Alfred lay awake in his bed, staring into the darkness. His mind was racing in circles. What were those prisoners? Why would his father move them here? And where was he keeping them?
He hadn’t searched every inch of the manor, he knew that. He wasn’t particularly curious about the specifics of his home in the past. Those details would come to him as he naturally lived here. Even so, he was pretty sure there wasn’t a jail.
Or perhaps they were not prisoners after all? They were shackled and hooded for… some reason. That line of thinking wasn’t very productive. He needed to find out. This was, likely, going to be his estate one day. Victor was the older brother, yes. But he has his own goals, and sitting around at home doesn’t suit him.
Alfred had cast his spell minutes earlier to tidy up. Really, he just needed to use it. Now, he was crafting a new spell.
He started with sense as the base. It would allow him to sense his surroundings, and depending on the orientation it would grant him a different sense. If he wanted vision and hearing, he would have to link together two sense engines, each configured differently. He still had trouble with more than two engines, so that wasn’t an option.
Then, he funneled it into control. His efficiency drive was attached to the control engine. The effect should allow him to control a point of vision like he controlled force. Similar to having an invisible eyeball he could move through the air.
Control was an interesting engine, as its effects changed slightly depending on what engines it fed into, and what was fed into it. Generally, you could only control something you can see, or sense with some detailed sense. Sight was the most common. While it was connected to vision, his sight could fly through the air. It could pass through glass and clear water, but could not opaque surfaces. Fog and smoke slowed it, but he could still move his perception through it.
By the time he constructed the spell, he was sure Wesley was no longer snooping. He snuck out of bed and changed. He wouldn’t be caught wandering the manor in his sleepwear like a common child.
He left his room and began to search without reservation. If he was caught, then what would happen? This was his home. Going for a nightly stroll wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.
Where a group of prisoners would be taken, he couldn't guess. The central wing was out of the question. Too many people had access. As was the south wing; That was where Victor kept the dogs.
So, that left the north wing of the manor. The garden, greenhouse, bath house and the spring well. So that is where he went.
The manor was quiet at this hour. Very few people were up, and those that were would be quietly attending to their own business. He should take nightly walks more often.
Eventually, he found himself in the greenhouse. The earthy, slightly sweet scent was pleasant, but he was careful not to get any dirt on his clothes. His mother loved flowers and was adamant about maintaining the garden herself. It was a fine enough distraction for a lady of the house, but it had little practical merit.
So, from here, where would they go?
Alfred searched with an open mind. Putting himself in the shoes of a man who needed to keep prisoners a secret in his home. Logically, the only explanation was secret passages. His father built this shortly after a war, where he must have earned many enemies. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination that there were hidden passages and secret bunkers.
As for Alfred's lack of knowledge, he hasn’t been here very long, in the grand scheme of things. He was still only eight. Still more refined and intelligent than most adults, even the elderly. But one simply wouldn’t think of telling an eight-year-old all of your secrets. These things were better suited for when he was older. Alfred understood that, intellectually. It was irksome to have to ask adults to clarify information, only for them to wave it away because of his age.
It wasn’t that he felt coddled. Quite the opposite. His parents spoke to him in the same way they spoke to Victor. In his father's case, he rarely explained larger concepts to him the way had to for his brother. His tutor was given explicit instructions to overestimate his ability. A genius move from his father, he believed. One grew and learned from challenge, not from simple understanding.
Still, he was young and simply did not have the years of experience required for most aspects of life. He couldn’t cook an egg to save his life, for example. But what he could do, was analyze the layout of a structure and map it mentally.
This is what he was doing now. It was something he idly wondered about in the past. Why were the walls thicker here than on the other side of the manor? It was a passing curiosity before, but now… it had to be the secret paths.
Now, he just needed to find the door.
For over an hour, he paced up and down the walls, tapping on the walls. If there was a secret door, it was too well hidden for him to find.
It was either luck or tenacity that solved this problem. He heard a door open and immediately stepped around a corner to hear it.
He unpaused his spell and cast it. Ambient mana flooded his mental construct, taking the proper shape. He closed his eyes.
The spell gave him a sense of sight, like closing one eye. He willed the vision forward and it flew. Not quickly, only at the speed of a brisk walk. He would need to find different drives to enhance the speed. For now, he only had a few minutes of control.
His vision drifted around the corner and towards the sound. It led to the baths. Around the corner, his father was wearily walking down the hall. He opened his mouth wide. A yawn. Without audio, it was difficult to tell exactly. He followed his father for a while before his vision faded.
