I knew it!

There’s more to these Burrows than meets the eye. The fact that they singled me out, the moment I crossed the drawbridge, confirms it. It was almost like they knew who they were looking for. Sure, they were a bit rough in the beginning, but who could blame them? I am, after all, a former Shaper of Cedia. Though I do wish there was another method to remove the Brand. Their way was nothing short of excruciating to say the least. But I endured it. I endured it all in the name of history! My continued silence throughout the treatment even earned me a measure of respect. Enough to convince them to talk to their superiors about my dearest wish! Now I just have to wait for their approval. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t start taking notes already.

The first thing that intrigues me are these different colored headbands my captors are wearing. What do the colors mean? And why doesn’t everyone have them? My current hypothesis is that they signal some kind of class distinction. Maybe even a difference in rank. Whether one’s class, or rank, is based on merit, or birthright, is something I still have to puzzle out. My observations seem to point towards a kind of militarized class system since the only observable weapons are worn by those in possession of said headbands. Weirdly enough, the same headband wearers have taken to hiding their armors underneath the baggy sackcloth they’re wearing. Could this be status related? Or maybe a ruse to trick Cedians like me?

Only time will tell. 

- Jullianus Retan cell notes.

Clouded moonlight reflected on the binders encasing my hands.

I glanced over my shoulder, down the street, seeing the two long rows of prisoners in my wake. An assortment of lieutenants, captains, and their demonic servants, walked alongside them. Most of which belonged to the Sins of Wrath, or Gluttony.

Where the Wrath demons were more normal looking with their two legs, assortment of different horns, and densely packed muscles on their humanoid frames. The Gluttony demons came in all sorts of different variations instead. Two legs, four legs, no legs. No arms, several arms, and even the occasional tendril. Their twisted appearances all vastly different, safe for two constant factors. Each of them was at least the size of a horse, and each of them had one or more appropriately sized holes to shove food in.

In contrast, the humans looked quite vulnerable even though they were fully armed, and fully armored. Their figures clad in a mixture of tabards; all of which displayed one of the Four King’s factions: yellow for the Foxes, led by the Hawk of Greed. Violet for the Vipers, sworn to the Python of Lust. Gray for the Wolves, followers of the Fang of Sloth. And lastly, green for the Lizards, controlled by the Chameleon of Envy.

If the displayed armor, and the necessity to bring along demons, did not draw people’s attention. Then the fact that the escort consisted of several factions certainly did. Viper’s district had grown unusually quiet as the various nightly customers parted before our grim procession. Almost like we were cutting through water, not people. Soon enough, the Well’s familiar sounds broke the lingering silence that followed our every step. Ever-present grunts of physical effort began filling the night as the Well continued to do what it always had done. Keeping our topside alive.

More eyes peered, through various windows, sneaking looks at me and the poor sod beside me. The man’s green eyes were hidden beneath his silver hair. The color in stark contrast to the dark rags that clothed his naked body. This change of garbs was one of the first things I insisted upon before our departure. We’re not about to walk into a city of warriors dressed up like a bunch of pompous pricks. No way that’s going to end well.

“How you holding up?” I asked the man. Unlike the others, Maximilian had gone quiet ever since we entered the Burrows. Where most began to cry the moment we crossed the drawbridge, he just grimly marched on. Then again, he did get thrown in here by his own mother. Talk about tough love.

“It doesn’t add up,” he finally answered.

“What?”

He looked at me. “I know my mother, Marcus. If it didn’t suit her agenda, she would have left these Awakened to die. There’s some angle she’s trying to play here.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“Trust me on this. She views people as pieces on the board. Something to be moved around as she sees fit. The fact that I’m just a sacrificial pawn isn’t what’s bothering me. It’s the fact that she left herself exposed.” I raised an eyebrow. “She’s a waiter, Marcus. Even if the Council were to outnumbered her five-to-one, she would silently watch for that inevitable opening. For her to put herself out there like this can mean only one thing: she’s seen some path to victory. I’m just trying to figure out what it is.”

Then she must be a pretty good looker. Cause I ain’t seeing shit. The crowd gradually changed as we got closer to the Well. Whores, drunks, and gamblers, were slowly replaced by workers, guards, and various jug filled carts. “Nothing makes sense,” Maximilian said. “Especially that supposedly convincing card of her. What does hanging a man have to do with anything? Best I can think of is some weird blackmail.”

“I hope not.” I spat on the ground. “If she’s half as smart as she pretends to be, she would know that threatening the Four Kings can only end badly.” I gave Maximilian a hard look. “Badly for us, that is.” Not that the emergency phrase meant a lot to me. I was just hoping that I wouldn’t need to use it. Thick was the rope that hang him. Thicker still was the deceit that bound her. Those two nonsensical lines sounded sketchy to say the least.

