In the middle ages ,kingdoms like Ethera thrived. Bustling economies, large armies, and a fearful name. Especially king Eledore ( current king ) Although the kingdom seemed thriving on the outside, on the inside it was rotting with corruption . Anyone would take bribes and mercenaries/ Militia were a common need because of local scrimmages.
" Move it!" The Gaoler shouts, He kicks the shin of Valk Thorn. The gaoler mocks him as they make their way to his cell, Valk, a lean man, pays no attention , looking around for escape points, his black eyes darting around the room left and right.
His jet black messy flowing hair follows behind him making the gaoler confused " You're no Nobel, how about you get a cut in the dungeon, yes?" Valk doesn't respond and keeps walking in the chains, " not much of a talker. You'd survive for a while so you don't have to talk any more." They make it to his keep, the gaoler forces him in, knocking him on the floor while at it.
The gaoler gestures the turnkey to lock the door behind securely.
Rats scurry around dark, the only tiny light coming from a small window. It's freezing and humid in the concrete cell, you can barely see anything in it ,but hear the noises of everything in it .
Valk got up easily despite the heavy chains holding him down. He spots the toilet shaft, a way out.
He slowly paces around the room, " I can't escape with these shackles on. "I'd have to wait for something to help me take these off," he thinks in his head.
He shakes the shackles on his hand, it's loose, but not loose enough.
His tattered tunic barely keeps him warm, his hands go numb from the freezing cold making him produce sweat.
In the dungeon, hierarchy was interpreted there as well.
The Gaoler: responsible for Administration, security, keeping register of inmates, and managing visits from relatives.
The Turnkey: A lower leveled guard, was used for locking and unlocking doors, delivering rations or moving inmates between cells.
The Constable: (Keeper): A high ranking warden, responsible for overall security. They supervised teams of jailers, they were the final authority of weapons and men in arms to prevent escape.
The Porter (Gatekeeper): One who plays in security, the Porter guards the main entrances. They control who enters and who goes out the secure zones of the castle where prisoners were kept.
These important roles shape the dungeon to make sure it's secure in every corner . Even though many escaped before they died trying.
Valk made a scratch in the stone using it to tell the time. Then stood on his two feet… waiting. As he waited for hours no one came, he didn't hear a single footstep, if he slept on the floor bugs would swarm him. He looked at the door at all times till morning. He had no money to exchange for food nor any family nearby, so he had little hope in someone to give him greasy scraps.
He looked at the light beam that came from the small window when it reached the middle; he knew it was midday ,but no one came even then. He stood for days, listening for Turnkey's footsteps, his stomach growled and muscles ached.
Fleas evaded his hair, making an irritating burning sensation each second. Days on days he starved, his bones began to show, his body was failing, but he still stood up walking around the room to gain blood flowing around his body. Hours upon hours of staying awake waiting.
As he waits he overhears guards taking an expensive bribery secretly letting a commoner go for free, " typical," his hoarse voice said after not speaking for days. He feels dazed, he is about to give out his gut-wrenching hunger and sore legs until.
A greasy slab of fatty pork is slid through a slot in the door. Valk looks at it as if he was seeing things, after days of waiting on end something was there, his stomach screams to devour it but he is skeptical of it.
He walks toward it stiffly to check if it was real or not, his stomach begs for the food to enter his body, his wrist bruised from the chain's friction, " who sent this." He wondered to himself, " was it… Garmen? No he's far away isn't he." Garmen was his old friend back at the harsh mercenary camp, until they split ways because Valk was searching for someone else.
He puts his hand on his head realizing, " followed me then." He thinks Garmen must've been noisy like he always is. Valk grabs the pork, he wasn't gonna eat it straight away, he examined it not knowing if it was from Garmen for sure, the pork was a dripping greasy slab making his mouth water.
He recognized it as the local butcher's slab. It must've been from Garman now," it's soaked, in lathering grease that coats his hand in a thick moisture," His eyes widens as he realizes he can use the grease to loosen the shackles, " he sent me this to escape." Soon he takes the idea into action.
He moves to a corner so he doesn't alert anyone or accidentally make noise. Valk rubs the Slaab of pork all over his hands making it oily, the oil drips down to the shackles coating it as well.
He tucks his thumb deep into his palm and squeezes his fingers together to make his hand as narrow as possible.
He tries his hardest to pull out his hand steadily, he slowly takes it out the grease allows his hand to go through but his dry thumb and knuckles collide as it breaks through, dry skin peels off making his hands bleed.
Pop.
A sharp pain jolts in his thumb, a dislocating sensation from pulling too hard, " Dammit," he holds in the pain to minimize noise, he presses it down trying to put it together, " that won't work." He gives up on trying, accepting the pain of his right thumb.
The shackle fell to the floor making a loud thud, but it makes it seem he fell unconscious . The Gaoler laughs with guards and The Executioner, they come to bring him to be executed.
From down the hall footsteps are heard walking to his cell. He lathers his body in the slab of pork till it's dry. Planning to slide down the waist in the toilet shaft.
then shoves the slab of pork into his mouth, its texture feels dry but with a hint of oil, his teeth can barely chew it, feeling food after a long time. His body is bigger than the toilet knowing he will struggle to fit in, by that time the Gaoler opens the door first hand seeing a stuffed mouth.
" This Dungeon-Dweller is trying to escape, pin him!" The Gaoler yells acting shocked secretly happy a torture session was coming.
The Guards Manhandles Valk, taking him out of the cell, the grip from the guards pressing deeply into his skin. They shackle him again with tighter chains, the chains tighten into his bones.
Down long gray spiral stares his arm is filled with a sharp pain from being pulled, he stays quiet not wanting to cause any more trouble for what he is about to endure.
The Gaoler, Henry Blackbridge. A noble, defined man. With orange curly hair. But used his noble privileges to his advantages.
It feels endless like the waiting he did while standing for him to end up here. He looks at the keys on the Gaoler then remembers they aren't too far from the door.
" This dungeon-dweller ripped his chains for nothing, how pathetic."
The stoning sensation of the shackles irritates him, " it would be almost impossible for me to grab those keys and run fast enough in my state." His legs were still sore from earlier.
As they made their way further down they got further away from the door. He thinks of a plan, people were sick now and no one wanted to be sick. Valk notices the keys on the guard's belt hook. He had to escape. He fakes coughs. His throat is already sore and dry making it more believable.
The guards noticed the coughing, so they came to a stop looking at Valk in confusion since he was fine a few minutes ago. Henry is taken back by him coughing, " he may hold the plague." As Henry is taken aback covering his nose and the guards are confused as well scared, Valk slips both the Keys from a guard slowly without them noticing the large clink, he slips them behind his back carefully. He coughs loud and chaotically enough that they don't hear the sounds of his chains moving.
As they distant away from his clouds cough he makes a run for it. He runs up the spiral stairs, each step shaking his entire body. He opens the door with the key then locks them inside, they bang on the doors yelling for someone. He runs toward the garderobe( toilet room ) Guards stationed at each point going through a regular Rotation, he comes up with having to time his dash perfectly, he runs through the guards during the rotation they catch on chasing after him. He looks around for the vertical shaft, without much hesitation he slides through the narrow waste shaft getting covered in filth.
He emptied into an unclean moat and swam his way the direction grass fields were . He swims with the last energy he has, the only thing on his mind is to find her…
The Constable Luther of Almeres hears about this, enraged that his security failed, " I want you to look across the dungeon's land and bring back an execution show." Luther demands guards and porters.