“Now all of my dreams can come true, because a thief has taken the scrolls from their hiding place. My thief. You”

S

ylvester stared angrily at Shimshon.

“Foolish child. Did you really think I’d fall for your deceptions? You looked inside that bag, didn’t you? Well, it doesn’t even matter. What matters is that I have good use for those scrolls, but you do not. Hand them over, or I’ll toss you outside to be dealt with as the thief that you are!”

“No, I’m not giving you the scrolls that belonged to my ancestor,” Shimshon said. “They’re holy, and you don’t deserve them. You were the one who told on me, weren’t you? You set me up to steal the scrolls for you, only to stab me in the back once I didn’t give you what you wanted. At least tell me this, did my father really die at the hands of the man outside this tower? Or was the entire story a lie?”

“A lie? Oh, no, I would never lie you to you, Shimshon.” Sylvester smiled, stepping closer. “I just… changed some details, that’s all. You see, I was the one who made your father work in the freezing cold that fateful night. I was the one who brought about his untimely death, though I admit, that wasn’t exactly my intention.”

Shimshon froze.

“Murderer.”

“Maybe. I prefer to think of myself as an opportunist. I’ve had my eyes on those scrolls for a very long time. They’ve been heavily guarded for many years, but you were the perfect little thief, capable of getting them to me so that I could create a creature kings will pay me fortunes to control. A creature, a golem, that will help armies conquer empires, literally changing the world as we know it. And now all of my dreams can come true, because a thief has taken the scrolls from their hiding place. My thief. You.”