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Dexter
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The next stop for me and Dumag was WhiteRock prison; the place that once housed the general until just a few days ago. If the Elites were going to be drawn in, we needed to put the artifacts where we might keep their friends. If my guess was right, they wouldn’t think it weird that we stuck them in the same place they just broke out from. The white stone monolith of a prison loomed closer as we approached, marked by the familiar sign above the door, an orc trapped behind a series of wrought-iron bars. My mind meandered back to Agrigoth’s as we approached, nagging at me as it focused on my words to Rulfim. It juggled them obsessively as I tried to make sense of her downcast expression. I let out a sigh as I shook my head and tried to banish the repeating thoughts. Dumag appeared to notice my discomfort and turned to me with concern. “Is something the matter?” He asked.
I let out a sigh as I shook my head again. “It’s nothing,” I replied dismissively, trying to convince myself as well. “Just something that’s bugging me.”
Dumag gave me a skeptical look as we continued walking. “I have not known you for long,” he admitted, “but even I know when you are being dishonest.” The silence hung for a moment before he continued. “Is it something of significance?” He probed.
I sighed again as I stopped and nervously rubbed the back of my neck. Dumag stopped as well as he turned to me expectantly. I thought for a moment before finally formulating my words, the obsessive thoughts disintegrating as it was exposed to the light. “I said something wrong back there, didn’t I.” Dumag didn’t reply for a second and I assumed I was being unclear. “Back when I was examining their catalog,” I explained, gesturing back the way we’d come. “I’ve had enough encounters like that to know when it happens. I say something and all of a sudden someone or everyone around me glares at me as if I’d just spat in their face. It happened there, didn’t it.”
Dumag glanced away for a moment as he appeared to consider before turning back. “I believe your words were rather dismissive of the girl’s idea,” he finally replied. “I would have chosen gentler words but I believe it only gave haste to their notion of business. However, I fail to see the significance of this revelation.”
I let out an exasperated sigh as I stared upward. “Of course that’s why.” I sighed. “I should have known.” I turned back to see Dumag giving me a look of hesitation and I explained further. “I … have trouble selecting the same words everyone else does. Sometimes that results in making it seem like I’m apathetic or that I have a distaste for whatever they just said. I don’t mean it. If anything, I’m trying to convey a different idea. It’s just … I tend to fall short on what I actually mean.”
Dumag glanced back the way we’d come as he let out a thoughtful hmm. “If you are aware of this,” he said thoughtfully, “have you not attempted to expand your vernacular and mitigate such events?”
I let out an exasperated sigh as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s not as simple as that. I’ve tried to be more conscious of what I say but I can’t help what comes out of my mouth sometimes. It’s a deeper problem than just what words I know.”
Dumag furrowed his brow at the retort as he tilted his head. “You have no means of dissuading such problems?”
I let out another sigh as I shook my head again. “It runs in the family,” I muttered angrily. “It’s a problem that my dad and all of my siblings have. I-” I hesitated for a moment as I realized I might have said too much again. I turned to Dumag and saw that he had a stoic but thoughtful expression.
He gave me a curious look as he saw that I had stopped mid-sentence. “This is an ailment you are aware of?” He asked, likely asking what the ailment was as well.
I let out one last sigh as I considered what to say next, wondering if I was comfortable revealing this about myself. I gritted my teeth sharply as I reminded myself of what we’d gone through already. I owed him my life. The least I could do was be honest with him. I let out a slow breath as I chose my words carefully. “Yeah. It’s something I’m aware of,” I admitted. “It’s something my dad has known about since his surgery.” Dumag gave me a quizzical look and I quickly explained. “It’s a procedure, kind of like a ritual, where certain humans put another human to sleep with the help of drugs. Then they cut them open and perform certain tasks on the organs inside. Amelia would know more; you should ask her. In any case, my family has an abnormal brain structure. From what my dad has told me, it’s a dominant trait, something that Iand all of my siblings have.” I tapped my head as I tried to remember where the specific structure was located. “The hypothalamus, the part of the brain that deals with emotions and other things, it’s inflamed; larger than normal, specifically around the parts that deal with emotion. I’m pretty sure my dad just called it overdeveloped.”
