He was frantic, his blood boiling through his veins, his heart about to explode from his chest. He tried to copy the casual stroll of an ordinary guard, but with each step the urge to shriek in fear clawed at his throat. Why was he so afraid? The sensation was reasonable and unreasonable at the same time, and he could not give a name to it, but he knew the one thing to quiet it was to escape.
He looked around his surroundings. Everything was unfamiliar.
"What to do?" He asked himself in desperation
"Should I try to make a run for the drawbridge and make up some excuse for leaving? Would they even let me through?"
No, he needed to find out more.
The prison yard was surrounded by crumbling stone walls, the remnants of some long-forgotten fortification. Five watchtowers stood at strategic intervals, their eyes covering every part of the courtyard. To be seen standing there in the open would be to invite suspicion.
With no path to follow, he drifted around until he saw a stairs. He descended quickly, and stood in a narrow hallway, sunlight cutting in thin slivers through narrow, barred windows set high in the walls. He walked until it ended in a heavy door, two men standing guard.
"Halt!"
He froze, his mind a total blank. He did not even know the appropriate words to answer them.
"What are you doing down here?"
The silence dragged on too long. His tongue was clumsy, his brain slow, but he stuttered out a weak excuse.
"I-I am sorry. I got lost."
The eyebrows of the second guard furrowed, suspicion slicing into his voice.
"Lost? Do you expect us will believe that shit?"
The first guard stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Don't lie to us, boy. We know why you're here."
Fuck! Crap! How?! No! No! I can't get caught! Not after...
"I-I'm not lying! I just got lost! I… I'm a newcomer!"
The first guard raised an eyebrow, studying him.
"Oh? A newcomer? Did they not inform you to not to come down here?"
'They told me there were restricted areas, but the guard responsible for informing me couldn't inform me fully, something urgent came up.'
The second guard's asked. "Something urgent? What was it?"
"I don't know. He didn't say. I suppose he didn't want to trust a newcomer like myself. I'm sorry… I didn't know this was one of the restricted areas."
The two guards glanced at one another, suspicion not yet spent.
"What did that guard tell you exactly?"
"Oh, um… he told me I was responsible for a group of prisoners, bringing them food and water."
"What else?"
A prickle of panic crawled up his spine. "They're onto me. How am I going to make them believe this?" He thought.
"And… and he said I'm supposed to meet him tonight in front of barracks, when he'll explain the rest of my duties. For now, since it's my first day, he told me only to keep an eye on the prisoners."
"I see. Well, boy, for your information, this 'restricted area' is where we keep the prison's most crucial supplies."
The second guard added, "This prison is linked to the capital by drawbridges, so we depend on these supplies."
Drawbridges. Good… this might be my chance to learn something useful.
"May I ask you a few questions, if that's all right? My superior didn't exactly have time to talk, and there are things I've been wondering about."
The guards exchanged a look, then the first one shrugged.
"Sure, kid. Go ahead. We don't have anything better to do."
The other nodded. "Yeah, we just stand here all day anyway. Ask away."
He took a deep breath, carefully shaping his words.
"Why does our kingdom keep such a crucial prison. Holding the most dangerous criminals, right in the middle of the realm, so close to the capital?"
The first guard snorted. "That's simple."
The second picked up the thought. "Think about it. Let's say someone did manage to escape. What then? This place is on an islet, in the middle of a lake. They'd have to swim to the shore, which is crawling with more guards. And that's not all, the central Royal Army garrison is stationed just beyond the lake, close to protect both the king and the capital."
The first guard nodded.
"Yes, and that's if they escape. This prison's a hell of a place, kiddo. Did you see those walls? That's just the first layer. Beyond them, there's another set of walls; taller, thicker. Between the two? Deep ditches. The only way across is over the drawbridges."
The second guard added, "And forget about hidden tunnels or boats, there aren't any. The only way in or out is the bridges, and those can only be lowered by the captain himself. Or by order of some high official from the capital, which almost never happens."
He understood then, his situation was far more hopeless than he'd imagined. Still, he forced himself to keep the mask in place, though his hands had gone cold and numb beneath the armored gloves.
"I see. Thank you. That's… reassuring, at least. Good to know the citizens are safe."
One guard snorted.
"Who cares about them? Those pigs in the capital are stuffing their faces, drinking fine wine, while we're stuck here choking down slop and watered beer."
The other's eyes burned with resentment. "Exactly. The only one who eats anything half-decent is the captain. And as for women, ha! We can't even visit a brothel without his permission."
"Calm down," the first muttered sharply. "If the captain hears you, he'll have us eating dirt for a year."
The second sighed. "You're right." Then his gaze slid toward the newcomer.
"Hey, kid. Don't you dare say a word of this to anyone. Got it?"
Both men stared at him, their eyes hard.
"Y-yes," he stuttered. "You have my word."
"Good." The first guard's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "We don't like snitches around here. Wouldn't want something… unfortunate… to happen to you."
They both held his gaze a moment longer, the threat hanging in the air.
"Alright, boy," the first guard said, his tone laced with irritation, "we've answered your pitiful question. How about you get out of here?"
"Y-yes, immediately. Sorry to disturb you… Actually..." He hesitated, then pushed on. "I know I've already bothered you enough, but… could I ask one last thing?"
Both men exchanged a look of mild exasperation. The first guard gave a curt nod.
"Last one. Make it quick."
He swallowed hard.
