Three weeks later, we’re no closer to getting out. Nor do we have any semblance of a good plan for how to prevent all those innocents from being slaughtered once we do get out. Being stuck in here really limits options on what we can do. Briareth still hasn’t gotten his magic back. The guards are cautious when they approach us, and unwilling to talk. We aren’t even entirely certain it’s been three weeks, but Faladel estimates that they’re feeding us twice a day at the same time they swap out the torches. And although it’s been a while, that schedule sounds about right to me.

“Good news, Faladel, Balderk!” Briareth breaks through my bored musing. “The bars are weakening! I was right about this whole place being run down, rust has eaten through about half of the bars already. I bet they haven’t used the place in decades, so nobody bothered with the upkeep. It definitely won’t take more than two years to melt through them with acid.”

“You mean peeing on them.” I say dryly, completely unimpressed with our brilliant escape plan.

“Whatever works.” Braireth shrugs. “Hopefully the file will last the entire two years. Otherwise, it could take way longer.”

“Problem is,” Faladel says grumpily, finally sitting up and joining in the conversation. “We don’t have two years, much less way longer! For all we know, we’ve already failed and everyone else is dead!”

“There’s no way the battle lines would have changed that much in just three weeks, Faladel. To eradicate all the elves, the king needs them all on the other side of the mountain range.” Briareth says comfortingly. “We have at least another month, even if the king started issuing orders immediately after we were imprisoned. Right Balderk?”

“I’m on Faladel’s side here Briareth,” I stretch my hands up and yawn. “Didn’t you just say two years at the earliest? There’s no way we’ll get out in time if we just keep hacking at it with your file.”

Briareth glares at Faladel and I. “Well at least I’m trying to do something about it instead of just waiting around for ‘the sorcery to wear off’ like you guys! That stuff could be permanent, you know.” Faladel glares back, opening his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

“Woah, woah calm down.” I raise my hands peaceably, “We’ve had this conversation before. Briareth, we’d love to help, but you won’t let us use the file because we might break it, and we’ve already wracked our brains so many times they’re probably addled by now. Faladel, just because we aren’t doing anything productive right now doesn’t necessarily mean we’re doomed. Getting on each other's nerves won’t help anything.”

Faladel groans, and collapses onto the pile of straw. “Logically, I know that, but I just feel so useless!”

“Well how about we calm down and play some games to pass the time. It’s not like we can do much else.” I suggest.

“Fine.” Faladel acquiesces. “Although I don’t know how you can stand to be so calm in here, Balderk.”

“When I think of the alternative to this,” I say, “being locked up is actually pretty nice. I was expecting us to all get promptly executed after negotiations broke down even with the threat of the non-existent super weapon going off. So, what shall it be, I-Spy? Or Straw Towers?”

“Add me in and make it Charades,” Briareth says, plopping down beside us. “I’ve filed as much as I dare to today. And since I suggested charades, I get to go first.”

We all agree, and then Briareth begins to mime. He fakes taking off his shoe, and makes me chuckle as he hops around trying to regain his balance. Then he reaches inside the ‘shoe’ and mimes pulling something back. Faladel snorts.

“That’s too easy Briareth, the fake sole that you hid the file under! Do something trickier next time.”

“Correct, Faladel, but really,” Briareth retorts. “It’s surprisingly hard to think of things I’m sure both you and Balderk can understand. I have to pull from our experiences together, or I can’t be sure that we’ll all know what I’m talking about.”

“Let me try.” Faladel says, getting up. Briareth obliges, taking his old seat. Faladel looks deep in thought for a few seconds before beginning. First he draws a vaguely rectangular shape in the air, and then mimes opening it, running his fingers along something inside.

“A book?” Briareth offers, Faladel silently gestures for him to continue, but I snatch the opportunity away. “The book we were looking for for the Librarian! I don’t remember its name, but it’s that one book isn’t it?”

“Correct.” Faladel grins. “In conclusion, Briareth, just choose something a little further back in our history together. Or something that wasn’t important.”

“My turn!” I exclaim before Briareth can retort and get himself and Faladel into another argument.” I frown, to myself, wondering how I’m going to represent this.

“Is it something that upsets you?” Briareth says, already invested in the game.

I shake my head, and then put my wrists together behind me, turning around so they can see. I mime trying to pull them apart and then shake my head.

“Manacles?” Briareth offers.

“Rope bindings?” Faladel suggests. I shake my head again and continue on with the scene, faking reaching into a pocket and pulling something out. I wiggle my fingers around a bit, unsure exactly how this part works, and then pull my wrists apart.

“Cutting through bindings?” Faladel guesses. “Escape?” I shake my head at both of them.

“It’s the lockpicks we don’t have.” Briareth exclaims, suddenly getting it. “Although you don’t just wiggle them to make them work, Balderk, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

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“Clever, very clever, Balderk” Faladel muses.

“Thank you,” I say grinning. “I try.”

“You know what we should have done?” Briareth comments. “We should have stored the lockpicks in Balderks beard! Then I wouldn’t have forgotten them back in Heronmal!”

I’m horrified by the suggestion. “But what if they ruined my beard? Or get stuck in it permanently?!”

“We can always cut off the beard to get them out.” Briareth continues, oblivious to my growing terror. Faladel smoothers a chuckle.

“You won’t touch my beard!” I proclaim, clutching it protectively

“Exactly!” Briareth agrees wholeheartedly. “No dwarf would even think to search you there. It’d make a great hiding place for lockpicks!” Faladel isn’t even trying to hold back his chuckles anymore, causing Briareth to glance over at him strangely. “Are you okay, Faladel?” He asks.