Various gasps could be heard behind me as the clouds finally halted their obstruction of Luna’s eye. Moonlight now finally allowed to fully wash over the Burrows, giving people a better view of the area, the Well in particular. There used to be some discussion on the actual name. They ranged from pit of misery, hell’s anus, to the ever favorite: big fucking hole in the ground. But since it made the Burrows the thing that it is today, we decided to name after it’s most valuable function. Namely water.

Surrounding the vast Well, easily the size of several market squares, were large amounts of wooden cranes. Manned and operated in some organized, yet strangely chaotic way as numerous people swarmed around its circular edge. A third of these cranes were constantly busy lowering, and raising, comically large wooden buckets. While another third had the duty of bringing up wooden platforms filled with vast amounts of earthly wealth. Be it stone, ore, crystals, or otherwise. Most of it went east, cart upon cart packed with materials, all heading towards the eastern warehouses in Fang’s housing district. Ore was shipped north to the Chameleon’s production district. Where even at night the fires of industry refused to cease in that part of the Burrows. Going west were barrels filled with crystals, and the occasional guarded convoy of crafted goods. All of which would end up somewhere in the twisted streets of Hawk’s trading district. The last third of the cranes were smaller in size, but no less important. They were the lifts that ferried people to the surface. Some that disembarked dispersed into various directions, but most headed south, towards us, their cheers and cries giving away their plans for the night.

“What is that thing?” Maximilian asked.

I chuckled at the way his mouth was hanging open. “That would be the Well. Something of a blessing, and a curse.” He gave me a confused look. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough.”

“Does it have something to do with those walls?” Yes. Yes, it does. The view inside the Well was slowly beginning to be blocked as we descended down towards the black pit. The large, red walls that encircled it, the main perpetrator. Occasionally the rocky mass was broken up by either a gatehouse, or a round tower. Each fully manned by a mixture of the various factions.

We were heading towards one such gatehouse, and the large line of people that were trying to get through its customs. “I get the distinct feeling that those walls aren’t only meant for keeping people out,” Maximilian said.

I could only snort at that statement. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“Make way!” our frontal guard shouted as we approached the mass of waiting workers. Some of them cried in protest until they turned around, and witnessed the mass of humanoid metal descending down upon them. The way they scrambled over each other in a hurry was quite the sight to behold. I could get used to this treatment.

As much as I liked seeing people behave like actual rats. The unopposed entry towards the gatehouse gave me nothing short of a bad feeling. “Why aren’t we stopping?” I asked the frontal guard. The man’s green tabard softly swayed in the wind as he continued his march onward. “Aren’t you supposed to bag the other prisoners?” Again, nothing but silence. “Shit.”

“What’s going on, Marcus? What’s this bag business all about?” Maximilian asked.

“Something really good, or something really bad,” my voice softly echoed as we passed under the portcullis. “It seems the Four Kings have already reached a decision. No need to hide the Burrows secrets if they’re going to shelter us anyway.” Maximilian let out a sigh of relief. “The same goes for soon to be dead men.”

Maximilian’s sudden choke got muffled as we exited the gatehouse. Voices, cries, and grunting filled the air, and drove away what little quiet there was. Various shops, stables, and other constructs were build against the inner walls as the sides of the road were littered with an assortment of crates, boxes, and shipments of barrels. People hustled, and bustled, along each other in various ways. So much that it was not uncommon for someone to go sprawling from the occasional shove. The Well was by far the busiest part of the Burrows. Even at night things never stopped moving in these parts.

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“Make way!” the frontal guard shouted once again. But this time it didn’t work. Not soon after, the prison guards began amassing themselves to the front as the lead guard’s commands were routinely ignored by the ever flowing tide of people. That quickly changed when the Gluttony and Wrath demons made their presence known. The way they cracked their knuckles, and licked their lips was enough to get everyone’s attention.

With traffic temporarily halted, albeit with a lot of grumbling, we were guided to a set of nearby cranes. Our lifts stood ready and waiting for us as people were prevented from getting close to them by an additional layer of guards. The lifts were of simple, yet effective design. They consisted of a rectangular wooden platforms, resting on an iron frame, with a waist-high set of walls to prevent people from falling out. The edges of the frame ended in four upwards pillars which ends were connected to four separate, thick, iron chains. These chains, in turn, were attached and operated, by the crane itself.

