A Better World (Record of Ragnarok x Reader)

Chapter 38 - A Journey Through Memory Lane Part. 3.1

After a year of slavery at the Salt Mines of Endovier, Celeana Sardothien was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point – though the extra dozen guards always following her around did at times bother her. It was, however, expected after her little... rampage eight months ago.

The mysterious hooded man who had visited the mines just for her gripped her arm and led her through the shining building where most of Endovier's officials and overseers were housed. They strode down corridors, up flights of stairs, and around and around until she hadn't the slightest chance of finding her way out again – or at least that was her escort's intention.

Because she hadn't failed to notice that they went up and down the same staircase within a matter of minutes, or how they zigzagged between levels even though the building was a standard grid of hallways and stairwells. The only thing the intended disorientation did was familiarize her with the building.

Idiots.

They turned down another hallway, and she studied the stranger's finely crafted sword. Its shimmering pommel was shaped like an eagle mid-flight. Noticing her stare, his gloved hand descended to rest on its golden head. She smiled.

"You're a long way from Rifthold, Captain," she said to the man. Not just any man. But Chaol Westfall – Captain of the Royal Guard. "Did you come with the army I heard thumping around earlier?" She peered into the darkness beneath his hood but saw nothing.

Finally, the man raised his sword hand, and the folds of his cloak fell to conceal the blade. As his cloak shifted, she spied the gold wyvern embodied on his tunic. The royal seal.

"What do you care for the armies of Adarlan?" Chaol replied. How lovely it was to hear a voice like her own – cool and articulate – even if he was a nasty brute.

"Nothing," Celeana said, shrugging. He let out a low growl of annoyance. Oh, it'd be nice to see his blood spill across the marble.

They entered a hallway hung with iron chandeliers. Outside the windows lining the wall, night had fallen; lanterns kindled so bright they offered few shadows to hide in.

From the courtyard, she could hear the other slaves shuffling forward the wooden building where they slept. The moans of agony amongst the clank of chains made a chorus as familiar as the dreary work songs they sang all day. The occasional solo of the whip added to the symphony of brutality Adarlan had created for its greatest criminals, poorest citizens, and latest conquests.

At last, they stopped before a set of red-and-gold glass doors so thick that she couldn't see through them. Captain Westfall jerked his chin at the two guards standing on either side of the doors, and they stomped their spears in greeting.

The captain's grip tightened until it hurt. He yanked Celeana closer, but her feet seemed made of lead and she pulled against him. "You'd rather stay in the mines?" Chaol asked, sounding faintly amused.

"Perhaps if I were told what this was all about, I wouldn't feel so inclined to resist," she said.

"You'll find out soon enough." Her palms became sweaty. Yes, she was going to die. It had come at last.

The doors groaned open to reveal a throne room. A glass chandelier shaped like a grapevine occupied most of the ceiling, spitting seeds of diamond fire onto the windows along the far side of the room. Compared to the bleakness outside those windows, the opulence felt like a slap to the face. A reminder of how much they profited from their labour.

Lightheaded and immensely heavy at once, Celeana faced the room. On an ornate redwood throne sat a handsome young man. Her heart stopped as everyone bowed.