Chapter 17 – Cry Havoc

Lillia had spent two days surviving the dungeon, and the first thing she wanted was for Havoc to be impressed.

She swung open the trapdoor at the back of Havoc’s archive room. The door flew out of her grip and slammed into the wall with a resounding bang that rattled her teeth. The princess flinched at the sound. Loud noises had never been welcome around the castle. They made servants flinch, guards reach for weapons, and her aunt’s eyes narrow.

The yawning darkness after the first five steps of the stairs to Havoc’s basement was still there. Clearly, as long as Lillia wasn’t there, he didn’t bother lighting all the torches. Who wanted to live in darkness like that? That would have been lurking instead of living.

“Havoc!” she called down into the cellar. Lillia heard her voice as it echoed off the empty walls and floor. “I’m back.”

Lillia listened for a reply, but she didn’t get anything vocally. Instead, she heard metal clatter to the floor near the bottom of the stairs. After too long, just when she was about to head down to search for the hobgoblin, a torch lit at the bottom of the steps.

He looked the same as last time, like Lillia had never been forced to stab him.

“Havoc!”

The torch lifted. Havoc squinted up at her. Then his face did something strange. Not relief exactly. More like relief trying very hard to look unimpressed.

“Oh,” the hobgoblin said. “It is you.”

“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

“Next adventurer,” Havoc said. “Someone who was, uh…”

His eyes drifted to the maul on the flagstone floor at his feet.

He had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs again.

“Someone a little less friendly.”

“Havoc…” Lillia began. She had heard enough half-truths and watched enough dancing around subjects to know when someone as socially graceless as the hobgoblin was attempting to perform those acts. Her irritation thinned to something smaller. “You thought I was going to be dead.”

Havoc’s wide brow furrowed as he lowered the torch. “Better that you ain’t I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Lillia asked as she swung her legs over the edge of the floor to hop onto the stairs. She paused when Havoc didn’t move out of the way.

Havoc just shrugged, which was very rude. “Yeah. Better you than someone trying to bash my head in from the get.” He waved her backward as he climbed the first step up. Lillia pulled her legs back out of the trapdoor to oblige.

“You don’t seem that excited,” Lillia said.

“Girl. Last time I saw you was just a minute ago, and you were stabbing me.” Havoc reached the top of the stairs with an old man’s grunt. “Forgive me for not jumpin’ for joy.”

“It wasn’t just a few minutes ago.”

Havoc stopped and really surveyed Lillia now that she wasn’t silhouetted against the light from the room above. He usually wore a frown, and it deepened as he looked her over. “How long’s it been?”

“A couple of days,” Lillia said. “It’s weird because I both slept and ‘rested’ so I don’t know what counts as what.”

“Just count the hours,” Havoc said.

“With what clock, Havoc?”

Havoc finished his climb up the stairs. Once he was out and standing—and thus as tall as Lillia was kneeling—he arched his back and twisted. Nothing cracked, but he made some interesting mouth noises. “Young folk like you have no respect for time.”

“What?” Lillia asked.

Havoc tried to crack his neck and seemingly failed again. He headed over to one of the shelves; Lillia stood up to follow.

“Anyway. It’s great that you’re back. I have so much I want to show you and—”

“You talk a lot. Huh.”

Lillia took a moment to decide whether that was a question or an insult. Back home, it would have been both.

“I prefer to say that I’m friendly.”

“Real friendly,” Havoc said. The hobgoblin sighed once he reached out of the shelves and turned around. His shoulders sagged. “You alright, kid?”

“Of cou—” Lillia started; she caught herself in the middle of the rehearsed lie. “I think I’ve been doing well,” she said, “better than I thought I could.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“When you say it, it’s rude.”

“Glad you’re okay, kid,” Havoc said. He reached out to pat Lillia’s shoulder but couldn’t quite reach it. He pulled the hand away before Lillia bent down to accommodate. Once he was done, he turned back to the shelves.

Lillia let the hobgoblin do…whatever he was doing for a moment. She didn’t see the point in him moving scrolls around. Who was he keeping them for, other than her? After what she called a while and Havoc called too short, Lillia jumped back in with more comments.

“So, it’s just been a few minutes for you?” she asked.

“Mhm.”

“But how does that work?”

“I was dead,” Havoc said. “Don’t know much about it.”

“Why?”

Havoc had a scroll in each hand. He stopped his work to turn to Lillia and stare.

“Because you were dead. Suppose that makes sense,” Lillia said. The princess gave Havoc room to politely respond. Once that window passed, she waited even longer, rocking back and forth, her heels clicking on the floor each time.

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Lillia continued the conversation where he wouldn’t. “So when did you wake up?”

“Heard you open the door,” Havoc said.

“Just then?” Lillia asked.

“Yeah, that’s how it goes,” Havoc said. “I wake up when someone comes into the room.”

He looked back at the shelves.

“Every other time, they stab me as soon as they can. Then I wake up when the door opens again.”

“No. That’s…”

“Yep,” Havoc said, “Every once in a while, I’d get one of them first, and then I’d get a bit of time with the scrolls in here, but that was usually how it went.”

“They didn’t even try to talk?”

“Why would they? I’m a hobgoblin. They’re in a dungeon. That’s how it’s supposed to go.” Havoc nodded at the shelf he’d been rearranging before moving onto the next. Lillia couldn’t tell the difference. “You’re the weird one in this situation, kid.”

Lillia crossed her arms. “That’s rude of them.”

Havoc snorted, shook his head, and then turned back to the scrolls.

“What are you even doing with those?” Lillia asked. “Can you read them? Because if you can, that would save me a lot of guessing and probably several injuries.”

“You can read your own scrolls kid.”

“But I’m only level three.”

“Level three?” Havoc asked.

“Yeah.”

“Thought you’d be level one. You know, considering how it went the first time.”

“Well, I was back then, but—”

“Didn’t you just go back to the hearth?”

“I just found that,” Lillia pointed out. “Wish I knew about it earlier.”

Havoc’s brow had furrowed earlier in the conversation, but those same wrinkles transitioned from trenches to canyons. “You didn’t have a hearth?”

“No.”

“And you went exploring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to move the time and—”

“Stupid child!” Havoc snapped. His shoulders tensed, and the hobgoblin slammed his fist against the shelf at his shoulder height. The bang echoed off the other shelves, then faded. Havoc closed his eyes. Lillia watched his nostrils flare alongside deep breaths.

Lillia went still. Not offended-still. Not princess-still. Actually still.