Not particularly proud of what he did or said next, he was nevertheless so out of it, in his impotent pain and rage, that it was only after the fact that he managed to piece back together the following series of events.
In his periphery he saw his mother grasp the sleeve of Damien’s robes. She looked to be speaking with him intently, almost angrily, which should’ve come as a surprise. It was one of the very few times he’d ever seen her so openly agitated in public, after all, and it had to have been the most extreme case by far.
It looked as if she expected the envoy to do something. The young lord, clearly intimidated, glanced briefly in Jun’s direction, only to turn back to his mother with a defeated look on his face.
He shook his head sadly after which his mother's features went eerily still, relaxing back into that stoic mask she normally showed the world.
The very look that told him she was absolutely fuming.
The last thing he saw, before he was dragged kicking and screaming from the hall, was his mother's retreating figure as she swished her way towards the servant’s entrance, clear purpose evident in her long-legged stride.
It was only then that Jun’s struggles abruptly ceased. Because all of the sudden, a pertinent question came to the fore of his mind. What was the one thing he’d so carelessly overlooked in the midst of his self-absorbed temper tantrum?
The debt collector's you idiot.
In an instant the red haze that’d consumed his thoughts cleared, and he found that he could once more think rationally again. Fat lot of good that did him now. His family was in danger. This was about so much more than his personal losses.
His family was in danger!
And she had no idea. Without his businesses, without his holdings, without practically anything but the clothes on his back, there was no way he was going to be able to scrounge up the money in time.
And that was if they gave him the two-week extension he’d asked for, which they were by no means obligated to do. Not to mention, even if they’d planned to, what would they do when word of his arrest spread?
News of a young noble being arrested on the trumped-up charges he was accused of would not go unnoticed. And when the city lord waltzed in, the majority shareholder of all of his projects, it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together. He needed to warn her, at least. She needed to know.
Before he could even structure his thoughts on how he might accomplish this, however, a snide voice broke through his concentration.
“Gag him.”
A bundle of filthy cloth was shoved into his mouth and secured behind his head with a length of twine. He struggled—trying to force words through the gag—but to no avail. At the sight of his futile resistance, the satisfaction on the city lords face only grew.
“Quite the little show you put on in there,” he said as they walked. “You know, when I pictured you brought low before me, I hadn’t been so unimaginative as to think you’d actually kneel! Or turn as feral as a cornered beast, for that matter. It seems as though, regardless of how low my opinion of you had been, I’d somehow still overestimated you.”
He chuckled to himself.
“Truly, regardless of what miraculous happenstance you managed to luck your way into, you were never really anything more than a child, were you? In hindsight, I honestly can’t understand why I had been so wary of you to begin with. I should have just taken what was rightfully mine and been done with it. Would have saved me an awful lot of planning, that’s for sure. Isn’t that right boy?”
He directed this last question at Marrik. The young man nodded. He had still yet to meet Jun’s gaze.
“You know, you really should have managed your people better. Did you really believe that, just because you made sure to pamper them, they were yours? Little upstart that you are, I’m surprised to find you ignorant of something so simple. Bribery only works so long as it's you with all the coin. Paying someone off only gives them greater incentive to betray you to the first person offering more. Blackmail or kill them I say. Mercy is a fool's currency. Always has been. Oh! And speaking of which…”
Marrik snapped his head around sharply, stark terror plain in his expression.
“Wait! But you said-!“
The knife that sunk its way to the hilt in his jugular, also had the effect of shutting him up for the very last time.
“Yes, yes. I say a lot of things. But, you see, only rarely are any of those things actually true. Is it really my fault you chose to believe them? You two! Toss the body in the woods. Give the woodland creatures a feast.”
Two of the guard saluted, before carrying the body off in the direction of the tree line—his feet still kicking and a sickening gurgling sound emerging from his mouth.
Jun mumbled through his gag.
“Hmm? What’s that?” The city lord looked down on him. “Oh right. Mathew, ungag the child. Watch your fingers, though, he might bite,” a few of the soldiers chuckled as the gag was torn from his mouth.
“A message…”
“A what?”
“Please, I need to send a message. To my mother. I can pay you. Two million spirit coins for a message, a sentence, or even just a few words. Please…?”
The city lord's expression froze for an instant, before he broke out into joyous peals of laughter. His outburst was followed by a ripple of cruel snickers from all around.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Bring a message to his mother, he says!” the city lord exclaimed, barely able to catch his breath.
“For two million, I’ll tell her whatever the kid wants,” proclaimed one of the guards. “You want it in writing? Or, ooh, I could give you a triple pinky promise! Sound like a deal? Money up front though, aye kid? How about it?”
As the laughter redoubled, a bulky guard spoke up next.
“Heh, you see the legs on that one? Got a message for her right here, if you get me,” he tugged suggestively at his crotch. The soldiers guffawed, with the city lord’s reedy tones the loudest among them.
Jun felt nauseous. He hadn’t really expected it to work, but he’d had to try.
“Jun! I-! If you really wanted, I could-!”
