And so came a time when the crew of Redhand were locked away, deep inside Valium’s dark and dank dungeons, listless and without any knowledge of what fate had in store for them. At first Kaspia had felt dread as she was thrown into a small cell, only to find it occupied by Redhand and Beoria, both fuming with fury at the events of the night before. Beoria, a giant of a woman, frequently boiled over into anger like a tea kettle with too much water in it, cursing the sky and threatening retribution on any who passed outside the cell’s thick iron bars. Never before had Kaspia seen her in such a rage and a feeling of helplessness overcame her.
“Thank you,” Kaspia croaked as Tillian stroked her head and looked down on her with a faint smile.
The small cell was barely fit for three, let alone four, no larger than a couple of paces wide and twice that long, with plain wooden benches lining the walls.
Kaspia's breathing steadied and her heart beat sped up to a familiar pace as the spell the investigator had put on her lifted. A faint tremor spread out over her skin, as if a thousand ants ran over it as if it was a hippodrome, up and down her arms. A warmth filled her veins like a river of molten lava, and she perked the corners of her lips up in relief as she realized the effect of the interrogator's words were wearing off just in time for food to arrive.
The day crept by and outside the sun turned day into evening, drab and bleak, the air heavy with oppressive silence as she reached for a bowl through the bars to the cell. A thin broth that long ago had grown cold, filling the room with its meager aroma. Yet, after days with little to eat even the scant meal seemed a feast to her downtrodden soul.
Taking a seat on a bench, Kaspia was met by the somber faces of her crew; Beoria looked worn, her fury having faded throughout the day and she now sat muttering foul words in a corner while Redhand sat in the other, his fingers drumming against his knees as he swore under his breath. The atmosphere hung so heavy in the air that she could have sliced it with a knife.
Though none spoke and not an inch of joy was to be found in this dour gathering, Kaspia knew she at least had Tillian there and that was enough for now.
As if sensing the need for some form of comfort, the boy began to hum softly beneath his breath and even Beoria’s frown soon melting away into something resembling contentment. A moment of peace, a short respite before dark clouds once more gathered over her head. Still, Kaspia enjoyed it and she squeezed the boy's hand in appreciation.
Day and night passed this way, four lost souls left to stew in the depths of a dungeon. Redhand threw long glances at the others but otherwise didn't bother them, that was good, even if it confused Kaspia. She had thought that the crew’s leader would lash out, yell, threaten, complain, anything really. He wasn't the most stable man after all.
As dawn brought a sliver of warmth to the cold cell Kaspia jolted up from the bench she shared with Tillian, a banging on the cell's thick bars clattering awfully loud. She rubbed her bleary eyes, having slept horribly, neck stiff as a board. As she looked out the grate on a pale sun outside her aches were forgotten, the events of previous days catching up with her sluggish mind.
“Get up you lazy bums,” an old prison guard dressed in a stained tabard that must once had been yellow said whilst tapping the cell door ominously with his knuckles. A wave of sour breath washed through the bars. “You’ll get the honor to see the fine judge today. You're lucky, some of our guests down here have waited quite a while for the opportunity,” the prison guard continued with a toothless smirk.
Outside in the hall wooden clubs clattered on iron bars as scores of guards cursed and yelled, threatened and coerced others to get to their feet, pokers ready in case the prisoners tried something. Not that she was stupid enough to try and break free or anything, however as she lay on her bench the previous night she had dared to dream that an opportunity would present itself for her to slip away. She sighed, resigning herself to her fate and rose from the bench she had slept on.
“Single file, you first,” the prison guard said, pointing toward Redhand. “I know a mean bastard when I see one.”
Redhand growled at the guard, flexing his muscles and shot the gap-toothed guard a wicked glare. A weak whimper left slipped from the man’s lips and the Redhand grinned, taking a step forward. She could see the thoughts churning through his head, how Redhand’s eyes drifted over to the guards outside, weighed his odds and decided this was not his time.
Did the slippery eel have a way out, a way she could use herself?
The guard gave her a forceful shove and the gap toothed man's eyes said it all, he feared a brawl would break out inside the cramped hallway. Fists soon flew in fear, or perhaps in desperation all down the hall, only to be met by a merciless beating from guardsmen. Soon most were lined up, kept docile at the end of a stick. Those, like Kaspia who complied were marched down the hall whilst the ones who had fought back were left behind. Their groans as thumping clubs struck them soon fading away. Throughout it all curses flew as more guards burst into cells, prodding sleeping prisoners with their clubs and kicks from heavy boots striking ribs.
Taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like days Kaspia took in the fresh air of the courtyard outside, she hadn’t realized how bad the dungeon smelled until now. The courtyard outside was crammed with incalculable rows of gaunt faces on thin frames, bound in unison by shackles. Some emaciated, a long time in confinement having taken its toll, while others were more like her, ragged and ruffled but not yet reduced to bone and pale skin that had lost its Elmaesta golden luster. For how long did a person have to be locked up in a cold cell to look like that?