Dumag’s curious expression did not falter as he continued to gaze at me. “This is the reason for your irritation?” He asked astutely.
I nodded as I rubbed the back of my neck. “In all honesty, I sometimes wish it would never happen.” I sighed. “It’s useful when you want to be loud but it just gets in the way most of the time, especially when it comes to making friends. It used to be terrible to deal with. Hell, I’ve been friends with Damian for so long because he understood that I couldn’t control my emotions.”
Dumag nodded as well as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I have not considered outlying conditions.” He remarked. “I merely assumed this to be a product of your parentage.”
It was my turn to give Dumag a curious look. He was strangely understanding of what I was talking about. “No, it’s definitely not from my parents,” I remarked, a little insulted at the idea. “If anything, my dad helped me control it. … You’re not curious about how we know what the structure does?”
Dumag looked taken aback for a moment then shrugged. “I have a passing understanding of Cerebration,” he explained. “I know that the mind is composed of many individual components and it is these united functions that produce thought. I am curious how you outsiders came to know the mind, but if your creations are beyond my understanding, then it stands to reason so is your worldly knowledge.”
I let out a sigh of relief as I chuckled to myself. “I guess I should have considered you knew about that already. Though, I assume you would have a different name for the part that I’m talking about.”
Dumag nodded again, as he tilted his head, seeming to think heavily. “I cannot recall much, but I am certain I have not heard of a hy-po-thal-amus before. … Are there any other effects that come about from your condition?”
I let out a reluctant sigh as I nodded, recalling the very reason that I had stopped us in the first place. “Yeah. Unfortunately, there are,” I admitted, not quite liking my own explanation. “My dad explains it better. Then again, he’s the one that’s explained it more. It basically goes like this. There’s only so much room in the head for the brain. If one part is larger than normal then other parts of my brain have to be smaller to make space. Usually, it’s localized in one part, but other times it’s smaller pieces from multiple parts. For my dad, it was many parts that were shrunk down. For me and my siblings, it seems that different parts got the short end of the stick for each of us. For me, it was my empathy and my ability to consider the feelings of others. That’s why …” I let out a tired sigh as I gestured back towards Agrigoth’s. “That’s why I seemed so dismissive. That’s why I’m not great with people. I’m not as able to consider how my words might come across. It’s been a problem I’ve had for my whole life. It’s rare that I ever foresee the problem beforehand and counteract it. … It’s just how I am.” I dropped my head slightly as a feeling of depression washed over me. It was hard when I was younger, back before I knew how to handle my own emotions. I could recall countless times when I just wished I could be rid of this affliction when I couldn’t keep it together; friendships ruined, classmates appalled by me, teachers thinking I was having trouble at home. It was honestly a bit of relief that we moved. At least there I could have a fresh start.
Dumag was silent as I mulled over my thoughts. After a moment he let out a thoughtful sigh, causing me to look up. He was running a finger across the scar on his face as he spoke. “We do not choose our demons,” he muttered, “but we can choose how to fight them.” He was silent for another moment as he seemed to think deeply. He finally sighed again as he turned back to me. “I cannot say I understand your plight,” he admitted. “Even comprehending this ailment and its implication will take effort on my part. However, I can stand by your side, should you ever require assistance.” He rested a hand on my shoulder as he gave me a rare smile. “I am glad that you confided in me. I am certain the others will understand as well.”
Strangely, the assurance gave me some form of relief. I let out a sigh as my anxiety seemed to dissipate from my shoulders. I turned to the prison before us as I finally focused on the task at hand. “Let’s do it then,” I muttered determinedly. “We have a trap to bait.”
With that, Dumag and I entered the prison proper. The white marble stone continued throughout the building and appeared to act as a harsh insulator. Just stepping into the entrance room felt like stepping into a warm bath. The room itself was heavily guarded, each exit flanked by a pair of guards. Two of the exits near the back were locked behind a series of thick wrought iron bars each leading towards a wing of cells while two other exits, hidden behind more sensible but still formidable-looking doors, near the front led to some place I hadn’t seen before. Torches sat in sconces, bolted along the wall intermittently and casting the light in a familiar orange hue. The far wall also had a large door, bound in more wrought iron and carved with an intricate design of swirls and lines. It kind of reminded me of one of those old Viking designs. The door was guarded by a stone desk, behind which sat no less than three different guards. It looked like one of those bank teller desks, without the large plexiglass dividers. All eyes turned as Dumag and I entered the room.
