The Last Spell Knight: Book one: Purpose (The Spell Knight Trilogy 1) by Klamvik T.J.J

Author:Klamvik, T.J.J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

Interlude - What Happens After Death?

“What happens after death, papa?” the voice asked.

It was as if the boy was still right next to him—calling for him to answer. What happens after death? His son would always ask the same question. Every night, without fail. What happens after death? Adolphe, third-born son of Duke Leo Montport, did not know the answer. But he would soon. Of that much he was certain.

“Be careful with that!” he hissed, gesturing for his assistant to slow down. “That’s pure distilled fey blood—it costs a fortune!”

Adolphe’s assistant, fat, dumb, and useless, shrugged like a simpleton. “I’m sorry, cousin. I’m just tired is all…”

Adolphe almost felt like smacking the idiot across the face, but stilled himself. He had already gotten in trouble with the family for his experiments. They did not understand the momentous task he had before him. But he would show them all in the end—as long as his idiot cousin kept his mouth shut and did as he was told.

“Cousin Pirot,” Adolphe said, using a sickly sweet voice. “I am simply explaining that my father will be most displeased if any more money is spent on this project. You do not want to explain to my father personally why we will need hundreds of more gold, do you?”

Pirot looked uncertain, his fat belly protruding from underneath his silk tunic. He put a fat, flabby hand up to his face tapping his mouth as he considered. “No,” he answered after many seconds had passed. “I wouldn’t like that. I wouldn’t like that at all.”

Adolphe tried offering an understanding smile, as he clasped his hands together. “Then let us be more careful with our ingredients, shall we?” He nodded toward the rest of the laboratory, stacked to the brim with so many different reagents and strange artifacts one could have mistaken it for a witch’s hut.

“I’ll try, cousin,” Pirot offered, placing the bottle of fey blood gently down on the table.

Adolphe sighed. It would have to do, he supposed. He had not expected much when his father had offered a member of the household to assist Adolphe, but he could not believe he had been straddled with the lowest rung of the ladder. There was only one benefit to it all; Cousin Pirot would not be missed.

“We are getting close,” Adolphe muttered under his breath as he licked his lips. A faint ray of sunlight had made its way into the dungeon—the only thing that could penetrate through the thick metal bars from the outside. It was still early. If they hurried, they could start the ritual before sundown.

“What do you need next?” Pirot asked.

“Do you need constant hand-holding, cousin, or do you perhaps think that if we received three boxes filled with materials, I will need all of them? Or do you think I will only need half?” Adolphe asked mockingly. Think, dunce, think! he added in his mind.

Pirot started pouting. “I just thought mayhaps we could stop early today.”

“Oh? Why would we do that?”

Pirot’s grin widened as his eyes glazed over slightly.

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