Stuck in a dark dungeon, Caldor was starting to feel very foolish about making all of those jokes about how incompetent the city guard was. Sure, his thieves' guild had managed to avoid the guards for years and years—or at least pay them off—but that didn't mean they would be untouchable forever. As he was being reminded of right now.

He pulled on the shackles binding his wrists to the ceiling, the sound of the chains clinking against each other uncomfortably loud in the silent space. Of course, the shackles didn't even budge, only cutting into his wrists and making his predicament feel all the more real.

He wasn't even sure what exactly had happened before he'd been captured and thrown in here. He'd been on his way to their hidden base made up of tunnels and cellars beneath the city when the guards had cornered him. Caldor had of course attempted to run away, but he'd barely managed to take a few steps before one of the guards had slammed him into a wall.

Caldor gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as his headache somehow found a way to become even more intense. The back of his head had bled from the guards' arrest and was possibly still actively doing so, but he couldn't check with his arms chained up like this. He did feel lightheaded enough that he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand up well without those rusty shackles supporting him. Though if he had a choice, instead of standing he'd rather sit in the corner and feel sorry for himself.

He knew he wouldn't make it out of here alone, so his only hope was being rescued by one of his friends, which wasn't very likely given how difficult it was to break anyone out of prison. He would know—he'd done it several times. Still, he and his fellow thieves had stuck together all these years, and all of them were stubborn bastards. Perhaps there was still hope.

Cal couldn't help but wonder just how he'd been discovered, though. There were wanted posters all over the city, but none of them showed his face properly as he had always made sure to wear a hood over his head when he went around stealing things. That would make it difficult for the average resident of Redreach to recognize him and report him to the closest guard, so it couldn't have been that.

It was just very strange to have been ambushed so well and so unexpectedly. It made dread grow and spread through him the more he thought about it. Although the thought of soon being tortured for information and later hanged was doing that fine on its own.

Just imagining that made it harder for him to breathe. If only he could reach the lockpicks hidden in the inside pocket of his tunic. He should be able to open the locks of the shackles, despite the awkward angle. But he just had no way to reach for them.

Caldor pulled on the chains again, mostly out of pure frustration, hissing as the cold metal cut into his wrists further. He glared up at the spot where the chains were attached to the cobblestone ceiling. Perhaps if he pulled himself up by the chains and made them take his full weight, he might be able to rip them out and—

Caldor flinched when from behind the bars of his cell he saw a light, slowly making its way towards him, and the sound of heavy footsteps echoing and growing louder. Cal had no way of knowing if someone was coming for him specifically, but in case they were, he tried to take on a more casual stance, hoping to project confidence and a lack of caring even as on the inside he could feel his panic building already. But he'd been here for an hour or two at most. Surely the guard was coming for someone else. Even though Caldor hadn't noticed anyone around when he'd been thrown in here, he knew there must have been other people held in this prison.

Unfortunately, all of his attempts at pretending to be unconcerned fell apart as soon as the person reached his cell, and Caldor saw who it was. Standing in front of him was the ruler of the city, and the entire region, Lord Augerill, with a guard standing next to him.

If Caldor hadn't been so surprised that Augerill had bothered coming down here in person, he would be glaring at him as hard as he could manage. Ever since Augerill had started ruling over Redreach, he had been trying to hunt the thieves' guild down, much more than the lord's mother ever had. He hadn't been too successful so far, but that didn't mean Augerill hadn't made things much more difficult for everyone.

"Hawthorne, how nice of you to visit," Augerill said, smiling. The guard who had come here with him now looked mildly irritated, but she said nothing, only raising her lantern higher so that Augerill could see Caldor better, as he was a few feet away from the bars. Caldor squinted through the blinding light, glaring.

"How nice of you that you took the time to learn my name," Caldor replied, attempting to sound as deadpan as possible, with limited success. But he paid no attention to the way his voice had trembled and instead narrowed his eyes at the lord. Where had he even learned his family name? Not even most of his fellow thieves knew it.

"Oh, I've learned much more than that," Augerill said, that irritating smirk still on his face. "Isn't that right?"

He turned to the guard as he said this, but she barely even acknowledged him. This must have been a member of Augerill's personal guard. Caldor doubted the lord would tolerate this behavior from anyone below that level.

Augerill didn't seem to care at all that he hadn't received a response and instead jerked his head towards the cell's barred door, which the guard unlocked without question or comment. As the door swung open, its hinges creaking horrible, Caldor tensed up.

Was Augerill planning on trying to interrogate Caldor himself? Augerill was cruel enough to torture someone, but Caldor highly doubted he was very skilled at it. And Caldor was very good at keeping things to himself.

"I won't tell you anything," Caldor said. And for once he wasn't trying to brag or bluff. He doubted Augerill would listen to him, but it was worth a shot.

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"Oh, I know," Augerill said casually, walking up to Caldor to look him straight in the eye. There was a crazed sort of glee in the lord's dark gaze, and it instantly put Caldor even more on edge. Usually, the way the lord tended to show off his teeth far too often did that on its own, and Caldor had only ever seen that from afar.

"You don't need to," he continued, slowly circling Caldor. "I already know everything."

What...was that supposed to mean? Caldor glared at Augerill as the man once again came into view, trying to force his rapidly beating heart to slow down. He couldn't know everything. How would he even find out—

"All of your friends are dead."

Caldor gasped, feeling his heart constrict. No, that couldn't be true.

He gritted his teeth, glaring. It wasn't true. Cal wouldn't believe that. Especially not coming from Augerill, someone known to lie very often. But Caldor couldn't quite deny what Augerill had told him out loud. He couldn't get himself to say anything at all as the lord's grin got even sharper.

