Overwhelming

Ty'Bral shook his head. "First your deal with Lord Colm, then the patterns and locraf. Now you have to do one more thing. Any more, and you'll never have the time to get stronger!"

'Maybe I'll learn something during the course of this job that I wouldn't have known otherwise. Don't be so negative.' Goleil thought.

William beckoned to Goleil. "Come with me. Let's continue this conversation in my father's office. This place is far too dreary to speak about any matter of any importance. We may have locked down the city, but we still have to be careful. It's a miracle the Krodians haven't come knocking already."

William led the way out of the prison through a door at the far end of the small chamber. Through the door was a row of small cells, each with a different number. The cells had a heavy oak door with a small viewing port at eye level. In between each cell was a lit torch. Although the hallway was well lit, the cells themselves were not. The only light that entered them was through the viewing port.

The only thing Goleil could hear was the occasional scratching, like nails against stone.

As they walked past the dilapidated cells, Goleil saw a guard push a small tray with a small sliver of bread and some mush-like substance through a small opening on the bottom of the door.

William looked back at Goleil and said, "That is the standard meal ration for most of Redvale. This is the problem you'll be helping solve. I have heard the Sun Guard is deeply religious. Think of it as serving the weak and needy."

They passed a particular cell that had a face pressed against the bars. The man's hair fell across his face, and a greasy beard covered half his face. The only thing that moved as they passed was his eyes. The scratching grew louder.

"My religion is war, and the weak have no place on the battlefield. I'll help you because a warrior repays their debts." Goleil said.

William smiled. "Very pragmatic."

They reached a crossroads and kept going straight, but Goleil looked down each corridor. Down each corridor, he could see that there was row upon row of cells, each dark, and damp. Each step they took echoed off the walls. The scratching was as faint as a whisper now.

"Where are we?" Goleil asked.

"Beneath the streets of the slums. The guardhouse isn't that far, and if they were all to escape for some reason or another, we wouldn't lose very much. To keep all our prisoners under something important would be incredibly stupid. That's why they are here." William replied. He kept his distance from the cell doors and stepped over the odd puddle as he walked. The scratching was growing louder again as if it was following him.

Goleil was about to agree when he noticed that something wasn't right. He looked behind him and only saw his jailor. The lights were lit, and the cells closed. He looked forward again. William hadn't noticed that he'd stopped. Nothing was wrong.

Then he realized what it was. The whispers of a mad man had gone silent. The face against the cell door was gone, and the scratching had ceased.

Suddenly, he felt something grab his ankle. He looked down and saw an emaciated arm reaching out from the small opening in a cell door. The hand looked skeletal, but its grip was like iron around his ankle.

He lashed out instinctively, kicking the bony forearm. A whimper from the cell, but the grip remained firm.

Goleil brought his heavy boot down on the elbow of the rotting arm, shattering it. It bent at an unnatural angle as the inmate screamed, quickly letting Goleil go and retrieving his arm.

Goleil took a shaky breath and stepped towards the middle of the hallway.

The jailer behind him chuckled. "That's why we walk in the middle! These crazy bastards just love to grab ankles!"

Goleil shot him an angry glare and looked behind the jailer one more time just to be sure. There was no face pressed against the bars, no scratching. No whispers or laughter. He decided to just catch up to William and get out of here.

As he did, he realized the prison looked far brighter than before.

'Maybe it gets brighter the closer we get to the entrance? We must be getting close.' Goleil thought.

Finally, they left the prison. As he emerged onto the street, Goleil took a deep breath of the chilly air. He was confused for a second; the last time he had been outside, it was balmy.

"How long was I down there?" He asked as they walked towards the keep.

William shrugged. "Half a day, maybe."

Goleil sighed. He was never going to get used to the weather here.

The heir of Redvale chuckled as he heard Goleil's exasperation. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it, as we all must. The weather is the biggest reason we can't grow food and why we are starving. If we had the ability to produce our own food, we wouldn't be at the mercy of the damn Krodians." He said and spat on the ground.

Goleil's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

William Colmed sighed. "Ever since the fall of Vrea, our sole source of food has been the Krodian Empire, as they border us to the west. They sandwich us against the Outerlands, but they are uncomfortable with their reliance on us for protection against the eldritch."

The young lord clenched his fist. "The Vrean's had no problem with us, but the Krodians are different. They gave us a choice: Annexation or Starvation. They've been aggressive ever since the Upheaval, but now that they've destroyed your kingdom, they are brutes."

As they walked, they stuck to the main roads as they were joined by guards. The slums were almost silent due to the cold, so their voices echoed off the claustrophobic houses.

"The Upheaval?"

William raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? That's a surprise. It's the event that ultimately led to your kingdom's demise. All four Kings of the Four Kingdoms were killed within a week of each other. Sound familiar?"

"Ah, yeah, sounds about right," Goleil replied.

"Smooth," Ty'Bral said, appearing in an alleyway.

"Anyway, they gave us a choice about a month ago. We haven't answered, but we can't hold them off forever. They have begun to spend less and less food with each shipment, and our people have grown restless. Lord Colm fears revolution, and Lady Tyria fears Y'trix."

Goleil felt like he was being watched, and indeed he was. Every alleyway they crossed now held at least one man, who glared daggers at the sun knight.

"It wasn't until a couple of days ago I came upon a clue that might save us. With you here, Y'trix was solved, but we still needed food. Let's continue this conversation in the keep. The slums are safe, but the market is not," He chuckled, and he said, "How ironic, that is."

As they made their way out of the slums and into the market, people in heavy jackets and hats made way for the entourage, but their hatred towards Goleil was palpable. He reasoned the only reason he hadn't been attacked yet was because of William's presence.

By some miracle, they made it to Lord Colm's office without being attacked, though the Sun Guard wasn't exactly sure why the people hated him so much. He worried for a second before remembering he didn't really care.

He had a debt to Lord Colm, not to the people of Redvale.