(669 A.C.)

After conspiring with Wanily, Ott’s week went a little something like this:

Day one. He finished working with Wanily and went back up in the elevator with the rest of the prisoners to go to sleep for the night. The elevator creaked and shifted rather dubiously under the weight of all the bodies, but it got them up and out of the mine. They shuffled out of the building in a single file line, as Ott was quickly learning was the norm. He was nowhere near the front of the line, but word still quickly spread back to and past him about the severed head stuck outside for all of them to see. The other prisoners were afraid, Ott noticed. Afraid and despaired. He told Wanily not to look, to which she gave him a funny look. It wasn’t the first example Esseli had made of one of them, she told him, and, well, Ott didn’t have much to say about that.

Day two. The bandits woke Ott with the rest of the day crew, so he counted his blessings that Esseli hadn’t decided to sink her claws into him yet. He broke off from Wanily for the day, picking out one of the other prisoners he remembered having their hands bound, and tried chatting him up. He was less than receptive to the advances of someone who seemingly had Esseli’s favor, but Ott managed to learn his name was Reynold, he was from Yve, and he had a wife back home that probably thought he was dead. Ott asked if he had tried to escape to which Reynold scoffed and said he liked his head on his shoulders. The worst he had done, apparently, was try and nearly succeed to fight the bandits off when they came for him. He had just been traveling to Telldor to look for work. With a wry smile, he said he sure found it.

Day three. A bit more schmoozing with the other captives. Ott noticed Wanily trying to do the same, though her more... robust methodologies led to her being brushed off by many of the downtrodden prisoners. Ott hadn’t expected her to be able to do much, so it was no harm, no foul. Not that her scowl every time someone told her to get lost suggested she felt the same way.

Day four. Esseli sunk her claws into him. There wasn’t much to it--not that Ott hadn’t been already expecting. She had Freun bring him up to her room again, and with much less foreplay this time around, she threw him onto her bed and had her way with him. When she was done--after a very long time that Ott lasted the whole while for, of course--she offered to let him rest for the day in her room. When he declined, she gave him that smile of hers and told him it was less of an offer and more of what he was going to be doing. So, Ott remained in Esseli’s room while she went down and did... whatever she did during the day. He wondered if she was aware of what he was trying to do in her camp and was purposely giving him special treatment to widen the divide between him and the other prisoners. Or maybe she really did just think he was handsome. Which--who could blame her?

The reprieve at least gave him some time to observe the bandits’ activities around the camp and try to come up with the semblance of a plan. Through the windows around the room, he watched the going-ons of the camp. There were notably less bandits on watch during the day than what Ott had observed at night. That, at least, lined up with what information Wanily had been able to give him. There was only one werewolf by the gate--the other was up in the room with Ott, both of them slumbering away. Ott didn’t think for one second, however, that they wouldn’t both be up to attack at the slightest provocation. Still, if Ott and everyone else were to escape, the daytime seemed their better window of opportunity.

That said, there was still the matter of getting everyone out of the mine. Not all the workers could be brought up or down at once on the elevator. It usually took about three trips to get everyone either out or in, and the bandits always brought in first the group that was taking over the work before bringing out the group whose turn it was to rest. As far as Ott knew, too, they never left the lever that controlled the elevator unguarded, and there wasn’t even one down in the mines, only above ground.

They needed someone to either be able to get up there--which Ott doubted any of those green or white-haired mages were up to the task--or they needed someone already up there to overtake the bandit guard and operate the elevator. Of course, the moment one of the bandits went down or was even just attacked, he suspected all of Krakren’s rage would break loose. Not only were all the bandits armed, but there were also the werewolves. Ott suspected that even if the prisoners were somehow able to get ahold of some weapons and use them to keep the bandits at bay, those werewolves would be able to make quick work of them.

They just didn’t have enough firepower. Ott would have to figure out a remedy to that situation. But, well, sometimes the only way out of a fire was through it. Not everyone would survive the dive, and practically no one would get through unscathed.

So, he just had to figure out how to get everyone out of the mines without getting literally all of them killed. To do that, he had to get at least some weapons into the hands of the prisoners, and he had to find a way to deal with the werewolves. How hard could all that really be?

He eyed the werewolf slumbering by the door, as effective at keeping him in the room as if his hands were nailed to the wall. An idea struck through him, one that had a decent likelihood of getting him killed. That was how he knew it was good, though.

Still leaning next to the window, Ott let out a low whistle. The werewolf--Hush, Ott thought, but they were both boys with little else distinguishable about them so he really wasn’t too sure--flicked an ear. Ott, never one to be deterred, whistled again, a bit louder and sharper. That made Hush raise its head and look at him with its blood-red eyes. It licked its chops, making Ott swallow hard.

