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Chapter 33: THE GILDED CAGE
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 16:18:03 +0000 UTCBack in the comfort of his all black apparel he felt more at ease.
Aggravation festered in his mind and it was a predicament of his own design. The level of trust between himself and any of the women who sold their services was generally very low. They knew their lives would be longer lived by not betraying their secrets, but for the right price, any information could be bought. He had done so on several occasions, albeit with a varying degree of believability.
The situation with Marlaine was markedly different. She had witnessed him in the act. She was the only one alive who could pin him to the Duke’s murder. She was to have died by his blades, yet the thundering voice—the voice that had granted him the Brands that covered his skin, and the powers present within him—had demanded her life be spared. Openly betraying either of his masters would mean certain death. Only one of those, however, did Risens believe to be all-knowing and all-seeing.
He now balanced precariously on the edge of a blade, the slightest misstep would mean his doom. He had granted her life. An opportunity for a new start, though he had dragged her immediately back into her old ways. He trusted that his threats would retain her loyalty, and if that failed, the money paid would have bought her secrecy.
If he was wrong, it would matter little as his life would be forfeit.
They waited several minutes in silence, his ear plastered to the door, while Marlaine sat anxiously on the corner of the bed. Having lingered long enough to satisfy his ruse, he returned to the bed, crossing around the opposite side. With pillows and disheveled sheets, he crafted a crude shape of a body beneath the red duvet. From the doorway, the shadow and sheer fabric of the canopy would hide the details.
“Keep him occupied for as long as you can and then return here,” Risens whispered as he rounded to where she sat. “If I’ve not returned by dawn, leave without me. Tawny has your pay. At that point, you will be free to pursue your own devices, for I will haunt you no more. You secrecy would be advised ever still, as there are certainly others who will follow in my footsteps.”
“I understand,” she replied. “See that you return, Marken, for we have unfinished business.”
Risens nodded, doing his best to ignore her continued innuendos. There was no question that the Brand of the Courtesan that marked her chest was well earned. She was undeniably persistent.
“Once you have his attention, I need to access the hallway behind him,” he explained. “I only need to cover a short distance.”
With her understanding confirmed, they were off. She removed the hat and colored veil that covered her face before tousling her hair, the dark wavy curls spilling over her dress. Gently tugging at the clothing on her shoulders, she widened the gap of exposed skin. Somehow, the fabric maintained its tenuous coverage over her breasts.
“You’ll have the time you need,” she whispered. Leaning in close, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. Though her lips touched only the metal of the Shadows Shroud, he felt the contact as if it were against his flesh. Her hand dragged slowly across his chest as she slipped through the door and into the hallway beyond.
Risens couldn’t risk watching her performance, though he remained in the doorway, listening to the proceedings. Even with the festivities still commencing, owing to the hour, many of the lanterns that lit the hall had been extinguished,providing ample shadows to conceal his movements.
“Can I help you, my lady?” the gruff voice of the sentry called as she approached. He could hear the softening of his tone as his words continued and understood the cause. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“I certainly hope so.” She was good. Very good. “Dancing has seemingly tired my companion out. He snores like the beasts of Pylkev and yet, I am left untired … and unfulfilled.”
Lurking as far as he could in the depth of the shadows around the door, Risens peered around the corner. He understood the charm of the courtesan, yet was thoroughly impressed at the rapid completion of her task. Lady Myrenas’s private guard, likely highly accomplished with the blade, was putty in her hands. She had pulled the man in close, turning his back from their private room. Resting her chin on the crook of his shoulder, she whispered in his ear.
As she spoke to the guard, her eyes drifted to Risens and she offered him a wink as their gazes met.
Taking the cue, he adjusted his cowl and slunk from the room. He cautiously maneuvered through the light to the shadow against the opposite wall. The absence of the carpeting that muffled his steps in the center of the aisle was irrelevant as he moved silently over the polished stone. He slowed, pressing his back to the wall and staying hidden behind a marble pillar as he reached the intersection where Marlaine and the guard interacted.
