A short walk

Ethan walked slowly through the wide corridors, lit by torches set into iron brackets. The polished stone floor reflected the light in pale tones, and each step echoed back at him. His face remained calm, but his eyes never stopped moving: the shifting of guards, hushed conversations that died out the moment he approached, anything that seemed off.

Now he noticed the castle felt alive, but not in a healthy way. The movement was constant, almost mechanical. Nobles in heavy robes whispered in corners, always keeping watch on the corridor behind them. Guards stood too still, like the golems of Eldranor.

Ethan didn't need anyone to explain it. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel it: something ran through these people like invisible threads. Empty gazes, calculated gestures, even their smiles seemed forced.

He paused for a moment in front of a stained glass window depicting ancient kings in battle. The light that passed through it painted the floor in red and blue.

Why hadn't he felt this distortion in mana when he'd used the scroll before saving the princess? It made no sense at all. He had been at his sharpest then, yet saw nothing like this.

Ethan almost let himself get distracted. But he quickly turned his focus back to the corridor ahead, where two nobles were whispering too softly for an ordinary person to hear.

"...He doesn't react the way he used to."

"It doesn't matter. As long as we keep up appearances…"

The rest was lost to the echo. He couldn't be sure whether they were talking about the king or some other noble in the same situation.

He kept walking, turning a corner where guards stood rigid, their spears grounded. The way they kept staring straight ahead, without so much as glancing at him, felt unnatural even for trained soldiers.

Something was completely wrong here. Not just with the king, who Ethan already suspected was a puppet, but with the entire structure around him.

A counselor walked past him, offered a brief bow, and continued without a word. The scent of burning candles and incense hung in the air, mixing with the cold dampness of the stone. Ethan drew in a deep breath, trying to absorb every detail.

He reached a broad archway that overlooked the inner courtyard. Down below, squires were training in silence, without so much as exchanging taunts or laughter. Ordinary young men would slip up, tease each other, maybe even complain. But here, there was nothing but an almost unsettling discipline.

Ethan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The dead king, a puppet on the throne, nobles too quiet, guards too still.

None of this had been mentioned in the novel. He'd expected not to take everything he'd read at face value, but this had crossed into the unknown.

He didn't know who was behind it, or why. But he did know one thing: he couldn't act in haste. He had no idea whether these people were still alive behind the control, or just soulless bodies.

With every step through those silent corridors, Ethan felt that twisted energy more clearly, as if he was growing used to sensing it.

He kept walking, leaving the courtyard behind. The corridors grew narrower, with fewer tapestries, and the sound of his footsteps echoed louder off the cold stone walls.

He passed two servants carrying wine jars. They lowered their eyes quickly and hurried their steps. Their hands were trembling, though they tried to hide it. But at least they didn't seem to be under anyone's control.

Turning another corner, he came across a group of three counselors walking together. Their heavy cloaks dragged along the floor, and one of them whispered something Ethan only caught as he drew closer:

"...if they find out, there'll be nothing left for us."

Their eyes widened briefly when they saw Ethan, but they quickly looked away, pretending not to notice him. They passed almost in silence, shoes gliding over the floor.

Even as he tried to pick up anything strange from them, they seemed like ordinary nobles without any special training.

Farther along, he spotted another figure who caught his attention: a woman with a hard expression, wearing a dark cloak adorned with the kingdom's crest. She looked young, but her eyes were cold, much like the princess's. She passed without a word, but Ethan noticed how her gaze assessed him in a matter of seconds.

When she disappeared through a side door, Ethan remained still, thinking. Her clothes weren't those of a servant, yet not fine enough for a noble. Maybe someone from the royal guard, or a fallen noble.

He kept moving, breathing slowly. He could feel unseen eyes tracking his every step, hidden behind doors and heavy curtains.

He passed a few more nobles. Some whispered, others merely glanced at him and quickly looked away, as if afraid to be caught paying him any attention. It was almost amusing how even watching seemed to scare them.

Finally, he reached a wider corridor, lit by tall windows. The afternoon sun streamed in at crooked angles, painting the walls gold. Ethan paused near one of those windows, gazing down at the lower courtyard.

Guards trained in absolute silence. The dry sound of training swords clashing was the only sign of life there. Just like the squires, they seemed like puppets, repeating movements until someone told them to stop.

The dungeon guards had seemed normal when he encountered them, so what made these ones different? Why not control all the servants too?

Down the corridor, he heard muffled voices coming from a half-open door. Carefully, he moved closer, but didn't step inside.

"...he's here. Should we...?"

"We haven't received the orders yet."

"What if it's too late?"

Silence. Then footsteps, and the voices stopped.

Ethan quickly stepped away, turning his gaze back to the window, feigning disinterest. He was sure they'd been talking about him, but they were waiting for orders from whom?

The shadows of dusk began to creep into the corridors. Ethan walked on slowly, not wanting to alert anyone who might be watching him.

He passed through a less crowded wing, where ancient tapestries depicted legendary battles: kings raising swords, monsters falling at their feet. Among the heroic images, he noticed a curious pattern: almost all the central figures had pure white eyes. And he didn't like that one bit.

He turned another, narrower corridor and saw a tired-looking servant leaning against the wall. The young man lowered his head quickly, murmuring an apology before slipping through a side door. It was the same behavior Ethan had seen all day in the servants: pure fear.

Walking on, he noticed a sliver of light coming from beneath a heavy, half-open door. Voices echoed inside, distorted by the hall's acoustics. He moved closer, just enough to listen.

"...we can't wait any longer. If he finds out—"

"Silence. He's already close."

Once again, Ethan stepped back before they noticed him. Part of him wanted to barge in and force the truth from their throats, but he held back. If the princess was behind all this, he'd love to learn how she wielded that domination magic and what was hiding it so well.

He continued on to a corridor leading to the royal wing. Two guards blocked the passage, their polished armor catching the fading light. These guards were like the others he'd seen earlier: the posture, the absolute silence, and the total absence of expression.

They said nothing as he approached. Just empty stares. Ethan diverted his path, climbing a side staircase. He wanted to observe without exposing himself.

At the top, he found an interior balcony overlooking the grand hall where the throne stood. From there, he could see the king. Seated, unmoving. The face too pale, too stiff. For a moment, the king's chest didn't even seem to rise.

The servants and nobles moving around the king also seemed different. Some spoke to each other, but their voices were almost mechanical, empty of real intent. As if they were merely repeating memorized orders.

Ethan rested a hand on the cold stone railing, watching. Someone here was using something far beyond ordinary: magic or a curse. And whoever it was, they were patient enough to weave that web without rushing.

At the back of the hall, the king turned his head, too slowly to look natural. He looked straight at where Ethan stood, without a hint of emotion. For an instant, those empty eyes seemed to pierce through everything.

Ethan held his ground, not looking away. Wondering what he could pull from the novel to help with this situation.

The nobles' attempted coup might well have been them trying to break free from this cursed situation. He knew the princess was the target of multiple assassination attempts, maybe the nobles were trying to kill the one behind it all?

"Disposable pieces… indeed." Ethan murmured to himself, still staring back at the king.

He had no desire to save this kingdom; that wasn't why he'd come here in the first place. He only wanted to stop something that might affect him.

But now, his goal had changed. His smile slowly widened as he thought about it.

He would find whoever was behind this and learn their means and methods. Either the person would become their ally, or get captured until he could tear every secret of that magic from them.

Ethan drew a deep breath, stepped back from the balcony, and began descending the stairs. His face was calm again. But inside, his mind worked nonstop, already planning how he'd claim that magic for himself.