Thick iron shackles smacked shut across her wrists, a hefty chain binding hands and feet together. When all were assembled, even those trailing blood from broken noses, limping with raspy breaths, a contingent of guards strode into the prison's courtyard, hard-faced elven men with cold merciless eyes.
“You are scum, a disgrace to our great people! You will go when I say so, you will stand still when I say so!” a pox faced captain bellowed. “You will keep your heads down or in the name of the broken pantheon you'll wish it was Strife himself who got his hands on you and not me. I will beat you to pulp myself if you cause any trouble!”
He then ordered everyone to walk and his men herded the prisoners like sheep. Kaspia put herself as deep inside the procession as she could to avoid the storm of strikes that fell on those who resisted or were deemed too slow by short tempered guards.
One feeble, elderly elf fell to his knees. When he attempted to get up again, a guard approached him and encouraged him to stand up with a savage kick to the stomach. Kaspia turned her gaze low and crept further from the edge of scurrying prisoners, determined that whatever occurred she would keep on moving.
The dungeon lay at the edge of the Valium's martial district, a part of the city criss-crossed by wide roads and lined by towering statues painted in vivid colors. A part of the city she had never been to before, because why would she. A place full of armed, foul tempered elves who thought much of themselves but with little but a few coins in their purses made for poor hunting grounds for a thug and thief.
Now, Valium wasn’t a huge city like the sprawling metropolises she had heard about far to the south, far from the Shield mountains, down the Grey river where the plains of the central and lower peninsula stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it wasn't some small backwater of the hinterlands either, the guards frequently had to shove pedestrians out of the way and at a few points Kaspia thought things would escalate into a riot as crowds of droopy eared elves poured out from the slums to ask for alms, beg or seek work in Valium's wealthier parts.
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“Hey Tillian, where do you think we are going?” Kaspia asked when she thought no one paid her any attention.
The boy was pale with dark bags hanging under his eyes, worried, perhaps overwhelmed. “Can't be good, can it? Slave pits or the flesh markets I reckon, or perhaps they'll have us clean the sewers,” Tillian said solemnly, growing a bit paler still. “I think I’d prefer the first two.”
“We'll please the crowds first, our sort always do, don't you know?” a thin man shuffling beside them interjected. “To them we're o better than feral gremlins.” The thin man tripped on an upturned cobblestone, stumbled, tangled himself on the short chain between his feet and fell hard on the ground. Gone under shuffling feet.
Kaspia shuffled close to Tillian, letting her arm stroke against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the boy as tears pooled in his eyes. Gods, why hadn't she insisted on him staying in the hideout? She cursed her selfishness.
“If I'd been more confident, stronger he wouldn't have had to save my soft skin,” she whispered the words, blaming herself. What would happen to them now?”
“Will the shopkeepers testify against us, you think?
Kaspia had no idea what kind of punishment she could expect or even exactly what she was being accused of, the theft was certainly one thing but did the guards have further evidence of their group's crimes? It was a good question that they could do little to change, would the shopkeepers and artisans that they extorted come forward? Kaspia didn’t think so, she knew what the notorious Redhand would do to anyone who offended him. There was a reason he was called the Redhand after all. Yet still, this was an opportunity for everyone who he had caused harm to get rid of him for good, a chance to seek retribution.
The procession trudged at a creeping pace, on and off the wide street, guards shouting out orders and punishing any offenders without hesitation. The guards grew ever more vigilant, ever more nervous as they skirted the slums' edge. Was it fear of encountering one of the riotous mobs from the slums Tillian had told her about.
When white marble towers rose over buildings along the street Kaspia felt her own rising tension ever more. Her people, the Elmae0sta, had once been a prosperous people ruling a vast empire. A light in a dark world that elevated barbarians and wild elves alike, but that was long ago. Centuries had passed where only her people endured, sheltered as they were behind the Shield mountains with only remnants of that bygone era remaining.
Coming into view were the buildings at the tower's base, their grandeur breathtaking, tall and domineering like an ancient relic as splendid as in the days of the old empire. Columns reaching for the sky like divine pillars towards the clouds. The distinct style spoke of unimaginable wealth, the empire’s remains were unmistakable the way they withstood the test of time. A sense of awe as palpable as the air itself, unlike anything the slums and poorer districts had to offer.
“When we get to the courthouse the filth is to be led to the pens behind the building.” Kaspia heard the leader of the guards yell as his men herded them on.
A feeling of awe blanketed the courtyard next to the courthouse, a sacred atmosphere that made her look up even if she wasn't supposed to. She had to see, take it all in, bask in the glory. There was no denying it, this truly was a remnant of an imperial court, with all its majesty and authority intact. In another life, seeing it, letting its power fill her with awe would have felt right. Now it just brought dread.
