NOVEL NEXT Chapter 93: Interrogation
A force consisting of over a dozen gnomes and dwarves armed with wands, spears, and axes, arrived outside of Rum's prison.
"Your interrogation" said a gnome succintly, before unlocking the door and opening it. He was a mage, Rum could sense it as much as see it from the advanced patterns across his robe. The gnome stood in the gap, looking at him expectantly. Rum promptly got up and shuffled over. At a gesture, he also stepped outside.
With them two in front, and flanked by veteran warriors, the whole escort marched down the corridor of cells – but not towards the surface. Instead they took Rum left, going deeper into Andertun. A short set of tunnels and stairways lead away from the prisons, passed various doors and empty corridors, until they came to something akin to a round vault's door. It was huge, even by human standards, and all thick with hard metal and runic magic. They halted in front of it. A dwarf man came over with an open steel collar, the same magic item Rum had seen some of the prisoners wear. As the dwarf reached up with his hand, he had to stand on toes reach the back of Rum's neck, before janking his head down. CLICK! The collar locked around the bent over wizard. Instantly, he could feel a great pressure eminate from the item, suppressing his own magical being. Like being compressed and sealed off all at once. A most uncomfortable experience, but mostly in the sense that it felt unnatural, for it didn't exactly hurt him. Although it is a bit tight. Too small for me.
The dwarf eyed the collar on Rum analytically, eventually appearing satisfied. He turned then, and walked over to the side of the huge door, connecting his hands with one of its runes. The magic of the door lit up. Slowly, the door unlocked itself with CLACK-CLACK-CLACK sounds from the inside, before large mechanical parts on the outside began rotating as it opened up before them. Inside, Rum saw a square metallic chamber that looked empty, at least of people. As he was escorted in, he discovered two wooden tables near the door. One of them had several simple wooden chairs, and nothing on the table, while the other had a single chair, with an open book of mostly blank pages on top, together with an ink pot and dip pen.
Rum was led to the end of the chamber and made to sit down on the floor, while many of the veteran warriors surrounded him, their hands on weapons and their faces menacing. Several others sat down at the tables, including one gnome who climbed up the chair into position to dictate proceedings. Lastly, the lead gnome mage stood in front of Ryn, flanked by a handful of guards as the chamber door, slowly and mechanically, CLACK-CLACK-CLACK closed behind them.
Despite this large door, the interior itself wasn't particularly big, with the couple of dozen guards in the room making for some crowded corners. The only truly open space became that between the lead gnome, who was standing, and Rum, who sat open legged, patient in his grey prisoner's robe. He looked dirty down there on ground, like he'd used to be not long ago, his ability to freely cast Clean Body having been taken from him.
"We know, with a great deal of certainty, given multiple witnesses, that someone matching your description was present and committing crimes before and after the insurrection at Gnomiture" began the lead gnome. "Confess now and tell us everything about this conspiracy against the reformed Miss Boss, and we may see fit to make your stay at Andertun considerably shorter."
Rum raised an eyebrow. "Miss Boss?" He looked up into nowhere for a moment, as if thinking. "Miss Boss... Now where have I heard that name."
"Shoss" offered the interrogator. "Perhaps your memory is more inclined to remember her by her actual name. A name which the dungeon lords certainly would know her by."
"Shoss?" Rum rummaged his memory. "I read a book once, at the university. It was called The Betrayal of Shoss. It was on the curriculum, though not as a primary topic if I recall. Hmm, yes, I remember a friend of mine mentioned Shoss recently too."
"A fellow agent you mean. Perhaps an informer? Who is this person!?"
"No" Rum quietly shook his head. "Just a friend."
Silence followed the exchange, the interrogator penetrating Rum with a quiet stare, while Rum sat patiently on the ground.
"So you are not ready to confess. And you will not share what you know" the other mage stated.
"What is it that you think needs confessing?" Rum raised an eyebrow again.
"Your involvement at Gnomiture! Your charm magic which've severely ruined the lives of dozens of gnomes. And your plans, after stealing the properties of Miss Boss."
Rum shrugged. "I haven't stolen anything. I'm an adventurer, don't need to steal to make my living."
