From now on, Caleb was going to agree with Jester’s ideas. ...Alright, not all of them. But he would definitely at least consider all of them. It was definitely a good thing all of the Mighty Nein came to check on Essek. Caleb would be forever grateful to them for providing backup.

They were all tired of the secrecy and hush-hush nature of this. Essek Thelyss was the Shadowhand of the Dynasty, true, but he was never just… gone. Even after the Mighty Nein discovered his betrayal at the peace talks, Essek had still replied to every message Jester sent him. He still helped them where and how he could.

There was just a distance between them now. Essek had still been friendly and helpful. He just kept himself at arm’s length. Caleb was infinitely grateful for Jester’s lack of respect for personal bubbles. She’d popped Essek’s on a regular basis before and had continued to do so after. The tiny, wavering smile that always tugged at Essek’s lips was something Caleb would treasure.

He missed their study sessions, their in-depth talks of Dunamancy, the light laughter that would tumble from Essek’s lips after a few drinks, and the hesitant kisses they had shared. Caleb still believed in Essek, he still believed Essek’s feeling had been honest. He just couldn’t trust the Shadowhand. Not yet.

But that did not mean Caleb would let Essek suffer alone. It was absolutely infuriating how tight-lipped everyone had been when the Mighty Nein had asked around. It was almost like the people here were afraid of talking about what happened. That secrecy was what had driven the Nein to come to Essek’s place together as a group rather than just sending one of them alone.

Essek hadn’t responded to anyone’s Sending, anyone’s Messages, and what they saw when they tried to Scry him was disturbing at best. Caleb had never seen Essek cry before.

Now, as he and his friends followed a wary Verin to the house of Den Thelyss, Caleb hoped what they saw wasn’t as bad as they thought. Maybe they were just jumping to conclusions. Maybe it really wasn’t all that bad.

“This… incident you mentioned,” Verin asked, pitching his voice so only their little group could hear. “What have you heard?”

“Not much, to be honest,” Beau said, shooting the Drow a measuring look. “We’ve been able to put some things together, but-”

“What have you put together?” Verin pressed, maintaining his brisk pace.

Fjord quietly cleared his throat. “That something happened to the Bright Queen, but no one will explicitly say what.”

Verin grimaced and Caleb felt the faintest stirrings of worry flutter in his stomach.

“They’re right, something did happen,” he said, surreptitiously scanning the area for any open ears. “Someone tried to kill the Bright Queen.”

Caleb loved his friends. He really did. He trusted them with his life. But sometimes they weren’t very… well, quiet.

“What?!” Beau and Jester cried.

“Holy shit!” Veth gasped.

“That’s… concerning,” Caduceus murmured, bless him.

“It is and was,” Verin agreed, lifting his gaze to the home of Den Thelyss as they approached it. “She’s alive and well, but my brother is… not.”

“Oh no,” jester whispered, her blue hands lifting to cover her mouth. “Is it something we can help with? I’m a cleric, maybe I can heal him if he’s hurt.”

The Drow stopped in his tracks and stared at the blue Tiefling in shock. “You’re a cleric?” he gasped, quickly lowering his voice. “If you can help him, I’ll pay whatever you want to do it and keep silent.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Caleb said, placing a hand on Verin’s arm. “Essek is our friend. We don’t collect debts from friends.”

“Debatable,” Veth muttered. Caleb shot her a look and she fell blessedly silent.

Verin looked genuinely torn between spilling everything and biting his tongue.

“Verin,” Caleb said, drawing the Drow’s gaze. “I give you my word, we will help if we can. It will cost you nothing.”

After a moment or two of indecision, Verin nodded. “Very well. But stay close to me,” he warned. “Hopefully, if the Luxon shines on us, mother won’t notice our arrival. But whatever you do, no sudden moves and don’t raise your voices. He’s… skittish.”

That was telling. Essek was one of the most powerful mages Essek had ever met. He was a master of Dunamancy and held himself with power and pride. Would could possibly have happened to make such a proud person so frightened.

“Nothing you see or hear leaves this circle, is that understood?” Verin whispered.

The chorus of assents seemed to be enough because the next moment, the Mighty Nein found themselves inside the home of Den Thelyss. It was quiet and dark. There was a heaviness to the air there that had nothing to do with Dunamancy. It raised the hackles on the back of Caleb’s neck.

“Come. This way,” Verin whispered, turning aside to move down one of the hallways and up the stairs.

When Verin finally stopped, it was by a door that was locked on the outside. The Drow undid the lock and placed his hand on the knob. “Again,” he whispered, “I beg of you, do you tell anyone else what you see here. If this gets out, it could permanently damage my brother’s image and his position as Shadowhand could be forfeit.”
“You have our word,” Fjord replied solemnly.