Just as the captain of the guards had said there were scores of pens of different sizes with thick bars behind the courthouse. The filth from whoever occupied them before was yet to be cleaned out and the smell sent gags up her mouth as she was led to one. In one of the corners stood a bucket, days old if the amount of flies were an indication and partially filled with excrement. One by one the shackles were taken apart and as Kaspia was shoved inside she immediately scurried over to the opposite corner from the bucket, rasping for a breath of fresh air. More and more being shoved in until the pen was completely cramped.
How many people were they going to prosecute today? Kaspia wondered to herself. This could take a while.
The morning passed as one prisoner after another were led out of the pens and into the courtyard, most returned after a short while, pale and barely conscious. Kaspia edged toward Beoria who was fairly close and asked.
“Why do they look like that, what is happening inside?”
“Don’t you know how this court works, girl?”, Beoria answered.
Shaking her head, Kaspia acknowledged that there was still much she didn't know about the city. She knew that the elves of Valium, just like all large elven cities, loved their courts and that the citizens often sued each other over one grievance or another. She had also heard that many viewed high profile cases as quite the spectacle and that large audiences wasn’t uncommon but she had never attended one herself.
“Not really,” Kaspia said. Where she had grown up, before arriving in the city there hadn't been any formal courts. Away from the cities there hadn’t really been a need for such things.”What happened to them inside, why do they look so pale, so weak?” she continued.
“They have been tried under the broken pantheon, challenged by Strife, weighed by Purity, judged by the Huntress, reforged by the Forger and forgiven by Bounty,” Beoria continued. “What you're seeing is the aftermath of exorcism.”
A chill ran up Kaspia's spine as maggots stirred under her skin. What kind of wickedness had she been involved in? She knew that she was far from innocent, but she had only done what she needed to do to stay alive, to not be weak anymore. Now, it seemed there were real repercussions of her actions yet to be revealed.
“Exorcism, what are you talking about?” Kaspia asked, her voice trembling as she spoke. “What about witnesses and such?” Surely none of the shopkeepers would dare speak against the crew. “Are the men we stole from here? They got their things back.”
“Oh, girl, it won't go like that. There’s no need for witnesses. You remember your initiation, why Redhand is happy to take on more members to his crew, even girls like you who aren't exactly brawlers,” the big woman said with a sad smile.
“Yes,” was all Kaspia could say as she began to understand. “They don't need to prosecute what they consider lowlifes like us.”
She could feel the rage and fear boiling deep inside her, a knot whose tendrils felt like crawling worms. Was that what they were looking for? Kaspia hoped not, she had come to Valium looking for strength and the wicked power was the only power she had found. Without it all was in vain.
Kaspia's initiation had been one of pure terror. Tasked with extracting a debt from an elderly crone who was known to owe money to the notorious Redhand, she entered an alleyway late one afternoon just as the sun set over the rooftops, casting the slums into gloom. Dread had crawled into her heart, fear and excitement coursing through her veins. As the old elven woman brandished a small knife, barely longer than an apple corer, Kaspia felt sick to her stomach, yet before she could back away, Redhand had shoved her forward. With trembling hands, Kaspia drew her own blade and began thrusting it towards the old woman. Again and again she plunged it into sagging skin and soft flesh until finally she saw the frail figure collapse onto a pile of refuse. Without hesitation Kaspia pummeled the woman with every ounce of strength that remained in her body until eventually there was no more movement from beneath her fists, just a pool of crimson liquid that slowly began to seep away into the shadows as dusk descended upon them both.
The next stage of Kaspia's initiation required something far more sinister; Redhand handing her a red pill as she stood amidst a circle filled with swirling patterns on the floor. She had swallowed the pill, endured as the room lit up, throwing her into intense hallucinations. Despite the bizarre ritual, she had been determined to make it through alive and grow stronger so that she could be accepted by Redhand and his crew. She was willing to pay the price for strength, the strength to one day avenge her family.
“So we are doomed then,” Kaspia said with a sniffle, despair in her voice. She looked toward Redhand with pleading eyes. “You’ve got to have a way out, right?”
“He’s a slippery one,” Beoria interjected. “Don’t expect a favor girl.”
“Leave me out of it,” Kaspia heard Redhand rumble.
“Please, boss,” Tillian suddenly spoke up and joined the conversation. He had stayed quite so far, keeping close to the entrance. “Please, if you have a way. You can’t let them do that exorcism thing to us!”
“They won’t get me, I'm not stupid enough to seek the gifts you all have, fools.”
Kaspia felt a growing pit in her stomach.
“Worst they’ll do to me is some time in a labor camp and then I’ll return and take my vengeance on anyone who testify against me. So don’t even think about it you little piss rats,” Redhand continued while eying all off his crew members that happened to end up in his pen.
Kaspia felt betrayed. So she was really in the crapper. “Mother, father, brother, I did the best I could, I'm sorry I only brought shame.”
She leaned back toward the bars of the pen as the already dark mood of the crew members fell even further.