Alastair

“What significance does the last chapter hold?” I inquire, observing Morgan work the demon box or—what did he call it—the Internet? Never heard of such magic. The pictures change in an instant.

Perhaps the box is a sort of scrying mirror? Nasty instruments when not properly used. I had the unfortunate occurrence once of peering into a scrying mirror and found myself watching a very intimate scene between someone’s grandparents. They were… rather vigorous for their age.

“Your battle against Marcius, it’s the last chapter I wrote. I’d nearly completed it before you suddenly arrived, but now it’s gone. There’s no trace of me ever writing it.” Morgan tinkers with the Internet, tapping on black runes that make soft clicking sounds. Each has part of the alphabet on them, and the letters appear on the Internet when he touches them. Fascinating—or troubling depending on the outcome.

“You lied. This world has magic. The Internet makes words according to those black runes,” I state, to which Morgan slowly turns his head, blinking lifeless eyes at me.

“This is not magic. It’s technology. And this isn’t the Internet. It’s a laptop and the black runes are part of the keyboard. You can use the Internet by using a laptop.”

“So you call it technology rather than magic?”

Morgan blinks rapidly, returning his attention to the laptop. “To you, I suppose it would be magic, so sure.”

“Then use this magic to awaken me from this spell!” I demand. “Marcius must be on his way to the capital by now. He cannot break through the gates, or all of Etria will meet its doom!”

My people will be damned to a world of darkness. That can never happen.

“I don’t know how to break spells, and I don’t know if this is a spell,” Morgan huffs. “I’m as clueless as you are. I don’t know how you got here or why.”

“Why is not as important as how. If what you say is true, and you are my creator—which I continue to believe to be a farce! As if one as cowardly as you could conjure a charming prince such as myself.”

Morgan flinches, face reddening in an oddly adorable fashion.

I continue, “If this is true, then you can awaken me or return me to my life.”

As if I’d stay in this grim place. There does not appear to be a training ground to maintain my impressive skills and unrivaled physique. Nor handmaidens or butlers to call upon. Who will clean behind my ears and slingshot grapes into my mouth when I'm overcome by boredom? No jewels, silk, or constant admiration. I’ll die from the lack of attention! How can I live without my room of solid gold and granite floors? This place is a pig stein compared to my castle. I must escape.

“Okay, okay…” Morgan closes his eyes and breathes deep. “First, please put your sword away. It’s freaking me out.”

“Your words elude me, Morgan of House Myres. Explain the meaning of freaking me out and why it pertains to Artheno?”

“Freaking me out means you are frightening me, and of course I’m frightened by a sword. I can’t think with you po-pointing it at me!”

“It is pointed at the floor, but so be it. I accept your request.” I sheathe Artheno.

Morgan turns to his desk, groaning as he gazes upon the broken pieces. He drops to the floor instead, sitting with his legs crossed. I join him, drumming my finger impatiently against my thigh as he taps the keyboard to channel the powers of the Internet, I suppose.

“What are you doing? Are you attempting another spell? Do not test me,” I say. Morgan swallows hard.

“I’m writing,” he explains. “You appeared when I killed you off—”

“You insolent bastard. I should slay you where you sit.”

“I-I didn’t know you were real!” Morgan whimpers, scrubbing his fingers ferociously through his hair. It sticks up at odd ends. “I just wanted the story to end already, but I’m fixing it, okay? I’m going to make you victorious and see if that sends you back.”

“Not just victorious. Make me annihilate Marcius and his army of the damned with such vigor that it’s written into our history, made into song and epics for thousands of years. Scar the earth where he falls so they may build a monument of me into the sky!”

Morgan raises his gaze, staring incredulously. He tilts his head left, then right, then left again. “Have you always been this…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. The quieter you are while I work, the faster I’ll be.”

“So be it, however, I have a request, Morgan of House Myres.”

“Please, just call me Morgan,” he groans. “What is your request?”

“Where is the chamber pot?”

Morgan hiccups. “The… what?”

“The chamber pot. I am in need of one. Best to relieve yourself prior to battle.”

“Uh…” Morgan sets aside the laptop to survey the room briefly. “I should warn you that I have a very unique chamber pot.”

“I have prepared myself for the disappointment. Your chandelier and powdered walls are quite odd, so I imagine the rest of your abode will be as baffling, if not more so.”

Morgan snorts. “Yeah, uh, you could say that.” He rises, gesturing for me to follow. “Come along.”

We step out of the room into one of a grander size, although it still pales in comparison to my castle. The peculiar nature of Morgan’s home continues into here. Curious furniture, similar yet very different from my own, is scattered throughout the room. Before us there’s a chamber of steel with sparkling kitchenry reminding me of a torture chamber...

...is it a torture chamber? What does this meek author do in his spare time?!

Morgan opens another door, pointing inside. “This is the bathroom, and that is the toilet—um, chamber pot.”

“This is?” I ask, approaching the porcelain throne. It glitters, as do the rest of the strange contraptions in this bathroom. “Magnificent. Certainly not as disappointing as your chandelier! But why is there water in it?”

“So you can flush afterwards. That little metal rod—” he points at the rod attached to the fancy chamber pot. “You push that down after you go and the waste is sucked down through that hole.”

“Where does it go?”

“The sewage plant.”

“You have unusual plants in this illusion too.”

Morgan tilts his head, says nothing, and leaves.

I take a seat on the porcelain chamber pot. To the side, there’s a quaint silver knob surrounded by gray circles. Does this have to do with the flush and sewage plant? Morgan did not explain this device, but I needn’t his help. The brilliant Alastair Clearbrook can decipher this puzzle on his own.