"Hey, you smelly, fat-nosed knobheaded dumbfek! Open this door this trill or things are going to get ugly!" Screamed the fat man, trapped behind a lock with the key gone from his sight. There was only one window in the room, and it was so small he couldn't fit his entire head in front of it. Most of the room was covered in rat shit, hair or teeth, and the lighting was as dim as it gets. He stood, banging on the wooden door of the dungeon without stopping, his only cellmate being a girl half his age. He hadn't even noticed her in the half a break he had been awake. Those pesky little Iron Hand punks dare to put him, George the Black-eye, in one of their puny jails. They would suffer to their bitter ends, he had determined, and was convinced that yelling it out repeatedly would help his situation. Poor Zane, having been tasked with the jailor's job this awful trial. Everything was going wrong, he thought as he played with a coin in his hand. He threw it up into the air, making it spin like the best acrobat of Idalos, and then catching it in his rough, commoner's hand. The bloody jailor had to get sick this very trial, when this dumb pig was arrested. Everything was going wrong for the boy, the whole world was falling apart, and he knew it. It had been going so wrong, that he had failed to notice there was another, perfectly quiet and still, person in the cell with George. He usually made it his job to survey the environment around him whenever he entered it, but this trial he was simply too exhausted. Last night had been a rough one, he had gone on his hunt for the mysterious and elusive Sarah once again. For weeks now, he had been searching for the daughter of the dead men, carrying his pendant around in a pocket wherever he went, just in case he found her. No such luck was to befall him, for he had found twelve Sarah's across the entire kingdom, none of them having the combination of the right age, background and looks. He was looking for someone with dark hair, he thought, since her father had nearly black hair, and most likely dark eyes, since again, her father's eyes were also dark. But even the Sarah's which did meet the physical requirements, didn't have a backstory that would befit a knight's bastard daughter. She had to have been born to either a whore or a noblewoman, since her father was either forbidden from seeing her by the mother, or by his job. A knight having a daughter with a whore, that wouldn't look good, and a noblewoman having a child with a commoner soldier, that would look even worse. Alas, there was only one dark-haired, dark-eyed whore's daughter, and she was a three-arc-old, whose father had already died. So yes, the hunt was going terribly, and this idiot was now yelling at him for being in charge of making sure the prisoners don't escape. Who was this George Black-eye anyways? He'd never heard of him, and he thought someone with such a nickname would've been renowned.
"Oy, girl, that's me bed right there, move yo arse." The bigger, scarier man spoke up to the woman which shared his cell, to Zane's surprise, since he hadn't heard any other voice but George's since his shift began. There was someone else in the cell, he would find out, after he moved his sore feet up to the window on the wooden door. The woman was smart, apparently, since she simply moved out of the way of the big, balding man, wanting to cause no trouble, at least not more than what had gotten her into the predicament she was in. "What, you fek, you find something funny?!" George yelled at him once more, moving up from the bed and to the door, banging at it with his fist once more. He had clearly seen his surprised expression through the window on the door and misjudged it for an amused one. George the Black-eye, Zane thought, was not so good at reading people's faces. Maybe that was what caused him to get imprisoned. Who knew. The boy tapped the sword at his waist, the one he was given by the Iron Hand, just to make sure it was there, and that there was, in fact, no reason to be afraid. He wasn't afraid, not at all, but he could get worried when such a large creature was so angry so close to him.
"So, Black-eye, what brings you here?" Zane spoke up, chuckling in the process, as he turned around and assumed his guard position. The beast of a man didn't seem to like the fact that the boy had enough courage to speak to him, thus he growled and mumbled something to his chin. Something like: I'll gut you like a pig when I get outta here, the youngster imagined, as his chin lifted, taking his nose proudly into the air. To George's surprise, Zane chuckled once more, this time making the woman inside draw a smile on her face, without actually making any sound. He didn't know this though, since he still had yet to see the woman's face, but if he had seen her, he would've heightened himself just a tiny bit, to appear more impressive. The woman was young, with a clean face and dark, wavy hair, and she mostly stuck to the edges of the room, as if observing everything that happened through her ever-changing, biqaj eyes. She was more careful than Zane could ever be, and that was probably what saved her from the wrath of George the Black-eye. And the fact that she was rather silent. "And you lass, what's your pretty face done to end up in here?" The young man of messy hair spoke up once more, now that he'd actually seen the woman properly after turning around towards the window. He couldn't make out the details of her face, but he could see her skin was tanned, suggesting she spent a good deal of time in the sun. A fugitive?
"Hey, kiddo, no talking with the prisoners." One of the older, slightly more mature guards said as he and his buddy moved through their patrol-route beyond the door to the outside world. Zane's post was very close to the stairs which led up, into the light, and the cell in which the woman and Black-eye were imprisoned was the closest one to the exit, suggesting they were there briefly. They would soon be transported somewhere else, the boy imagined, and he'd never see them again. Why not make gentle chatter with them then? He thought as he looked towards the woman through the hole in the door once more. She was short, shorter than him at least, and appeared a tiny bit fragile. How did she possibly end up in the damn dungeons?
