Page 40 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

Brim didn’t seem to take to Gueldefore’s idea. “We’d be scarring any children who lived from here clear to Warshire. Do we really want emotionally damaged youth in addition to already emotionally damaged adults? I say we preserve the children’s innocence for as long as we can.”

Quite a few nodded at that, and then, as they always did whenever he was in the room, their eyes roamed back to Morfran. Waiting for his suggestion.

He could hardly blame them. If he had a turncoat from an enemy army, he’d squeeze every last drop of information out of them, too. He shifted uneasily in his chair before he felt a different set of eyes on him. It was Bronwen, seated to the right of her father. He’d been avoiding her since the day they’d arrived, primarily because he didn’t want to go to the Tower of Lettis, and also primarily because if they could lift the hex off her, he didn’t want to worry about a skilled assassin who loathed him on the loose.

“I know!” Hugh hollered out. He sat clear in the back, half-hidden behind Brim’s beefy men. He’d finally been forced to give Morfran back his sword and had somehow found a rather nice-looking cutlass that he currently had resting on his knee. He leapt up, slashing the cutlass through the air in a show of flair. He only achieved looking like a semi-blind grandmother trying to swat a fly off her nose. “We gather every honey badger in the kingdom, arm them with explosive detonators, and set them loose on the castle all at once.”

Brim stared at his son for a maximum of 2.4 seconds before announcing, “Anyone else?”

Bronwen slipped to her feet. Her expression was hard, her chin tipped up as if in pride, but Morfran noticed the way she nervously pinched her fingers behind her back. Those in the room eyed her with lackluster energy.

Brim cleared his throat and said softly, “Wen—”

“I know in the past I’ve disappointed you,” she began, keeping her eyes lowered to the map. “You all pitched in a great deal to help me go to Assassin Academy, and I didn’t live up to your sacrifices when I failed to end Queen Ravana’s life. I’d thought at the time it was because of something I did. But Bernard recently revealed something happened the night I tried to kill Ravana that prevented me from doing so.”

That caught everyone’s attention, even Tritonia, who’d been fiddling with a clay soldier and making him kiss his clay horse, complete with sound effects.

Bronwen released a small breath. “I’ve been hexed. Hexed to always fail at what I strive to do. Ravana cursed me the night I almost assassinated her, and anytime I give something my all, I fail.”

Brim looked to Morfran for confirmation, as did all the others. He winced at the heavy weight of their gazes. “Yes, Ravana is capable of such things,” he forced out. “I once saw her curse a chicken after Lord Morfran beheaded it himself. It was cursed to roam headless in the yard forever after.”

Unsettled whispers arose at the prospect of curses, and one guy murmured the legitimate question, “Why did she curse the chicken?”

“Yet there might be good news.” Bronwen eyed Morfran with a sly look that spelled Got you. He’d subconsciously slouched in his chair, arms crossed, because what she said next meant there’d be no more avoiding it. “Near Atlantis 2.0 there is a tower where a powerful man lives. He should know how to remove the hex, and if he does, I’ll be back in commission. I can end what I started.”

Many in the room were nodding, shouting, “Hear, hear!” and grinning at each other at the thought of the Red Rogue leaping back into the fray. Bronwen seemed to grow taller at the decent reception, hope in her eyes. Brim smiled before saying, “Why didn’t you say something, Bernie?”

Morfran groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

“All right then, Nard.”

“That’s even worse.”

“I say it’s the start of a plan.” Brim patted his back so hard it rattled his vision. “Why don’t you both go to this man first thing tomorrow morning?”

Someone cleared their throat. It was Gueldefore, straightening over the map, his hands palming the surface. “I will go with them. If he sees that the rebellion has a knight, he may be convinced to join our cause as well.”

Morfran instantly leapt on that. “No.” He shook his head. “Not going to happen. This man has bad memories of knights. He loathes every single one of them.”

Gueldefore balked. “What kind of imbecile is afraid of knights?”

“One with knightaphobia.”

“If he’s afraid of knights, it’s best that you remain here, Gueldefore,” Brim said. “Besides, I’m sure Bernard can convince this man to help my daughter remove the hex off her on his own. Right, Bernard?”

15

The Tower of Iron and Cotton

That night, Morfran enacted the plan he’d meant to enact three days from then: his much-anticipated escape.

There wasn’t much preparation that had to go into it, honestly. With his escapade involving the flying squid, he’d won over the remainder of those who’d doubted his allegiance even after the stunt that’d landed him the nickname “the Necromancer.”

With freedom to wander the city unbound, he wandered it now, in the dead of night. The city of Atlantis 2.0 was very much like the palace, and as such the buildings were tall and grand and white, minus the weird horse statues, and he felt like he was passing through a forest of white-limbed, leafless trees as he stalked through the streets.

Beni and the kids were being housed in an animal nursery near the banks of the lake, where there was fresh air and plenty of grass to indulge on. He’d prefer to have them in his room, but Tritonia was deathly terrified of goats, and as such there was a No Goat policy in the palace. Morfran griped that there should be a No Lunatic policy as well, which hadn’t endeared him to any of the city sentinels. So the nursery on the outskirts of the city it was.

He entered the pen where several animals were, including two llamas, an alpaca with a superiority complex, and Beni and her children, the latter of whom were snuggled beside a hay bale.