Marianne walked through the white-walled corridors of the Royal Palace of Ukaibe, basket of tools in hand, making her way to her new assignment. The Chamberlain had called to her early this morning and said she was off washing duties, and instead was to start looking after a very important guest within the Palace.

This had excited her, and her joy must have been obvious, because the Chamberlain had smiled too as he ushered her off, telling her to go visit the Captain of the Guard just after midday. She was just about to reach his office, the coolness exuded from the stonework of the walls filling her with pep and vigour as she rapped her knuckles on the wooden door.

A single word drifted from beyond the door, “Come,” and obediently she opened the door and stepped inside. Before her was a small office space, filled mostly by a large desk which was covered in various papers, and a bookshelf that appeared to be devoid of books.

An older man was sitting behind the desk, his hair having gone snow-white with his age. He looked up from what he was writing and ran a hand through his also white goatee. He leaned back in his chair as he took a good look at the woman standing before him. Marianne could see that even while he sat at his desk he was wearing his full uniform, such as his breastplate and the padded shirt which tried to provide his arms with some protection.

The Captain eyed her up and down, noting the basket she held and the plain garb that all the maids within the Palace wore. He sighed slightly and rummaged around on his desk, eventually finding the paper he was after he held it up before his eyes and adjust the spectacles he wore ever so slightly.

“And you would be Marianne?” he lowered the page so he could see her nod as a huge smile beamed across her face, “So you’re the one they have sent me? Well, I don’t suppose the Chamberlain told you what you would be doing?”

He let the paper go and it fluttered down to the desk to hide amongst the other again. She beamed over at the Captain as she answered his question.

“He said I would be looking after a Palace guest,” she shifted the weight of the basket to her other hip.

“Well, I do suppose that is one way of putting it,” the Captain clicked his tongue a few times in thought before pushing himself up from the desk. He walked around to her, his height causing him to tower a good head above her. “Well, follow me then, I’ll find someone to take you to the guest.”

Making their way out of the office they headed over to where the Mess was. The hall was slowly emptying itself, but there were still enough people around. The Captain grabbed the arm of a passing guard and looked at him squinted eyes, before letting him go on his way.

The smells of the food were overwhelming her, the servants didn’t get food that smelt this good in their mess. Roasted meats and vegetables filled the air, with underlying hints of exotic spices and red wine. Marianne wiped some drool from the corner of her mouth as she tried to compose herself, hoping the Captain would hurry up before her stomach started to growl and embarrass her.

“Hey, Redmond,” the Captain called out while pointing to a guard who was sitting near the middle of the hall, munching away on some bread. To Marianne it looked freshly baked. “Redmond, it’s time. Go grab the food and the buckets and lead this here maid, Pene… no… Rache… no…. Whatever, this maid here. I’ll have her wait outside.”

The guard nodded with a wide grin around his mouthful of food and raised a hand to let the Captain know he had heard. Excusing himself from his fellows Marianne watched as he made his way off somewhere else. The Captain placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her back out of the Mess. He led her off to the side and motioned for her to stand by the wall.

“Redmond will be out momentarily,” he said as he lay a hand on her shoulder, “I hope you do well in your new position. It’s once a week, and it excuses you from the other maid activities.”

“May I ask why the position needs replacing, sir?” she politely questioned the Captain.

“Oh, no major reason,” he said jovially, “The person who previously held this position got married to a guard recently and is almost due for her baby, so she decided it would be better to focus on running her own household. If you keep your wits about you this position could be held for many years to come.”

With a final pat on the shoulder he headed back to his office, and Marianne just waited patiently in the corridor, gazing around at all the intricately carved columns and cornices that lined the walkways.

Redmond did not take too long to appear. Over one shoulder he was carrying a bar supporting two buckets filled with water, balancing them precariously as he walked. In his other hand he held a plate of fine foods, various roast meats of which she could not even identify as well as more of the freshly baked bread, which now filled the air with its lovely scent. A small sack swung below the plate. She noticed that the plate was of questionable quality though, appearing as something the servants themselves might have used rather than a distinguished guest.

“Alright then, lass,” he said in a pleasant tone, making her feel at ease, “If you’ll follow me, we’ll go down and see him.”

He started walking off as she questioned him, “Down?”

“Oh yes, down,” he called back over his shoulder, “Are you not aware of who you go to visit?”

“No, no one has actually told me, aside from that he is a guest.”

“Well, they call him that, but you’ll see soon enough. Too bad ole Maggie left, she was good at this. We’ll see how you go, eh.”