I leaned towards Dumag as I scanned the room in kind. “There are a lot more here than I remember,” I whispered.
Dumag nodded as his stern expression returned. “Of course,” he breathed in response. “Their most valuable prisoner was allowed to walk free under their guard. There is every reason to be cautious.”
I nodded as we walked forward, approaching the stone desk at the far end of the room. “Well, let’s hope they’re open to this idea,” I said quietly, closing the gap between us and the desk.
The three orcs behind the solid stone counter eyed me and Dumag as we approached, likely on alert from the recent breakout. I stepped up to the middle orc as I tried to put on a reassuring smile. He did not appear to return the sentiment. “Outsider?” He asked, skepticism dripping from his voice as he reached for something behind the desk.
I nodded affirmatively as I rested my hand on the desk. “Is your warden in?” I asked, getting to the point quickly. “My friend and I have something we need to discuss with him.”
The orc gave a knowing glance to the guard on his left, causing them to stand and circle the desk, moving towards one of the doors near the front of the room. The guard tapped the desk, drawing my attention as he set down two vials and a small needle. “What is your business here?” He asked, a hint of curiosity hidden amongst the monotony of a rehearsed line.
I failed to notice as I glanced back and saw the guard enter the door on the left side of the room. “It’s about those guys that busted the general out,” I replied. Turning back to the first orc. He gave me an even more quizzical look as Dumag reached into his bag and rummaged for the pouch of enchanted items. “We might have a way of drawing them back.”
The orc continued to give me a quizzical look as he dipped a fresh quill into the inkwell and began writing. “And what are your names?” He continued, keeping his monotonous tone of rehearsal. I nodded as Dumag finally extracted the pouch and we performed a quick introduction. The guard nodded as he jotted something down then glanced at something on the desk, hidden by a dividing wall. “And do you have any intention that would harm the security or integrity of this prison?” He asked, not looking at us directly.
I glanced at Dumag again, really confused before turning back and shaking my head. “Not really, no,” I replied. A brief shift in color flashed across the guard's face before it returned to its normal hue.
The guard waited a moment before glancing at Dumag expectantly. Dumag hesitated for a second before growing his own reply of “Of course not.”
The guard glanced again as a brief flash of color appeared behind the divider before he nodded and jotted something down, letting out a sigh of relief. “As a precautionary measure, I shall have to ask the both of you to submit a sample of your essence.” He then finally placed the needle and the two vials on the counter. “Any amount will do,” he said as he gestured at the glass containers. “Just be quick about it.” I glanced at Dumag then at the guards around us as I tried to take in the atmosphere. There was a silent tension in the guards that wasn’t there when I last visited. I reasoned that it was justified to be this nervous. They just had the most infamous escape occur not even a day ago. The general was still out there, after all. I nodded as I finally picked up one of the vials and the needle. It appeared to be made out of some kind of animal bone and was sharpened to a point. It wasn’t as small as a sewing needle, but it wasn’t a large thing either. It was more like a toothpick that threatened to cut me at any moment. I chuckled to myself as I realized, “That’s exactly what it was about to do.”
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I let out a calming breath as I lifted the needle to the index finger on my left hand. “Mathew always hated needles,” I said, distracting myself for a moment before I quickly jabbed. I was rewarded with a sharp twinge of pain and a drop of blood quickly beginning to pool on the tip of my finger. Unfortunately, my own reminder of my oldest brother sent a wave of remorse over me. I handed the needle to Dumag as he took his own vial and I distracted myself again by finishing the purpose of the pinprick. I squeezed out a drop or two and let it fall into the tiny glass container. The container was so small, that even such a small amount appeared to fill it halfway. I instinctively sucked on the offending digit as I finished extracting and handing the vial to the guard. I glanced at Dumag out of curiosity and was surprised to see he had still not pricked himself. “What’s wrong?” I asked, removing the finger for a moment to look up at Dumag.
