The hours dragged on in silence until the Captive shattered it, uttering the words “… so… you uh… came back early. What all did I miss between you leaving, and being chained up, Hans Pasak Lovenburg?”

Hans winced at the use of his full name by some filthy foreigner and tried to ignore him.

“Oh come on Hans, don’t leave me without a story.”

“Would you shut up already?”

“I mean, what happens if I don’t? You’re a dead man from the sound of it.”

Hans remained silent. It was strange that his uncle decided to provide aid, but his uncle was his closest teacher in his youth. The rest of the nobles being turn coats made sense, though Erstem blood flowed in their veins, they were not great men. Only the Lovenburg family was bred to the pedigree of greatness. Even his father, the weakest of the line, was able to get the jump on him. Knowing now that extra planning was a vain effort, Hans sat here, hoping that the mercenaries were as consistent as he had been promised.

“Well if you don’t like your name, how should I address you?” The Captive said with an undaunted smirk from across the chamber.

“You shouldn’t address me at all, desert rat.”

“Come now dead man, don’t be too glum. At least you’re returning to Am Stèidhichear.”

Hans scowled, “You dare address The Guide in such a terrible speech?”

The Captive exchanged his smirk for the beginnings of a frown, “And you dare disrespect the sacred tongue of my people because yours speak differently? Your father might be right about the daft bit.”

“Just shut your worthless fucking mouth until my men get me out of here?”

Disappointment was yet again exchanged for surprise on the Captive’s face, “What are you talking about?”

Hans smirked, “You don’t think I planned for betrayal in a house full of cutthroats and cowards? I paid a fair amount to have mercenaries spring me out of here through the old escape tunnel network.”

Hans now sat confused as a wave of relief washed over the Captive, and he said, “You mean to tell me there’s a tunnel out of this shit hole?”

“Of course there’s an escape tunnel. It’s nearby too. Not that you’ll be using it.”

“Oh, to the contrary…” The Captive closed his hands into spears and slipped through the iron cuffs, “… I think I’m getting right the fuck out of here.”

Hans sat in a state of total shock, “Wait, you’ve been free this entire time?!”

“Well, yes. I tried to tell you I was here because I didn’t want to deal with fighting off your guards, but you cut me and then left. You should learn to listen, Hans Pasak Lovenburg.”

To say Hans was surprised, confused, or shocked would be underselling the state in which he found himself, and as the Captive approached him, horror infused itself with the rest.

“How about we practice your listening skills. My name is Quinn. Quinn Lochadeas. I’m the second son of the line of men who settled on Loch a Deas. And when your ‘men’ show up, I’m going to kill them all, take their shit, and leave you here to rot while I go kill whatever waits in that tower, so I can leave this fucking terrible place, and never return.”

The Captive withdrew the torch from the wall sconce and approached the Prince. “So, let’s see how well you learn. What’s my name?”

“Quinn Lochadeas.” Hans felt the stabbing sensation in his stomach of terror and disgust twisting within him.

Quinn raised the torch to the side of Hans’ face. The heat of the fire on his skin bit gently upon his flesh. Quinn continued, “Aye, good. One more time, really stress on the Loch part.”

“Quinn Lochadeas.”

“Atta boy.” Quinn lowered the torch and let out a soft laugh. “Fuckin’ horrifying when it’s you on the wall, isn’t it ye little monster.”

Quinn returned the torch to its sconce and sat behind where the door would be opening into the room, rubbing his wrists and the scar forming on his abdomen. “Those medicine men here have some potent stuff. I can’t imagine you’d know what plants they collect?”

The Prince allowed himself to relax, but only slightly. His heart was still beating fast in his chest. “I haven’t the first idea. I just know that they tend to the captives in this room when I tell them to, and within two days I can keep up my work.”

“Damn. I could use a few of those. Maybe some of those red draughts from way north. You ever hear about the Aldaayim all the way down here?”

“… We don’t often speak to those beyond our kingdom.”

“Well then, dead man, since we have the time, I haven’t spoken to anyone at length in months, and you’re fucked anyways, let me catch you up to the advances we ‘dirty foreigners’ have made while your people wage war.”

