2412 Dalfa 17, Kindreth

A sharp, stabbing pain nipped on a particular spot on Ariden's forehead, and if not for the heavy chains strapped to his wrists, he would have fussed over it and made it worse. His butt hurt from sitting on a flat slab of stone for gods-know-how-many hours, and no one has come for him still.

He imagined the entire Palace going into a state panic the moment the news reached them. His father might have a seizure or something, but it's worth it.

The cell they threw him in was boring. Cubical, painted with a bland white shade which has started falling off, and if not for the grated metal rails opposite him, he would have lost his mind earlier on. He hated stagnant things, and that included himself and his present situation.

Most of the scrambling inside the Temple's gallery was a blur. It was certain he felt a trickle of blood burn its way down his forehead, the bridge of his nose, before parting ways down his cheek and chin. The bullet, by Xyndall's mercy, only grazed his skin and not embedded itself into his forehead. If he died in that tacky gallery, he would never let Pidmena pardon his crimes even if she aimed to do that. He'd rather rot in hell for all eternity.

The soldiers dropped out of their induced shock and closed in on him. His cheek hit the ground with a force that shook his brains out. A weight pressed on his back, and he felt the cold lash of a muzzle on the base of his neck.

"Don't move, Your Highness," Avorel growled in Ariden's ear.

And he didn't. Until they forced him to stand up and ushered him towards the Temple's main hall. The priests and priestesses flitted out of their quarters to check their shameful procession, whispering among themselves as to why the entourage of soldiers came into the palace and dragged a heathen who looked like the Crown Prince with them. And why was his hands tied behind his back? Was he caught?

The words never left Ariden's pointy ears, and as they transferred him to a holding facility fortweres from the Temple, he made sure to never forget them. It's the penance of the choice he made in ensuring things ended exactly this way.

Since then, he sat on this freakishly cold stone slab and picked at the angry streaks the twine left on his skin before being replaced by a harsher metal chain. Not that he's planning to escape. He willed to be here for a reason, just as he planned the caper for the Earthshaker for the sole reason of making it fail.

The corridor on the free side of the world came alive with footfalls, and Ariden slipped off his perch and crept towards the grates. If they wanted to talk, best do it face to face. He got as far as standing up when his leg knotted together. He stumbled forward, noting the tight leashes knocking his ankles together.

"Do you think we'd let you have it easy just because of your title?" a smug voice streaked into Ariden's senses. He turned to find Avorel, along with the Head Curator of the Temple, standing a few paces off the rails. "It's not even something you worked for. You just inherited it, unlike the rest of us."

The Head Curator patted the Head of Security on the shoulder. "That's enough, Avorel," the Curator said. "He's had quite an...adventurous day."

Avorel rolled his eyes at the obviously older man. "I don't care if it's his name day," he said. "He tried to steal the Earthshaker by infiltrating the Temple and bringing his cursed goons while at it! And he's a Cutlass! I caught one. If they cared about him, we'll be bound to catch the others."

"I can hear you, you know?" Ariden gave them a small wave and the smallest smile he could muster. "Hello, Leyre. Has my father been treating you well?"

The Curator put his hands over his stomach before bowing deeply. "I am more than happy to serve the Potentate and the earth sprites with my life," he said. "We just have a few questions for you before we decide to escalate your case to Otralo. Of course, the trial we requested will be private, and we can't promise that punishment would be lenient. Of course, you can help ease your conditions if you cooperate."

Ariden tested the farthest his ankle chains could take him and sat cross-legged on that spot. It was a few notches off the rails. If he wanted to, he could spare a few minutes of hanging by his heels, risking spraining his ankles, and picking the locks with his...specialized skills.

But he didn't, because this talk was something he prepared for. Looked forward to it, even.

"Sure, I'll cooperate," Ariden said, perching his stiffening arms over his shins. "What's the first question?"

"Are you going to be this insufferable all throughout?" Avoral snapped. "You seemed too pleased for someone who can be executed tomorrow."

Ariden hummed. "That's a good way to die."

It's not.

"If you're waiting for your father to spring you out of here and make you live as if nothing happened, you're mistaken," Avorel continued. "He is being advised to cut ties with you if the verdict calls for it. You're nothing without the Potentate's protection."

Truth, and Ariden had long calculated that risk. It wasn't surprising, and he had accepted all his possible fates. Hence, the quite hectic weeks leading up to the caper.

He hoped Lufi and the others could understand why he did this. It's not like he would be able to continue the Cutlasses after this. It was fun while it lasted.

"You've yakked enough, but I still don't hear a question," Ariden tilted his head to one side. "I know you guys don't have enough time for things like this, so let's get this feast started. Am I supposed to do your job for you?"