“My Lord will slumber for some time,” she cooed. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to occupy the time.”
The guard leaned in, and Risens lost track of their hushed conversation as he used the diversion to round the corner into the adjoining hallway. He knew the mageLocked door that housed the meeting was nearly fifty meters down on the right wall. The egress he sought, the wide spiral staircase was half that distance along the opposite wall.
Leaping from shadow to shadow, he darted along the corridor. Thankfully, only the hushed giggle from his courtesan companion echoed through the air. He slipped through the narrow entrance to the stairwell and attuned his ears for sounds of alarm or approach. Hearing none, he eased onward.
A few paces in, the impressive stairwell opened before him. From the ground floor where he was located, it curled upward for an additional two stories until it reached the established height allowed by the King’s decree—no pillar or tower, much less a noble estate, could even be half the size of the royal castle.
From his careful study of the building’s plans, he knew it descended two stories as it tunneled into the ground below. Leaning over the central railing designed to deter anyone drunk or stupid from plummeting to their certain deaths, he spied the lowest level. There, he would find his destination.
The Gilded Cage.
The name for the vault seemed arbitrary to him, yet nobility, it seemed, had a penchant for appointing silly names to inanimate objects. In the end, whether the vault was known as the Crimson Keep, Pylkev’s Prop or any other inane moniker, it was still just a vault. An oversized safe, meant to be cracked.
Sticking to the outer wall, Risens descended along the stairs. Illuminated by only a dim glow of the scattered lanterns, he stepped carefully, mindful of the traps and alarms that would undoubtable be built into the estate. He stopped abruptly as the sounds from above reverberated through the area. His heart hammered in his chest as he recognized the distinctive voice immediately.
Lady Myrenas’s agitated voice echoed through the stairwell. “Gabralt, find that fool and return him to his station. Stay at the door to the hold. The others are not to be disturbed.”
The unseen guard accepted the command verbally, and by the way his voice oscillated, he was already in motion.
The absence of the guard Marlaine had been tasked to distract had been discovered. Though Risens had not yet been spotted, he knew he had to move. He tore off, abandoning caution, taking the steps three at a time. Having already covered half the distance around the open stairwell, he slipped beyond the Lady’s eyesight within a matter of steps. At the moment, her spying him was the least of his concern. He expected he could easily avoid the woman and her guard, yet his plans for escape, Marlaine’s safety, and the entire ruse itself were in jeopardy.
Slowing to a silent walk, he stalked ahead of the light from her mageLight as it chased him down the stairs. He considered ducking into the first exit to the first underground floor but passed the opportunity as his intended target was lower. That she unknowingly followed him was immaterial as long as he remained undiscovered. As he understood, the lowest level contained nothing but a wide, long foyer before the door to the Gilded Cage.
The interior of the vault was a surprising dead spot on the map. He had no information as to what lay inside.
Risens reached the ground floor without incident, unsurprised to find that Lady Myrenas still proceeded after him. At the base of the stairs, he garnered his first view of his target beyond. As often the case, the linear diagrams of the plan did little justice to the grandeur of the space. Unlike the stairs and much of the lakeside estate, the mageLights here still burned bright, filling the room with a steady blue glow.
The foyer was elaborately decorated, a pair of giant statues looming ominously over each side—four in all. Each bore the typical trappings of a knight—decorative heavy armor and a shield bearing the crest of House Myrenas. Hers—cream and crimson, of course—had the markings of a quill and parchment. The longsword borne by each suit of armor was outstretched, meeting at the peak of the room. Suspended by the intersecting rip of their blades, a massive chandelier decked with crystals and rubies hung.
At the entrance of the room, a peculiar statue stood at attention. Carved into the shape of what looked like a butler, it stood rigid with its hands clasped behind its back and its head angled slightly to the side. In the presence of the massive soldiers, it was a bizarre companion. A few dozen meters behind it, he spied the destination he sought.