Dumag did not answer at first, instead choosing to stare solemnly at the needle, contemplating quietly. He finally let out a sigh as an expression of … nostalgia? … crossed his face. “I once considered myself a follower of Xutjja,” He sighed. “Yet I have spilled so much blood that I am uncertain if I would be acknowledged anymore.”
I felt a twinge of realization as I recalled what Bruga had said back at the farm. “That’s your moon god, right?” I asked. “You consider blood to be sacred.”
Dumag nodded solemnly as another rare smile crossed his face. “I suppose Bruga told you such,” he said wistfully. He continued to grin as he stared at the needle for another moment longer.
I gave him a curious look as I recalled he had willingly given some of his blood to complete the tracking spell. “Does he ever make exceptions?” I asked. “It’s not going to doom you or anything.”
Dumag chuckled at the apparent absurdity of the remark. “I see she did not tell you much beyond the sanctity,” He said cryptically. He shook his head as he quickly pressed the needle into his skin, not so much as flinching as he pinched a few drops into his own vial. “I oft forget your inexperience with my people. Your mannerisms are so akin to our teachings that one could almost mistake you for one of us.”
I chuckled as Dumag set his vial on the counter as well, pressing into his cut as he returned the bone needle. “Again, you can thank my dad for that,” I repeated. “He taught a lot of the things I know.” I fiddled with the tiny pinprick on my hand as the guard behind the counter took the vials and appeared to tie a label to each. I thought forlornly about my current predicament as I was reminded that I was technically trapped in this new world. “I hope my family is doing okay,” I muttered, almost to myself. “I can’t imagine what must be going through their heads right now.”
I barely noticed Dumag nodding solemnly as he patted a calloused hand on my shoulder comfortingly. “I am certain they are well,” He sighed. “If they are anything like you, then they are-”
“Outsider!” A jovial shout echoed from behind us, causing me and Dumag to turn with a start. A new orc was walking over, accompanying the orc that had left his seat behind the stone desk. I recognized him offhandedly as the warden of the prison. The guards around us seemed to tighten their stance, not relaxing under the apparently relaxed expression of their boss. Unlike most other orcs, he had a dark beard covering his jaw. A glint of metal peaked out from beneath his shawl, hinting at the chest plate that sat hidden behind the drape of fur. A large mace hung from his hip, splatters of dried blood sprinkling the heavy weapon. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” The warden continued, not moving to introduce himself.
I let out a tired sigh as the shout of “Outsider!” still rung in my head. “Just call me Dexter, please,” I said first and foremost. “But we’re here to discuss something that might interest you.”
The warden’s relaxed expression appeared to falter and briefly be replaced with … concern? “Does this matter relate to … the convict?” He asked hesitantly, managing to keep his jovial expression.
I glanced at the surrounding guards, a bit on edge by the warden’s demeanor. “I think we might have a solution,” I replied, trying to be as vague as possible. “Do you have a safe place to talk?”
The warden nodded as he glanced at the guard behind the desk. “Have you taken a sample of their essence?” He asked. The guard nodded as he held up the two vials, each with a label now tied to their short neck. The warden nodded in response as he turned back to me and Dumag and gestured for us to follow. “Come. Let us speak in my office.” He then pointed to the guard still holding up the vials. “Take those to the cold storage room.” The guard nodded without question and stood just as the other guard took his seat back behind the desk. Dumag and I followed the warden as he led us towards the door. I half expected it to open and find us standing in his office, but instead, the door just led to a long hallway, more doors, and doorways lining either side of the walls. The warden tapped on the pale white stone as we passed. “The prison is surrounded by the guard’s quarters,” he explained as he appeared to notice my confusion. “Any attempt to chisel or dig through the walls will only ever lead them to their demise.” I nodded as I peaked into one of the doorways and saw a medieval kitchen, a pair of orcs working diligently to prepare some kind of stew in a large cauldron set above a fireplace in the wall.
I glanced in another door and saw a wide array of weapons, one orc using some sort of spinning stone to sharpen an axe. I turned back down the hallway in time to see another pair of orcs, carrying what looked to be beets and cabbage in wooden bins and squeezing past, our group heading the other way. I wiped a veil of sweat from my forehead as I realized that it was hot and the vegetables that had just gone by still had a thin layer of frost to them. “What’s with the heat?” I asked, fanning myself with my shirt. “It seemed so cool back near the entrance.”