He was heading to his chambers.
Alfred didn’t waste a moment. Into the baths, he went. No one had used them recently. It was usually reserved by his mother or his brother. Some high-class guests were offered the baths as well. He scanned the walls, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. This had to be where the secret entrance was.
Mud was scuffed on the floor, creating a clear path to a section of the wall. Too easy, the prisoners were not exactly clean, and the cleaning staff would not have gotten there first. Sloppy. Which, fit with his image of his father. Brilliant, yes, but he frequently wore stained clothes without realizing it.
[You have trained a skill, Investigation, to apprentice level. Divine skills available.]
Alfred dismissed the notification. It was a distraction. Investigation was similar to research, so it would have been a matter of time. He had no interest in the skills.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The wall was no different than the others. Cobbled stone set with quick stone. He felt the stones carefully. One was loose. He pushed it.
The wall opened up like a door. Masterfully crafted to produce no noise when opened. The hint of a smile touched Alfred's lips. Wonderful.
He went back to his room.
There was no reason to explore the dark tunnels full of prisoners now. He might get lost or, worse, find what he was looking for in the dark. He would need light and opportunity.
When his father was away, then he would investigate. For now, it was too risky. He didn’t care about the prisoners, they were not going anywhere. But now his interest was piqued. Perhaps curiosity came with age?
It took two weeks for a moment to show itself. In that time, he lived his life normally. He considered talking to Victor about it. He was a reasonable man. They shared a father, but not the same mother. So, Alfred always felt an obligatory brotherhood with him, rather than a close bond. Victor's mother had vanished years before Alfred was born. They had given up looking for her. In these woods, when someone goes missing, they are rarely found. In the end, he decided against it. He didn’t know how much Victor knew and didn’t want to make it a big deal. Alfred only wanted to know, and Victor would make sure it was a public search. He meant well, but there was no subtlety.
He waited until night, as he had before. This time, he had a candle. His vision spell was also prepared, so he could see ahead without revealing himself.
The secret passageways were cold and dry. They had none of the atmosphere that Titanfell Manor worked so hard to build. The smokey, cabin feel. Instead, it was dark and bare. Simple stone floor and wood walls.
He found stairs going up first. A spiral staircase. He cast his spell and raced his vision up the stairs. The library he found didn’t shock him, but he did feel an ache of jealousy. Alfred knew about the library, his father had talked about it. But every time Alfred asked to see it he was told no. To wait until he was older, more experienced. Victor had never been in it, and had only asked a few times. His mother always changed the subject.
There were no prisoners in the library, nor any signs of them. He would search the library in time when he was allowed to. Alfred was in no rush.
Instead of going up, he turned around and explored a different direction. The secret passages were like a maze. Easy to get lost in. Eventually, however, he did find points of interest.
A locked door, and stairs leading into a wider, older tunnel. The door was heavy wood with an expert lock. This must have been his father's treasury. He noted its location mentally but ignored it.
The stairs down had to be what he was searching for. He followed them down.
They led to a long metal platform that seemed to hover over a pit. The sound of trickling water echoed from below and a putrid stench tickled his nose. Like sewage and stagnant water. This must have been where water was drained too. He knew that a drain downhill from the manor fed into a nearby river. This must be a part of that system.
On either side of the hall were jail cells. Each had something in it. A plant? Like a strange potted tree. Why bring them underground? As he took in the details, he noted that they became more and more humanoid with each cell. As though each represented the same process of turning a man into a tree at different times of its development.
His eyes were glued open. Human experimentation. His vision swam, and he stumbled to catch himself. He nearly vomited but recovered in time. His father was capable of this? Experiments on the unwilling was… foul. Evil, if such a thing existed. He must have had a reason.
“Hey… kid.” A voice croaked. It sounded dry. Alfred hurried to its source. The farthest cell. In it was a man, of a sort. He had bark-like skin and dried leaves for hair. His arm had fused to his body, and his legs were twisted in impossible ways. “Get out of here. Ain’t safe.”
“What happened here? Tell me.” The man laughed.
“Madness. How did you get here? No place for a kid.”
“Hold on, I can find a way to get you out.” There was a metal structure attached to the walkway. It seemed that it could be pushed to lead to each cell. A moving walkway.
“Nah, I’m done for. Legs don’t work. No going back for me. Now, get out of here.”