“No.” Faladel says honestly, still chuckling although it almost sounds more like he’s crying. “I’m not okay. We’re locked up here, terrorizing each other and picking fights and playing games when our friends and family could be dead or dying. I know this, and yet I still find you accidentally traumatizing Balderk hilarious. I play games instead of coming up with better escape plans. I pick fights to get my frustration out, and do absolutely nothing productive!” His voice ends in a shout, but then he lets out an aggravated sigh, slapping his hand on his face and leaning back onto his section of the straw pile. I belatedly realize that he actually is crying, tears dripping out beneath his hand.

The situation suddenly feels ten times more awkward. I glance at Briareth, who’s already staring at me. I shrug helplessly, and he moves forward, awkwardly patting Faladel’s shoulder. “Hey, if you really want to do something that much, you can take over filing tomorrow. I can coach you on how to do it.” He suggests comfortingly.

“Weren’t you already imprisoned for far longer than this?” I offer up. “Just pretend this is a repeat of that.”

I see Briareth wince, and realize that might not have been the wisest thing to say. But, instead of lashing out again, Faladel just sighs and tries to explain it to me. “Being imprisoned with nothing to do, no hope of escape, and knowing everyone believes you to be dead is a completely different experience from being imprisoned with friends knowing that something terrible will happen to those you love if you don’t get out in time to stop it. This feels worse. So. Much. Worse.”

He sits up again. “I’m fine now, Briareth. Sorry for the outburst.” He looks– I’d almost describe it as ashamed of himself. Briareth moves back, giving him a little space. Faladel’s eyes are slightly red, but other than that he appears the same as he always does. Calm, not quite confident, but self-assured at least. He smiles, and I wonder if this is just another mask. Like the one he put on in the throne room and before the general. If internally he’s still the desperately stressed and panicking man I saw earlier. If the fear that he showed that one night at the elf encampment and the panic he showed just now is his normal state, instead of this almost confident prince before me. After all, there’s no way he could possibly switch his mood that fast. I frown softly, studying him.

“I’m fine.” Faladel repeats, smiling at me. I don’t know how, or if, I should voice my question to him, but I’m saved from having to make an awkward reply by the steady thump of people coming down the steps around the corner.

We all freeze, exchanging glances. It’s nowhere near time to change the torches. Nobody should be down here for a few more hours at the least. Not once in our three weeks in this cell has the routine changed.

Five dwarves in uniform turn the corner, marching in step to our cell.

“What’s this all about?” Briareth asks the one in the front as he approaches.

The dwarf considers him for at least five seconds before deigning to answer. “You’ve been summoned.” he says crisply, before unlocking the door with a key off his belt. “You will come quietly or face the consequences.”

Briareth glances at Faladel and I. I shrug, uncertain whether we should follow them. “It can’t be much worse than staying here.” Faladel mutters. So we go along with the guards, up the stairs, and out into the main courtyard. Instead of being blinded by sunlight, we are embraced by cool night winds. Glancing up, I see the stars twinkling brightly. I frown at the beautiful sight, how did we get our days and nights so mixed up? Were the guards intentionally messing with us? But we have more important things to focus on. Instead of going to the Great Hall, where all official summons take place, the guards are leading us into the keep, where the royal family lives. A royal summons at night? And one not taking place in the Great Hall? When we weren’t expecting to see the outside again for years? Something isn’t right here.

I hesitate, wanting to warn Faladel and Briareth, but a sharp blade pokes into my back. “Keep going.” A gruff voice demands. I stumble forwards, entering the keep. We climb past the first floor, the second floor, from my memories of times spent working here I know there are seven total. I grab onto the back of Briareth’s shirt and he glances back at me as we climb stairs past the third floor. I try to convey with my eyes that something’s wrong. He frowns, but shrugs. I’m not sure if that’s a “I don’t know what you’re saying” frown, or a “Something might be wrong, but there’s nothing we can do about it” frown. He turns back to glance ahead of him as we stop on the fourth floor and exit the stairwell. I see the bookstacks and realize that this is the private library. Nobody ever goes in here, it’s reserved for the King and his family, but they never use it. I always got creeped out when I had to pass it, all those abandoned musty books, never to be read again. It’s even more creepy now that I know we aren’t supposed to be here.

The guards– if that’s even what they really are –lead us confidently through the bookstacks, their boots barely making a sound on the thickly carpeted floor. We wander for what seems like ages before halting in front of an ancient tapestry. The guard in the lead, the one who had unlocked our cell door, pulls back the tapestry to reveal a hidden door. It shines in the light of the lantern one of his subordinates carries, the only non-dusty object in this whole library. The lead guard unlocks it, and we enter.

It’s a nice enough room. Simple, compared to the rest of the palace, but comfortable. It probably used to be a study before it was hidden away behind the tapestry. There are plenty of bookcases here, a lovely oaken desk with a two chairs, a small fireplace, and three cots in the corner that look like they were moved in quite recently. Briareth and Faladel finally seem to realize that something is wrong.

“What, exactly,” Faladel says, putting back on the regal facade he’d adopted in the throne room, “are we doing here? This doesn’t appear to be a regular summoning.”

“His Highness has summoned you.” The lead guard stubbornly repeats, I stare at him. Now that we’ve halted and I have time to look at his face, it seems familiar. Do I know him from somewhere?”

The door opens again and a new voice calls out, “You can drop the act Blix.” and the dwarf Prince, Yaluda Gewalt, enters. My mouth drops open. What is he doing here? Did he– I hesitate to even think it –break us out of the dungeons? But why?

The leader of the guards, I suddenly realize that he must be the captain of the prince’s private guard, Smedigan Blix, grins slightly.

“Well I’m not wrong am I? Your Highness did summon them.”

“Why exactly–” Faladel presses “Were we summoned?”

The prince turns to look at us, his stunning golden eyes dead serious as he says

“I need your help killing my dad.”