"Wh-why don't we receive better supplies?"
The first guard let out a scoff.
"Why do you think? We're just guards, babysitting filths called 'prisoners'. If this was the Royal Army, maybe we'd get proper food and decent liquor."
The second guard shrugged.
"But it's not the Royal Army. Though… this place is a bit different from most."
"How so?" he asked quickly.
The man sighed.
"Most dungeons are small, overcrowded pits poorly organized and managed by some local lord or knight. But this one? It sits in the crown's own lands. You see what I'm getting at?"
"I… think so. But if we're directly under the crown's authority, why don't we get the same supplies the crown's army does?"
Both guards stared at him, their patience thinning.
"Listen, kid," the first said, his voice low, "we are under the crown, but the king doesn't personally oversee this place. The council appointed a high-ranking official to run it."
The second guard leaned in slightly.
"And he, the high-ranking man, appointed our captain to keep things moving while he sits in some office, shuffling papers. So, no. Compared to the Royal Army, we're nothing. Unimportant."
And now it made sense. The prison wasn't crumbling by accident. Those in charge were so certain no one could escape that they didn't care about the cracked walls, the failing mortar, or the poor rations for the men guarding it.
The first guard spoke again, his voice expressed his disdain.
"Only the captain gets anything half-decent. He's in charge, and he's got connections."
The second guard's tone turned bitter, his words dipped in sarcasm.
"Yeah, that bas- I mean, our dear captain keeps the finest goods in his private cellar, while we choke down the slop behind these doors."
The first guard gave a humorless chuckle.
"And don't even think about stealing, boy. The captain counts every supply crate himself. Get caught, and he'll cut your hands off."
The second guard turned to his companion, a sly smirk curling his lips.
"Say… maybe we should steal something and pin it on our newcomer here?"
The first guard smirked back.
"Oh, now that's tempting."
He swallowed hard, but not for the reason they thought. The threat of being framed meant nothing; he had no intention of playing guard much longer. Still, he had to sell the role.
"P-please, don't do that… I'm just a newcomer."
Both men broke into laughter.
"Relax, kid," the first guard said. "We won't."
The second chuckled.
"Besides, there's nothing worth stealing anyway."
He let out a shaky breath, feigning relief, though the knot in his stomach was for another reason entirely. Time was slipping through his fingers. He had what he came for; now he had to leave.
The first guard sighed.
"Man, I miss a good bottle of wine… a nice meal…" His voice lowered. "But most of all, a fine woman."
The second guar nodded in agreement.
"Couldn't agree more. A fine woman… damn, it's been far too long."
First guard smirked as he spoke
"Yeah… we had some good times when the captain gave us a few days off. When was the last time again?"
The second guard thought for a moment.
"Two months ago, right?"
"Damn, that long? Two months without a woman…"
"Yeah, I keep replaying those nights in my head. Especially with that woman."
The first guard chuckled.
"Oh, you mean that filthy prisoner's mother?"
They both laughed.
His eyes widened. Mother. They were talking about his mother. His chest tightened, rage and grief threatening to spill out. But he forced his face to remain neutral.
The first spoke again, his tone is dripping lust and sarcasm now.
"Yeah, that one. Damn… she had a body to die for." He licked his lips.
"Damn right she did," the second guard agreed, voice full of mockery and lust. "We had her day in, day out."
Their laughter rang in his ears, reminding him of the painful memories.
"Oh, and don't forget her pathetic husband and son!" the first guard sneered. "We made those filths watch."
They roared with laughter. Laughter that trampled his pain, mocking the wounds that never healed. He felt his eyes sting, tears gathering, but he forced them back down as he forced out the words.
'Yeah… they were so pathetic. Hah… haha.'
The second guard squinted.
"You were there, kid? I thought you were a newcomer?"
He swallowed hard.
'O-oh, I'm new. But… when she was brought to the capital with her family, she was locked in a cell near to our barracks. I was just a fresh cadet back then. And… me and my friends… we used her as our toilet. Day after day.'
Both guards erupted in laughter.
"So even the trainees had their turn?" the first guard said between laughs. "That whore became every man's wife before her husband's eyes."
They laughed again. Laughed at the thought of his mother's broken body, her lifeless eyes, the spirit beaten out of her until she was nothing but a fragile shell.
He could hear his own pulse now, pounding like a drum in his ears. They mocked. They had always mocked.
And he still didn't understand how humans could sink to such cruelty. How they could do this, and laugh without any remorse?
He had to leave. Now. Before the rage broke through his disguise.
"I won't disturb you anymore. Thanks for the talk."
The first guard gave a dismissive wave.
"You're welcome, newcomer. Now don't bother us again."
He turned away, walked until he reached the stairs and started to climb the stairs. Thoughts invaded his mind, memories of what his parents had endured, of what he had endured. The past wrapped him up like a serpent coiling it's prey tighter and tighter, slowly suffocating him.
His mind was drowning in the darkness of it all. No… he told himself. Not now. He had to push those thoughts away, break free from their grip.
He closed his eyes, took a breath. It steadied him, just enough to focus again on his objective.
How am I supposed to escape? No hidden tunnels. No boats. No swimming, this armour would drag him to the bottom. The only way out was the bridges, and they could only be lowered by the permission of the guard captain… or by the rare arrival of an external authority, but as they said, that never happens.
That left him with almost nothing.
He couldn't stand still. If he stayed here, his chance would die before it was born. He had to move before it was too late.