Chapter 11

Day Five – Daylight

It was wet and the air smelled mucid. The stone floor and walls were cold and unforgiving. Sagir sat in the pale light of the oubliette they threw him into, a rill of dried blood running down his swollen eye. He could only hope that his friends were preparing diligently. That Hanifa and Kovada wouldn’t accept it any other way. The captive outlander hadn’t seen the bright face of the young Maiden Sun in three days. Nor was he able to pray to the Moon Elders for wisdom. They had taken his shoes, and his neck, ankles and wrists were bruised from the short chain that was anchored to the ceiling.

Sagir had never been to a place like this – not just a jail, but the watch above it. Dragged through all of Teblen, to be seen by everyone, crying for his Nene. And they spat on him. He and his Nene’s lives were worth thirty gulden. Given to the young master – to compensate for the loss of labor. His eyes were dried up, just like his mouth. A day of grief and dehydration left him too weak for sorrow. All he could do was wait.

Heavy footsteps trudged above him and the two other inmates. “This way,” said the raspy voice of the warden. An old and hunched guardsman, well served. “Down here are the murderers and rapists. Real scum of the earth, beware.”

The three unfortunate souls wasting away here were blinded by the light from the trapdoor in the ceiling. Was it time to get spilled with a bucket of water and get rock-hard bread? By the Stars, Sagir had already lost his sense of time. The young man had barely spoken to his fellow prisoners for fear of violence. He spoke fluent Albinian, for the most, but his head was jumbled up and even a tiny slip could provoke a beyazı.

“You may withdraw,” ordered a far reaching, dramatic bass. “My Captain has no further needs.”

This hole in the ground was the height of two small men, and the cross-barred entrance had extra wood on top of it. The chains the inmates were bonded with were not long enough to even reach that far. A ladder was lowered down the oubliette and a tall man in a fine arming doublet descended. Immersed in bright light, his hair was perfectly trimmed and combed. He was followed by a man nearly a head smaller, with a red-brown beard and neatly smeared hair. Sturdy, he wore a thick surcoat-like gambeson. Both were armed.

It reeked of excrement and human misery. Remnants of what were thrown down here were still splattered around the floor. The bearded man looked at each criminal, searching. “You two keep quiet,” boomed the bass, enhanced by the architecture. “Or else.” The two inmates averted their gaze and turned their entire heads. Everything to not get punished.

“Make him sit straight,” said a clean baritone. He still stood in the light from above, showing off his tall figure. And a bright, perfect set of teeth.

“Not kneel?” The other man approached Sagir’s anemic body and looked down on him. It was hard to make out facial expressions with the light shining onto his back. The bass was monotone too, making it hard to read the bearded man’s mood.

“Why?” The cavalier baritone scoffed. “I don’t require a gesture of servility from this animal. That’s what I have dogs for.”

Sagir lacked the strength to put up a fight against the harsh hands of the bearded man. His body was forced upright, whether he wanted it or not, against the wall behind him. But even without any struggle, a punch to the captive’s ribs slipped in.

“Pay attention,” said the bass after Sagir coughed his soul out. “The Captain will not repeat himself for the likes of you.” He retreated behind his presumed superior.

“Wh–” It was hard to speak for Sagir. “Who are you?”

“I do not tell my name to the dead,” said the tall man in the spotlight. He locked his arms behind his back and straightened out, chin slightly raised. “The three of you will be hauled into court on the morrow. Your sentence, I assure you, will be hard labor in His Royal Majesty’s personal mines.”

The silence that answered the proclamation was unsettling. Nothing but mortified breaths of men who already knew their fate. Until…

“I didn’t do it…” whispered Sagir. “I–”

The bearded man lunged forward and smacked Sagir with his backhand. So hard that the helpless prisoner’s body was thrown to the side, and he bit the inside of his mouth. “Were you asked a question?!” The dramatic bass was ubiquitous throughout the oubliette and threateningly melodic. “You speak when asked. Not before.” Sagir felt the leather of a pair of riding boots next to his chin, lifting it up an inch. “Sit up,” said the brute and gave the foreigner a light kick, making him bite his tongue. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Just as Sagir regained his vigor and got up, a flash of pearly whites smiled at him. “Repeat.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I–” Sagir did as ordered, but the fear of stepping into a trap struck him down. He hesitated… “I damned didn’t do it.” And he was right, as the bearded man raised his hand.

“Let him speak,” said the Captain and his underling stopped, grunting.