Now that Ott actually had Hush’s attention, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He didn’t think he’d even get this far. At best, he thought Hush would just ignore him.

A harsh enough strike followed by a kind enough caress, that was what Esseli said. That was what made a beast heel, and Ott figured that sometimes you had to fight fire with fire.

At the same time, Ott wasn’t eager to risk getting his face bitten off by a werewolf because he decided to assert his dominance or die trying. But then, Esseli had already done all that, right? All Ott had to do is show the beast some compassion, and maybe he could instill some loyalty in it. He didn’t know if it would be enough for his purposes, but if he could just get Hush to not want to kill him or the other prisoners when they make their escape, he would consider it a win. Maybe he could even get Shush on his side, too, or something close.

Taking a deep breath, Ott shuffled a few steps closer. Hush watched him closely, but Ott couldn’t tell if it was the way a predator watched its next meal or just the way something abused observed another thing that might prove to be a threat. Just how intelligent were werewolves anyway?

Bracing himself to lose it, Ott extended his hand toward Hush. He kept his palm down and a few inches of space between him and Hush’s snout. Hush stared at him, red eyes almost seeming to glow, before slowly closing the distance between them. He sniffed at Ott’s hand once, twice, before letting out a great huff and drawing back again. Ott let out a slow breath, a smile overtaking his face when he noticed the tip of Hush’s tail wriggling against the ground.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Ott cooed, deciding to just treat Hush like a big dog. A big, potentially very vicious dog, but a good boy nonetheless. Ott still wouldn’t be getting close to him during the night, though.

Hush’s tail began wagging in earnest, and he stared at Ott, ears pricked up and panting slightly in a show of attentiveness. Ott wasn’t about to risk petting him just yet, but he still offered Hush a smile and slowly took his hand back. “Yes, I think you’re a good boy.”

Freun came up not much longer to Ott sprawled on the bed and Hush curled up on the floor next to him. Ott thought for certain Freun was going to say something or bring Ott to Esseli, but he just scowled, dragged Ott back down to the courtyard, and left without a single word spoken.

Anyhow. Day five. When the day group, including Ott and Wanily, were brought down into the mines and lined up on one side of the main corridor to let the night shift pass, Ott had a couple realizations. The first was that the bandits may be more heavily armed, but they were giving their prisoners pickaxes every single day. The tunnels in the mine were only wide enough for two people to stand next to each other, many of them being even narrower than that. They could, theoretically, arm themselves with the pickaxes and overwhelm the relatively small number of bandits that handled the transfer of shifts.

On the other hand, that didn’t solve the issue of getting everybody out of the mine. Especially if they began their escape attempt when they were all down in the tunnels and caverns, the bandits above them could simply not let them up. Or, even if they managed to trick them into letting one batch of prisoners up, Ott had no doubt that any would-be escapees would be quickly decimated by the much larger number of bandits above ground, along with Esseli and her pets.

He hadn’t seen any yet, but if any of the bandits had some magic crystals, there was the possibility that he could snatch those and use them to their advantage. A fire crystal could be a double-edged sword--the risk of lighting the building on fire while people were still down in the mine was too high--but a light or force crystal could do... well, something. He’d much prefer the force crystal, but he couldn’t see a reason why any of the bandits would have one.

Unless... they might have one in the elevator. Force crystals didn’t glow, so it could explain why Ott hadn’t actually seen one on the trips up and down. It could be what powered the elevator or even what acted as a counterweight. Though, if there was a force crystal, and if Ott could get his hands on it, that would still stop the elevator from working. Which really defeated the purpose of trying to get his hands on it in the first place.

He’d think on it more, but in the meantime, he eyed Wanily, who stood next to him. He checked that there were no bandits nearby before nudging her with his elbow. “Which one is your friend?” he asked, gesturing to the men and women trudging past them to go up the elevator.

Wanily pursed her lips. “None of them,” she said slowly. Ott furrowed his brow, but before he could ask, she nodded down the tunnel. “There’s a tunnel that goes to the right a little ways down. He’s down that one.”

“You know what’s down there, then?” Ott said, more than a little surprised.

“Yes.”

Ott waited several beats, but when it was clear Wanily wasn’t going to continue, he asked, “Are you going to tell me?”

She sighed deeply, looking up at him from the corner of her eye. “You have to promise not to freak out.”