The door to the Gilded Cage glittered at the end of the hall. The sheer volume of gold and gemstones that decorated its face made him question the value of what was within. He had no doubt a king’s ransom was on display in the open hallway. The design of the door was the most curious feature to meet his eye, though it made sense owing to the feature’s name.
Arranged in precious metals and gems, the scene depicted sent a stab of anger through him. Vertical bars made of solid gold framed a massive birdcage that spanned nearly the breadth of the door. Blocked by the bars, a raven was formed out of onyx and diamond. Its eye reflected the lights off a massive ruby. He snarled as he noted the intricate chain that bound the majestic bird to the cage. Carefully etched into the stone over the arch of the door, he read the words, “To Dreams Go the Raven.”
Skirting the outside of the halo of blue light that signaled the Lady’s approach, Risens darted back toward the spiral staircase and hid himself beneath the stone overhang of its steps. Not a heartbeat later, she descended into view. Placing the mageLight on the ground, she stopped before the entrance to the foyer. Her purposeful, echoing steps ceased as they crossed the imaginary border to the chamber beyond. Though her movements were unchanged, they went suddenly silent as she approached the small statue in the center of the room. Like the warded chamber above where she met with her fellow councilors, the space beyond was mageGuarded to prevent sound from either entering or exiting its invisible barrier. Her focus remained on the door to the cage ahead. She leaned down and whispered something into the butler statue’s ear.
He felt the rumble of the movement through the floor beneath his feet as the gilded door to the vault shifted inward before rolling up and to the side. No sooner had it started its movement than Lady Myrenas strode confidently across the threshold. She extended her arm upward, her fingers rubbing across the decorated panel before it retreated into the ceiling above.
Surprisingly, from his vantage, he could make out little of note inside the vault. To the untrained eye, the chamber leading to the heavily fortified space—especially the door—seemed to contain far more wealth than the interior of the room. Several heavy wooden desks sat alongside each other while rows of cabinets lined each wall. Information it seemed, was far more valuable than gold or jewels.
Lady Myrenas leafed through a file in the top drawer of the desk closest to the door before discreetly slipping something into the cabinet and closing it once more. Her movements were intentional. Having deposited a single piece of information, she turned from the vault and strode confidently across the room. She stopped again at the butler statue, this time from behind. A few more silently whispered words and the gilded door shifted. The floor shuddered once more as it rolled into view before sealing itself into place.
That the peculiar statue was key to entry into the vault he was sure, yet even as attentive as he had been, her words eluded him. He watched the receding halo of light, listening to the echo of her footsteps as she ascended the staircase. Above, the curt tones of her voice called for the guard who had been dismissed to deal with the missing sentry.
Risens waited in the shadows as the floors above returned to silence. He listened for a few breaths before slipping free from the shadows. He peered up the hole in the center of the spiral staircase to make sure his movement wasn’t tracked. Confident he was clear from prying eyes above, he slowly moved into the open chamber and stopped as he reached the butler statue a few feet into its interior. As he crossed the threshold of the door, he felt the sudden, expected tingle of magic, a slight agitation of his senses as he moved through the protective barrier. That the Lady has whispered a passcode of some type into its ear to open and close the door, he was certain. But what had she said? Even with the best hearing, he could never have heard through the ward of silence. In all of the information provided by the kingdom, the password that would grant him access was missing.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. He’d made it so far, yet it seemed he was stuck, unable to proceed beyond where others before him had failed. Deep in his mind, he repressed the grumblings that irked him. He been sent on a quest that had an impossible end. Were he to have assaulted the Lady in the vault, his cover would have undoubtably been compromised. The work of years, the careful cultivation of Duke Markem Cortinerie’s persona would have vanished with the fateful blow.
He groaned as the thoughts boiled over beyond his careful control.
Had he been sent to fail?
With aggravation scuttling his thoughts, he stepped around the rear of the statue. His knees shook as a floor panel beneath his boots shifted, and he heard the telltale click of its trigger.
He cursed himself for the fool as the trap sprang into action.
