you change everything.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He paced for a moment as he considered it. Then, he spotted a mirror and walked over to find out and get it out of the way. Before he could do that, though, he whirled around, raising his still bloody sword. That was when he saw himself, or at least his evil twin.
No, not my doppelganger, Simon realized as he took the other version of himself in. This was different.
Simon’s evil twin always had a certain look about him. There was a cold, almost jaded confidence. Not only did the Simon he was looking at not have that demeanor, but he was actually still fat, which was not a condition he’d ever seen himself in. he was mortified.
The first words out of his copy’s mouth were, “I can explain,” as he shut the door behind him and barred it. “After that commotion, there will be more people here soon, though, so maybe it’s for the best if you don’t ask too many questions.”
He had a million questions rolling around his head, but he was too mortified by his own appearance to blurt them out, and instead, nodded along as his other self started his explanation. “I’m not your… our evil twin,” his fat self said, “But then you’ve already figured that out, because I already figured that out. Just like you’ve figured out he’s not really evil.”
“Yeah…” Simon answered hesitantly, like agreeing with himself might be some kind of trap. “But then who are—”
“Who am I?” the other Simon interrupted. “I’m you. From a… well, let’s say you’ll be standing here soon enough that this day will be a vivid memory. I don’t think I should tell you more than that. Let’s just say, you’re going to go deeper into the Pit. You’re going to handle things, and then you’re going to come back here and handle this.”
“Handle this?” Simon asked dumbly. “What are you going to—” As he asked the question, there was a pounding on the door as someone tried to get in.
“Sir… My lord, are you okay? One of the footmen heard a struggle!” someone shouted.
The other Simon ignored the man, so he did as well. Instead, he watched as his twin walked around the body. Simon didn’t even notice he was tracing a circle lightly in the duke’s own blood until he was almost done. The smooth movement was hidden almost completely by his slovenly form.
Just because we look like that doesn’t mean that’s who we are anymore, Simon told himself as he watched his doppelganger fish a tablet out of the canvas sack he was carrying and place it in the pool of blood.
“Basically, when you figure out how this works, it will be time for you to come here and make sure no one misses the Duke,” his twin said.
Even as he spoke, though, his fingers were moving, and though the air only rippled faintly, Simon could see the shapes of magic forming through his second sight. Blurry as it was, it was impressive enough that he couldn’t tear his eyes from it as the pounding on the door got louder and louder.
The other Simon definitely had a few skills that Simon did not. He could guess at some of the words he was using based on the colors of power they were drawing. The ripples caused by the gestures were rippling around the circle, and focusing on the tablet. They were doing more than that, though; they were connecting with the body and the soul that lay within it. All of it was connected by a complex thread of magic.
It’s not just connected to the body, though. It’s connected to the caster as well, Simon realized, but only after his doppelganger started to change. He wasn’t simply losing weight, though, or gaining muscle. His hair was going gray and…
“You’re becoming the Duke,” Simon gasped as he put all the pieces together. “You’re taking his place so that the continuity doesn’t change…”
The idea was as dangerous as it was powerful, but the version of him that was weaving magic ignored the words just as he ignored who was trying to batter down the door. Instead, he focused on his magic and glowed as his entire body changed. It wasn’t as violent as the shift that Simon remembered enduring when he’d become a child, but it didn’t look too comfortable either.
In less than a minute, it was over. The pale glow that illuminated the room, and the more vibrant tangle of colors that was invisible to everyone but Simon, was gone, and before him stood the duke, in shabby clothes five sizes too big for him.
“Stab him,” the new duke said, pointing to the corpse. It must have powered the spell, at least in part, because it was burned and completely unrecognizable.
“What?” Simon asked. “You want me to—”
“Three… Two… One…” Simon recognized the countdown, and though his other self didn’t bother to explain it, he chose to trust it and stroke forward, burying his sword through the breast of the barely recognizable corpse. That was when the door to the room they were in was finally forced open, and half a dozen guards came through bearing weapons.
“And maybe if you’d done that five minutes ago, you would have done us all some good,” the new duke scowled, doing an incredible impression of the one that had just withered away.
Did he steal the man’s soul to power the spell and learn his mannerisms? Simon wondered while his other self chastised his men for forcing him to rely on a cripple to save him.
No, he decided. I wouldn’t do that, so presumably he wouldn’t do that. Still, how do I know it’s really… As Simon had that thought, the other him inexplicably took a brief break from haranguing his men and basking in their apologies to wink at Simon, which was really all the proof he needed. Either he’s lived this moment before from my perspective, or he’s a mind reader.
He considered both options, but decided the first one had to be correct long before the new duke finished weaving his tale about how a warlock had come in here, intent on killing him before Simon had interceded. “The monster got my man Willis,” he said, pointing at Mr. Bryer’s corpse. “He almost got me, too, no thanks to any of you.”
The guards were too busy stumbling over themselves with groveling apologies to notice any of the holes in their new master’s story, which was a good thing. Still, the new duke didn’t let them stay long enough to discover a slip-up, and a few minutes later, they were retreating with the corpses. One would receive a proper burial, and the other, well, it was going to be burned, lest its evil spread.
When that was done, the new duke led Simon back to his bedroom to change into something more appropriate, since his clothing hadn’t shifted. “There,” he said when they were alone. “Now, we can talk. You know I won’t be able to answer many of your questions, but you’re welcome to try your luck.”
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