Gideon wandered the west wing of the castle, carrying a lantern in one hand and an apple pie in the other. He didn’t know if rats liked apple pies or apples generally, but he hadn’t known what else to bring. He’d looked for a cheese wheel, but the only one he found was half-eaten. He didn’t know if rats cared about such things, but he wasn’t going to risk offending them.

He’d considered the message from “R.” for a while, wondering what that letter stood for and whether the invitation could be trusted. But if the message on the back of the invitation was correct—and he had no reason to doubt that particular statement—it wouldn’t be long until Lady Ondine Ashewood found him venturing into the forbidden areas of the castle.

If Ondine could detect his movements, which he suspected she could, roaming so far from his bedroom would have to attract her attention eventually.

He’d tried knocking on the door to her lab, but she hadn’t answered. Instead, he’d decided to look for the stairs down to the undercroft himself. He knew most castles had such a place, used for storage and to allow the passage of servants out of sight from the nobility.

The castle was quiet at night, and every step he took seemed to echo down the corridor. The hallways were dark other than the dim glow of his lantern. Unlike the great hall and the east wing, none of the lamps and chandeliers here were magically illuminated.

He kept his eyes on his feet as he walked, looking for the promised trail of crumbs that would lead him to his meeting.

He reached a dead end. An oil painting of a young man with Kelvan’s red eyes but narrower features stared down at him. One of his Uncle’s ancestors, perhaps? The man sat in a gaudy red chair, holding a glowing skull in his lap.

Perhaps Uncle Kelvan had put his least favorite art in this section of the castle.

Gideon turned around and decided to start opening every door he passed, beginning with the closest. But when he touched the knob, he felt a chill wind.

“Good evening, Gideon,” Ondine said, floating near the ceiling.

“Hello, Ondine,” Gideon replied, looking up at her. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

She gazed down at the pie in his hand and raised an eyebrow. “It’s awfully late for a snack. Are you all right? Besides, if you wanted food, you should have summoned Grimsby.”

“Thank you, but I’m perfectly fine.” He set down his lantern and awkwardly moved the pie to his other hand, then pulled the Moon-Touched Support Group invitation from his pocket. After a moment’s hesitation, he handed it to Ondine.

Her eyes widened as she read it.

“Are you sure you want to go down there?” she asked. “It’s terribly dusty. Not to mention filled with rats.”

Gideon smiled. “That’s the idea. Will you tell me about them? Or are you still busy?”

Ondine looked taken aback, but then her head fell, and she sighed. A cascade of ghostly hair, tendrils of wispy light, flowed from her shoulders.

“I only hope…” she began before her voice trailed off. Silence reigned in the hall, and Gideon wondered if she would say anything else. When she finally did, her voice was so quiet he strained to hear. “I only hope you will not judge me too harshly, Gideon. Or at least, allow me the opportunity to talk to you before you leave.”

“Before I leave?” Gideon asked, unsure what she meant.

“After you meet them, I know you will not wish to stay here. Not with someone like me around.”

Gideon, taken aback, said nothing for a long moment. “Is it really so bad you think I’ll be gone just like that?”

“I don’t know anymore,” she said. “All I know is I would do things differently if I could.”

He nodded, considering her words. “Have you told them that?”

“They don’t wish to speak with me. Besides, the damage has been done. Any apology would be quite meaningless now.” She smiled at him. “But it is kind of you to think it might.”

“They’re not dangerous, are they?” Gideon asked.

“They shouldn’t be. Not to you. And the one who wrote this message isn’t to anyone. He abhors violence.”

“He?” Gideon asked.

“My greatest experiment. Or my worst, depending on who you ask.”

She turned and floated down the hallway, beckoning Gideon to follow before passing through one of the doors as if it didn’t exist. When Gideon tugged on the handle, he found it was stuck, as if the door had not been opened in quite some time. But after carefully setting down his things and heaving with all his might, it gave way and suddenly flew open, slamming into the stone wall with a crash.

After fetching his lantern and pie, a darkened storage room lay before him. The shelves were bare other than dust and cobwebs. But in the center of the floor, a small hole led to a flight of wooden stairs.

When Gideon looked down, he saw the beginning of the trail of crumbs, as promised.

“Are you going to follow me?” he asked.

“Despite what he said in that note, no. Not unless you wish me to,” Ondine replied. “But if you scream for help, it won’t take me long to find you. You won’t need the lantern, by the way. If you bring it, you’ll only hurt their eyes.” She glanced to his staff, securely in its case and slung over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t need that either, but it’s a good idea to bring it along.”

He approached the staircase and extinguished his lantern. After his eyes adjusted, he saw a purple glow emanating from beneath. The trail of crumbs continued off into the dark. Gideon swallowed and began his descent.

“Thank you,” he said, but when he glanced behind him, he saw Ondine had already flown away.

He took each step carefully, balancing the pie in his hands. When he reached the bottom, he saw the source of the purple light. As he’d suspected, tiny, glowing pieces of the Moonstone were hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully, as he examined them, he realized they didn’t appear connected to the main crystal.

He almost considered using his [Geosense] to check them but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to have a vision right now.

The undercroft seemed to extend outward in multiple directions as if the stairs had led him to a main junction. The ceiling was too low to stand straight, and he had to hunch as he walked, following the trail of crumbs to the left.

He heard a sound off to his right, the scrabbling of paws echoing in the enclosed space. Then chattering from behind him. Ignoring the sounds and trying to suppress his nervousness, he followed the trail. It led him on a winding path, his shoes crunching in the thin layer of dirt that covered the floor.

Before he knew it, Gideon emerged from a thin passageway into a larger, open chamber. As he looked around, it took a moment before he could process what he saw.

The area resembled a city square in miniature. Stacks of small buildings made from wood and cardboard lined every wall. They were covered in more Moonstone lighting and small rat-sized holes. They might have been passages or windows, he wasn’t sure which.

In more than a few of those holes, Gideon saw red eyes watching him. His arrival had attracted some attention. In the center of the room was a small statue of a rat, pointing forward with one paw.

“Wow,” Gideon said, despite himself. Whatever he had expected to find here, this was not it.

As he looked down at his feet, Gideon saw the trail of crumbs ended here.

“Ah, hello,” a man’s voice said in his mind. “You made it.”

For a moment, Gideon panicked, for it reminded him of the Silkspinner broodmother and how her thoughts had invaded his own. But this voice didn’t sound hostile. Quite the opposite. He felt strangely calm.

“Down here.”

Gideon turned back and forth before he spotted a giant rat by his right side, peering up at him inquisitively.

The rat’s head was bulbous, and his coat was gray but bald in spots. He stood upright but leaned forward on what appeared at first glance to be a gnarled walking stick. Looking closer, Gideon noticed a tiny glittering crystal attached to the end of the rod.

Gideon’s mouth fell open. That wasn’t a walking stick. It was a staff.

“Greetings,” Gideon said, once he forced his tongue to move. Gideon couldn’t resist using [Appraise] on the rat’s staff. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

Sprig of the Philosopher King

Grants +3 to Brilliance and +3 to Willpower when held by an attuned wielder.

Spells without hostile intent cost 25% less mana, and are cast as if the wielder had one additional skill rank.

Hostile spells cost double mana, and are cast as if the wielder had one less skill rank.