"Don't worry, I won't be here long." The woman said with a slight adjustment of her hair, her hands didn't seem rough and ragged like his. She wasn't a physical worker. Which meant she probably wouldn't be sent off to Endor mines, like the fat guy next to her. But if she wasn't going to Endor, and she was in this cell, didn't that mean she was to be executed at dusk? Surely not. The only people who were executed so swiftly were...mages. The boy thought as memories returned to him. The dead man, the knights, the mages, the ambush. It all hit him like a cold shower, which he rarely had, and the feeling became brighter and hotter within his mind. She was a mage. And yet she was in the normal prison, without any special bonds or drugs in her system. At least to his knowledge.
"A mage huh?" Zane asked with a slight hint of caution in his voice, and the big beast of a man that stood in the same cell as the woman suddenly ran into the corner, hugging the walls as much as he could. Beneath his voice could be heard a prayer, probably to the Sacred Seven, for he was one of the dumb folk that were so deathly afraid of mages. He must have only heard stories. Abominations of nature, the higher-ups in the Iron Hand called them. But the young man of messy hair knew the truth. Mages were just like him, just like anyone else, they were only the slightest bit more curious. They desired and wished more than your average Jim, and thus they sought out their powers. Zane, if he was given a choice, would've probably signed up to receive magic himself, without a second thought, but alas, he didn't have that choice. He knew so little of magic that he wasn't even sure if one could receive it in the way he was imagining it. The woman chuckled though, clearly noticing the fear in George and the curiosity in Zane. The boy smiled too, meeting the woman's eyes on the open space near the top of the heavy door. Mages were hated based on prejudice, what if she was to be executed without doing anything wrong? Just because she chose a hobby more dangerous than your average one? He couldn't let that happen, surely not.
"I have a name y'know." She said confidently, now that she realized that her guard wasn't disgusted by her, in the same way her cellmate was. The youth looked at her with curiosity at its peak, wondering what her name could be. But as she said the word, something stopped in his throat, making his cough out loud, losing air and the ability to breathe. It was the greatest of coincidences that had ever ocurred within the boy's life, and since he knew very well that coincidences didn't exist, this was a gap of non-existence nothing he knew could fill. Was it the will of Vri for all of this strangeness to conspire? He didn't even need to ask her, he knew already. Her appearance was too familiar for him to not notice it, he only couldn't confirm his suspicions through the door. But after the word left her tongue and cut through the air, leaving a scar on the boy's cheek, he was certain. "Sarah, Sarah Dj'pyrj" She said, the last name meaning nothing in the boy's mind, while the first name meant everything. What irony, he thought, that the man who was so opposed to magic, so disgusted by it, the man who fought it until his death, had a daughter who was going to die for her magic-using ways. The youth took out the pendant from his pocket, holding it tightly as he observed the woman's curious face. This was yet another, final drop of water that proved that mages, they were your everyday folks, only slightly different. Not worse. Not better. Different.
"Zane Black." He said confidently, moving towards the keys which hung on a big old stone wall. He knew what he needed to do, for the old man, for everything he believed in, he needed to save this girl. Did she want to be saved? Was she afraid of her fate? Who knew; who cared? He promised the dead man something, and he would keep that promise no matter what it cost him. He had a sword on his hip, and another one on the table, and he would forever suffer Vri's wrath if he didn't use them both to keep his promise. Careful what you wish for, the young airman supposed, since the dead man only wanted for the mages to die, and yet because of him, one would live. There was no army large enough, no wall strong enough, and no punishment intimidating enough for the boy to not at least attempt to keep his promise. Zane wasn't a quitter, not by a long shot. He wasn't a prodigy, a genius, a brilliant man, but he wasn't one that would be beaten by silly things such as the law, or a dungeon. The woman would live to have a good life, no matter what.
"Oy, girl, that's me bed right there, move yo arse." The bigger, scarier man spoke up to the woman which shared his cell, to Zane's surprise, since he hadn't heard any other voice but George's since his shift began. There was someone else in the cell, he would find out, after he moved his sore feet up to the window on the wooden door. The woman was smart, apparently, since she simply moved out of the way of the big, balding man, wanting to cause no trouble, at least not more than what had gotten her into the predicament she was in. "What, you fek, you find something funny?!" George yelled at him once more, moving up from the bed and to the door, banging at it with his fist once more. He had clearly seen his surprised expression through the window on the door and misjudged it for an amused one. George the Black-eye, Zane thought, was not so good at reading people's faces. Maybe that was what caused him to get imprisoned. Who knew. The boy tapped the sword at his waist, the one he was given by the Iron Hand, just to make sure it was there, and that there was, in fact, no reason to be afraid. He wasn't afraid, not at all, but he could get worried when such a large creature was so angry so close to him.
