Franz

Andiol Empire

When Franz Landez awoke, he had no idea whether it was day or night. He had dozed off for a while, but woke up to a chill. His back ached and his legs were numb from bad posture. Sleep had come in small doses, and waking up was always just as miserable. He had been given nothing but a thin blanket, even though the stone walls radiated cold.

After Franz fumbled in the darkness to the door, he found a fresh ration that had been pushed through the hatch. It must have been daytime, the third day in captivity.

There was nothing on the plate but a thin soup and a morsel of dry bread, but one could hardly expect any better. The vital thing was that they had not stopped bringing him food, even though he had not answered the questions the way the interrogators wanted.

He shook his stiff limbs for a while before crouching down on the soup plate with a blanket over his shoulders. The food had been gobbled up in no time, but his stomach was not full afterwards. He sighed and flopped back onto the blanket. Once again, his thoughts drifted back to the moments after the fall of governor Monteilon.

* * *

Franz had done as Andreuz Sandkan asked: he had dashed to baker Mommes' house. He had banged on the baker's door as if it were the last day. When the baker came to the door in a huff, Franz had said, gasping for breath, the words from Josel's father: "Message from Sandkan. It's an emergency. The governor is being transferred to a shelter."

Hearing this, the baker Mommes no longer seemed angry, but frightened. "Shadow Cross?" he had asked.

"Yes, they attacked the palace," Franz had panted back.

The baker had told Franz to hurry home and forget he had ever been at his door. According to Mommes, they would not know each other if they bumped into each other in the streets of Paidos.

At home, Franz had found his mother sitting in the kitchen. Like so many times before, Ginnavere Landez had waited for her son to come home for the night. Now the sounds of gunfire had made her doubly worried. Franz had explained to his mother what had happened, but had been careful not to mention Josel or his father.

* * *

The next day, all of Paidos was in a state of chaos. The people who were moving through the streets were restless and frightened. They hurriedly took care of the bare necessities while trying not to attract the attention of the shadow sentries that swarmed everywhere.

Franz, on the contrary, could not be persuaded to stay at home. After his mother left in the morning to the family's general store, he slipped into town.

As soon as he stepped outside, he smelled smoke in the wind. That, along with his hunch, led him to the Sandkans' house in the next block. There was a sense of finality in the sight of the still smouldering wreck. Josel was gone - hopefully far enough away to be safe.

The governor's palace was also damaged by fire. The people of Paidos, who dared to whisper on the street corners, gossiped that the Shadow Cross had killed the governor. Others claimed that Dareis Monteilon had escaped. No one knew the fate of Sandkans.

Armed to the teeth, the shadow sentries scoured every house and corner, looking for the emperor's officials and the still fleeing soldiers of the City Guard. Soldiers who would give up resistance were promised amnesty, but the fate of those who continued to fight against the Shadow Cross would be merciless.

A strange excitement bubbled up inside Franz. The situation was so fascinating yet terrifying at the same time. It was as if a great claw had taken hold of Paidos and shaken it to the core. Somehow Franz had a premonition that the upheaval in the town would not stop there.

Was this the adventure Franz been dreaming of for so long? No, he was pretty sure of that. In any case, the defeat of the imperial governor brought a change to everyday life. Maybe it was not yet an adventure, but at least something worth remembering.

Franz thanked his lucky stars when he found his two remaining friends unharmed in their homes. Bartos, though, was pale and frightened, for the shadow sentries had been searching for his father since dawn. Fortunately, Bartos' parents had spent the night safely in their country home. A servant had been sent after them to warn Mr and Mrs Rigailon to stay away from the town in future. Officials loyal to their governor, such as Bartos' father, faced the worst fate under the rule of Isendar Vargan.

Naturally, Bartos and Darren asked about Josel. Franz remembered the promise he had made to Andreuz Sandkan, but he shared the information with his friends anyway. Together they weighed up the situation from every possible angle, and finally concluded that Josel's father was more than just a poorly selling author. None of the boys dared to speak of their common fear that they would never see their golden-haired friend again.

