Interruption Five

Interruption Five

Cyril was bored out of his mind. They’d several days before the wedding because he’d expected traveling across the Desolated Lands to be a perilous, uncomfortable journey. He even thought he might come across some trolls, who never properly respected evil mages, and could enjoy a quick scuffle and subjugation. After all, if something else initiated the attack, his lovely wife couldn’t blame him for working during their vacation.

The town bustled with activity, providing hours of entertainment for his bubbly, social wife. She’d somehow made friends with three different shopkeepers, including a woman who towered over Cyril. She would have made a good evil mage herself with that stature, if she wasn’t so bloody good natured.

Cyril needed to commit some sort of atrocity, or he might expire on the spot from inactivity. While his wife was getting massaged, he slipped out and summoned the shadow-walker again.

“Did you give them the love potion?”

“I did,” the shadow-walker replied in a faint, far off imitation of his own voice. “I put it in their afternoon tea.”

“Excellent. What about the men the imp saw the groom with?”

“One appears to own a sex shop.”

That one wouldn’t be much of a problem then, his relationship with the groom was probably purely business.

“The other is in a magic tower.”

“Magic tower, you say?” Cyril asked, his interest peaked. “What kind of magic?”

“I couldn’t infiltrate its shadows.”

That was interesting indeed. Even solid steel couldn’t deter shadow-walkers, only a powerful magical barrier could lock them out.

“Where is this tower?”

“One thousand two hundred and sixteen strides from the castle.”

That didn’t really give Cyril much information. To a shadow-walker, each ‘stride’ was counted from one shadow to the next. If the shadows were plentiful and close together, that might be several strides. If the shadows were far apart, it might only be a few strides, but the distance would be longer than the first scenario.

Cyril found it perfectly logical for the groom to keep his lover in a magical tower. It was something he might have done himself if his beloved wife had ever rejected him. The tower would probably be close enough to the castle to make visiting easy, but far enough away that no one would stumble across it. If Cyril was going to keep the lover from ruining these nuptials, the best way to do so was to prevent the two from seeing each other while the love potion worked its magic.

“Return to the tower and execute scenario four-ten,” Cyril instructed. “Then report back to me with all the details.” If he couldn’t watch it for himself, he could at least hear about the evil he was committing second-hand.

The minion nodded and blended back into the shadows around them.

In a much better mood, Cyril returned to the inn to see if his wife might like to go for an afternoon stroll.