He quietened down as he made his way further into the Palace. He held doors for her as they went through them, going down flights of stairs, going deeper than she had imagined. The white marble walls had given way a while ago to grey stone, the fine carvings were gone and the walls were rough. When she placed a hand on one to keep her balance it felt slimy and she quickly wiped it on her dress.

More guards started appearing, and Redmond nodded to each as they went past. Some of them smiled at Marianne but mostly they kept to themselves. They reached an extremely heavy looking door at one stage, and Redmond asked if Marianne could knock for him, not wanting the spill the water he carried. A head suddenly peered back at them from behind bars that were inset in the door.

“Oh Redmond, it’s you,” the voice of the man on the other side was gruff and bespoke years of experience. He glanced over at Marianne, “Ah, here for our guest I see. Just a moment, I’ll let you.”

The sound of a large key grinding in a lock followed his disappearance, and the door slowly swung open. The hinges were well oiled and it moved with ease, the guard standing to the side with a slight bow and a giggle for Marianne.

“Welcome,” happiness was written across his face, “to the prison!”

A slight gasp escaped her lips as she noticed that the next corridor was no longer lined with rock walls, but with the bars of prison cells. Redmond pressed on and Marianne rushed to catch up with him, pressing in close as she peered into the cells she passed.

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The first few were empty, and the rest on this level were well kept, the prisoners not looking any worse for wear. Some came to the bars and leered at her, smiling greasy smiles that sent shivers down her spine.

“Thieves and the like,” Redmond called back to her, “Petty crimes generally.”

A spiral staircase greeted them next and they moved further down into the prison. A smell drifted up the stairs and she needed to steel herself before making her way down. It was a mixture of piss and faeces, unwashed bodies and rotten straw. The dark corridor was lined with fewer torches than the previous one, and this made each cell all the eerier as a hand reached out for her, laughing as she squealed.

Redmond just ignored them all, kindly pointing out to her that these people were the ones with the more serious of crimes. Murderers and rapists. She shivered as he did, glad that there were iron bars between them and herself. They continued down into another spiral staircase and came out in another hall.

This one was not lit any better, but there were no cells down here. They pressed onward and after what she thought was about the same length of corridor as the previous had been the walls gave way and guards appeared on either side of her, sitting at tables playing cards. There were eight guards there, and one nodded at Redmond as he moved to open a door that was now blocking their path.

The new guard now led them down the next passageway. Slowly the barren rock walls, gave way again to more expensive stonework, the marble walls from higher up reappearing. Marianne’s brow furrowed as she looked confused. The ‘guest’ was becoming more and more of an oddity the more they moved down, since passing through the prison and then a guard station, she had assumed that this ‘guest’ must be the worst of the worst kind of prisoner. But the return of the marble walls was telling her otherwise. She was starting to get conflicting information.

An ornate door rose before them and the guard knocked before unlocking it. The lock was well cared for and the key turned easily, the lock springing open with a satisfying click. The door opened outwards to reveal a very spacious cell. The marble carried through into the room, which was circular, and very well-lit from a shaft that was in the ceiling. Water also dripped down over to one side, and a small array of plants were growing around the edges of the walls.

On a raised piece of ground in the middle of the room sat a man, cross-legged with his back to them. He wore no clothes and Marianne could see the build-up of grime that covered him, his hair was long and matted, and from the side she could see tendrils of a scraggy beard covering his face. A smell alerted her to the presence of faecal matter that cascaded from where he sat down to the bottom of the small rise.

"Welcome to one of the most well-designed rooms within the whole Palace," the new guard waved a hand at the entirety of the room, "The light source comes from that shaft, which is mirrored all along it's inside and rises above the back of the Palace. The water is rainwater that gets collected in tanks higher up and is allowed to trickle down. It provides him with fresh water, and lets his plants grow."

Redmond moved over to the side gingerly placed the buckets on a clean section of earth. He then balanced the plate on the knee of the prisoner.

“Who is he?” She asked, half wanting to know, but also half wishing she never had this job.

“No one really knows,” Redmond shrugged, “He’s always been here.”

The other guard nodded, “I’ve been at this post for a few years now, and this guy is the only prisoner down this far.”

Even with the speaking going on and the plate on his knee the man still had not moved. Marianne moved around to the side of him and could see now that his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. His body was well-toned, muscles clearly defined, and neither overly large or too skinny. He just seemed to be really well proportioned.

“Ah, we’ll leave you be then,” Redmond said from the doorway as he and the other guard moved out, closing it behind them, “Just call out when you’re done, the sound travels really well down here.”