While they were loitering around the town centre, Franz recalled something that, in retrospect, should have been forgotten. In his own restless way, with his mind in a whirl, he explained to his two friends Josel's request to deliver a message to Jolanda.

At the same time, Franz wondered how to get in touch with this Jolanda, whose face he could hardly remember. Giesela! The girl had told him that she somehow knew Josel's crush. This sassy girl would be useful for once. Franz swore himself that he would ferret out where Jolanda was living.

Giesela was easy to find at her home. Franz was disgusted by her pretentious way of speaking, but he behaved as politely as he could. Franz's temperament made it difficult, for he was used to saying out loud what was on his mind, rather than flattering someone.

Fortunately, Giesela, who was in a good mood, promised to take Franz to see Jolanda at short notice. She would just have to make sure that Jolanda was at home first.

"A lost errand across town isn't worth it," Giesela had chirped in her girlish voice.

After the girl had gone, Franz bought a stuffed bread roll from a street vendor. While gnawing it he impatiently marched to the place where Giesela had said she would meet him. He had chased Bartos and Darren away earlier. Franz had promised to take Josel's message to Jolanda and then, sure enough, he would do it alone.

It was a long walk to Belfry Hill where Giesela had told him Jolanda lived. Franz seldom went there, even though he had explored all of Paidos as a little boy.

Fed up with the constant chores, his mother's orders or the racket of his younger siblings, Franz had often escaped to the hustle and bustle of the town. It was only when he was speeding along the back bridge of the rail carriage on the other side of town that he could feel truly free. The movement was the main thing, not where he was going.

On these trips Franz had sometimes asked Josel to join him, less often Darren or Bartos. Although he appreciated the company of his friends, sometimes he had to be alone. The others did not fully understand the euphoria he felt when he was out on the town. The strange people in the streets of Paidos, the deserted houses that smelled of abandoned life, the cemeteries bathed in the shadows of the fading evening - these created the happiness of Franz's childhood years.

Over time, Paidos had become all too familiar, and Franz, now seventeen, found little new in his hometown. Oh, how he longed to be further away! Away from the familiar and safe rows of houses in Paidos, away from his annoyingly squeaky siblings, and above all away from the Landez General Store, whose monotonous shop work he hated.

Of course, Franz loved his mother, sisters and brother. That was the only reason he had not already left. Yet every soldier he encountered in the tavern or every merchant from a faraway land made him think more seriously about running away. There had to be something else to life than the constant, flat routine. So many times he had dreamed of being born in another place, somewhere much more exciting than the stable and dull Paidos.

* * *

Franz clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw Giesela come around the corner, hips swaying. He had waited for her until he was bored, and now she dared to show up at the meeting place as if nothing had happened.

So Franz asked bluntly: "Where's Jolanda?"

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Giesela wrinkled her pig's nose, but replied more politely and maturely than expected: "Please follow me, it's not a long way."

They passed a large stone house and an equally large building next to it. Behind the other building was a gateway, which Giesela assumed led to their destination.

The gatehouse looked vaguely familiar to Franz. Later, sitting in his cell, he wished for a better memory. Then he would have had time to turn and run.

There was no Jolanda waiting for Franz. Giesela told him to go alone through the gateway into the courtyard. The first door on the left would lead him to Jolanda. Coming from someone other than his own classmate, such words would have made Franz hesitate. Now he just grunted his thanks and followed the instructions.

Franz had barely stepped through the gate when someone tackled him to the ground. Groaning in pain, he turned his head to see three malicious-looking men in the colours of the Shadow Cross. A quick glance at the courtyard reminded Franz of a visit to the same place a few years earlier. On that occasion, he and Josel had slipped away from the grumpy shadow sentries who, moments before, had dragged a struggling, chained man behind a sturdy iron door into the darkness.

Franz, too, was fighting back as much as he could, demanding answers from the men but getting none, and demanding to see a girl called Jolanda. Nothing helped, but the shadow sentries dragged him into the stairwell and down the stairs into a dark corridor.

The men carried him roughly past dozens of iron-doored cells. Then they came to another set of stairs that took them to an even lower level of the dungeon. The corridor was almost identical to the one above, but there were fewer lamps and the smell of damp was stronger. Either the third or fourth cell from the left was where Franz was thrown.