Strangely, the warden let out a barking laugh as he glanced back at me. “I suppose you would not know,” he remarked cryptically. He seemed about to continue but appeared to stop himself as he shook his head. “A matter best discussed in my office,” He appeared to say to himself. “After a few of my questions are answered.”
I glanced towards Dumag to get a bead on his thoughts. He merely wiped a trail of sweat from his own head as he shrugged. I turned back as we continued to follow the warden, turning first one corner then another. The heat appeared to amplify as we walked between the first and second corners. Out of curiosity, I tapped my sweat-soaked hand on the wall but flinched back as the perspiration quickly steamed and evaporated away. “What the fuck?” I muttered, fanning my hand in the hot air.
The warden chuckled as he appeared to notice my confusion. “I suppose the fires are rather high today,” He chuckled, scratching his dry head as he led us further along the hall. “I shall have to make a note to the keepers.”
I let out an annoyed sigh as I glanced around. The hallway itself didn’t seem to branch or turn beyond the two corners I could see. I felt my scalp grow damp and I wiped away the sweat once more. Strangely enough, the layout seemed familiar. We passed more doors and I glanced in, seeing more guards tending to their gear or resting, likely waiting for their next shift. A few glanced our way as we passed, but relaxed as we moved on. It wasn’t until we turned the second corner and I saw a third in the distance did I realize what it was. The hallway was laid out similarly to the Institute, looping back on itself and forming a large ring around the center of the building. What I also noticed was the heat quickly dissipating, a strange sensation as the warden led us toward the center of the long hallway. Here, the hallway formed a T, leading into an alcove with a large pair of double doors at the end of it. Similar engraving as the one I had seen at the front entrance was carved into this door, but there appeared to be greater care and detail put into this guardian. Faint runic glyphs were scattered about the door, glowing and fading at random intervals as we approached. The door was flanked by two guards, each tapping their fist to their chest as the warden approached. “At ease,” the warden muttered, placing a hand on the door. The door’s glyphs appeared to flash for a moment before the door let out a loud clunk and began to swing open. The warden gestured for me and Dumag to follow him inside before closing the door behind us.
The room within was a strange combination of cozy and immaculate. A thick stone desk sat in the center of the room upon which were scattered a series of papers and inkwells and various knickknacks. The far wall had its own fireplace going, something I found rather strange to need after walking through that sweltering hallway. Above that seemed to rest innumerable trophies. Deer, bear, boar, and even an oversized falcon head that I was almost afraid to ask about. The mantle above the fireplace was similarly decorated with what looked to be trophies of a different variety. A curving sword, an elven helmet with a distinctive dent in it, a pouch of a different quality than the ones I had seen Dumag use. The left wall was dominated by an all-encompassing bookshelf, filled with what looked to be old tomes. The right wall was similarly filled with more weapons; axes, maces, swords, even a flail, the handle splintered and dangling where it was hung. The warden moved around and sat at the desk, gesturing for me and Dumag to sit in a pair of chairs in front of the desk.
Dumag and I complied as the warden laced his fingers together and rested his head upon them. “Now then,” he said, his jovial tone now replaced with a more stern expression. “What is this solution you have devised?”
I glanced towards Dumag, once again trying to get a bead on his thoughts but only being met with his usual serious expression. I finally sighed as I gestured towards the door behind us. “Can I first ask what that sweltering hallway was about?” I asked, fanning my chest with my shirt.
The warden smirked and chuckled at my curiosity as he reached down and placed a familiar-looking candle on the desk; white wax with green and yellow flakes dotted throughout. “Of course,” he said turning and reaching towards the fireplace behind him. He grabbed a long stick and dipped it into the crackling embers, allowing the implement to catch before turning back and using it to light the candle he had just grabbed. “But first,” he said, tossing the stick into the fire once the candle was lit, “We must first establish ourselves.” His grin didn’t falter as he introduced himself. “I am Rurigig Knuguk, warden of this prison, and I would first ask your names, relevant titles, and intentions before I answer any of your questions; from both of you of course.”