"An adventurer? Yes. But it was only a few weeks ago since you became an adventurer, isn't that so? You pop out of nowhere, and don't even start from the bottom, but jump straight up to the more advanced dungeons, where, I must add, you clearly knew exactly how to deal with the dungeon." The mage pointed an accusatory finger at Rum. "I have information that you were in fact critical to your party's survival. Surpassing experienced adventurers, and devastating the forces of the lord there. We even know that you, incredible as it might seem, were responsible for slaying the dungeon lord called Jorteg. BY YOURSELF. That is not a feat which should be possible for any new adventurers. And it is awfully suspicious that you just happen to achieve that, in only your second dungeon run."
"–third" Rum injected.
"Pardon?"
"It was my third. I joined with another party from The City Forest in between runs."
The interrogator raised both his eyebrows high, mouth gaping. After a second, he swiftly spun around, speed-walking over to a bag of papers next to the door, and frantically searched through them.
"No, no" he flipped through bundles of sheets, "no – NO!" At last he slammed a chunk of paper on the table full of seated guards, some of whom jumped in surprise. "This has not been documented!" the interrogator announced to all present. "We have incomplete information on the activities of this agent. This will not do!" He rounded to the other table, pointing at the scribe. "Make a note of it! We must find out what the subject has been doing in The City Forest. Who he has been dealing with, and why."
"The elves aren't likely to cooperate" came a voice from the first table. Both the interrogator and Rum looked to towards the speaker, finding a female gnome in a robe speak up, her hand dangling a wand. "They hate it when we interfere in their district."
"I don't care!" Retorted the interrogator. "This is for the common good of the city, and the alliance! We cannot overlook agent activity, even if it's outside our territory."
The scribe dictated fervently while the room fell into another silence. The interrogator moved back in front of Rum, and began walking back and forth there, a thinking hand on his lips as he gave Rum sour glances. When the scraping of the pen finally stopped, the interrogator stopped too, and focused fully on his prisoner.
"Tell us now why you were at Gnomiture. You were there, we know it. Why!?"
"To buy furniture" Rum said. "Why else?"
"LIES!" The gnome aggressively flung a finger at Rum, his expression swelling with red rage.
"I think I might have a receipt. I did buy a bed. There should be a record of it."
The gnome narrowed his eyes at him. "What, was the real reason you were there. I don't care about receipts!" Though as he had said that, the gnome snapped back to the scribe. "Note the mention of receipts – we must find them!" Snapping back to Rum, the gnome walked a half circle in front of him. "The real reason. Why were you at Gnomiture. What did you do?"
"I bought a new bed."
The gnome shook his head furiously, before giving a firm nod to one of the veteran warriors. The warrior took a single step behind Rum, before grabbing his ear with a mighty hand, and janking him up from his sitting. "Aaah!" escaped the pain from Rum's lips, his face grimacing.
The gnome moved in closer, looking Rum directly in the eye. "The real reason."
"Look" Rum's legs moved up to a squatting position to avoid hanging by the ear, "I grew up in Ermos. My parents, you probably know, visited me in prison. They live and work in Ermos. They're completely ordinary people. They grow potatoes outside the city. I have even studied at The Flipped University! They have records of me, and they know me there. Do I really seem like an agent of the dungeon lords to you? Does any of that match up with what an agent would be like!?"
"While your genesis towards agenthood will be interesting to uncover eventually, it is not the reason for this interrogation." The gnome's expression turned marginaly less angry. "We are here to figure out what you were doing, and why. So – TELL US!"
Rum felt the spit land on his face as the other barked at him. Rum took a second for himself, letting out a breath, which could've been a sigh. He closed his eyes, and trying to think inside himself. What can I tell them? If they find out I inadvertedly caused the insurrection, I'm doomed. If they find out about the furniture living with me, my furniture friends will be doomed. While thinking in darkness, Rum's attention derailed into wonder, and he was soon diverted to the magical suppression he was under. He could not help but be a little curious of it, and so he tested his magical senses against it. Prodding, he recognized that he had freedoms to act, but the collar was creating some external interference, the extent of which he could not determine. Rum opened his eyes. The gnome was staring at him angry.
