Silas and Goro

Cough!

"Ugh."

Rhys woke up to the sound of dripping water.

No. It was dripping on his face.

Ouch!

A white hot searing pain shot through him from his neck down to his torso. It felt like someone had pressed a branding iron against his skin. Crap! It must be the Mark.

His mind was sluggish like he had been ripped out of unconsciousness by force. The air smelled of damp stone and rust from years of neglect.

He was lying on a cold, uneven cot and his legs felt rather numb from the biting cold. His vision swam for a moment before sharpening just enough to take in his surroundings.

A hoarse voice drifted in from his right, "You're alive, boy. That's something."

Rhys wasn't alone.

A dim flickering light buzzed weakly overhead, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Forcing himself upright, Rhys noticed the iron bars just beyond his bare feet.

Across from him, sitting on the edge of another cot, was an older man—thin, wiry with tired eyes. His salt-and-pepper hair was unkempt, his beard rough but neatly trimmed. His gaze was fixed on Rhys with mild interest.

Glancing over to his side, he was greeted by a massive figure looming in the shadows.

The man was built like a fortress—broad shoulders, thick arms and hands like iron mallets. He was also extremely silent. For a second there, Rhys almost shouted "Monster!" but he managed to keep his composure. Thankfully, the tank of a man didn't seem to pay him any mind.

Rhys' throat felt like sandpaper. "Is this…?"

"Prison? Why of course." The old man was weirdly jovial.

Rhys exhaled sharply. Of course.

He rubbed his temples, trying to piece together what happened before he woke up here. The last thing he remembered was—

Lenny, that psychopath. I need to come up with a plan for that bastard.

But first things first, he had to make it out of the trial first. He had no idea what it entailed. Was this all a dream sequence or reality? Are these people even real or are they also part of the so-called trial?

A silence stretched out between them, save for the distant sound of rats skittering across the damp stone.

Then the older man spoke.

"Oh, where are my manners? The name's Silas. Silas Montclair." He stood up and bowed briefly.

That was a bit much. Sounds like a nobleman. Rhys thought to himself

"The hulking gentleman to my side here is Goro."

Rhys hesitated, then sighed. "…Rhys."

Silas nodded slowly, as if tasting the name. Goro didn't move, not even lifting his head. But Rhys could feel his attention, like a weight pressing down on him.

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His wrist was sore—Looking down, he noticed purple bruises from iron cuffs that closed on his wrist and neck, though they had been unlocked now.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

Silas scratched his chin."Three meals ago, the guards dumped you in here." He thought for a second. "So… four days?"

I've been asleep for four days! Rhys was shocked.

"That makes no sense," he muttered.

Silas shrugged. "Goro and I helped ourselves to your share of food, hope you don't mind." He grinned. "In our defense, we thought you were dead."

Goro seemed to let out a low grunt in agreement.

The last thing on Rhys' mind now was rancid prison food. It probably tastes awful anyway. No. He was too busy thinking of a way to escape. He turned his attention over to Goro who sat hunched over like the cell itself could barely contain him.

The old man seems rather useless but I'm sure 'The Thing' here can bust outta here if he wants to!

Then Silas' dry and rough voice could be heard again.

"Forgive me but If you don't mind me asking…"

Rhys griped internally. What now?

Clang!

Before Silas could ask, a loud banging and clanging filled the space. Rhys could also hear a man shouting.

"Feeding time you animals!"

Many prisoners responded with animosity, shouting, jeering and cursing at the guard. But the man seemed to deeply enjoy the exchange. Maybe it was false confidence he gained from feeling superior.

Plus he knew they couldn't do anything to him from inside the cell.

A guard pushing a wooden cart with plates of food—more like grey slop resembling food—while banging on the iron bars of the cells was drawing close.

The sound kept growing larger until a man clad in dark, dented armour appeared in front of Rhys' cell. His uniform seemed mismatched, bearing two insignia, with one of them stroked out. The guard placed three plates before kicking them in the cell through the space below the iron bars.

Silas waited for the guard to leave before speaking up. "We may be prisoners but we aren't to be treated like swine!"

Where was that energy when he was standing in front of us man?

"The nerve, I used to be a nobility , you know." Silas chattered on as he picked up the plates anyway.

I knew it!

He gave Rhys his plate, then Goro and he sat back down on his cot. Rhys just stared at his plate. He thought the days of settling for scraps had passed but here he is. Prison wasn't even a place Rhys had set foot in before, nor did he ever wonder what it was like.

Looking up, he saw Silas digging in with his bare hands since they weren't given utensils. Not a single hint of nobility present.

Who am I to complain if the nobleman doesn't care? Rhys held his breath and swallowed the gray sludge given to him. 'Not too bad,' he thought. Perhaps hunger really was the best sauce.

He heard a grunt coming from Goro and turned to find him offering his plate to him.

Silas commented. "It would seem he wishes to repay you for partaking in your share of food."

"No, it's fine. You should eat your fill," Rhys assured Goro. Normally he would have taken it without a second thought, but he needed these guys to view him as a magnanimous saint. People tend to trust you easier that way.

The three men finished their meal in silence. But it wasn't awkward, everyone was just hungry.

After finishing the meal that barely satisfied him, Rhys sat back and noticed that old man Silas was still studying him.

Oh yeah, he had something he wanted to say to me hadn't he?

"Silas, you had something you wanted to ask?"

Hearing this, Silas sat up, licking his fingers and putting on a somewhat serious expression.

"You are a user of Eshe, are you not?"

Rhys froze.

Eshe.

Another term Rhys was not familiar with. But instead of revealing his ignorance, Rhys decided to put up a front by acting enigmatic.

"Whatever do you mean, Silas?" Rhys purposefully acted that way in order to draw out more information from the old man.

"There's no need to be cautious with us, Master Rhys, the Marks on your neck betray you."

Master Rhys, huh? That's new. And by Marks he must be referring to the Mark of the Damned. I thought the mark was unnoticeable. Then that burning sensation must have been because it fully manifested.

Rhys remained silent as Silas continued. "After the Dark Lord's disappearance, the Emperor took that opportunity and declared all Eshe users to be taken in or put down."

Suddenly, both Silas and Goro stood up.

"My family, the Montclairs, were one of the few noble families that stood against the Emperor's decree and as you can judge from my current situation, we paid dearly for it."

Rhys was completely lost at this point. It got even worse when Silas kneeled in front of him. Goro followed.

"Master Rhys, I would be honored if you would bestow upon us the privilege of serving you until we draw our last breath."

All Rhys could do was blink repeatedly.

Now what the hell is going on here!