She started looking through the books. To her amazement, they were handwritten, and covered such subjects as magic, astronomy, botany, and mathematics. Autumn placed a few volumes aside, although she doubted that Eltanin would allow her to take them, and sighed wistfully before moving to a small buffet table that had been placed in front of a window. She started opening drawers. There were more papers in them, some of which adorned with beautifully geometric designs. She lifted one up to the light, admiring the complex shapes of what seemed to be magical symbols — if the glyphs surrounding the spirolaterals were anything to go by — and sighed again.

The King put down his quill. “My Lady Autumn,” he began, “I must insist—”

“Are there any books about this kingdom?” she cut him off, afraid that he would throw her and Knight out and trying to distract him. “Archives, of any type?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He waved a hand in the direction of one of the shelves she was yet to pillage. “Top shelf, to your left.”

She followed his indication and reached up but found herself too short. Knight appeared behind her, apparently having shaken off his nerves, and placed a warm palm on her back.

"Let me." He stretched and plucked a book out, which he presented gallantly to her.

“Thank you,” she said. He nodded and stepped a proper distance away, although she noted that his cheeks were just the slightest bit red, and he seemed finally back at ease with himself.

Conscious of the King still staring at them both as if they were a puzzle to solve, and not wanting to overstay their welcome, Autumn hurried to gather as many interesting-looking books as she could carry, curtsied much deeper than she had on the first day, and took her leave.Once Autumn had safely returned to her rooms, Knight in tow, they huddled on the floor in front of the fireplace, surrounded by their bounties of pilfered books, and giggled like children.

“I can’t believe that we got away with it!” she exclaimed. “Did you see his face?!”

“I don’t think that he knew what to do either,” he said, looking half-horrified and half-elated. “This has probably never happened before! Let’s never do it again.”

“Oh certainly, absolutely not,” she agreed. She started spreading the books out around herself, separating them by subject. “I was convinced that he was going to throw us out into the forest. But just look at all of this, though!”

He plucked one of the leather-bound volumes from the floor and paged through it. “Are these… journals? Are they all hand-written?”

“Yes!” she crowed. “By the king himself, I think!”

“Huh!”

“This is what he does all day long! Can you believe it?”

Knight rested the journal on his bent knees and ran a finger thoughtfully down a line of text. “Doesn’t seem very evil.”

Autumn frowned. Knight was right, this was rather unexpected. None of the legends about the Evil King had prepared her for him to be a scholar. It didn’t fit. Imagining him sitting down to pen a treatise on astronomy or botany almost made him seem… human. Relatable. She looked at his writing, the places where the ink had bled and the neat loops of his letters, and felt as if the boogeyman of her childhood had suddenly been defanged. It was a strange feeling.

“Maybe he’s doing evil mathematics?” she suggested.

Knight hummed.

Autumn shook her head, trying to put aside her uneasiness. She picked up the most promising journal out of the pile, the one that Eltanin had said was an archive, and started reading.

Seventeenth Day of the Year One - After.

It is becoming clear to me that things will not be returning to normal — that this time, there is no hope for any sort of dust to settle.

I have warned him

If I am to be the only survivor, the only one who remembers how it really happened and has any interest in the truth, then it seems to me that I ought to write it down for posterity. Once I am passed, let this document be a warning against the hubris of kings, and a manual for what NOT to do even in the face of great need—

“My word!” she squeaked. “This isn’t a journal, this is a diary! Look!”

She held it out to Knight. His eyes widened, and he slapped a hand down on the page with an expression of horror.

“We shouldn’t be reading this.”

She pulled the book back to herself. “What are you talking about! He let us take it, remember? Practically offered it to me.”

The construct grimaced at her. “Maybe it was a test?”

Autumn rolled her eyes. “He didn’t even know that we were going to walk in, how could he have possibly planned a test? I'm sure he just didn’t think it through. We took him by surprise, I asked for a history of the kingdom, and, well.” She gestured at the diary. “Here it is! Written by the only person who saw it happen!”

Knight shook his head. “He will want it back.”

“Maybe… but, look at it this way: he did ask me to name the kingdom. Leaning about the past of this place, it is relevant, isn't it? That’s information that I need to know.”

“If I may point out, my lady, you are the one who decided to name the kingdom. I wasn’t there, but the hares told me about it. They said that you took him by surprise. He didn’t ask you, he merely agreed.”

She waved a hand. “Same difference. Come now, you can’t tell me that you are not curious!”

“I am,” he said, looking absolutely devastated about this. “That’s the problem. I don’t think that constructs are supposed to be curious. We’re supposed to be obedient.”

Autumn frowned at him. A certain picture was starting to form in her mind regarding the castle’s servants, but she wasn’t quite certain how to put it into words. “Did the king tell you so, or did you and the others infer that?”

He blinked. “I… I do not remember Him specifically saying so, no. But…” he waved a hand, as if indicating an obviousness. “We assumed.”

She nodded. “Knight… I don’t mean to speak about things that I do not understand, but… From what I have observed, the king doesn't interact with the constructs very much. He does not pay attention to you aside from when he gives you orders, or in the instance where one of you lies to his face. I think that outside of these circumstances, you should do whatever you want. Is it possible that you and the others might have… made up a few rules that made sense, in the absence of instructions, but that Eltanin never specifically said? Like about using the secret passage in the throne room, or having names. Has he ever clearly indicated that he would mind if you gave yourself one?”

A moment passed. The construct blinked at her and seemed to think this through very seriously, looking more and more disturbed. Finally, he shook his head and pointed a finger at the journal on her lap.

“With all due respect, my lady, I would feel more comfortable reading the diary than having this conversation.”

“Oh. I went too far, didn't I? I apologize.”

He pressed his eyes closed. “Do not — It’s fine. Please, start reading.”

***

I grew up alongside my king but we weren’t brothers, could never be. My father had sent me to Glenvale as a child to serve as a ‘diplomacy gift’, as the practice was commonly called at the time. With a Darkmore wizard in their court — albeit the youngest and least of them — Glenvale became the second most powerful kingdom in the East, save for the Darkenmoor itself. Father had imagined himself clever for it; it was a way for him to keep the vale in check while also elevating them to power over their neighbours. An alliance gained through no loss — for after all, what loss was there in sending a runt away?

But the East could not stand his tyranny, nor for his hand to reach into the vale. It was no surprise to me to see the troops of Reddland and Welch rise against the Darkenmoor, and turn to my <s>prison</s> adoptive kingdom soon after their victory there.

Their first assault was brutal, the more so for how the old king had dismissed my warnings. He died for his folly, leaving my brother-prince to ascend to kinghood in the ashes and ruins of the keep. He wished to fight and rallied me to his side. I knew it was a futile effort, but I could never refuse Desmond anything.

In the end, that would prove to be my downfall.