I mean, this has become a pretty common occurrence so I think you all got the gist of things by now, but I have been helled, and I wrote this story as repercussions for my sins. Sorry in advance.
“In the atrocious hell that is the capital dungeon, the laws of humanity simply don’t apply. Should you find yourself on the wrong side of the gates, you will quickly learn that whatever values you have learned prior to your damnation mean nothing, and should you find yourself on the other side — the wronger side — you will quickly learn why the dungeon is so feared, and you will vanish into nothingness. There is only a small handful of prisoners and even fewer guards, but make no mistake, escape is impossible…”
Or so Fenc has been told upon receiving his sentence — having been found guilty of messing with the beast that roams. However, such threats are, more often than not, for the sake of formality. Determined to find a way out of this dreaded dungeon, he began examining his cell, looking for anything that could prove helpful on his endeavors. Cautiously at first, he started rummaging through anywhere his hands could fit, constantly pausing to listen for the sounds of footsteps. However, as time passed, he became more careless, seeing only the bigger picture, until he was inevitably caught by one of the guards — one that couldn’t be noticed even at his full attention.
“Ahem,” The guard’s voice resounded through the cell. Knowing that he was caught, Fenc gave up on his foolish idea, and sat on his bed, waiting for whatever the repercussions could be. Despite not wanting to catch glimpse of the guard that would most certainly kill him, Fenc found himself glancing at the open doorway — and saw nobody there. Seeing this as his chance, he sprung up, and just as he prepared to run, he fell — he has failed to notice the dark magic keeping him from moving.
“Please don’t try to escape, that would be quite troublesome,” the voice resounded again, near Fenc. Confused, he looked at the open doorway again and found nobody there. Near him, he sees no person. In fact, the only thing he sees is a most minuscule being, which might have been identifiable had he been wearing his glasses. Satisfied that the prisoner has finally seen her, the guard continues. “Now, you got sent here for your usual faggotry, Fenc. While searching through your cell, I’m sure you found a book?”
Confused, Fenc recalls the last half an hour. The cell seemed too secure to break or dig through, and the only thing he has found was a single book bound in leather. He remembered flipping through some of the pages, but he abandoned it when he realized that the book will be of no use for the escape. “Uh, yes…” Fenc begins, desperately trying to remember the contents, “Isn’t that the one that has — if I remember correctly — patterns used in fiction?”
Despite not being able to see the tiny guard in detail, Fenc was sure he noticed some happiness radiating from the guard, who replied in earnest. “Precisely!”, she interjected. “Now, I have a job for you. I want you to read that book, and once you’re finished, I want you to help us apply the patterns you see to the scrolls in the library.”
Having preferred the prospect of reading fine literature to rotting in a cell, Fenc accepts the job. Once again alone after the guard left, Fenc changes his priorities. Instead of searching for a way to escape, perhaps he could do this job and be more than a mere repeat-offender of faggotry — he could be part of something greater. With that in mind, he picks up the book and begins reading. Countless hours pass this way, not stopping until he heard another voice, coming from the grate in the ground.
“Hey, jackass, want to make a wager?” the voice quietly called into the room, Fenc recognized the voice in an instant, for it was one of his accomplices in his usual crimes. With a sigh of resignation, he folds the corner of the page he was reading and addressed the man underneath the grate.
“I told you this land doesn’t have the patience for the likes of us,” Fenc harshly whispered, exasperated, “Get going before you make me lost the status of a sane man!” Of course, the voice only bellowed in laughter, not one to care for such delicate matters. Of course, that was to be expected, but Fenc didn’t want to lose the respect of the others. He prepared to tell the man to leave, he heard the faintest whisper. “What was that?”, he asked, lowering his ear to the grate. The alluring promise of reward spoke, and in a short time, he forgot about the deliberating penalty of failure.
. . .
Fenc woke up several hours later, unable to remember much that happened afterward, spare the fact that he felt some extra weight on him. In the middle of the ground, a gaping hole replaced the grate that previously resided there, and there was no trace of his buddy. Still groggy from whatever happened prior, Fenc walked over to the hole. Without a doubt, it would lead to freedom. All he had to was jump in, and he would be free. Yet, he couldn’t help but to hesitate. While the hole would lead to freedom, he would no longer be part of anything greater. Sure, he could go back to harassing the roaming beast — maybe even hold a conversation with it, or even try to draw it — but then what would that make him? Would he ever be associated with the greatness he knows he could otherwise achieve if he used this escape? With all that in mind, Fenc made his decision, and he walked back to his bed. Taking one last second to think things through, he brought the blanket to the hole, and proceeded to cover it with the blanket, like that of a pitfall trap.
His mind off finally cleared, Fenc left his cell — a special freedom that comes with his work — and approached the library. Even though he hasn’t read as much of the book as he would have liked, he was sure he knew enough for the task at hand. Resting his hand on the door’s handle, he took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Inside the library, there was — as he was told — a collection of detailed scrolls, and several books that looked much like the one in his cell. There were two other people in the library; a witch of dark magic — a servant of the dark one without a doubt — and the same guard he encountered earlier, the one too small to properly identify.
Fenc was ready for confrontation, questioning, or even to immediately be ordered to begin working. However, he was thrown off guard by the reactions he did receive, which were the sounds of poorly-suppressed laughter. Confused, he stared at the guards, until one of them — the regular sized one — spoke.
“Quite a change in appearance,” she said, almost losing her voice to laughter, “But quite fitting, nonetheless.” Confused, Fenc gazed around the room, looking for anything that could show him his reflection. After a few seconds, he managed to find an old mirror — dusty, cracked and stowed behind a shelf, but it would get the job done. After moving the mirror to a better location, he mentally prepared himself and gazed into the mirror. His reflection was more or less the same, with only two key visual differences — out of the top of his head were the ears of a feline (after the discovery, he felt the areas where his real ears were, only to feel nothing), and concealed by his clothing was a tail.
Amused, the guards paused their own works, watching at the astonished Fenc inspecting at his reflection, when the tiny one spoke. “Somehow, I am not surprised,” she proclaimed, with a slight tinge of disappointment in her voice — this, after all, marked the complete lack of any remaining sanity in him. The reasoning left to their imagination, the guards got back to work, expecting the same productivity from the new feline Fenc.
Once the initial shock wore off, Fenc also got to work, reading through the fine scrolls, occasionally comparing and applying the patterns found in the books. However, his mind was not on the work, for he remembered something important. He remembered the wager he made with the man — or more importantly — he remembered losing the wager that was made. And if that were the case, then he needed to find a way to undo this madness — after all, Fenc had more than just his appearance to lose; he had his existence as a human at stake.
To Be Continued