"Well!?" he demanded.
Rum took another, smaller breath. He closed his eyes again, felt inside his magical being, and found a little spell. He whispered its name under his breath, out of earshot of the gnome. "Gay Aura." As soon as the spell had been called, Rum took full control of the spell as it struggled to unfold in him. He directed it, down towards the very tip of his toes, where he noticed the collar was weakest. There he gathered the magic, into a condensed ball. A wrecking ball – no – a battering ram.
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BZZZT! Rum's eyes shot open. He had no idea how it might've looked like, but he heard the same sound as everyone else, and saw the sudden stir in every body of the room, as gnomes and dwarves alike flung their eyes towards his foot. Rum dared a glance downwards and – BZZZZT! – the battering ram flashed a speck of light at the very tip and bottom of his shoe. BZZZZT! BZZZZT! BZZZZZZZZ – panick erupted around the room, but many were far too slow to act. Rum's Gay Aura escaped the confines of his body, and a magic of gold and yellow poured out in gushes of misty color, rapidly spreading everywhere in the viscinity. Behind Rum, the dwarf who'd held his ear janked him one more time painfully, but only to subsequently directed his body and cast him to aside and onto the floor. That dwarf had been too slow as well. The bright colors rushed him, climbing up his legs and torso, finally penetrating his orifices as the dwarf's eyes went wide with complete and total helplessness. The only one in the room who seemed to have been quick enough to do anything useful was the interrogator, who immediately cast a barrier of sorts, a dark purple sphere which blocked and pushed back the pouring magic, and also shielded several nearby others who ran into the sphere for protection.
Much slower to react, but also not useless, the witch gnome who'd spoken before pointed her wand at the incoming magic. She shot forth a large beam of white magic. In the clashes of gold, yellow, and white light that ensued, Rum could not from his new position on the floor see what was happening inside that beam, but his magical senses told him that her magic was doing its job, as his own was effectively obliterated, like from a great neutralizing effect.
Rum decided to ignore the two mages, and took a look behind himself. The veteran warriors who'd been put there to handle him were all either being overtaken by the spell, or were backed up against the wall trying to escape it. All – except one that is. One dwarf had apparently some unknown protection against the spell, and stepped over towards Rum. The dwarf carried a handaxe along with an angry expression, but to Rum's relief, decided to put the weapon back into his belt. Instead, he raised his fists at Rum, big fists backed by a face of fury. Superbly glad that the dwarf wouldn't be trying to kill him, or so he hoped, Rum was none the less quite terrified as the dwarf stepped forward. His enemy's arms were massive and full of muscle, while his fingers carried hard metallic rings that were soon going to beating down on Rum, probably until he was incapacitated, or worse. Rum desperately raised his arms to defend, but the blows came in fast and hard. "Skin Toughen!" The wizard hastily uttered the spell, and tried to squeeze it out and across his body, against the pressures of the collar. The spell luckily did take hold in places, and made the blows feel slightly less hurtful, but not by a large margin. "Body Thicken!" He squeezed out the next spell too, making him overall more cushioned against the flesh and metal blunt attacks. Neither spell worked as fully as they should've, but Rum took every little advantage he could get. The pummeling fists broke through his arms now and began striking at his face. Though Rum was by this point somewhat reinforced, and the hits that should've knocked him defenseless were not severe enough he couldn't force through at least one, final spell. "Muscles–" Rum's pronounciation was interrupted by a slam to his face, yet he finished it "–Grow!" Pain and brokenness rained down upon him, and he desperately attempted to deflect the fists aimed at his face. Gradually, slowly, his body transformed though. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed the dwarf's right wrist, the wrist's hand aimed to strike. The differences in their strengths and the size of their fists had by this point changed drastically since the pummeling had began. While the dwarf was surprised by this turn of events, he didn't hesitate long before beating on Rum with his left. He got in a couple of blows before that hand too was arrested. The wizard, briefly engaged in a test of strengths, janked the dwarf over him, casting the heavy body to the floor, before hurrying up to get up himself.