Ott frowned in return. Instead of questioning her, though--which he had found had never worked to get someone to share sensitive information--he nodded. Wanily was silent for another moment before motioning him closer. Without so much as a suffering sigh or eyeroll, Ott leaned down so she could whisper right in his ear.

“They keep the magical creatures they capture down there.”

Ott felt his brow rise in surprise, and he drew back slightly to be able to look at her. “Your friend is a monster?”

Wanily huffed. “He doesn’t like that term,” she said. “His name is Eko. He’s a griffin.”

Now that was unexpected. Ott thought she would say that she had a pet slime or figona or maybe even a catus. A cwn annwn would have even made more sense than a gods-damned griffin. And here he thought Esseli would be the only one here with a tamed monster that had no business being tamed.

“You--” Ott started much too loudly, and Wanily yanked on his sleeve. He glanced about them, but the only attention they drew were fleeting glances from the prisoners on either side of them. Quieter, Ott tried again. “You have a pet griffin?”

Wanily frowned. “He’s not a pet. He’s just... Eko. My friend and traveling buddy.”

Ott had the sudden urge to rub his temples. Or pinch his nose. Something that wasn’t grabbing Wanily by the shoulders and shaking her. “Griffins are dangerous monsters, you know,” he said slowly. “Are you sure he’s not just been trying to eat you?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Wanily rolled her eyes. “He’s not trying to eat me.” She looked Ott up and down, and he barely noticed, given his current dilemma. The teenager had a griffin. A griffin. Much stronger in magic than a werewolf and known for their cruelty and dislike of humans. And Wanily had apparently been traipsing the countryside with one.

How was she not dead?

“Anyway, I really want to know how the escape plan is coming along,” Wanily continued. “Is there more I can do to help? If we get Eko out, he can do something, too.”

“Hold on,” Ott said. He wasn’t done thinking about this and everything else Wanily had said. “You told me that you two were helping each other learn magic.”

“Yeah.”

Ott pointedly returned the funny look Wanily gave him with one of incredulity. “You’re an old magic mage, then?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I didn’t mention that before.” Wanily shrugged, seemingly more to herself than to Ott. “I’m an old magic mage.”

This girl was far too nonchalant, Ott thought. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead and tried to begin considering what he could do with this new information. He had a green-haired old magic mage next to him, who had apparently also tamed a griffin--at least to the extent that it wasn’t trying to eat her. Old magic was more potent than new magic. Having green hair with old magic meant much more than the same with new magic. Wanily had to be a relatively powerful mage. The question now was whether or not Esseli knew that.

“Have you told anyone else? Do any of the bandits know?” Ott asked, trying his best not to make it sound like a demand.

“I don’t think so,” Wanily said, shrugging again. “I tried to use my magic against them when they captured me, you know? But there’s not a lot I’ve actually figured out how to do with it yet. I don’t think any of them really noticed when they had a griffin attacking them, too. They didn’t say anything to the main lady bandit about it, so.”

Okay, Ott could work with this. He didn’t know exactly what he would do with this information, but he could figure it out. He wasn’t nearly far enough into his current schemes to be worrying about the final escape plan, so, for now, he would leave it in the back of his thoughts.

“Huh,” was all Ott said in response. Not a minute later, the last group of prisoners were crowded into the elevator, and the bandits began shouting for Ott’s group to continue down to the caverns and get to work. Ott did as he was ordered. For now.

Day six. Ott made better progress than he thought he would. He got more people to chat with him, listen to his stories and poems, and look more than a little thoughtful when he left. It wouldn’t happen overnight, this revolution of prisoners against their captors, and he hadn’t expected it to. But he was making very real progress, tangible in the way people looked to him whenever the bandits began shouting or getting rough. Like they were waiting for Ott’s reaction, waiting for his word to strike. They probably didn’t even realize they were doing it, but Ott certainly did.

It was all going great. Until day seven.

Once again, Esseli called Ott up to her tower. Once again, she pushed him onto the bed to have her fun, and Ott, who very much liked to live, did whatever she told him to do. Once again, all throughout it, Ott thought about all the ways this little mission of his could end with General Pikerman’s head stuck on its namesake.

When she was done, she got up, got dressed, and moved to stand by the window overlooking the rest of the camp. This was a change of pace from last time, so Ott hurriedly pulled his shirt back over his head and his pants up and sat on the edge of the mattress, watching her.

Esseli stood quietly for a long while, just observing the camp. Finally, she spoke. “You know who I am,” she said without turning to face him, “but would you like to know how the famed General Pikerman became nothing but a lowly bandit leader?”