The lock clicked shut and a slight feeling of dread overtook her. She placed the basket down and realisation dawned on what she was required to do. In the buckets Redmond had brought, one was filled with hot water while the other had cold water. The Chamberlain had given her a list of items to bring, including sponges and a cutthroat razor, all of which were in her basket.

Slowly she started cleaning the man. Washing the grime from his back, shovelling his waste over to the sides to become fertilizer for the plants, making sure to keep the soap suds away from his plate of food. She did not want to mess up the nice food that resided on the plate.

She began washing his hair, and the colour of it started to return, a black as deep as the darkest night sky, as the last remnants of a town’s lights faded away. She massaged his scalp and combed through the soap, untangling the knots that had formed from a lack of care.

“Ingrid?” came a soft voice.

The word sounded from the man and Marianne was so startled she fell backwards. She shook her head, half thinking she had imagined it, and got herself back to work, giving his hair a deep cleanse.

“Is that you Ingrid?” came the voice again, mournful this time, on the verge of tears, “It has been so long since I have felt your touch.”

“I am not Ingrid, sorry,” she muttered back.

“Oh,” the sorrow in his voice stabbed daggers through her heart, “I am sorry, I thought you were Ingrid. There have been so many, I lose track of who is who…”

"Look, my name is Marianne," she grabbed the bucket of warm water which was now half-empty, "And if you don't move your plate of food it's going to get doused with water."

He startled as he noticed the food on his leg, but deftly collected the plate and all its belongings and quickly raised it out of the way. She emptied the bucket on his head and washed all the soap away, cleaning the hill of the remaining waste matter in the process. Once done she grabbed a towel and her comb again and began drying it. The man started to slowly eat the food as she did so, making no comment on its quality but savouring every bite.

Once she was satisfied with his hair, and his plate was empty, Marianne moved around before him. She placed herself on the ground before him and readied the cutthroat. She looked up and he stared back with brilliant blue eyes that sparkled like a crystal-clear sky. She was overcome by the scene for a moment, but shook her head as she began to cut away the mess of hair that seemed to be a beard.

Rather than trying to trim it up she just cleared the whole thing. While she worked she tried to start up a conversation with the man.

“So, you know my name, but what is yours.”

His eyebrows came together as he thoughts, but he answered with “I don’t know.”

“Hmm, that’s a problem,” she removed the hair below his nose and quickly moved the razor away as he sneezed, “What about why you are here?”

“I don’t know that either,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you know anything?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve been here for a long time, that is all I remembered. I see images flowing through my mind, but I can’t really remember what they are,” his eyes started to look off into the distance as if watching these images again, “Maybe they’ll make good stories.”

He smiled, his fair skin and pristine teeth shone through now that the mass of hair had been removed from his face. He ran a hand over his smooth skin and Marianne stepped back to admire the work she had done, while clearly trying to keep her gaze on his face and away from his naked lower half.

Marianne looked him over properly now, since he was clean, and was even more confused. His body, his toned muscles, his face. They all spoke to her of a person in his late twenties, maybe even his early twenties. But not someone who could be considered to have been here for so long that he had forgotten who he was. Half the murderers in the cells above still knew who they were, and they would likely have been here for many years so far.

“You really don’t know who you are?”

“Really,” he said as he smiled back at her, causing her to take a defensive stance, “I do thank you for your time today though. It has been a pleasure.”

His way of speaking was more formal than she was expecting of someone in his state. He still had not moved from his spot though, his legs still crossed. He watched her as she walked around him until she was past where his head could turn. She went to the door and called out to Redmond.

The sound of steps was almost instantaneous as the two guards made their way down the hall and opened the door. They nodded when they looked at the man in the cell, pleased with the work she had done, and gathered the buckets. They ushered her out the door and shut it behind them.

“Was he a child when he was put in here?” she asked before they left, glancing at the door.

The guard considered the room through the opening in the door, “Not that I’m aware of. When I started he looked exactly like he does now. He doesn’t seem to have aged a day.”

Redmond just shrugged, "It's best not to ask too many questions. Because either no one knows, or they are too tight-lipped to say. Only thing is, he is one of the better looked after prisoners, though it has been a while since he's had anything other than food brought to him. Maggie left about three months ago.”

“Let’s move,” the other guard said, “his silence always make me uncomfortable. Don’t know how you girls always seem to get him to talk, he never says a word when the guards are around.”

“It’s all good, Marianne,” Redmond put a comforting arm around her shoulder as they walked off down the corridor back into the prison, “You’ll be down here once a week to make sure he’s cared for.”