"You will not escape!" shouted the interrogator. "You cannot escape this room, no matter what level you're hiding from us!"
Rum put his hands to his collar and began to pull at it, attempting to break the metal open by sheer enhanced strength. However, the collar shrunk and tightened around Rum's neck. Pulling harder and harder at it, this effect was only made worse, as it in turn shrunk and tightened further, until Rum struggled for air. The dwarf in front of him stood up, and the wizard looked at the veteran, his own expression pleading for breath. Mercy though, was not on the dwarf's face. Instead, the other ran at him with a battlecry and a mighty big fist that flared up with magic, just before connecting with Rum's cheek. The wizard was sent fast stumbling into the wall. There, Rum briefly stood leaning against the wall, before promptly collapsing into a sprawl of limbs at the floor. Seconds passed next, and Rum's mind faded.
Rum woke up later in his cell, surrounded by its familiar environment, and the other cells of other prisoners. His head hurt, his face hurt, his arms hurt, and he felt considerably dehydrated as lips parted slowly. "Trinity of Healing." The barely audible spell struggled to get started, but eventually it managed to find its way out when – ZAP! The prison flashed as an arc of magic connected him with the cell, and he once again experienced for the briefest of moments that most massive headache bursting throughout his brain. Unfortunately, Rum's spell wasn't done so quickly though. It continued to heal all on its own now that it had found traction. ZAP! Rum was struck again. ZAP! A third time. ZAP! Another. And so the prison cell continued to torture Rum, over and over again, until he grew mad with the pain and the healing spell blissfully decided that its job was over. Rum, dazed and feeling quite blown to bits in his head, could do nothing then but lay there in bed, sheer stupor on his face.
"The first strike wasn't much of a deterrent I see" spoke a familiar voice from the other side. "You don't look too good." That voice, Rum's mind took some time to recognize it, but it was the old man named Trym, the only one so far who'd taken a friendly interest in him inside of Andertun. It took some time, but eventually Rum managed to roll his head over to the side to look in Trym's direction. Of course, the spotlight in his cell was entirely hindring him in that regard, instead he saw the silhuette and faint details cast by the shadow of a prison guard who surveyed him cautiously. The guard had their eyes on him for about a minute, before Rum was apparently no longer interesting to look at, and they continued their patrol.
The wizard rested in peace after that, unable to will himself to talk nor stand up. Failure. What was I even thinking, trying to magic them all? My spell wasn't nearly powerful enough against that crowd. I need something more. Something... greater. His hand moved up to his neck. He was wearing the collar now, even inside his cell. He'd joined the collection of other prisoners he'd seen wear it. A mark of some kind, he was sure, although its meaning was not entirely clear.
An hour went by with Rum feeling depressed at his circumstances. An hour of self-blaming, before he got a visitor – of sorts. Rum's interrogator from, was it yesterday?, stood outside his cell, looking over and down at him.
"Eight members of Andertun's elite guards had to be dismissed this morning. Eight people, losing their jobs, because of your actions."
Rum's eyes went the gnome's shadowy figure, but his body and mouth remained unmoving.
"Your magic is a crime in and of itself, and your actions here have only furthered to burry your fate inside Andertun, Rum Warmhud. The day of judgement will be upon you soon enough, and that will be your last chance to make yourself useful to us. Or, you could stay in this cell for the remainder of your life."
Rum slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, eyeing the gnome's silhouette before him. "Why did you dismiss them?" His voice was soft.
"Everyone touched by your magic is corrupted by its influence and can no longer be trusted. They... were no longer themselves."
"I beg to differ" Rum responded with a sudden energy to him, before pushing himself up to stand. Standing, he began slowly moving towards the bars, his gait conversational. "I'd say my spell is the only way they could be themselves. Be free. Your world is a prison of the mind. My world" he gestured to the cell, "is a mere prison of the body. You dismissed them because they might act themselves. And you didn't like that." Rum felt some of his mood return with the words coming out of himself. Opposition reconstituting his critical instincts.