Ott couldn’t deny being a bit curious, but he was more interested in turning the famed General Pikerman to worm food. Not that he could say that. He had the feeling she wasn’t looking for a response anyway.

After another moment, she balled her hand into a fist and leaned against the window. “I brought Fris to nothing,” she murmured. Ott carefully kept his breathing even, trying hard not to show his rage. “I razed it in the only way that matters. Its buildings still stand, but I broke the spirit of its people.”

Starved and killed almost all of them, more like, Ott thought bitterly but remained silent.

“So I’ve heard,” Ott said, neglecting to mention that he grew up in that very land.

“I did exactly what I was told,” Esseli spat. She spun to pace the length of the room, gesturing wildly along with her words. “Tiranda’s Empress told me to bring Fris under her control, and where are they now? Under the flag of the Empire. And then, when I am victorious and return back to my home to collect my deserved accolades, do you know what I am told?”

Ott opened his mouth to respond with something appropriate to what he thought about Esseli’s suffering, but Esseli continued on without paying him any mind. “Extreme,” she sneered. “My measures were too extreme. The Empire cannot be seen supporting someone that would do such ‘horrible’ things, they told me. But they were all too happy to move in their forces and seize control over Fris after all of my hard work.”

“How dare they,” Ott deadpanned.

Esseli shot him a look in warning, and Ott shut his mouth with a click. She sighed and turned to Hush, a slight smile overtaking her face. “I lost most of my wolves,” she said, kneeling next to Hush and rubbing his ears. “We didn’t have many to begin with, and most were lost to battle or simply escaped. And then the Empire seized all the rest of them. All except for Hush and Shush,” she cooed, cradling Hush’s head in her hands. “After I was cast out of the Empire, I needed to find a way to make a living. And wouldn’t you know it, after terrorizing their countryside for a few months, Dryan came to me asking for a deal. I make the bandits in the area leave their citizens alone, they pay me handsomely for my service.”

Ott frowned. “You took a deal with Dryan? But don’t you hate the Empire?”

“I’m vindictive, not stupid,” Esseli retorted, standing again. “They wanted to get me out of the way, and I wanted to be fabulously wealthy. This operation is beneficial to both of us.”

Ott figured he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Why keep all the prisoners if you’re just trying to control the bandits?”

Esseli rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You do like to play stupid, don’t you? I could just go through and kill them all, but that would be a job with no end in sight. This way, I give them something to do, and by selling the material being mined, I have a way to pay them. I can recruit all the bandits in the area to the job, and as long as they don’t bother any Dryan citizen, I get the money for both the mining and the deal with Dryan.” She smiled, sharp as a knife. “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve earned so far?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ott asked softly, already dreading the response.

Esseli shrugged, moving back to the window and folding her arms behind her back. “Because you’re right. I do hold a certain disdain for the Empire after everything. I’ve amassed quite the force here and taken a good deal of their money. I think it’s time to move on to bigger and better things, and I’ll take my men here with me.”

She turned her head just enough to be able to stare down at Ott from the corner of her eye. “And only my men.”

Ott swallowed hard, fisting in hands in the sheets beneath him. “When?”

Esseli returned to looking out into the courtyard. “Why worry about that? You won’t be able to do anything about it.”

Ott stood, the chains around his ankles rattling. “When?” he demanded.

Esseli scoffed. “You don’t get to take that tone with me,” she said.

Ott gripped his anger and shoved it down, down, down. It wouldn’t serve him right now. No, right now, he needed to focus on getting out of this room and getting this information to the other prisoners. Nothing would prompt a revolution like impending death, Ott mused. Or, at least, that was what he hoped.

Esseli, after several long moments, spoke again, breaking Ott from his thoughts. “Later today,” she said, inspecting her fingernails. They were perfectly manicured, Ott noted faintly in his shock, right before she spun to face him again. “But you really don’t need to worry,” she simpered. “I haven’t tired of you yet. You’ll stay up here while I have the other prisoners taken care of, and when it’s time to move on, you’ll come with me and my men.” She walked over to her weapon rack, plucking her sword from its place and inspecting it, saying, “First, I’m thinking we move north. There’s plenty of war to be had up there, and plenty of coin for a militia to join the fray.”

Ott’s heart hammered in his chest. Everything was falling apart around him, unraveling all his budding plans. He thought he had more time. He was supposed to have more time. He was supposed to be able to come up with a foolproof plan and rally most if not all the other prisoners to his side and dance out of the situation he’d put himself in with all the cockiness and suave of the bards of old spitting in the face of the gods.

Now what was he going to do?