No. Absolutely not. Ivory? These men? They’re bad men. Very bad. If you go out there, you’ll be killed. Doesn’t matter how fast you are. You won’t be safe if they see you.
“But Jun, your mother…!”
I know.
And he did know.
Suddenly all the precautions he’d failed to consider, the many sensible measures he hadn’t taken—in his complacency, in his stupidity—sped to the fore. All of them eagerly clamoring for his attention. He’d thought he’d had more time. By all rights he should’ve had more time. And now…?
The city lord collected himself—dabbing a tear from the corner of his eye. when he turned to face Jun, however, all mirth had been drained from his face. To be replaced by a sneering mask of pure and utter disdain.
“The thing you can’t seem to wrap your silly little head around, boy, is that I do not owe you A GODS DAMNED THING! Nor do I need your coin for that matter. Well, no more than I already have, that is.”
He clutched Jun by the face with hands like a vice and yanked his head up sharply, until their noses were almost touching. His pungent breath wafted from mere inches away, so ripe it made his eyes water.
“It seems as though you’re operating under some sort of false assumption here. Perhaps you’re thinking that things will turn out well ‘so long as you hold out hope.’ Please, allow me to enlighten you on how things are actually going to proceed—to alleviate any lingering optimism you may be harboring.”
The man cleared his throat, as if preparing for a performance.
“A little ways beneath my royally appointed residence, there lies a prison. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s where we keep all the bad people. The miscreants, and the thieves, and the chronically perverse. Where we let them stew. See the error of their ways and reap the consequences of their own actions. We lock them up tight. Then, after what only ever amounts to a few months at most, their time is officially considered served. And, just like that, they’re allowed straight back out into society. Free men—exonerated and with a brand-new lease on life. All in all, not too bad, as far as imprisonment goes. Enviable even.”
The city lord paused before continuing.
“Because beneath that little life of luxury, there is a dungeon. Fewer people know about this place, we use it so rarely. It’s where we send the really bad people. Your typical rapists and your two-bit murderers. The ones stupid enough to get caught, anyway. Them? Oh, they don’t get to leave. For them, we slam the door and throw away the key. Although! It’s not as if it’s all bad. They still receive two entire meals a day, and all the water they can drink. And while it’s not often the best fare, there’s always a surplus of idiots in this world, so at the very least they’ll have company while they choke down the rotting swill. It’s not great, admittedly, but it is livable.
“Below that, however. Far, far, below. Where there’s no company to be found, nor curated meals, or even light to see by, there is another place. An awful place. Tell me? Would you like to know what that place is?”
The city lord looked deeply into Jun’s eyes with a face enraptured by the prolonged mental torment. When Jun didn’t respond, the city lord dug his nails in harder and shook him violently.
“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”
“…w-what?”
He tried to sound defiant, but it was impossible with the man’s hand gripping his jaw—nails digging into flesh to the point of drawing blood. The city lord smiled victoriously.
“Far, far beneath your feet, in the depths beyond even the deepest, darkest recesses—many kilometers below the domain of man—so far that even some of the gods fear to tread, there is a pit.”
image [https://i.ibb.co/rw6tMBB/IMG-2711.png]
“Don’t know about spring, but hope you have a nice fall!”
And, with a merry heave ho, the two junior guardsmen dumped his sorely abused body into the unsuspecting hole—the stomach flipping sensation of free fall terrifying, though brief.
There was an audible smack as his tender ribs met hard stone, and it was all that he could do to protect the tight bundle pressed up against his chest. Within seconds the echoes of raucous laughter and backslapping receded—their slightly tipsy steps taking with them the only light source he’d known for many hours now.
He supposed it wasn’t the worst line they could have ended things on. It’d taken them the whole trip and four flasks of liquor to formulate. And that kind of dedication, apparently, payed dividends.
It was definitely better than, “see you never dickhead!” which had been a very close second.
While the long trek through and endless series of cramped tunnels had been torture on his broken body, it had helped to keep his mind somewhat occupied. The city lord, of course, hadn’t forgone the opportunity to get a few last kicks in before Jun’s inevitable banishment to the depths. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have trusted anything less. No one could say the man wasn’t consistent.
Jun rolled over with a groan, wincing at the shifting of ribs he now suspected to be cracked, if not outright broken. Head pounding and thoughts elusive, he nevertheless tried his best to assess his situation.
First things first, his body. It hurt. Check.
Next came his surroundings. Well, for one thing, he couldn’t really see, which instantly made this next step a great deal more difficult.
Without light, or the want to move, there wasn’t much he could do to scout his surroundings. He could only realistically make his best guesses and hope for the best. So, what did he know? It was a hole.
Lovely.
Just as advertised. Not overly large, as far as he could tell, though thankfully, not overly small either. The way the city lord had explained it, he’d been picturing a hole so narrow that his shoulders touched the sides while standing.
Jun shuddered.
Praise be to small miracles, he supposed.
Now, if only he could see. If he could see then he could…w-well, he wasn’t sure what he could do exactly, but it had to be better than doing nothing. It was a goal at least and right now he was desperately in need of those.