For whatever reason, Godric's attendants seem to hold a certain fondness for me. Maybe it's just my imagination.
'How can I make the most of this opportunity?'
After running a few tests and asking some questions, I found that there weren't many requests the attendants could fulfill unless they didn't violate a "command." Most of what they could do seemed limited to everyday needs.
They were happy to bring me food or an extra outer robe, but when I asked them to remove my shackles or lengthen the chain, they just kept repeating that it wasn't possible.
"I'm sorry, but you must remain inside the bedroom!"
The way their jaws clattered as they protested so fiercely—yikes.
According to their code of conduct, I'm someone who can't leave this bedroom. I can't ask anything of them beyond a mere favour.
'Hmm.'
Come to think of it, doesn't this feel awfully similar to the first time I worked as an informant in Sinistra?
I didn't know anything about this place, but right in front of me were the people who probably knew it better than anyone.
"I do feel kind of hungry…"
I murmured in a subtle tone, and the attendants perked up their ears, as if to say, "Go on, tell us anything."
"But now that I think about actually eating something, I don't really know what I want. Since this is the royal castle, I'm guessing there's quite a variety of food, right?"
"Of course, sir!"
"There must be tons of options… Hm, this is a tough choice."
I shook my head a little, then casually asked them,
"Would it be possible to take a look and choose for myself? Oh—of course, I have to stay inside the bedroom, so… I mean, if you bring the food here and show me, I could take a look and decide."
The attendants beamed. I gave them a small smile in return and told them what I had in mind.
"Could you bring small portions of the cheeses from the storage? I'm curious how many kinds there are."
The shorter attendant quickly nodded.
"Oh, and I wonder if there's any wine?"
Another attendant puffed out his chest, as if to say, "Leave it to me."
"Just cheese might feel a bit lacking, so… I think it'd be nice to have some root vegetables and a little cured meat too."
The donut-headed one clapped, as if to say it was a brilliant idea.
"Then I'll leave it to you."
The attendants bustled out in a group. Before the door closed, I noticed they were all heading in the same direction. I leaned back against the bed.
One thing I definitely learned while running an inn in Sinistra was how to store food in an age without refrigerators.
Cheese and wine need to be kept in cool places. Root vegetables shouldn't be exposed to sunlight, and salted, preserved meat also needs careful handling. And where would all those things be stored? Underground, of course—in a magically tempered space.
Especially cheese—it requires ventilation, which makes things even trickier.
And what else, besides food, tends to be kept underground?
'Corpses.'
And prisoners.
Orlie is in the underground part of the royal castle. They'd want to keep him close for monitoring, not hidden away in some remote underground cellar. That means the space is limited.
'I don't know how close the underground prison is to the food storage area…'
Luckily, the body the assistant writer is borrowing now is that of a highly trained holy knight.
Judging by the displays of martial prowess every time he's shown up like a relief pitcher, if the attendants are busy carrying food and moving about chaotically, there's a good chance he'll be able to pick up on something.
'I know he's been locked up for a long time and must be exhausted, but…'
Get it together.
A few anxious minutes passed.
And finally—
[Assistant Writer: …Isaac? I suddenly sense movement around me. Did you do something—]
It worked!
A long shot, but it actually worked.
[Assistant Writer: …! I see. Understood.]
'Huh?'
Just as I was quietly celebrating the small victory, a cryptic message came from Orlie's side.
"What exactly do you understand?"
Even though I knew the other person couldn't hear me, the question slipped out instinctively. But no reply came from Orlie.
A few moments later, the bedroom door clicked open, and the food began to arrive in a steady stream.
One attendant came in carrying a plate topped with bite-sized pieces of cheese. Another followed, balancing a tray with a bottle of wine and small glasses.
And finally—
'…Empty-handed?'
The donut-headed attendant arrived last, with nothing in his hands. No root vegetables, no cured meat. With that gaping hole in the centre of his face obscuring his expression, it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
In that instant, realization struck me like lightning.
'No way.'
"Sir Orlie?"
The donut-headed attendant—no, the assistant writer now occupying the donut-headed attendant's body—opened his mouth.
"Isaac."
It had been a month since we last saw each other.
And Orlie's very first words to me were:
"Um, if it's not too forward to ask… why are you in the royal bedchambers? Last I heard, you were with Leovald and—w-wait, don't tell me Godric did something terrible—?"
Is that the real problem? This person is a bit unusual.
"Are you alright? And, um, what happened to your body?"
I decided to ignore that ridiculous question for now. More than anything, I was curious about how Orlie had borrowed the body of the donut-headed attendant.