“I have witnesses,” continued Sagir. “Freemen. Three.” He flinched at every movement from the man in front of him. “Never have I raised a hand against anybody. Ever.” The young man’s voice was nearly cracking and rose to an ever higher pitch.

“Your kind are such miserable creatures. Never, you say?” The cavalier baritone lowered his voice and face, casting menacing shades over his eyes. “You did not threaten to kill the sergeant of Westwatch?”

“My Nene was–” Sagir wished he was still able to cry. Even more so than for water. But he couldn’t even finish. He had lowered his face in grief, but the bearded man had grabbed Sagir at the neck and made sure that he would keep eye contact.

“Do I look like I care?” The Captain stepped forward. “Your hair is that of tar and your skin is that of dirt. Nobody will believe you and your three freemen are worthless.” His brutish companion retreated into the background, and a pair of shining boots stepped in his stead. “A husk of a man, his delusional appendage and a career criminal can vouch as much as they want for you. It doesn’t matter for a heathen like you, who can’t even worship the Stars properly. You were raised a barbarian and the judge knows it.”

“I was a child when I came here,” wept Sagir. “I don’t even remember–”

The tall man grabbed Sagir’s chin and made him freeze. Knelt down, the Captain’s gray-blue eyes radiated directly at the captive. They invaded Sagir’s inmost being and he became like a deer in front of it’s predator.

“You, with a mind riddled by savagery, haven’t even realized the peculiar position you’re in,” he said. “I offer an opportunity of a lifetime. Cooperate and you will go free, be it in years. You will live, be it without your hands. You will see your kind again, be it without your pride.”

“What…” Sagir breathed the word, confused. “Sir, I don’t know–”

“The Justiciar of Teblen has received orders from the Margrave and Baronet to comply,” said the Captain. “The only thing you have to do is demand a trial by combat.”

“I–, I don’t have the right–”

“Shhh.” The man holding Sagir’s chin slipped his thumb up and pressed it on the prisoner’s lips. He pressed down so hard that the young man’s teeth and flesh hurt. “Do it anyway. And declare this Zaber to be your champion, for everyone to hear.” The Captain pulled back his hand and gave Sagir a pat on his previously hurt cheek.

“What is this about?” Sagir dared too ask. He tried to raise his hands but, unbeknownst to him, the man in front had grabbed the chains. Connecting his limbs and neck together at an iron ring in the middle, going upwards to the roof. The Captain pulled it down, hard.

The tall man’s expression was unchanged and his smile made Sagir’s heart skip several beats. Even thinking about doing anything to defend himself, or against the Captain, made the young man’s eyes shift to the looming threat standing far behind his superior. If Sagir was facing a predator in front of him, the bearded man behind him was his fangs, ready to pounce.

“I do not answer your kind,” said the Captain. “Serve me in the murder of this man. For everyone to see. Force him out of his little pig pen.”

“What’s so speci–” The chains were yanked again, forcing Sagir lower and lower. His neck began to hurt.

“His life is miserable and you know that,” said the Captain and for the first time, his voice changed, spiteful. “He is a stain on a great man’s reputation, second only to the High King himself. Once and for all, this agony will be ended. And it will be I who does it. And you will help me.” He let go of the chain and rose back to full height, looking down. “If he even has the guts to come for the likes of you. That low cunning peasant son has only befriended your kind for your savage language anyways.”

The baritone turned around on his heel as Sagir’s head regained color. A gesture followed, at the bearded bass to get up the ladder and so they ascended. While Sagir was gasping for air, the trapdoor was shut close again and the inmates were left in darkness. Oppressive silence spread through the oubliette as they waited for the muffled voices from above to fade. It was cold and wet and reeked, yet they were finally out of danger. Sagir was out of danger.

“Damned, I knew it,” said one of the other prisoners. “Your accent should have given it away. Fucking murker.”

“He’ll be the death of us,” said the other one. “Rat that bum out, he ain’t no good.” His words were sizzled between his teeth, from a broken jaw. “I would kill for what you have.”

Sagir tried to curl up, but the chains didn’t let him. He pinched his eyes and a lone tear was, finally, able to escape. He missed his Nene. And his brother. What to do and what not… was beyond him. Damned beyazı, damn them all. Even the ones he liked. Zaber would damned sure come if he went through with that arsehole’s plan. But Sagir also knew that Zaber refused to play by other folk’s rules. So…

“Shut up,” said Sagir. “We are not the same.”