Unfortunately, there’s no time for sightseeing. We were swiftly herded into the lifts in groups of ten. Two guards to every eight prisoners. Seven prisoners and a demon in my case. One of the guards was holding the chained up Gob. It seemed that they didn’t bother unpacking him when he was transferred. Good. Having that natural calamity running loose was bound to get me into trouble.

One of the guards closed the entrance to the box as he gave the crane operator a big thumbs up. Not soon after the chains began to rattle as they were pulled into the crane. With a wobble the platform left the ground. Its movement almost as shaky as Maximilian’s voice. “Ehm, Marcus?” I could see the blood drain from his face as the crane slowly swiveled the lift over the dark abyss below us. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“Sucks to be you.”

Maximilian, and five others prisoners, let out girly screams as the lift suddenly lurched downwards. Only to snag to a halt a mere second later. “Now’s not the time for games, Boris!” the green clad guard yelled at the crane operator. The man inside the contraption gave him a shrug before pulling a large iron lever. This time the chains slowly lowered the lift downwards as the busy topside gradually disappeared from view.

I couldn’t help but smirk as Maximilian’s hands gripped the railing’s edge so hard, his nails were starting to leave markings. “Why are we heading into the mines?” he asked with a fear laced voice. The rest of the prisoners had been discussing similar questions as we descended into the Well. Their talk cut short now that they were looking at me for an answer.

“Contrary to what little you know. There’s a lot more than mines hidden below these grounds.”

All of them gave me blank stares. “You’ll see…”

The questions that followed soon ended when one of women peeked over the edge. “Look at all the people down there!” The rest of the group began doing the same, safe for Maximilian who was huddling near the floor for dear life. “Why are there so many?”

I leaned my arms on the railing, taking in the sights around me. I never noticed it before, but top part of the pit we were descending in seemed to form some sort of natural stone dome, one with a large cylindrical hole at its top. The same hole we finally entered through after being lowered for a good long minute. Out of habit I scanned the ceiling, the lack of light now no longer a problem, happy to see nothing clinging or crawling along it. It wasn’t for nothing. Dwellers were a constant danger in these tunnels, but at least we were equipped to deal with them. The problem lay with those few that could actually climb out. Once they made it topside they could wreak all kinds of havoc in the vulnerable living quarters. Point in case, my house. Former house, I might add. Fucking overgrown lizard.

Contend with our safety, I gazed at the usual activity below. Every part of the ground floor was washed in the murky light of low quality crystals. The different array of colors showcased people swarming and mingling in all directions. A veritable nest of human ants.

The crowd itself was split apart by a large, raging river running through the middle of this domed area. Crystal clear balls of water levitated upwards from the torrent. The various magic users, flanking the river, were hard at work at filling the empty buckets that came down. Their movement slow and deliberate as they willed the floating liquids into the wooden containers. Not all of the water was considered drinkable. A bit further downstream, a thick green sludge could be seen leaking from a hole in the ceiling. The filth gathered at the focal point of the topside’s sewers continuously fell into the churning waters below. Only to be carried downstream, towards the south, and away from the mountains themselves.

A large group of miners, and their carts full of mined materials, just came from that direction. Before they could enter the services below us they needed to pass through a series of stone fortifications. One on each side of the river, both sides connected by a series stone bridges, and both of them heavily manned by a mixture of men and demons. Although it was effective at keeping things out, it didn’t mean shit against the dwellers that could either fly, or climb. Or both. A shiver ran along my back. A former, fateful encounter with winged spiders was something I would rather forget.

We were down halfway when the same mining group reached the staging area. They checked in their materials at the various wooden buildings that dotted the landscape, and began unloading their cargo once one of them had shook hands on some kind of bargain. Coin pouches were pressed into palms before they crossed the other bridges spanning the river. A small part went to the lifts, while others chose to stay at the local establishments. Most of them, however, split off towards either the eastern tunnels, or the western tunnels. Both of them guarded by only a single set of walls, and a lot less manpower.

The lift was getting close to the ground, but was still high enough to allow us take a peek over these lonely fortifications. In the distance, both east and west, one could see more crystals lighting the way towards two separate housing sections. They almost seemed peaceful compared to the bustling town we were about to land in.

With a thud the lift hit the ground as a nearby man flipped a hourglass. The guards threw the entrance wide open before driving us out with practiced haste. The people that waited gave us a few stares, but ultimately were too busy pilling onto the platform. When the last of the sand hit the bottom of the hourglass, the lift began ascending again with its new cargo of living beings.

“What is this place?” Maximilian gasped as we were herded through the crowded streets.