He supposed he should just be grateful Esseli was sparing him. If he was just some run-of-the-mill bard that had been plucked off the road and shoved into his position, he probably would be. Body taken, but soul spared. A kind enough caress and all that.

Ott was not a normal bard, though. And he was not going to let Esseli walk away from this place alive. He was not going to let her kill all the people she’d captured, either.

She offered Ott a smile, slotting her sword into the sheath on her hip. She pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

Ott ground his teeth. Details of the camp, the bandits, and Esseli herself flitted through his mind. Not yet, he decided. He didn’t have much time, but he couldn’t act yet.

He sat.

Esseli’s smile grew to an outright grin. “Good boy,” she crooned. “Now stay.”

Ott glared at her but didn’t move.

She nodded to him. “It looks like I’ll get you trained yet.” She glanced at Hush. “Keep an eye on him, won’t you? Don’t want him getting any ideas now.”

Hush’s tail wriggled against the ground. Esseli patted him on the head on her way out the door and down the stairs. Ott sat and listened to her descending footsteps until he couldn’t hear them anymore.

No time to spare. The moment there was silence, Ott sprung to his feet, watching Hush warily. Hush watched him back, panting slightly. His blood red gaze was more than a little disconcerting, but Ott had no choice. He would not be deterred.

“Please don’t tear my face off,” he muttered, easing himself toward Esseli’s weapon rack. They might not be enchanted, but she had left weapons in Ott’s reach. It would be stupid not to at least try.

The moment Ott’s fingers brushed the grip of Esseli’s mace, Hush let out a low growl. Ott took his hand back, and the sound immediately died. Testing the waters again, Ott went to grab it once more, only to be met with Hush’s growl before he even touched it this time.

There were two options before Ott at this point. One, he could grab the mace and try to kill Hush before Hush killed him. Two, he could try to get Hush to not attack him as he stole Esseli’s weapon and launched his grand, half-baked escape plan. Both options ended with Ott potentially dead. Option two, however, ended with a possible ally--at least if Ott kept him away from Esseli.

He weighed his options, considered the chances of death in both situations, and thought, Ah, to Gehenna with it.

He stepped away from the weapon rack and extended his hand toward Hush. Keeping his palm down, he tried to exude as much peace as possible and smiled. Hush gave his hand a tentative sniff, and, praying by the grace of Amera that this wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d ever done, Ott slowly reached to pet Hush right between his giant ears.

Hush watched him with those beady, red eyes, but once Ott’s hand rested on his head, his tail began to thump against the floor. Ott let out a breath of relief, just as slowly taking his hand back.

“I need to grab the mace,” he said slowly. Hush just stared at him, and Ott suddenly felt foolish. There was no way a monster could understand what he was saying. “Please don’t attack me,” Ott muttered, backing up to the weapon rack. Without taking his eyes off Hush, he tentatively reached for the mace again.

This time, Hush watched him without making a peep. Ott wrapped his fingers around the grip and lifted it up, watching Hush all the while, still halfway expecting for the monster’s teeth to try to fasten themselves around his neck. When Hush made no indication that he was going to pounce, Ott finally allowed himself to relax a fraction. He hefted the mace over one shoulder and nodded to Hush.

“Thank you for not murdering me,” he told him.

Hush stared back, not that Ott was expecting a response. And then, Hush opened his mouth and said, “The captive shouldn’t know such pain. I will break your chains.”

Ott flinched as a loud, brittle snap broke the quiet in the room. Glancing down, he found that the chain connecting his feet and preventing him from moving them much more than a shuffle had been broken clean in half. Ott let out a disbelieving laugh, lifting one foot then the other, testing his restored range of movement.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He glanced up at Hush, but he hadn’t moved from his place curled up by the door. “You can get out, too,” he said, feeling slightly less foolish talking to Hush. But just because Hush could cast spells, that still didn’t mean he understood what Ott was saying. Pixies, after all, were always chirping words they’d heard before or casting small spells, but they certainly didn’t understand human speech. Werewolves could be in the same vein or at least something similar.

Still, Hush had done more for him than Ott thought possible. “You’re a very good boy, Hush,” Ott continued. “You don’t have to stay with the mean, old general.”

Hush kept staring at him once again. This time, even after several seconds of silence, there was no response. Ott sighed and stepped to the door, resting his hand on its handle. “I understand,” he murmured. Hush was still a simple beast, and Esseli was his master. Even if he would help Ott, he was far too broken down to bring himself away from her.

Ott just hoped the same wasn’t true for the other prisoners.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Hush made no response, but that he didn’t attack Ott as he fled down the stairs was enough.