The hollow sound of steps over a stone floor and the chatter of distant conversations echoing through long winding corridors became gradually more recognizable as the mage slowly regained consciousness. The smell was that of metal, and their mouth tasted like blood. Shuffling heavily on their back they felt the smooth embrace of sheets covering them and the warmth of a clean mattress. Sitting upright and slowly opening their eyes, they tried to remember where they were. Then they noticed the cold metal around their neck. In a flash the memories of their capture came back: they remembered being caught stealing from a jewellery store, how they tried to run away only to exhaust themselves, how they were found in the morning, the fight with the inquisitor and the lightning from the metal collar that was now around their neck. But they were not dead. Not yet.
The prisoner stood upright as fast as their aching limbs allowed, like they were expecting another imminent attack. When their eyes finished adapting to the dim light they scouted the cell around them; a simple room of grey stone mostly empty salve from the bed and two buckets in opposite corners, one full of clear water and the other empty. The door was made of heavy rusted metal and had only a small window that led to the hallway of whatever dungeon waited beyond. There was some light coming from a row of tiny holes on top of the wall next to the bed. Looking down, they realized the clothes they were wearing were not theirs. A set of wool pants and wool shirt, with no underwear or shoes. They took them off frantically, panting, as if somehow getting rid of the foreign clothes would make their situation better. After calming their breath they sat down on the bed and began to check their body damages. Legs were mostly fine, old scars and bruises but nothing major, the feet were as rough and callous as usual, their arms had a few cuts and their wrist had symmetric rashes suggesting they had been tied up with ropes. The main new feature of their body was a fractal scar that had spread like vines from their right hand, up their arm and over their shoulder and chest giving a slightly darker tone to their olive skin. These new marks, however, were barely noticeable in comparison to the old scar that covered most of their torso, originating over their heart and spreading all the way from their shoulder to their hips and almost to their back, like a monstrous flesh spider in an eternal hug which disfigured their barely-existing breasts and stomach. They didn’t have any way of looking at their back, but it didn’t hurt too much so it was probably fine. During this inspection they realised that they were not as dirty or sweaty as they remember being. Running their fingers through their hair confirmed it: someone bathed them, or something similar. The mere thought send shivers down the prisoner’s spine and made them gag.
They stood up and took a deep breath before putting on the wool clothes again. It was better than remaining naked. Grabbing the water bucket, they stared at the quiet liquid for a second. A pair of green eyes stared back, sunken deep into a battered face covered in old wounds with a crooked nose and a vertical cut on its lips. The hair was about shoulder length, messy and clearly cut by someone who didn’t care about aesthetics. The prisoner smiled revealing in their reflection two rows of surprisingly well kept teeth, thinking about how their captors could have at least had the decency to give them a better haircut with the bath. Turning their head left, they inspected the lightning scar that crawled upwards from their shoulder and over their neck almost up to their eyes. It should hopefully fade in a few days, and if it didn’t it would be another story to tell. If they ever found anyone willing to listen. The metal collar on their neck was heavy and immovable and after quickly discarding the idea of breaking it they reach down towards the water to take a sip. It was warm, but at least it was clean.
After returning the bucket to its corner the prisoner tried jumping on the bed to see if they could get a good view of the outside through the small holes, but they were too close to the ceiling and too minuscule to be useful. Their attention then shifted to the door, which was almost sealed shut, except for another set of holes to allow for air circulation and the window at about eye level. The shy aperture was not properly closed so the mage silently approached it, almost as if they were expecting it to be a trap of some kind. Its shutter could only be opened from the outside but since it was ajar the prisoner could just push from the inside slightly to open it. With curiosity overcoming their caution, they did exactly that. Pushing the metal shutter away they saw a perfectly bland stone corridor with what they assumed were some lamps in the distance, outside their field of view. What they didn’t expect was the elf sitting on a chair just in front of them, with some kind of strange magical book on his hands. He was looking straight at the door. As soon as they made eye contact, the prisoner crouched to hide from his sight like a startled wild animal hiding away, accidentally hitting their knees against the door with a loud banging noise that echoed through the hallways.
“Shit.” They muttered, ashamed, shocked and hurt in equal measure.
The elf stood up from his chair and approached the door while speaking with soothing voice. “I am glad to see you are finally awake. No need to hide, I am Highmage Nauzet’ralor, Arcane advisor of the governor. Please call me Nau. I am here because...”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Don’t worry, I know the deal. You are my friend as long as I bend over and do everything you say right?” Interrupted the prisoner while sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the room, with their back against the wall and staring at the door. “No thanks, I have got more than enough friends.”