Quinn lectured Hans on the developments of the Aldaayim, the Evandrians, and the Tìr Dhè. Though he ignored Quinn at first, Hans had his interest piqued by a few details. In the Aldaayim, they had potions that weave flesh back together in minutes, a college where those who proved their worth could learn real unchecked magic, and weapons that cracked with thunder and kill men farther than any bow could hope to. In Evandria, they had grand tapestries that depicted entire histories, trade routes that spanned all the other empires, and a seemingly endless supply of food and gold to spend. In the Tìr Dhè, they had walls so tall and thick that the giant beasts known as the Mathan Grod couldn’t even scale them, fur armor that rot metal in moments made from the hide of the Mathan Grod, and weapons made from the bones of all forms of beast that rivaled even the most well-crafted iron.

Quinn spoke of the conquests of Evandria, and how the Diarkír were once much like the Erstem. However, their warrior legacy ended. Their people now thrived on trade and entertainment, and there was entertainment to be found for any and all curiosities in Evandria.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Hans listened, if not because of a genuine interest in such grand stories, but because he was thinking about how someday he could integrate such grand empires under his kindred’s banner. The exotic weapons and beasts sounded troublesome, but in an earnest way, these strange lands sounded fascinating.

Hans thought about this, perhaps his father and his uncle were right in one way. He did need to learn more about the other cultures of this world. Understanding the enemy and their ways was the best way to also learn their weaknesses, and to find ways to crush them from within. Perhaps when he escaped, he would spend some time north, learning the ways of these lesser men and seeing what could be gathered to help him return and take the throne that rightfully should be his.

Hours passed idly as the two spoke of the world: Quinn speaking with long winded zeal after days of being tormented and ordered to be silent, and Hans occasionally asking a question of novel topics that piqued his curiosity, sending Quinn spiraling into another lengthy tirade. Quinn was mid-breath in explaining the intricacies of Evandrian blade dancing shows, when abruptly he stopped with a long blank look on his face. He looked up to Hans who remained on the wall, and asked “So… when are those men of yours supposed to be coming again?”

“Their orders were for midnight.”

“Oh. Well, I have some unfortunate news: they’ve crossed you.”

Hans furrowed his brow, “How can you tell?”

“Well,” Quinn explained, “I’d been training myself to sleep during the day and resting at night so I could avoid your guards before I let myself be captured. I’d just woken up when your father dragged you in here, so I’d guess that was around the sun’s peak. He must’ve hit you with some real force, you were out for a few hours, and they tried rousing you for that whole duration. You had your chat, which took a while. We had our chat. It’s been at least a few hours since that, and that tells me that it’s either right on the midnight hour, or just past it.”

“You’re toying with me again, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t spoken a lie since I’ve been in these lands.”

“Well, then tell me, how by the grace of the gods did you manage to track all of that?”

Quinn shrugged. “Time flies when you’re on the hunt. Good hunters have to keep track of that too. Hungry kindred can only be hungry for so long, and if you aren’t quick about the hunt, the young ones have a harder time surviving it.”

In a deceptively genuine way, Hans was impressed with this foreigner’s sense of time. However, at the same moment, he was disappointed with how much Kingsmark he wasted on worthless mercenaries. Treacherous dogs, all of them.

“Well, if you can’t kill the mercenaries and use their tools to leave, what’s your plan now, oh clever hunter.”

Quinn smiled, “You’ve taken a shine to me then, at least my sarcasm.” He rose and approached Hans.

“I tell you what, dead man. I was thinking about it while we were talking. I know my way around the shadows, but you know your way around the city. You also find yourself short on options, and so do I. You know where the tunnel is, and I can get us through that door. Help me get some equipment together, and get out of here, I’ll take you on the hunt with me, because in honesty I could use the extra hands, and then we can part ways. Sounds like a deal to you?”

“Wait, you want my help now? Weren’t you going to leave me in here?”

“Well yeah,” Quinn’s dotted smile remained unbroken, “That was before I lost my other option. I don’t normally escape prisons with people who stab me. In fact I rarely escape prisons at all. Plus, for a little backstabbing monster, you’re actually kind of fun to talk to. That or I’ve gone so long without talking meaningfully that anyone that I’ve lost my mind a little. Still working that one out in my head. Regardless, I know I won’t make it too far unarmed and alone, and it’s an offer. Do you want it or not?”

