The door to the small chamber closed with a muted thud behind Kael and the guard. The room smelled faintly of stone and straw, starkly simple, yet far removed from the relentless dust and grime of the pit. Elias rubbed his wrists where the chains had left faint marks, his bare feet pressed against the cool floor. He looked around—here, at least, there would be no blows, no pickaxes, no endless labor.
Kael's dark eyes studied him, sharp but wary. "Stand," he said slowly, the Orravian word clipped and deliberate, pointing to Elias' feet. Then he pointed to himself, miming the action.
Elias repeated, careful, noting the motion, the sound. Stand. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but his mind, trained in pattern and logic, mapped it instantly.
"Good," Kael said, his brow raising. Not bad… he thought, almost startled.
Hours passed in cycles of gesture and word. Kael pointed at the small wooden chair, then the door, the straw bed. Elias mirrored him, sometimes faltering, sometimes perfect. Each correction was absorbed, processed, applied immediately.
Elias' thoughts wandered between the motions and the words, analyzing. Interesting. The verb comes first in the command… and the object after. Patterns are consistent. Phonetics are harsh but regular. I can hear the rules of their speech, like a puzzle. He repeated the syllables softly, testing intonation, comparing it to his mental catalog of languages.
Kael observed silently at first, his pen scribbling notes on a small parchment. Then, slightly louder, he added more complexity: body parts. "Hand," he said, pointing at his own palm. Elias imitated, nodding once, precise. Elbows, knees, fingers… the words came faster now. His tongue twisted briefly, but he corrected himself instinctively, and Kael's eyes widened.
The lessons moved quickly, accelerating with Elias' mind. Soon Kael was introducing short phrases: simple commands, then responses. "Pick up the…," "Give me the…," "Sit down." Elias understood almost immediately. His mental ability to detect patterns allowed him to anticipate structure and pronunciation.
This is… astonishing, Kael thought, setting his pen down for a moment. A prisoner learning this fast… I have never seen anything like it.
Elias, meanwhile, was aware of Kael's gaze. He noticed the surprise in the man's eyes, the subtle hesitation before each correction. He reflected silently: I wonder if he expected me to fail. Perhaps he has never met anyone who focuses like this.
By the end of the day, Elias could respond in short phrases, answer simple questions, and indicate objects accurately. Kael tested him again and again, scribbling frantically on parchment: observations, sketches of gestures, notes on pronunciation errors corrected in real time.
Finally, Kael leaned back, his face betraying astonishment. "You… are not a commoner," he muttered in Orravian, barely audible. Elias tilted his head, recognizing the words. No, I am not, he thought silently. And yet, I am still a prisoner.
Kael gathered his notes carefully. I must send this to the lord, he thought. Hadrien was away from the keep, and Kael knew a detailed written report would allow the lord to assess Elias' progress without seeing him in person. He scribbled a summary of Elias' astonishing speed of learning, his comprehension of patterns, and his quick corrections.
The letter was sealed and entrusted to a courier. Kael watched him leave, then turned back to the chamber. Elias sat on the straw, thinking, observing silently: They watch, but they do not yet know how much I see, how much I already understand. Soon, perhaps… they will.
Hours later, the room was quiet again. The chains at his wrists faintly rattled against the stone floor. Elias stretched, flexing stiff fingers, and allowed a small, thoughtful smile. Not freedom—but progress. Not the pit, not the endless labor, not the fear of blows. Here, he could learn, adapt, and prepare for the moment when he would stand before a lord and answer in kind.