I dodged a pair of drunkards that came tussling out of a nearby bar. Laughing hard when the closest Wrath demon bowled them back inside. “This is the Burrows, Max.” The stupefied look he gave me made for a good after-chuckle. “I suggest you ration your amazement. We don’t want you to run out before the big surprise, now would we?”

Other prisoners heard my answer before proceeding to barrage me with further questions. I simply waved them of as we headed upstream, and away from the hectic streets. “What are those?” a male prisoner asked as he pointed north into the distance. Where the southern, eastern, and western tunnels, were too large to be vertically blocked off. The northern one didn’t suffer from that same problem. It was smaller in size whilst being situated above ground level. The only way to reach it was by walking up a set of stairs intrinsically carved from the rock below it. Each step a work of art, just like the large stone fortifications that completely plugged the tunnel shut. Most of which consisted of hewed stone the size of a normal man. Numerous bearded faces, and other Founder like depictions, were chiseled into the blackened rock guarding the tunnel. Their countenance worn, and weathered, by the passage of time. The man, however, was pointing at the two large statues flanking the fortification’s gate. They depicted two stout, bearded men. Both clad in thick heavy armor as they crossed their axes above the only entrance. Namely a thick slab of dark metal that didn’t show any signs of moving.

“That would be the Founders,” I said. “The ones who built this entire place.”

“Are all of them that small?” the prisoner asked. Then again, probably almost anyone would look small compared to a full-blooded Glutton like him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could give Hammer a piggyback.

“We like to think they are since everything they built is not exactly tall, nor very accommodating to people like you.” I could already see several more questions start to form in their minds. “Look, all we know comes from whatever text, art, or sculpture they left behind. This place was deserted when we found it. With not even a single soul in sight. And this spot isn’t the only one. There are similar, albeit far smaller, locations littered throughout the Underground. Every single one as empty as the last.” I held out a hand. “And before you ask, we haven’t gotten a clue as to why they would leave this all behind. There’s a lot of shit stalking these tunnels, but they seemed like the sort of people that could handle it.” The frontal guard glared at me. “What? If you didn’t want me to tell them, why not bag them in the first place?” He looked away again. Idiot.

We ascended the various stone stairs before stopping at the flat area before the gate. More people were waiting here, but unlike the workers, or the miners, these were all visibly armed and armored. In addition they either wore a colored tabard, or a headband. Those few that had neither, were thoroughly inspected by a multitude of heavily armed guards, and their respectively armored summons. A mature demon was scary enough in and on itself, but a fully outfitted one easily surpassed that fear. It was like the mind just knew that fucking with one was a bad idea. Especially the one that approached us.

From a distance it could pass for a man, but up front the crystal light did a good job of dispelling that illusion. As the robbed figure drew closer, three sets of stick like arms appeared from beneath the golden threaded robes it was wearing. Two of them were rubbing their pale gray hands together as a third lifted the cowl covering its head. Revealing the pasty white head that hid beneath it. It actually couldn’t be called a head since it lacked all the features that should have come with it. No hair, no ears, no mouth, no nothing. Instead there was a single thin line that ran all the way from the top to the bottom of where its face should have been. It slowly slid open when the guard, and the demon, met each other halfway. What revealed itself was a single golden eye that looked past the lead guard, and instead rested on our huddled group of prisoners.

My mind began setting off all kinds of alarms as the guard started a conversation with it. Normally I wouldn’t fear the Hawk’s personal demon, but circumstances were different, and the fact that he was our escort meant they were taking this whole prisoner business very seriously. Almost too seriously. They both seemed to agree on something before heading back towards us. The guards simply remained silent as the demon’s eye inspected our little band of misfits one by one. It didn’t even bother looking at Gob as he squirmed for attention in a nearby guard’s grasp.

Once done, the eye closed itself as the demon gave a nod to the lead guard. Followed by a disembodied voice echoing all around us, “It seems Adeline was speaking the truth. You are all carriers of various Sins. How positively enticing.” The bottom pair of hands began rubbing themselves together. “Now, be so kind as to follow the instructions I am about to list. I don’t mind breaking you, but my master has ordered me too handle you with care. And with care I shall.” A pair of hands grabbed the head of a black haired female before pulling it closer to his own. “Unless some of you intend to defy me.” The women fervently began shaking her head. “Good.” It released her from its grip while at the same time counting down three fingers on his bony hand. “One. No talking unless spoken to. Two. You move where the guards tell you to move. Three. Do as you are told, and we will get along just fine.” It loudly clasped all six hands together. “That should be simple enough to remember. Any questions?” Several people raised their binders high. “No?” It flipped back its cowl before turning away.

“Let us depart then.”