Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

A faint sound came from above. Agatha kept walking—she merely raised her weapon and pulled the trigger. The rain of javelins directly above her exploded into a metallic mist along with an entire section of ceiling, upper stories, and roof, as the rest thudded to earth around her.

“Of course, my Lady, but…”

“And you know what really gets me angry?”

“Er…”

“I actually do like Tarvek. I mean, I can’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die.” She paused. “Or even stay that weird color.”

The Castle tried again: “Ooh, but could you just—”

She came to the end of the hallway and glanced at the giant door before her. Agatha saw an intricate locking mechanism connected to a series of copper dials cunningly inscribed with alchemical symbols. She frowned.

“Behold!” a voice boomed. “The Puzzle of the Philosopher’s Conscience. If you can—”

Agatha raised her gun and a hole three meters in diameter burned into existence, its edges glowing red. She stepped through it.

“And the really annoying thing is that even if you completely misinterpreted the situation—which I wouldn’t put past you, by the way—Gil has still managed to get himself tangled up with Miss Pinkie Psycho Pants. He’s such an idiot! It’s just a good thing one of us has a death ray!”

Agatha glared around and seemed a bit put out at the lack of further obstacles to incinerate.

“Yes, my lady!” the Castle spoke quickly now: “It is indeed a lovely death ray! But… could you perhaps lower the power just a little more?”

Agatha made a moue of disappointment. “Aw, but I already turned it way down.”

“Which is probably the only reason I am still standing.” When it spoke again, there was an odd quality to its voice. “Er…Please?”

I’ve scared it, Agatha realized. A feeling of guilt swept through her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and the thought aggravated her more. “All right. Fine. I’ll turn it down. Anyway, it’s not like we can’t rebuild everything when—”

“Oh dear.”

“What? Am I about to be amusingly dumped into lava or something? Because at this point—”

“No, my lady, it is the Imposter. She is now showing your young man the device with which she intends to shut me down.”

Agatha gasped. “Oh no. Already?”

The Castle paused. There was a slight gloat in its voice when it spoke again. “Ah. It seems they are missing some essential parts. Good. But…do act quickly.” It paused. “Also, please be careful, you are about to leave the area under my direct control.”

Agatha swiveled about and stared back at the corridor she had just come through. “I thought I already had! What were all those traps about, then?”

“My apologies. But many of the more sophisticated traps currently have minds of their own. I do not control them.”

The Castle’s unconcerned attitude was not helping Agatha’s mood.

“Tch. When I get around to redesigning you, it’ll be with a hammer.” She sighed. “So, what am I heading into now, then? More of the same?”

“Oh, dear, no. It’s much worse from here.”

“Lovely. It’s not more of those fun-sized tiger things, is it?”

“Oh, yes. There’s one of those directly ahead of you, as a matter of fact—” Agatha stopped dead. The Castle continued, “but it has been incapacitated.”

Warily, Agatha peeked around the doorway. The hulk of one of the fearsome mechanisms was stretched out on the floor before her. Its carapace gleamed in the light that poured in through tall stained glass windows. The reason for its incapacitation was clear—several of the javelins that Agatha had encountered earlier had pierced it. Dried puddles of fluid crusted the rug beneath it.

Agatha frowned. “Wow. What happened?”

“I have said the controlling mind here has gone mad. Here is the proof. It has begun to destroy Castle systems. The Serpent’s Gallery is beyond this room. I will not be able to communicate with you when you leave.”

Agatha leaned down to examine the prone machine. As her hand passed before one of its eyes, the device shuddered and a massive paw flexed. She leapt back. “You said it was incapacitated!”

“That is not the same as deactivated.”

Agatha knelt down and reexamined the machine. An idea flickered. “Hm. I can use some of this…” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll stop here for a moment and you can tell me how to get to Gil.

“How many of Pinkie’s people are with him?”

“The Imposter has three minions with her. They are armed, as is she. There are also five prisoners. Four Sparks, one minion. They are all dangerous.”

Agatha pondered this. As she thought, she began to hum, the strange, faint sound rising and falling through the empty halls. Suddenly she stopped, a gleam in her eye. “Oh yes,” she said under her breath. “I can use some of this.”

“My Lady…while I realize the futility of trying to dissuade you from acquiring greater firepower, could you please try not to hit anything…er…structural?”

Agatha had to smile at this. “Oh, stop whining. You’ll be fine,” she told the Castle. “You’re incredibly overbuilt.”

The Castle was pleased. “Oooh! Do you really think so?”