"Oh yes, I heard that hole in the ground you call a home burned quite spectacularly."

"You're lying," Caldor snapped at him, just wanting him to shut up. His friends weren't dead, and Augerill hadn't found their base. The fact that he knew it was underground meant nothing.

Augerill shrugged, still grinning. Caldor glared at him more, feeling sudden anger rising within him.

"You are lying," he repeated, his voice loud and furious.

"Believe what you want, Hawthorne," Augerill said dismissively, waving his hand before folding his arms over his chest. As if it was not absolutely insane to say something like this, and then act like it was no big deal. "But the important fact here is that the only reason you are still alive is because I need a skilled thief."

For a moment, Caldor's anger disappeared completely, replaced with deep confusion and surprise. Why would a powerful lord ever need a thief for anything? Augerill could buy anything he could ever want. Unless he was incredibly greedy, as well.

"And you are a skilled thief, are you not?"

Caldor glared at Augerill. He wanted to punch that arrogant smile off his face. He pulled at the shackles, his hands clenched into fists so tightly that it almost hurt.

"Wonderful," Augerill continued, connecting his hands behind his back and straightening his back. "Zaria here will accompany you to a fort from here, from which you will acquire a book. I would send my soldiers over there, but I don't feel like sacrificing them to dragon fire when I have much cheaper options available."

Caldor's eyes widened in shock. Augerill wanted him to go steal from a dragon? Caldor hadn't been aware there were any dragons left in these parts, but he knew the legends about their ferocity and deadliness. There was no way he would be able to get in and out without being killed or eaten, let alone actually find this book, whatever it was. Forts didn't tend to be small.

"If you succeed, I will pardon you," Augerill added, his tone disgustingly sweet. Of course he would say that. Caldor was certain it was a lie, but what was the alternative here? Hope that his guild was okay and alive, despite what Augerill had said, and assume that they would manage to rescue him?

"Refuse, and you will be executed as soon as humanly possible. So, what will it be?"

Well, there went the possibility of being rescued. If he wasn't even given time to decide, then there was no point hoping someone would even find out about his arrest fast enough to do anything.

Cal could try to escape on the way over to the fort, but he wasn't sure how plausible that was. Augerill must have no doubt already thought of that possibility happening, with Caldor knowing how to open locks.

Well, he'd always assumed he'd die young, he thought to himself bitterly. Might as well have a dragon do it. It certainly sounded more interesting and more private than simply being hanged.

Unsurprisingly, thinking this way offered him very little comfort.

He swallowed, staring down at the dark ground and letting out a defeated sigh. "How do I recognize the book?"

"Ah, yes, I forget the common rabble can't read." Caldor shut his eyes, trying to tamp down his urge to hit Augerill. While he couldn't use his fists, he could still try to kick him, or he might at least say something insulting to him. And right now, he couldn't afford to do either of those things, seeing as it might make his situation a whole lot worse. "It's large, heavy, has strange glyphs on the front.... You will get a picture of it. I hope that will be simple enough for you to understand."

Caldor gritted his teeth, struggling to stay silent. He wouldn't let this bastard provoke him. The fact that the lord needed him to do something hardly meant that Cal was irreplaceable. Even if his guild was gone—which was not the case and Caldor refused to believe otherwise without proof—there were surely many other people Augerill could send to retrieve this book.

Cal wasn't foolish enough to actually believe Augerill, but he supposed it didn't matter. He couldn't say no to this offer if he wanted to have a chance at staying alive. If he was to steal something from a dragon's lair, that chance was very small, but it was still better than his chances at the gallows.

"Fine," Caldor finally said, sighing. He didn't bother looking up. Unfortunately, he could practically feel Augerill's infuriating smirk even without it, though.

"Wonderful," Augerill said with delight. "I assume you can handle this from here, Zaria?"

The woman didn't say anything, only making a noise of agreement. Caldor looked up at her, noting that she looked even more irritated now than she had before, deep resentment in her blue eyes.

Well, he supposed he didn't even need to bother trying to convince her to help him. Not that there had been much hope of that before then, either, even if she did hate Augerill. The lord wasn't one to forgive his underlings' failures, which was why the number of executions had doubled after he'd come into power.

"I hope we see each other again, Hawthorne," Augerill said as he turned around, looking at Cal over his shoulder. "But hopefully only one more time. I can't wait for Redreach to be cleansed of your filth completely."

And with that he walked away, leaving Caldor grinding his teeth again and glaring after him. Bastard.

He flinched as Zaria began to unlock his shackles roughly, but once she was done, Cal sighed in relief, rubbing his sore wrists. His arms ached from the position they had been in, but his relief was very short-lived as Zaria grabbed his wrist once again with bruising force and locked a different shackle onto it, doing the same with his other wrist before he could even try to fight back. Not that he was feeling up to it—he was still lightheaded and unsteady on his feet.

"Move," she said sternly, speaking for the first time, drawing her sword and walking behind him so she could poke the sword's tip between Cal's shoulder blades. Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough that Caldor knew if he tried anything, he would get stabbed for it.

As Caldor started to walk out of the cell, the chain binding his wrists together clinking, he swallowed thickly. Despite his years and years of experience with sneaking around and stealing, and being very successful at both, he just knew this was going to go terribly wrong.

He sighed, hanging his head. Maybe he wasn't being led to the gallows, but it certainly felt that way. But he supposed getting killed by a dragon had its upsides—at least no one, safe for maybe Zaria, would be around to see it happen.