A strong grip closed around his collar, and his world zipped forward until the grails stopped it. His cheekbone slammed into the metal, shooting pain up his temples. Oh, that'd be a bruise. "If not for the information in your head, I would have cut off that tongue long ago."

Ariden flashed the soldier a look, daring him to do just that. Avorel clenched his jaw so hard his cheeks rippled. Still, he let Ariden go. A hand massaged the sore spot on his face, and he sighed. "Alright," he said, clearing his throat. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you end up with the Cutlasses?" Leyre asked, beating Avorel to it. Ariden preferred it. Talking to a military man was like grating through molten cheese.

Well, Ariden founded the Cutlasses, chose its name, and led most of the capers himself. "I was held against my will by the founder," he said aloud. "I never met them, but they vowed to make my life really difficult if I dared disobey their orders."

"How can they even do that? You're the freaking Crown Prince," Avorel said.

Ariden shrugged. "I wasn't sticking around to find out," he said. "Suffice it to say, I'm under their thumb with a couple of others, and we have the most rotten luck on being assigned to the Earthshaker case."

"And your comrades?" Avorel narrowed his eyes.

Ariden slumped and trained his gaze at the column of boring bricks stacked on top of each other and held together by peeling mortar. It's surprising this building stood as long as it did. "Never knew them," he said. "I don't have the same team every caper."

Avorel crossed his arms over his chest. "What other capers other than this one have you done?"

"A few," he rolled his hand in the air, craning his neck at the ceiling. The clouds of dust and other monstrosities he dared not think about greeted him. "It's been so long since I was recruited, but I remember the Silent Scythes, the Black Blades, and um...something called the Bronze Stabbings?"

"Bronze Slings," Avorel supplied with a huff. "It's not that hard to get right."

Leyre, bless his heart, nodded along. "You've been in this organization for years, you say?"

"Yeah, at least two, I think," Ariden held up the same number of fingers. "Anything else you want to ask me?"

"Why did the leader want the Earthshaker?" Avorel said, bracing the rails and getting into Ariden's personal space. "How did they know what it was and where to send their men?"

Ariden shrugged again. He noticed the flintlock slotted by Avorel's belt, the one he used to shoot Ariden's mask off his face in the most fashionable way. Where did he get the same weapon known to be used by the members of Cardovia? It's strange, wasn't it?

"I never met the boss, remember?" Ariden tapped a finger against his temple. "How should I know how they get their information? I'm just an errand guy."

"Well, then, why are you here, Your Highness?" Leyre asked, thinking he had cornered Ariden with that question. "You could have escaped with your comrades when they abandoned you after that brave priestess provided the distraction."

Ariden sighed and let a smile tear his lips apart. He matched Avorel's stance—with his arms crossed over his chest—but maintained the lax tension on his shoulders. "That's a smart question, Head Curator," he said. "And the answer to that is the Earthshaker."

Avorel's forehead creased. "Explain."

"Think about how I felt when I received the summons and was told to raid the Temple of Earth and retrieve the Earthshaker," Ariden said. "Let's just say it's a conflict of interest."

Ariden pushed his hair off his forehead with both wrists. His skin came up smeared with red. Oh, getting face-palmed by the metal grails reopened his wound. His face must be a bloodwork now. He didn't bother hiding the fear creeping into his tone. Was he going to bleed to his death starting now?

"And?" Avorel prodded. "You used this mission to get out of the Cutlasses' clutches?"

"You can say that, yeah," Ariden straightened his back, untangling the tight knots growing in it. He should have never left the stone slab. It's a nice seat. "I figured I was safer in my father's dungeons than being out there, you know?"

Not a total lie, but one, nonetheless.

"Would you care to tell us how you sabotaged your own mission?" Leyre said.

A small smile peeked through the corners of Ariden's mouth. Ah, finally. Now, he could start telling the truth.

"I approached my contacts and told them of my plight. They were ready to help me, so I got one of my comrades to steal a mold of the Earthshaker's keys and told my locksmith friend to make a crude copy—one that would break and jam and do all sorts of wacky things. Just to throw the thieves off their jive, you know?"

Ariden jerked his chin in Leyre's direction. The Head Curator bobbed his head to everything Ariden said. After all, he held the key to the entire truth. But Ariden was a liar, and he was a fantastic one. No matter how Avorel refused to see the reason behind Ariden's words, there'd be a time when the Head of Security would cave. Just a matter of time.

He cleared his throat again, noting how parched he was. What was one supposed to do to get some water in this place? "Then, I rigged the master thief's tools, giving them a brittle copy when they ordered me to. I was quite the pushover in the organization, you see," he continued. "I wasn't treated any better just because I was the Crown Prince, so this hospitality is quite welcome."