"I just asked for a favour, but if something went wrong…"
But fortunately, it seemed like Orlie didn't kill the donut-headed attendant to take over their body.
"I didn't take the body; I just borrowed it for a while. Fortunately, someone nearby was able to send it to me."
That was possible, huh?
Thinking about it, Godric had also transferred his mind into a body a few times, borrowing the form of one of those 'sub-writers' as his vessel.
"I don't think I can hold on for more than a tea hour."
In that case, I needed to make the most of this opportunity to plan our escape. The goal was simple.
"I'm going to make an escape plan."
And just then, a good idea came to mind.
"I need some information first. Tell me about the castle."
I looked at the wine the attendant had brought, then grabbed Orlie's shoulder.
"And… about Godric, too."
"…"
"You're the one writing Godric's story, aren't you?"
At last, after a brief silence, Orlie quietly spoke.
"He never liked his own story very much."
***
What felt like hours passed, and then the door to the bedroom clicked open. Godric slipped back in with a soft rustle. As if he already expected me to be awake, he spoke.
"Up again, I see."
But I didn't respond. At first, he probably thought it was just an extension of my silent treatment. Calmly, Godric closed the door and walked over to the bed. But the moment he sensed something was off, he yanked the canopy back.
I barely opened my eyes, panting for breath. The air in the room was already thick and stifling with heat.
"When did this start?"
"I… don't know…"
I mumbled in a daze, feverish. Godric clicked his tongue in frustration.
"You've been running on empty—no sleep, no food. It's no wonder your body finally gave out. Come on, sit up."
Godric helped me upright.
"Let me take a look at you."
"It's hot… I'm thirsty…"
I whined like a child, and Godric handed me the glass of water from the table. Leaning weakly against him, I gulped it down. But the next moment, I shoved him aside and doubled over, gagging. Nothing came up but bile, burning my throat raw.
Collapsed on the floor, coughing violently, I felt his hand patting my back. My limbs trembled and my vision blurred. I dragged myself across the floor and sprawled out on the cold marble. Godric lowered himself beside me, kneeling.
"Isn't the floor too cold?"
"But it's so hot…"
He reached out and placed a cool hand on my forehead. Cooler than the floor, his touch made me sigh softly as I leaned into it, exhausted. While I rested against him, he quietly checked my temperature.
"Your face is flushed."
Godric's voice sank into concern. I let my eyes go hazy, feigning delirium, and thought to myself:
'Obviously.'
I had some wine before you came in. There's a lot of expensive stuff lying around, you know.
'Ugh, salty.'
My mouth felt dry and gritty. That was because Godric had unknowingly fed me a cup of water I'd already spiked with a hefty amount of salt. Being in the royal castle, salt was abundant and expensive—so I'd used it generously. A strong saltwater solution is a surefire way to induce vomiting.
Drinking a whole cup of it on an empty stomach? Direct hit.
Oh, and since they had pepper too, I made sure to ask for the spiciest, most pungent kind and rubbed it all over my skin. While I could pass off a flushed face as a bit of drunkenness, to make it look like I had a full-body fever, nothing beats hot spices.
I also made a point of inhaling the pepper a few times to trigger a fit of coughing—just enough to redden my eyes and roughen my voice.
To put it simply, I seasoned myself a little…
It'd be bad if the deception got found out, but luckily, the circumstances were on my side.
First off, my health was a serious concern for Godric, so he was more likely to lose objectivity.
'I figured his sense of touch was dull—'
I realized it the last time he called me in to share a bath. Just like the others who didn't seem to need food, Godric didn't appear to require meals either.
'He didn't seem to be able to taste or smell things very well.'
Even when I ate, he'd just sit there watching—never once picked up a spoon himself.
'His senses are dulled.'
Which meant I could drink to my heart's content without worrying he'd smell the alcohol on me, and I could rub pepper all over without him noticing the scent seeping into my skin.
"Ugh…"
Tearing up from the saltwater's effects, I kept gagging and dry-heaving. Godric stayed close, gently patting my back.
"Bring a cold towel. Now."
I heard him issue the order to the attendants.
But before they could return with the towel, I slumped forward, mumbling incoherently. Godric scooped me up into his arms without a second thought.
"Prepare the detached palace."
'Good.'
Everything was going just as planned.
Orlie had told me this about the castle: the underground prison he was in lay to the north, in a shadowed area backed by the Vernis Mountains.
Where I was staying now? The exact opposite. Godric must have chosen this location deliberately, just in case.
[Then I'll move closer to that area.]
[Huh? How…?]
[It's not that difficult, so don't worry. You said the north is cold, right? Is there, perhaps, a summer retreat palace? For convalescence?]
In other words, it's easy.