"Don't try anything stupid," one of the shadow sentries said. Then the men left, leaving him alone in the darkness. Franz was locked up in one of the filthiest cells of the Shadow Cross, without knowing any reason why.

* * *

Franz scratched his itchy back, there must have been bedbugs or some other nasty bloodsuckers in the cell. It is probably the fourth or fifth day in captivity. After the second interrogation, there had been no third. And the food bowl was now empty.

The interrogator had fished for information about Josel's father and Curtus, things Franz had no idea about. He had asked about the Sandkans' acquaintances, about their connections with governor Monteilon and about other people Andreuz Sandkan had met in the last few weeks. How could Franz have known such things, and even if he had, he would never have sung the secrets of Josel's father to some nefarious shadow dog.

As a result, he was literally thrown back into the dungeon after the interrogation to think of better answers. Or, alternatively, to starve to death in a prison cell swarming with bedbugs.

As time passed, the food did not arrive. Franz had tried to get the guard's attention by banging his wooden plate against the iron door of the cell. But there had been no sound from the corridor and he had finally given up. In a fit of rage, Franz had pushed his plate into the corner of the cell and slumped on the blanket on the stone floor.

There was no longer a governor to enforce the imperial laws that protected the citizens. There was only the Shadow Cross and its anarchy. Much as Franz had mocked Dareis Monteilon, he now wished with all his heart that the governor was still in office.

He wondered what was going on at home. Mom must have been busy in the shop, surrounded by her kids. Tinka was rapidly growing into a woman and becoming a nuisance to Mom, Janos would start school in the autumn and would need his big brother's advice, and Mom could not cope with both working and waking up every night to look after crying little Minai.

Although the two youngest had different fathers to Franz, they were just as dear to him. In town, the ladies gossiped about Mrs Landez's promiscuity. According to the backbiting, Franz's mother did not behave as a grieving widow should. She had gotten pregnant twice after her husband's death, and there was no record of the children's fathers.

Franz cursed quietly. You should kick the shit out of gossipmongers like that!

His mood was not helped by the water dripping from the roof of the dungeon; the splashing of it was enough to drive him crazy. Only covering his ears brought a momentary relief.

Then there were sounds he might never hear: the rattle of wagon wheels on the road, the surge of waves against the sides of an ocean liner, the howling of wolves in the frosty night, the clash of swords and the roar of the dying men in the midst of a brave battle...

That's what Franz dreamed of. If only he could feel the excitement and adventure on his skin, to feel again the same exhilarating thrill he felt as a little boy on his solitary excursions.

There were far more glorious ways to end one's life than languishing in a musty prison cell. People would never take a deep breath when a storyteller mentioned the name of Franz Landez. There would be no songs or books about Franz the Hero. His body would be tossed like a sack of potatoes at his mother's feet for burial. The siblings would not be able to admire their older brother's exploits and tell their own children about them in due course. They would mourn him for some time and eventually forget their brother, who had died years ago. Who would want such a fate?

Despite the misery of the situation, Franz refused to be discouraged. He had to persevere and look for any chance to get out of prison. The reason was Jolanda.

During the first interrogation, when Franz had revealed that he had come to see Jolanda, the interrogator had raised his eyebrows and puckered up his lips. "You don't just come to see someone like Jolanda Vargan."

It was as if someone had hit Franz on the head with a large stone. Jolanda Vargan! Yes, of course, he had heard that name before. The whole town knew that Isendar Vargan had a very beautiful daughter who had risen to high positions in the Shadow Cross. For one reason or another, the couple had targeted Josel's family.

They had been badly fooled, Franz himself too, but especially Josel. Even the devilish Giesela had known all along what a trap she had lured Franz into. The girl would pay for her crimes in the harshest possible way.

Josel needed to be warned about who Jolanda really was. Wherever Goldy roamed in the great empire of Andiol, he should not be pining after a witch like Jolanda Vargan. A true friend would take word of Jolanda's treachery to Josel, even to the ends of the earth.

