Jacob

"Do not lie to me Jacob, tell me where it is".

Jacob locked his eyes on his new king, determined not to be mentally tortured as well.

"Your majesty," still in disbelief at the sound of the words, "you have had me researching its location for a mere three days. Already I have poured through many tomes, but there are countless about to cover still."

"I will make an example of you if I need to, Jacob. I have sages of my own. You have been shown the mercy of my heart only because your knowledge of these books may uncover the amulet's location faster. But do not think me a fool. I will not carry this patience with me much longer and if I find out you are hiding anything, you will be joining the good king Frethoy and his family," Roggour tilted his head towards the tower balcony.

"Of course your majesty, I will continue." Jacob bowed his head at the comment. He hadn't been able to muster the strength to visit his beloved balcony in three days. Not since the pikes were put up. Even up here the smell was terrible, and his anger was only a distraction.

Roggour turned, along with his escorts, his sword scabbard nearly knocking over a pitcher of wine set on a marbled end table. "Please do, for I would hate to see yet more of Xi's fine oak be soaked in brains and blood needlessly."

Anger boiled inside of Jacob, but outwardly he kept his emotions hidden. His guise was the only advantage he had left. Keeping up appearances, he reached and snagged a book from the table, snapping it up from the danger of the teetering silver pitcher.

As the door slammed behind Roggour and his men, Jacob threw the book down in disgust; his internal struggle to remain level headed when dealing with Roggour bursting from him as though his lungs couldn't contain his frustration a moment longer. With his adrenaline subsiding, he reached for the leather bound book that had been the unlucky object in his brief tantrum.

A small tear, unnoticeable to anyone else, ran along the bottom ridge of the binding. Jacob cursed as he rubbed the leather. Not that it mattered really, the books would hardly be cared for soon. Still Jacob took the book over to his cabinet. Taking a small tin can in his hand, Jacob dabbed a piece of cloth with some oil, massaging the book's spine. Satisfied with his work, Jacob returned the can to its place; he paused a moment looking over his shoulder as he traced his finger along the back of the cabinet. Assured he had a moment alone, Jacob pulled on the finger hole and removed the secret panel.

He stared at the bow. He stared and stared dreaming of plunging an arrow into Roggour's heart. How shocked would he be, Jacob thought. He laughed at how ironic it would be, the new king dispatched by an old librarian. They probably had no idea he could even draw the string.

He counted the quiver. 8 arrows. Damn. He should have kept more than just enough for target practice. 8 arrows would be just enough to get him killed. But he knew he had to escape. He knew Roggour  was too barbaric for him to stall him much longer. He thought of the pikes below. He would have to face them eventually. Why did Roggour have to face them inward? Not outward as a warning, but inward for pleasure when he passed them. Or maybe, it was a warning. To the handful of captured castle workers left from the coup. Absolute obedience he had said. The alternative…

It wasn't Frethoy that was the most gruesome of the lot, he had accepted his fate. But the children, they fought, not understanding the futility, and their blows had not been as clean.

They were all the warning Jacob and the others needed to follow their new orders without complaint.

But Jacob was soon pulled from his thoughts of the scene below his balcony by a soft pink glow against his face. Something was causing the gem in the amulet of Illygg to glow. Something had upset it. Jacob didn't know what it meant, but as he shut the door to the cabinet he had one thought.

He needed to find more arrows.