Nauzet sighed. “I wouldn’t put it that way, I am just here to have a conversation.” He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door to the cell, leaving it open as he walked away. “But if you choose to be difficult about it I certainly won’t be able to help. The choice is yours.”
The prisoner stood up and with shy steps walked out of the room, still expecting something bad to happen at any moment. The elf was slowly walking away to their right. “It is not much of a choice, isn’t it?”
Nau laughed like that resembled the chirping of birds in a remote location of an enchanted forest. “You make a good point. It is not much of a choice but you still have to make it.” He turned around. “Can you tell me what the sixty-third tenet of the dragon is?”
The prisoner thought for a second. Even now they knew it by heart. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Nobody deserves a third one.”
“Think of this situation as your second chance, then. I hope you are smarter than to throw it away.” He turned around and continued walking. “You can either let me help you or face whatever judgement and punishment the mage-hunters want for you”.
The prisoner reluctantly followed, keeping a safe distance and an eye on their surroundings as they walked through the straight hallways of the dungeon passing by many empty cells and many not-empty ones. After walking for some time in silence they arrived at a humble room with barely a desk and two chairs. Nauzet sat in one of them and gestured to the prisoner to sit on the opposite one. They then had the chance to take a proper look at the elf. He was slightly shorter than them, with very dark skin and even darker hair, which was carefully braided around his head. His face had some wrinkles around his mouth and brown almond eyes, which suggested the appearance of a man in his fourties. Being an elf, he was probably closer to three centuries old, or so the prisoner inferred based on their limited experience. Like for most elves, his ears were slim and pointy, extending around ten centimetres behind his head. He was wearing a pale blue shirt that contrasted magnificently against the tone of his skin tucked in a pair of dark slim silk trousers. Around his neck rested a stole, which wrapped around his nape and fell down his shoulders over his chest in two perfectly symmetrical strips of cloth. It had three distinct vertical bands of three different colours: Red, purple and one sort-of midway between them, a colour that resembled cherry. On each side it had four golden circles forming a vertical line, like some kind of badges or condecorations but perfectly plain, without any sort of markings or symbols.
Once both of them were sat down the elf pulled what looked like the empty cover of a book, but when opened it revealed a large purple-glowing crystal unlike anything the prisoner had seen. The engravings surrounding it were completely different from most Faith-based magical items. Within a second ethereal pages appeared out of nowhere and the elf began silently reading what was written on them. After arriving at a page with a picture of the prisoner, Nauzet finally raised his gaze and asked.
“I believe we haven’t been introduced yet, what may I call you?”
“Why are you helping me? What do you want in return?” The prisoner barked.
“Nothing.” Quickly replied the elf. “I expect nothing from this. Whatever happens to you will not influence my life whatsoever. I was woken up two days ago in the middle of the night because there was a rogue mage teleporting and stealing from jewellery stores. They must have clearly been really powerful and skilled in order to apply complex paths, but also were incapable of detecting the very basic alarm system of the establishment.” Nauzet smiled and continued. “That could mean two things: either there was a powerful mage being an absolute idiot around the city, or there was a common thief with somehow access to restricted magic. In both cases, the situation seemed too interesting not to conduct an interrogation of the subject in question… And now here we are! I am eager to learn how good my assessment of the situation was.”
After a brief moment of silence, they answered “So this is just your job?”
“No, it is not. As I said, this is a special occasion.” He said with an unflinching smile, excited like a child with a new toy. “Then again, how may I call you?”
Silence. The prisoner stared at Nauzet, then at the magical book with a picture of them and some writing next to it, then back at the elf. Green eyes burning with defiance.
Nau broke the silence with a long sigh “Look, I know, you are obviously being cautious and I get it. I know your refusal to collaborate is your way of sort of staying in control of the situation but there is something that you need to understand here… I don’t want this sound as a threat but there is no other way of putting it.” The elf leaned forward in his chair, meeting the prisoner’s gaze with his own. “The only reason you are still alive is because I put in a word to the judge and your future depends exclusively on my assessment on whether or not you are more trouble than you are worth. Please, for your own sake, don’t make things any more difficult, I am genuinely trying to help you but you need to let me.”
The prisoner lowered their head and crossed their arms over their chest, leaning backwards on their chair. They bit their lip and remained quiet for a few seconds before talking, still avoiding Nauzet’s eyes. “You can call me Lu.”
Nauzet lit up the room with his widest smile yet “Thank you very much Lu, nice to meet you. Is that short for ‘Lucy Lowfield’ by any chance?”
Lu turned their head towards the elf so fast it almost hurt their neck. Mouth slightly agape, but no words came out.