Once the initial enthusiasm had worn off, Franz remembered his unfortunate situation. What chance did he have against the mighty machine of the shadow walkers? He had no connections and no money. The Shadow Cross, on the other hand, had both. Franz would stay locked in his cell for exactly as long as the Shadow Cross wanted him to.

Food and drink would hardly be brought in unless he proved useful. And Franz had no way of proving his usefulness without deceiving someone. He could tell the interrogator the name of the baker Mommes, but what would be the consequence? The fate of the baker was a matter in itself, but to reveal that would also put the Sandkans in danger. But what if his thirst and hunger became so great that he was ready to trade Josel's life for a cup of water?

* * *

It was impossible to estimate the passage of time. The distribution of food had somehow periodized the day, but the sheer pressure of waiting completely obscured the timeline. The hunger could still be forced from the mind, but the thirst was getting worse by the moment.

The constant dripping of water was particularly unbearable. Not a single drop fell to the ground. Franz had come to believe that the invisible dripping water was a torture device developed by the Shadow Cross for the starving prisoners in their cells. Or maybe he had just gone mad from the darkness and loneliness and was now hearing things.

That's why the thumping in the corridor made Franz doubt his own ears. Yet the voice persisted, even drawing nearer. As if someone were walking behind the iron door. Would the guard still bring a drink? Or merely an invitation to another interrogation?

Even that would be better than this gruelling wait. Franz decided to try to trick the interrogator into giving him water and food. But how to fool a cunning and experienced shadow walker? Still, something had to be worked out, or his dry lips would whisper the name 'baker Mommes'.

The footsteps came closer, and Franz wished that a cup of water would be pushed through the door hatch. This did not happen, but the key turned in the lockcase. To the interrogation after all, Franz stated himself, preparing a defiant expression on his tired face for the prison guard.

When the door opened, only a glimmer of corridor light penetrated the dungeon. Why did the jailer not carry his lantern, with which he liked to blind the prisoners eyes accustomed to the dark?

Before Franz could ask for water, the visitor spoke. "Are you Franz Landez?" asked a remarkably resonant, almost musical voice.

What is this all about? "Of course I am," Franz announced, rather uncertainly. Was this person not a prison guard but a new interrogator?

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear! We are leaving now."

"Leaving? Where to?"

"Naturally, out of this cheerless place. Please follow me, my young friend," the unknown man said, opening the cell door further.

Franz thought for a moment and then cautiously stepped out of the cell.

Only when he reached the corridor did he get a better look at the man. The upturned, long and elaborately shaped moustache was the first thing Franz noticed as he squinted his eyes in light. The man was perhaps forty-five, but still boyishly slim. He wore a woolly cap and held an elongated object in one hand.

The observation was interrupted, because the man spoke again. "We're in a hurry, I only put the guard to sleep for a moment."

"In a hurry where? Who are you?" Franz asked.

"Get out of this prison, as I said. The other questions will be answered later," the moustached man said, motioning for Franz to follow him down the corridor.

Franz shrugged, any chance of getting out of the dungeon was worth a try. As the man was about to disappear into the shadows of the corridor, Franz decided to follow.

The torch-lit corridor led away from the front door, but Franz did not care. The man had to have a reason to get him out of prison, and he was going to find out what it was. Hobbling along on his legs, stiffened by imprisonment, Franz hurried after the man.

Finally he reached his rescuer, who had stopped and was looking appraisingly ahead. Then Franz noticed the stone steps that descended steeply down into the darkness.

"Exactly like my adventure in Dafrenheld's Castle. You have to go down to get up," said the man, somehow triumphant, smiling so that his facial hair quivered comically in the light of the torch.

Franz wondered why the name 'Dafrenheld's Castle' sounded so familiar. To say something, he blurted out: "Are you sure?"

"No, sure am I not. Even so, I'm fascinated by the idea of where these stairs will bring us. Aren't you? I'm not mistaken about you, am I, Franz Landez?"

What the heck did he mean by that? Franz did not quite understand. Still, a sort of curiosity tickled his stomach. The stairs clearly led somewhere, as they usually did. And that destination was certainly a hundred times better than this dungeon.

"Let's go," he nodded to the moustached man, who gave a satisfied whistle in response.

* * *