The candle suddenly flickered and the flame turned green, marking itself as a Candor Candle. I nodded as I understood his request and promptly complied. “I am Dexter Rodriguez,” I responded, “Champion of the Butterfly, and I’m here to try and capture the people that facilitated the general’s escape.” The warden glanced at the candle and watched the green flame before nodding and turning to Dumag.
Dumag introduced himself as well as he reached into his shawl and extracted the pouch of items. “I am Dumag Urbul, a teacher at the Institute, and I have brought a set of objects that will draw them back towards this prison.”
Rurigig raised an eyebrow at the claim as he glanced at the candle, once again watching it turn a bright green before turning back to us, snuffing out the candle with the tips of his fingers. “I must say, I find that hard to believe,” He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “They were so elusive that rumor has it no one even saw their face. Hard to believe, naturally,” he said as he leaned back in his seat and spread his arms out. “As you saw, there is constant movement within these walls and more within the cells of this prison.”
I nodded as I let out a sigh. “Well, if you can believe it, what your guards didn’t see weren’t their faces.”
The warden cocked an eyebrow as his expression briefly shifted to confusion. “Is that so?” He asked skeptically.
I nodded as I gestured to the pouch in Dumag’s hand. “The people we’re looking for are far more capable than you can imagine,” I explained. “From our brief encounter with them, we learned that they use magical items to sneak by unnoticed. Fortunately, we were able to capture some of them and we plan to use these to draw the others in.”
The warden’s eyes narrowed at the claim, seemingly unconvinced at the prospect. He finally gestured for Dumag to hand over the pouch as curiosity appeared to get the best of him. Dumag complied and set the pouch on the desk in front of the warden. Rurigig reached his hand into the pouch, surprised at the fact that his entire forearm seemed to disappear before he finally extracted the iron key. He set the item down as he reached in again and extracted the feather, then the elven pouch, and finally the set of bracelets. However, as he set the last item on the desk, the bracelets appeared to touch and a short mace suddenly sprang up and clattered in place on the desk, knocking a few papers and inkwell off and causing all three of us to jump. “What The Sard?” The warden exclaimed, grabbing the handle of his mace and glaring at the intruding weapon.
I jumped in surprise too, practically jumping to stand in my seat, shocked by the loud intrusion. I tilted my head as I examined the handle of the weapon that suddenly appeared before us. At this size, I could see many of the graceful lines and curves that gave the weapon an elven appearance, contrasting the thick and stocky mace still dangling from the warden’s hip. Scanning the handle itself revealed that the bracelets were still there, but they appeared to be hugging the weapon as if the metal itself attracted the items. The one with all the weapon charms appeared to be physically attached while the bronze key just appeared … stuck. I let out a sigh as I reached out and grabbed the bronze key bracelet and pulled. “I think I know what one of these things works now,” With a sharp pop the key came free and the mace quickly shrank back, letting the other bracelet slump onto the desk. “Just … Don’t let them touch.” I set the sister bracelet poignantly away from the other one before sitting back down with a sigh.
The warden’s eyes narrowed a he appeared skeptical of my almost nonchalant reaction to the sudden display of magic. “You did not know this would occur?” He growled. “You did not study these before bringing them here?” He did not sound please with the idea at all.
I felt a twinge of apprehension as I once again felt guiltily in the wrong, but Dumag quickly spoke, cutting off any chance for the thought to sink in. “We were short pressed on time,” He explained, gesturing at the items. “Considering our knowledge of these people and their capabilities we thought it best to secure this in a stalwart location first before extracting their intricate incantations.”
The warden’s eyes narrowed once more as he sat back down and relaxed his grip on the weapon. He sighed as he leaned on the desk, examining the four items at a distance and glancing at the two of us on occasion. He finally sighed again as he once more leaned back in his seat, glancing between me and Dumag. “You had best explain everything,” he said, leaning forward again and resting his knuckles together before setting his head behind his hands. “What you saw, what you did, and what you intend to do now.” He then reached down at tapped the desk, indicating the bundle of objects, before returning to his inspecting pose. “From the beginning, if you must.”
I glanced at Dumag skeptically. He returned a stern expression before nodding. I let out one last tired breath before I turned back to the warden. “This is going to be one long day,” I thought as I began my explanation.
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