"So, Black-eye, what brings you here?" Zane spoke up, chuckling in the process, as he turned around and assumed his guard position. The beast of a man didn't seem to like the fact that the boy had enough courage to speak to him, thus he growled and mumbled something to his chin. Something like: I'll gut you like a pig when I get outta here, the youngster imagined, as his chin lifted, taking his nose proudly into the air. To George's surprise, Zane chuckled once more, this time making the woman inside draw a smile on her face, without actually making any sound. He didn't know this though, since he still had yet to see the woman's face, but if he had seen her, he would've heightened himself just a tiny bit, to appear more impressive. The woman was young, with a clean face and dark, wavy hair, and she mostly stuck to the edges of the room, as if observing everything that happened through her ever-changing, biqaj eyes. She was more careful than Zane could ever be, and that was probably what saved her from the wrath of George the Black-eye. And the fact that she was rather silent. "And you lass, what's your pretty face done to end up in here?" The young man of messy hair spoke up once more, now that he'd actually seen the woman properly after turning around towards the window. He couldn't make out the details of her face, but he could see her skin was tanned, suggesting she spent a good deal of time in the sun. A fugitive?
"Hey, kiddo, no talking with the prisoners." One of the older, slightly more mature guards said as he and his buddy moved through their patrol-route beyond the door to the outside world. Zane's post was very close to the stairs which led up, into the light, and the cell in which the woman and Black-eye were imprisoned was the closest one to the exit, suggesting they were there briefly. They would soon be transported somewhere else, the boy imagined, and he'd never see them again. Why not make gentle chatter with them then? He thought as he looked towards the woman through the hole in the door once more. She was short, shorter than him at least, and appeared a tiny bit fragile. How did she possibly end up in the damn dungeons?
"Don't worry, I won't be here long." The woman said with a slight adjustment of her hair, her hands didn't seem rough and ragged like his. She wasn't a physical worker. Which meant she probably wouldn't be sent off to Endor mines, like the fat guy next to her. But if she wasn't going to Endor, and she was in this cell, didn't that mean she was to be executed at dusk? Surely not. The only people who were executed so swiftly were...mages. The boy thought as memories returned to him. The dead man, the knights, the mages, the ambush. It all hit him like a cold shower, which he rarely had, and the feeling became brighter and hotter within his mind. She was a mage. And yet she was in the normal prison, without any special bonds or drugs in her system. At least to his knowledge.
"A mage huh?" Zane asked with a slight hint of caution in his voice, and the big beast of a man that stood in the same cell as the woman suddenly ran into the corner, hugging the walls as much as he could. Beneath his voice could be heard a prayer, probably to the Sacred Seven, for he was one of the dumb folk that were so deathly afraid of mages. He must have only heard stories. Abominations of nature, the higher-ups in the Iron Hand called them. But the young man of messy hair knew the truth. Mages were just like him, just like anyone else, they were only the slightest bit more curious. They desired and wished more than your average Jim, and thus they sought out their powers. Zane, if he was given a choice, would've probably signed up to receive magic himself, without a second thought, but alas, he didn't have that choice. He knew so little of magic that he wasn't even sure if one could receive it in the way he was imagining it. The woman chuckled though, clearly noticing the fear in George and the curiosity in Zane. The boy smiled too, meeting the woman's eyes on the open space near the top of the heavy door. Mages were hated based on prejudice, what if she was to be executed without doing anything wrong? Just because she chose a hobby more dangerous than your average one? He couldn't let that happen, surely not.
"I have a name y'know." She said confidently, now that she realized that her guard wasn't disgusted by her, in the same way her cellmate was. The youth looked at her with curiosity at its peak, wondering what her name could be. But as she said the word, something stopped in his throat, making his cough out loud, losing air and the ability to breathe. It was the greatest of coincidences that had ever ocurred within the boy's life, and since he knew very well that coincidences didn't exist, this was a gap of non-existence nothing he knew could fill. Was it the will of Vri for all of this strangeness to conspire? He didn't even need to ask her, he knew already. Her appearance was too familiar for him to not notice it, he only couldn't confirm his suspicions through the door. But after the word left her tongue and cut through the air, leaving a scar on the boy's cheek, he was certain. "Sarah, Sarah Dj'pyrj" She said, the last name meaning nothing in the boy's mind, while the first name meant everything. What irony, he thought, that the man who was so opposed to magic, so disgusted by it, the man who fought it until his death, had a daughter who was going to die for her magic-using ways. The youth took out the pendant from his pocket, holding it tightly as he observed the woman's curious face. This was yet another, final drop of water that proved that mages, they were your everyday folks, only slightly different. Not worse. Not better. Different.
"Zane Black." He said confidently, moving towards the keys which hung on a big old stone wall. He knew what he needed to do, for the old man, for everything he believed in, he needed to save this girl. Did she want to be saved? Was she afraid of her fate? Who knew; who cared? He promised the dead man something, and he would keep that promise no matter what it cost him. He had a sword on his hip, and another one on the table, and he would forever suffer Vri's wrath if he didn't use them both to keep his promise. Careful what you wish for, the young airman supposed, since the dead man only wanted for the mages to die, and yet because of him, one would live. There was no army large enough, no wall strong enough, and no punishment intimidating enough for the boy to not at least attempt to keep his promise. Zane wasn't a quitter, not by a long shot. He wasn't a prodigy, a genius, a brilliant man, but he wasn't one that would be beaten by silly things such as the law, or a dungeon. The woman would live to have a good life, no matter what.
