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Fred abandons his horse by the prison door, crouching down next to the guard’s body and rifling through the man’s pockets for the keys. After an anxious moment, he finds what he’s looking for, the keyring sitting heavy in his hand. He tries the largest one on the thick wooden door, breathing a sigh of relief as he hears the lock turning within. Pocketing the ring, he peeks inside the fortress.
A dark stairwell greets him, descending into blackness as it crawls deeper into the bowels of the prison. Fred pats his pockets, frowning. He hadn’t thought to bring a torch…
His sword wakes with a hum as he unsheathes it, its electric properties casting dim yellow light onto the ancient stone walls. Good enough for now. He begins the journey downwards slowly, careful to make as little sound as possible. The static from the sword makes his hair stand on end and his ears buzz. He searches for sounds of the enemy through the static. This prison was far from abandoned.
He reaches the bottom of the stairs alone, unharmed but nervous. The ring of keys in his pocket jangles slightly with every step, and the heels of his boots click against the stone tile in the empty hallway… too much noise…
The light from his sword bounces off a guard’s pauldron the moment he rounds the first corner, and the man sneers at him.
“What do we have here? I thought the knights retreated.”
“Uh,” Fred stammers. “They did. I’m just here to… move some of the prisoners. They’re going to come with us.”
The guard raises a brow, his face barely visible in the dim light from his weak torch. “Move ‘em? What for? This is a prison. Perfect place for prisoners, if you ask me.”
“Well, yes, but-” Fred fumbles with his words. He was never very good at slick talking- “Hostages. The… invaders won’t attack if we… use the prisoners as bait.” Saying those words makes him feel a bit ill.
“So you’re saying,” The guard drawls, leaning up against the wall, “You’re going to take all the prisoners with you.”
“Yes... if that’s alright.” He shifts from one foot to the other, sword still held aloft. It buzzes nervously in his grip.
“Foolish…” The guard pushes away from the stonework, mounting his torch on the wall. “They wouldn’t send just one boy to collect all of the prisoners… What are you really here for?”
Fred gulps, shuffling a step back at the sound of drawn steel. The time for negotiating was over.
The guard has retreated out of the low flame’s area, but the hallway isn’t that wide, so Fred grips his sword and grits his teeth as his blade begins to spark in his hands. A bright white light briefly illuminates the corridor; all of its filthy stones jutting out of the wall and casting long black shadows backwards as the guard is revealed to Fred. The fear in the man’s eyes is palpable. His iron sword is no match for the weapon of a knight of Friege.
Fred brings the sword down on the empty air in front of him, missing the target with the metal but hitting him with the magic; the electricity arcs off the walls with a deafening crack as tendrils spike out in all directions. Some attack the walls, dislodging dust and stone. One detonates the guard’s torch, scattering hot ash all over the floor. Some electrify the bars of a nearby cell, and Fred prays to every god he can think of that Olwen is somewhere further down the hall. The largest bolt meets the man in the chest, coursing through the rest of his armor with a bang as the smell of flash-cooked flesh fills the hall. There’s a muffled groan before the guard’s body hits the floor, still smoking in the residual static of the attack.
The light fizzles out a moment later as Fred’s sword audibly cracks at the hilt, its last burst of power finally spent. Bathed in darkness once more, he lowers his weapon with a sign. The flash of brightness had revealed the whole hallway before him, if only for a moment, so as long as he hugged the wall, he could navigate…
He accidentally kicks the fallen guard on his journey, grimacing as the smell of his still-steaming corpse as he walks by. He would have preferred not to kill the guards- they were only doing their job after all- but Olwen’s safety takes priority over their lives at the moment…
He clears his throat at the sound of shuffling feet near the end of the hall. Unable to see in the darkness, he raises his broken sword anyways. A cracked blade could still do a fair bit of damage if wielded with force.
“Shhh… don’t speak…” A woman’s voice whispers from somewhere to his left. He lowers his blade slightly, unsure.
“... Lady Olwen?”
“Fred?”
He sheathes his weapon entirely, turning towards the sound of her voice. “Lady Olwen!”
Footsteps echo from inside the cell next to him, and though he can’t see her, he can tell she’s standing next to him now, with only the bars separating them. He digs a hand in his pocket for the key.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Olwen… I had to escape- then it took me a bit to get the chance to get over here… I had to find the key-”
“I’m overjoyed that you came at all,” her voice responds, colored with a smile. “Please- get us out of here…”
“Us?” He asks, feeling his way to the door and examining the lock with his fingertips. Figuring out which key was the correct one would be a challenge…
“Fred, it’s horrible… They’re keeping children here… everything I heard about the child hunts- It’s all true…”
“That can’t be…” He whispers, trying another key in the lock.
“It is! Please- Let us go home!” A high pitched wail answers them, scaring Fred as he searches for the next key.
“How- how many of you are in there!?”
Olwen mumbles numbers under her breath. “Two… three… three children and myself. The children say there were more… but I think they’re long gone by now…”
The lock finally clicks open, and Olwen flings the door open, shepherding small bodies in front of her before wrapping her arms around Fred’s waist in a choking hug. He awkwardly pats her on the back, eyes still searching the darkness for the other prisoners. They huddle around the two adults, clearly not willing to venture far on their own.
Fred clears his throat as Olwen lets him go, pocketing the keys and drawing his blade once more.
“I can’t believe it… but… why don’t we get these children out of here. We can figure out what to do next later.”