He gestured at the dingy cell and pretended to be relieved about the roof over his head. "I also replaced their signal flares with the characteristic dark green the military uses, both to rattle them and alert the platoon of our location," he said, before regarding Avorel who had become silent for the past few minutes. "I'm sure you remember, but I told you when and where to expect the caper to happen, right? I believe I also told you where to shoot."

That's the day when Lufi almost caught him in his true plan, and he barely got through that without her suspecting anything.

Leyre turned to Avorel with a frown. "Is that true?" the Head Curator asked. Where was dear High Priest old man, anyway? Why was Leyre Olka the one facing Ariden?

Avorel averted his eyes. "It is," he said, his voice losing power and certainty. Was he...feeling guilty, by any chance? "I contemplated not mobilizing the platoon per Ariden's word, but I'm glad I did."

"It's a cry for help, isn't it?" Leyre turned back to Ariden with a look of pity on his face. Not that Ariden needed that, but he'd oblige. After all, he needed to buy time until the news reached Otralo and his father made a decision before the Temple of Earth did.

Ariden nodded, painting relief all over his expression. Let them think he needed them. Worked every time.

"One last question—why sabotage the mission now out of the many others you did with them?" Leyre said.

Ariden's mind worked harder to push a believable story out of his mouth. "The Potentate has been lax with the Earthshaker lately. I'm not sure if you are aware, but another organization has been trying to wrestle control of it from my father for a few weeks now," he scratched his chin, making his chains clink in doing so. "When I was given the mission—no doubt because of my connection to the government—I saw it as a reason to push the Potentate to secure the diamond before anyone else got their hands on it."

Another truth hidden under a mountain of lies. "Besides, I know my father. He wouldn't send me to the dungeons because he's afraid of the repercussions from the people," Ariden plowed on. "He'd want to handle this quietly. I say...house arrest?"

"Don't get cheeky. Nothing's decided yet," Avorel snapped.

A new set of footsteps erupted from the distance. Fast, urgent. "Your Excellency," a priest's voice rippled with the flickering lights from the torches stuck in their sconces. "Word from Otralo arrived."

Avorel couldn't have snatched the sheet of parchment from the priest faster. He propped it in front of him, giving Leyre enough room to read over his arm. His eyes ran over the squiggles of Keijula koset, no doubt written by the Potentate himself. Ariden watched the security head's eyebrows creep higher and higher.

The parchment crinkled when Avorel set it down. "How did you know?" he said, waving the Potentate's word in the air. "That he'd issue a house arrest instead of a public trial?"

"Unlike you, Officer," Ariden grinned as widely as he wanted. "I am the Crown Prince of Avalora. I know the Potentate like the back of my hand."

"When is it effective?" Leyre asked, unable to read as fast as Avorel and the soldier had already crumpled it in his grip.

Avorel turned to the curator with a different fire in his eyes. What did Ariden do to make the security head hate him so much? Weird. "Now," Avorel rasped, shoving the parchment into Leyre's arms before stalking off, muttering curses under his breath.

The curator turned to Ariden with another one of his apologetic smiles. "Come on, then," he said. "Let's get you out of here."

A while later, after meeting with the High Priest old man, Ariden was shoved into a bare room. The most important thing of all was a floor-to-ceiling glass window facing the yard of the Temple along with the rest of the road. It's far too open, and people could see him languish around as he served his punishment.

Leyre gave Ariden a respectful bow once more. "The High Priest sends his regards," he said. "You are only allowed to go out of this room during meal times to retrieve them from this door. Otherwise, you are to remain inside. Reflect on your errors, and by the time you are allowed out, we hope you have been a reborn soul."

Ariden almost scoffed. To be reborn, one had to die first. Were they hoping he killed himself? That's morbid. Maybe the right word was renewed, but Ariden wouldn't hold it against the curator. Leyre had been nothing but nice company.

"Understood," Ariden said. "Send my father my regards."

The curator bowed again. "You have my word, Your Highness."

Then, the door shut in Ariden's face. And thus began the third part of the plan—one only he could do.

The real reason why he sabotaged the caper was that he needed enough time to watch the Earthshaker. They needed to get it out of that damned pedestal without unleashing its fury on the rest of Avalora. The myths weren't kidding when they chronicled the devastating effects of the diamond outside of the magic-dampening spells placed on the pedestal and the display case over it. Even though he never really approached it, he still felt the oppressive weight of its raw power pressing against his skin, his spine, and his throat.

So, with him stuck in the same place as the Earth Sprite's throne, it's time to do the only thing expected of him as the Potentate's heir.

It's time to become who Ariden Sarethol was supposed to be.