"What nonsense you're speaking! You made them this way. You changed how they think, how they act. One of them showed up to work LATE today. And when I asked him about it, you know what he said? He said: It's probably okay. You breed insolence. None of them would dare say such a thing, EVER! Not before you tampered with their minds" he tapped his head, "making them all silly and, and, and–" he struggled to finished, "–useless!"
Rum's feet arrived at the bars, and he look through them, down at the gnome. "Considering people are neither things nor tools, being useless at times is not an altogether bad trait to have. Excessive usefulness always comes at the cost of being true to yourself, your needs and desires." His hands gesticulated his words. "If we were all useful all the time, what would there be for us to be useful for? My only reason for being useful, is after all to satisfy something of myself, and those I care about. But if they too were being all useful all the time, they would never have time for themselves, so they could never receive my usefulness. And since I was also being useful all the time, I would never be receiptive for them to be useful towards me. When you think about" Rum's hand stroked his beard, "there always has to be a balance to being useful, or it all becomes a thing just for its own sake. And – wouldn't that be absurd?" He smiled at his own conclusion.
The gnome slammed a hand onto the bars. "You keep rationalizing it all you want, but the truth will always be apparent! That person going into your spell, is not the same coming out. And all that happens as a consequence, is your fault. And yours only." The mage spun about, and marched briskly away, angry.
"So" Rum nearly jumped at the sound of Trym's voice, "you're some kind of mind mage, are you? In my youth I was always pulled towards another magic. Mmm." Rum raised a hand to block the spotlight. He saw the old man in his prison, nibbling toothlessly on his thumb. "They shunned that magic, here in Ermos..." In his pause, severe eyes rose up to meet Rum's. "Necromancy." The word hung in the air, weighty under the man's breath. "They shun you too, don't they, for your abilities? But anyone who's given our disciplines their fair chance, they would know: There's nothing quite like it. The conquest of the mind – or death itself." The old man nodded to himself, his mouth continuing to absentmindedly play with his thumb, as his eyes roaming the empty floors.
Rum looked at Trym for a while, before lowering his hand and glancing at the floors between them. "I'm not a mind mage. I'm not any kind of mage that you'd know about." He sighed at his own words, knowing that nobody here, not among the hundreds of imprisoned mages, some of which were probably extremely powerful – not one among them would be able to understand or comprehend what he, truly, was. He was that singular pink potato, among an ocean of brown, and a pond of yellows. "At least you are easy to understand." Rum continued, glancing towards Trym with his hand against the light. "You're just an unwanted package. Me?" he touched his chest. "People wouldn't even understand what to do with me, unless I demonstrated myself to them. But even then..." His thoughts went back to his disappointing lecture at the university, several weeks ago. Before all of it. "Even then, I'm outside of any package. Un-recognizable."
A pause entered their conversation as Rum spoke no more.
"So what kind of mage is that?" Trym broke the silence.
Rum's lips drew a little smile. "Rum Mage" he answered, and looked up, only to be blinded by the light again, though he sensed Trym staring at him.
"And what does a Rum Mage do?"
Rum turned away from the bars and leaned against them, speaking as much into the space of his own cell, as for Trym's benefit. "Surprises the world."
He leaned for a couple more seconds, then walked back to the end of his cell, where he sat, and lay down again. Half an hour passed, with him staring quitely up into the ceiling. "Surprising the world" he whispered to himself. He lingered with those words of his, imagining their meaning. Maybe that's what I need to do. The unexpected. The unthinkable. He rolled to his side, looking at the floor of his cell just to have something else to stare at.
He noticed a little pebble there. Barely inside his cell, just within the bars. His eyes fixed on it. Where did you come from? He rose up to a sitting position, before transitioning to all fours. He moved over to the little thing, grabbing it and lifting it up to look at. Did someone bring you with them under their shoes? Despite the poverty of the cell, it was very clean of anything besides dust. There wasn't a single useful thing inside here, except for his very plain bed, the bucket of filth of course – and this pebble. He lowered it to the floor. He looked around to make sure no guards were watching or standing nearby. Then, pressing it against the stone floor, he scraped it across the surface. A curved white line was formed, and Rum's eyes shot open. A surprise. For the world.