The King had never thought he would need to call on his spy. It was certainly a surprise for the both of them, but that was not important. There was work that needed to be done and it needed to be done fast. Archeron passed on his message to his spy, commanding him to find a way to capture someone who would know where the Photon Core was held. Not the Queen, of course. That would be too obvious and a war between the two worlds would be started. Perhaps later.

The spy knew better than to turn down Archeron's command, though it seemed impossible at the time. The King knew his minion would find someone to take away. Surely, there were people outside of the Queen and her Court who knew the true location of the Photon Core. He paced the throne room as he waited for news. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then hours. He was becoming impatient. He needed an answer sooner rather than later. Red lightning zapped around his body at the rise in his emotions. The guards all took a step back. He pretended not to notice.

A new messenger was allowed into the room. The lightning vanished in an instant. Archeron was expecting news from his spy. He had not been expecting there to be anything else happening that day. There were no other plans he was informed of. He commanded the messenger to make it quick. The King was correct in his assumption that it was nothing important. It was yet another report of his Kingdom. Well, to be more specific, it was an update of what was taking place withing Crita. It was the same as other days: those who were seen as traitors were thrown into prison, those who were good were allowed to go about their day.

Archeron felt a consciousness scrape against the edge of his mind. His spy! The messenger was dismissed. The guards were commanded to change their posts to outside the throne room. 

The King felt a rush. He was excited for what had been done. Had someone important to the Queen been taken? Would he get to force them to tell him what he wanted to know? Oh, how badly he wanted to rip the life from someone. He wanted to do it so bad. Perhaps he should pay a visit to the prison after all . . . 

"It's the necklace."

That was not what he had been expecting. The Photon Core was the girl's necklace? How was that even possible? It was not. Unless they had some superior technology he did not know of. No, he assured himself. That was not possible. The two worlds progressed at the same rate. If the Lyriumians had the technology, then there was a high chance the Terpolites would be about to discover it. The vice versa was also quite common. 

Even so, this ruined his plan. The King did not expect it to be something this obscure. He had thought the Photon Core would be kept somewhere where it was under constant guard by hundreds of the best warriors Lyriumia had to offer. He had not considered the possibility it would be hiding in plain sight. This made things more difficult, Archeron realised. Breaking into the palace was one thing. Stealing directly from the Queen was another. 

"Are you sure?" the King asked.

The spy blanched, assuring Archeron that he would make sure the information was correct. The King shook his head, instead saying he wanted the source of the information to be brought directly to him. Straight to the palace. He did not care how it was done, only that it was done. He wanted to be sure the information was not fake with his own hands and mind. The spy nodded before heading back to work.

Archeron begun pacing the throne room once again. He hoped the new prisoner would be brought to him quickly. He was itching for something to do. Preferably something involving a small knife and skin. It made him feel giddy. It always had. Maybe that was why people were afraid of him. He loved to get his hands dirty. Not that his loyal subjects feared him, of course. They loved him, but did not show it. At least, that was what he had been assured throughout his reign. He knew it to be true. He had friends. A lot of friends.

The King clapped his hands. The doors were opened. He walked out them. Four guards fell into place behind him as per usual. They escorted him everywhere. One could never be too careful when it came to being King. There had been an attempt on his life only five hundred years ago. That person had learnt their lesson quickly and Archeron had a feeling his methods had put others off even considering taking his life. 

Archeron soon found himself standing in the ring at the center of the prison. There were levels upon levels of cells around him. All were made of dark stone. Some did not even have doors or windows. They were for those who the King decided were extremely dangerous to his cause. The others were for people who had been found to be traitors.

Who to play with today? He could not decide. A snap of his fingers told the guards to pick a random cell, preferably one that was from a traitor, not a petty thief. They were no fun when it came to giving him joy. They gave up too easily, their minds too weak to handle what the King would do both mentally and physically.

A victim was chosen.

The King grinned.