Hans didn’t have other options to consider, so he reluctantly agreed. Quinn took the stool in the room, and used his body to leverage off a leg, and then used the leg and his body weight to twist the iron chains holding the clasps apart from the loop on the wall. Though still in chains, Hans was freed from his place on the wall.

Quinn asked Hans to hold the torch as he attempted to dig a nail out of the wooden stool, and Hans obliged. With nail free, and adequate lighting, Quinn set about tampering with the lock on the door. It took a fair amount of time, but eventually the soft click of the lock sounded, and their access to the escape tunnels was open.

Hans set about the wall and found the loose stone that gave way to the entrance to the tunnel. The wall let off a dense cloud of dust as it shifted for the first time in what was likely centuries. The stale air of the tunnels hung heavy in the hall, but Hans bore the torch. After Quinn resealed their escape route, Hans led his plaything turned partner in escape through the tunnel leading just beyond the walls protecting the city from the outside world. He snuffed the torch against the floor as they approached the stone hatch blocking the way, and they pried the heavy barrier from its ancient position. The fresh outside air was a relief to both men, and they quickly and silently determined their next courses of action.

When they breached the tunnel, they waited a while under the cover of darkness. Hans accepted that those sellswords had double crossed him and vowed to see each of them suffer in their own special ways. Holding his chains so that they would not alert guards on the walls, Hans guided Quinn along the wall to the edge of the portcullis that led into the river’s harbor.

The gate was up, the guards never lowered them unless there was a raid or an attack in the midst. The two men slipped into the river and used the harbor to support their swimming upstream. Finding the harbor to be mostly empty, save for two guards roaming on patrol and leaving the area, and a drunkard pissing off the edge of the harbor and singing to himself. The two found a ladder built onto the dock for those that might need aid if they had fallen in and found a place in the shadows near a vendor’s booth.

Quinn marveled at the sheer size of the bridge that connected the far sides of the river, for it was wider than any he had seen before today. Hans remarked on the efficacy of the Sau, and how any worthless group can be guided and given purpose by a strong hand and a stronger will. Quinn chose to ignore that remark and laid out a plan. They were to return to this spot if they were not caught and wait for the other. Hans was to find a small vessel, preferably some sort of canoe so that it would be easier to pilot and pull onto land. Quinn would find proper equipment for the two since he knew what he wanted to find. He noted that they were of similar physical frame, and asked if Hans had any preference of weapon, to which Hans replied that he would want a sword. Quinn asked him to be realistic, and Hans settled for an ax or dagger of some kind.

With a basic plan in motion, the two separated. Hans realized two things: that they were near the Sau’s living district, and also how convenient a major distraction would be for keeping the guards at bay. With these things in mind, he set off to do what his father was too weak to do.

Within the span of an hour, Quinn returned to the empty vendor’s stall wearing a set of basic clothing, and a spare set of dry clothes for Hans that were both hanging from a drying wire. He’d also found a decent hunting knife, a hunting bow with a full quiver that had been left by someone’s back doorway, a woodcutting ax that had been left in a stump, and several tins of dried rations from a general store that he broke the back lock off of. He thought that he had been found by a patrol of guards when he heard the sounds of boots approaching, but as they rapidly passed by, he breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to the arranged meeting spot.

As he scanned the area for his new accomplice, he observed the heavy smoke coming from a residential area on the far side of the bridge. There was the occasional glint of red on the horizon and calls for water and aid. Hans was across the river, paddling a fair-sized river boat toward the opposite shore. Quinn didn’t notice the previous captain was dead inside the vessel until Hans had pulled up beside him.

“There should be no witnesses, and no one to follow us.” Hans said with a grin.

Quinn furrowed his brow, “And how do you know that?”

Hans offered another polite grin. “They will be busy tending to a rather substantial emergency.”

Quinn’s eyes returned to the smoke on the skyline. “Huh. Burning your own city. You really are a monster in your own rights.”

Hans shrugged, and coldly stated, “Not my city anymore. Especially not this side of it. I’ll make it mine when the time is right.” Quinn found no argument, and together the Prince and the Hunter made off downstream, and to the tower that dwelled a half week along the riverways while the Sau struggled in vain to douse their memorial.