“Did my father do this to you?” the tree man laughed coldly.
“The alchemist? Yeah… now go. Listen to me, that man is a monster. Father or not, you’ll end up like me.” The man coughed. Sap oozed from his mouth. Alfred glared at him. His father was no monster. A bumbling fool sometimes, but no monster. These men were prisoners for a reason. That was it. Men slated for execution. Using them to experiment was unsavory, but not immoral. This man was trying to turn him against his family. Such evil should be used for these purposes.
Alfred turned his nose up to him, then walked down the walkway.
“Idiot boy. Get out of here! Were the last! Do you hear me? No more prisoners for him to use! You are next! YOU ARE NEXT!” The man kept yelling and began to laugh maniacally. Alfred ignored him.
Down the walkway was a laboratory. All the standard alchemy tools were here. Distillation tools, surgical tools, and rare ingredients in preservation jars. Those jars alone could be worth a fortune to an alchemist. Medical tables also ringed the large metal platform the lab was built on. Beneath the platform the water pooled before trickling down the way he came.
In the center of the laboratory was a medial bed with thick straps. Tubes with needles were attached to bags hanging above them. What was that for? Blood transfusions? He knew a little bit of advanced medicine. Not enough to practice, but enough to ponder.
Scattered on a table were paperwork and notes. Interesting. He scanned through them.
The device in the center was for alchemical infusions. A permanent, and painful, process that worked like the standard transformation potions. However, its effects were stronger, more unpredictable, and permanent. It was a method to fundamentally change the nature of something.
Sketches of trees littered the notes. Was his father trying to… turn people into trees? Why? Sighing in frustration, he moved on. Alfred would have liked to sift through them, but he didn’t want to leave a trace.
Beyond the laboratory was another walkway. This one had no cells on either side but led to another platform.
He gasped.
At the center of this platform was a tree. It was thin and dead. It had a womanly shape to it, with hips and shoulders which stretched into arm-like branches. As if the tree was reaching out for an embrace. In the center of the tree was a woman's face. One he recognized from paintings and portraits. Victor had shown him this woman on many occasions. When he was sad or on his birthdays. Victor included Alfred in all of his family, even the lost ones.
This was Victor's mother. Alfred didn’t know how, or why. But it was unmistakably her. The warmth in her face was captured in never-aging wood. The tree was dead. Fully and completely, not just dormant like a tree in winter. She was flanked by a waterfall-like trickle of water. The outtake from the manor above. This platform seems to have been set up as a hospital. The beds were decorated with
Alfred shook. There had to be some rational explanation. A rare disease? Was he trying to CURE this affliction, not create it? Did she do this to herself and his father was trying to fix it? A dozen explanations surfaced in his thoughts.
He fled. The prisoner said something as he passed, but he didn’t care. He had to leave. To escape from the reality. The impossible reality of his father's experiments. He needed help, he needed to tell someone.
For the first time in almost four years, he burst into his mother's chamber.
“Alfy?” She asked, blearily, “What’s wrong?” He had a million things to say to her. He wanted to lay it all out, to explain what he saw. But, it was too much. Alfred rarely acted his age. Right now, it was too much. Too many horrible implications. He didn’t want to think about them. He began to act his age.
He fell into her embrace and sobbed. She didn’t push or ask what was wrong. She let him cry while she brushed his hair.
Alfred didn’t care about his dignity at that moment. He just had to cry, as children do.
Alfred
True Name: Alfred Varnsach [Family name, Skill Alchemy]
Soul: Mortal
Genseed: Human [ 3 Str, 3 Dex, 3 Con, 3 Int, 3 Wil, 3 Cha; Standard Size]
[Class] Level: 3
Attributes (0/3):
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 5
Constitution: 5
Intelligence: 10
Will: 5
Charm: 5
Feats:
Knowledge: System Knowledge
Knowledge: Fledgling Mage
Act: Vile Concoction
Act: Devotion [layered feats]
Skills (0/4):
System Aptitude: 1 [Source: System Knowledge]
Alchemy: 1 [Source: Varnsach family name]
Attribute Boost: Intelligence (+2)
Spell Craft: 1
Construct Capacity: 1
Copy Construct: 1
Pause Construct: 1
Notable Natural Skills:
Research: Apprentice
Biotraits (0/0):
Disease Resistance [Source: Vile Concoction]
Known Magical Components:
Engines: Force, Control, Sense
Drives: Efficiency
What do you think Alfred's father is up to?