Caleb held his breath, bracing himself for what they would see. Bloody sheets, signs of illness, burns that blistered and festered and-

It was empty. Caleb frowned as he hesitantly followed Jester and Caduceus into the room. There was no one here that he could see. There were hardly any signs of life at all, actually. The room was small and dark. Caleb cast Dancing Lights so he could have a better look around.

Globules of green light bloomed in the air and slowly moved through the air casting a green sheen on the walls and bare floor. The only other source of light was from the barest line of green from the streetlamps seeping in under the shuttered window. The only other door in the room, presumably the closet door, was shut. There were no knickknacks, bedside tables, lamps, or personal belongings of any kind.

The only piece of furniture visible in the room was the bed. The bed was large enough to be comfortable, but it wasn’t lavish or anything like what Caleb expected of one of the highest noble families in the Kryn Dynasty. Curiously, the only sign anyone had even been here was the messed up blankets on the bedspread.

He heard the door click shut behind him and turned to Verin as Jester voiced the question no doubt on all of their minds.

“What is this place?” The Tiefling cleric’s voice was soft with worry.

Verin sighed, his entire form drooping. “It is my brother’s bedroom,” he said simply.

“We don’t let him out anymore. It’s too dangerous right now.”

“You lock him in?” Beau said, just barely keeping her voice from sounding like a growl.

“I am sure Mr. Thelyss can explain,” Caleb said, waving a hand to stall his friend’s suspicions. “Right, Verin?”

The Drow looked very uncomfortable. Reaching up to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear, Verin hummed. “Are any of you familiar with the spell Feeblemind?” he asked finally.

Caleb nodded. “Yes. It is an enchantment designed to… Oh.”

Oh. Dear gods above. No. Essek was too brilliant to be struck down by something like that. Memories of eyes sparkling like molten gold as they worked late into the night creating the Transmorgification spell, white hair that was somehow always perfectly brushed, of the gentle smiles and clever, articulate words flowing from cool lips flickered through Caleb’s mind.

Feeblemind.

It made so much sense, and yet none at all.

“How?” he demanded, barely able to comprehend this. “How did this happen?”

“There was an assassination attempt on the Bright Queen,” Verin admitted. “It failed because of the actions of the palace guards and because of my brother. The attacker took the form of a Drow and tried to bespell her majesty, but my brother took the brunt of it instead.” He licked his lips and shrugged awkwardly. “He has been like this ever since.”

“That makes no sense,” Caleb hissed, shaking his head. “Feeblemind can be broken. Any cleric could break that curse.”

“The clerics have not been informed of what happened,” Verin said, perhaps more forcefully than he meant to. “Mother and the Bright Queen have kept word of what happened under wraps. None of the clerics are allowed to know,” he said, slashing his hand through the air in frustration, “so none of them can heal him.”

“I can do it,” Jester said, raising her hand and stepping into Verin’s view. “Not right now, I mean. I need more diamonds for that, but I can do it. Caduceus, you can too, right?”

“Indeed I can,” the firbolg said. “But I think, perhaps, we should discuss this later.”

“What do you mean?” Beau snarled. “They’re playing political games with the mind of someone who saved their damn queen. This is not something we should-”

Yasha gently placed a hand on the furious monk’s shoulder. “Beau.”

“What?” she hissed.

Yasha was silent, merely nodding to the corner of the room. As one, the group turned and there, standing in the now open closet doorway, a violet blanket draped over his head and shoulders, was Essek Thelyss. His wide, pale golden eyes flickered in Caleb’s Dancing Lights. His simple, black shirt and pants were dark against his grayskin and silver-white hair. He wore no shoes and he wasn’t floating.

The globules of light moved through the air, momentarily drawing Essek’s attention, before golden eyes returned to the group. They moved from face, to face, to face, before settling on Caleb. Slowly, hesitantly, bare feet padded across the floor towards the human wizard, leaning heavily against the wall as he did so. Caleb stayed very still, afraid even the slightest movement would frighten the cursed Drow away.

A single, gray hand reached out and brushed cool fingertips down Caleb’s cheek, as if testing to see if he was real. Then Essek’s face broke into a glowing smile, the blanket fell away, and Caleb found himself with an armful of Drow. Essek buried his face in Caleb’s neck and clung to the human wizard as tightly as he could.

Feeblemind was a powerful enchantment that regressed a person down their most basic instincts. They couldn’t communicate or understand any language, couldn’t cast spells, and they couldn’t use any magic items. The cursed victim could recognize friend from foe, but only on the simplest level. Political allies would not be recognized. Colleagues would not be recognized. But friends, loved ones, they would be recognized, trusted, and even protected by the Feebleminded. It was, perhaps, a darker way of testing a person’s trust.

Caleb never wanted this. Not for any of his friends. But to see someone as intelligent, charismatic, and guarded as Essek Thelyss brought down to this level hurt. Knowing that even in this cursed state, Essek saw him and knew him to be a trusted friend filled Caleb with a painful warmth that nearly brought tears to his eyes.