Page 45 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

Rapunzo set down the remainder of the book and wiped his hands, moving as though he was about to do just that. Morfran quickly scampered up, putting himself between her and the big fellow.

“No,” Morfran said. “We’re not going to do that. We’re going to fix this. We’re going to…”

For once, he had no idea.

“I’m utterly useless,” Bronwen murmured to herself, and the drowning look in her eyes was so painful he couldn’t bear it. “I’d like to go,” Bronwen told Rapunzo. “Can you lower me out of the tower?”

To Morfran’s surprise Rapunzo nodded. “Yes.”

There was a fifty-fifty chance that Rapunzo would let her fall forty feet rather than let her down safely, and the problem was that she seemed completely fine with it. Morfran followed at their heels.

“Don’t drop her,” Morfran threatened Rapunzo as the big man tossed his beard hair out the window and held a bar attached to the side of the tower. Without another word, Bronwen began sliding down into the fog.

Rapunzo turned to him with an enormous frown. “Are you leaving, too? You don’t have to.” He inched closer to him and whispered, “We could be bosom brothers up here. Randy likes you. He told me himself.”

The man’s words reeked of desperation, and yet Morfran couldn’t help but feel horrid. Ravana had indeed been prophesied to rescue a prince from a tower, who was in turn prophesied to one day heal the kingdom of its hurts. Instead, Morfran had mocked the prophecy to such an extent that Ravana defied it to please him. And then there was Bronwen’s story about her dead sweetheart…

He’d clearly dirtied something here, and for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel particularly good about it. He looked at the child’s bed with its many stuffed critters, to the weight equipment, to Randy the Duck slurping down escargot off Rapunzo’s plate. It was sad sight, and while earlier he’d found it amusingly pathetic, now he just didn’t want to be here.

“Look.” Morfran put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been wronged by dozens of people in your life. But this”—he gestured at the room—“isn’t healthy. What Ravana did was terrible, but you do have seventy feet of hair here that you can use to get yourself down from this tower.”

Rapunzo frowned. “This is my world. I can’t just leave it.”

“You could if you really wanted to,” Morfran replied solemnly. “You can escape this place. Get a new haircut and beard trim. Share your talents of cooking with others who’d enjoy it—that escargot was the best I’ve had in years.”

The bearded man smiled slightly.

“Take Randy with you, too. You may find that most women aren’t as horrid as the ones you’ve met to date. Most people aren’t as bad as the world makes it seem.”

Rapunzo’s expression darkened. “But Ravana and Morfran still rule the kingdom. Where they go, torture always follows.”

Morfran didn’t want to give him false hope. He didn’t have plans to stay in the kingdom, but Ravana sure did. But he couldn’t leave him here looking like this. “Maybe not for much longer.”

Rapunzo shrugged unhappily, looking like all he needed in the world was a hug. Morfran wasn’t one for touching, nor did he think he could survive a second hug from this walking muscle, so he just drew closer towards the window, preparing to make the slide down the beard rope. “Think about what I’ve said at least?”

Rapunzo stared at his feet, downcast. “Everything here is a part of me…all of it. I can’t leave it.”

Morfran sighed, looking out into the fog. “If you want to live in the present and not the past…you’re going to have to.” For some reason, he felt like he was talking more to himself. With that, Morfran left Rapunzo in the tower and rappelled into the darkness.

16

Some Deep Introspection about Being Evil

Day three hundred and seven

Dear Diary,

Have you ever thought to yourself, am I a bad person?

…I guess you wouldn’t have, being an inanimate object and all.

Morfran scratched his quill through his words and began again.

I am Morfran, Dark Lord, the Great Beheader and Vile Ruler of the Kingdom of Ruthven. Over the period of my rule, I have severed the heads of my enemies, of whom there have been plenty, and have conquered lands and brought them beneath the umbrella of my domain.

He paused, thought, and continued.

I have corrupted a naive girl into a wicked, merciless queen. My men have ransacked villages and tormented civilians and set worlds afire for many across the kingdom. My name is a household brand of terror. Villagers hear my name and dread my coming. Indeed, at times even the dead have dreaded my existence during my time destroying the Necromancers of Necropolis.