The Gallows Mansion

Prologue

Where nothing is pure. Nothing should be white.
Where nothing is quiet. Nothing should be open.
Where nothing is known. Nothing should be promised.

For visitors unfamiliar to the mansion or it's inmates. The lack of white, or beige, or cream in such a village would seem threatening. Even the ceiling is painted a pale of grey, with a distinct difference from the light grey others on the street have decorated their houses with.

Unlike their neighbours the Gallows, does not aim to stand out. The front is a simple bricked mansion. Large enough to be a house for a maximum of 25 of the bravest.

Not only should you be brave but you need to be game to gain a stay at the Gallows Mansion. Never is their complete silence.
Early in the morning the sound of running water fills the mansion. Showers, bathes, and buckets. To clean bodies, clothing and weaponry. Cleaning off the mess from the night before. The sharpening of metals is not out of the ordinary.

By lunch the sound is of chatter or of the maids bustling about to collect any linen for the wash or clean the halls. The maids are some of the hardest worked people in the kingdom. Ensuring that not a drop of blood or a hint of the black market or other activities are visible as a person steps through the front doors.

The afternoons are somewhat silent with a majority of the stayers resting for the night ahead, although there is always that one shuffling about or ensuing conversation within the hallways.

As the night sky begins to fall upon the kingdom the sounds of shelves or bags being packed begins. The sound of blades against each other are not uncommon. The counting and recounting of coins upon the floor. As well as the casual curse word thrown loud enough that all of them can hear it. Despite doors being closed.

It's when the night sky has truly settled above the Kingdom that the Gallows Mansion is at it's quietest. Many of the noise makers have left the house to the black markets, to the rooftops, to the endless trades upon the pier, or to the Castle.

Although they wouldn't dare discuss where each other would be travelling that night. Just merely estimated arrival time or whether a maid should stay up to run a bath for them or have prepared them a meal to drown their sorrows or cravings. It's all dodgy work. All very secretive. Each of them has their reasons for staying at the Gallows Mansion. Each of them also has their reasons not to trust or be trusted.

Where everyone is strangers. Anyone could be spy.
Where everyone is mysterious. Anyone could be your end.
Where everyone is wanted. Anyone could turn you in.

The Gallows is a place of impurities, imperfections and indecencies. A place full of people whom should be in a prison awaiting the King's Gallows. Or more correctly a place full of people avoiding or running from the King's Gallows. It is not a place for any old criminal or petty thief. It is a place for those cunning enough to place trust in the ones who could secure their fate. It is a place for people brave enough to live in the same village as their hunter. It is not for the light hearted. It is not for those looking for a quick escape or an easy resolution.

The Gallows Mansion is for the thrill seekers or those who thrive on adrenaline. Those who know they are being hunted yet still go out every night or whenever it need be to get their job done or to quench their thirst. It's surprising a place like this even exists. The owner or caretaker must be crazy to open their house to criminals, to the wanted, to the ones being hunted.

Yet he seems as though he is the least likely to be suspected. Short, stout, eloquent and educated. He doesn't question the people who take refuge in his house. He knows what he needs to know and then let's them be, so long as he isn't the next scam, trick or target.

Knowledge is power, but strangers are dangerous. Yet the people at the Gallows Mansion live no other way than as strangers. Names are forgotten or never told as nicknames or pet names create the identity of the individuals. They share meals, they join each other in an open room, you'd think they would know each other very well. But they don't. They really don't.

It is an undeniable trust. A wicked trust. An unspoken promise to; by saving each others skins, protect their own. Because if one goes, they all go. And most likely the one who spills will get to watch everyone else go before he or she meets their own end.

This trust rests on everyone telling the truth about the very little they do say. People have their suspicions about each other but it is safer not to question. It is safer because once they start answering they will expect the same on your part. People choose to accept the stories, even the obviously fake ones, because if the house keeper lets them stay, a night, a week, a few years,they should not be a problem.

It is those that stay for a month that should be worried about. The people who stay one night are passing through, a few nights they are preparing to leave. A week says they don't trust you enough and assumes that whatever huntsman is after them will find them if they stay in one place too long. Two weeks or three weeks usually means they are from another village but have business here. That long gives them time to scout and target, or familiarise with the trading or unspoken rules at the black markets. But a month. It generally means they've gotten whatever they sort out to find, or they've delayed their visit to the village for something.

But they dare not question each other.

Where everything is locked. Anything could be a trap.
Where everything is paid for. Anything could be a catch.
Where everything is red. Anything could be blood.

The Gallows Mansion is where the ceiling is unreasonably high. The few windows in all the rooms reach all the way to the top. Wide enough also for a elephant to walk through the frame. The mansion was not in any fashion small. Yet every window was always locked shut. Every window is also reinforced with multiple layer of glass. Only the sharpest arrow and the most powerful of bowman would be able to break through it.

Every room, suite or corridor is locked shut upon entering and exiting. Every locker is different. There is a different key for all 18 rooms for the inmates. There is no key that opens two doors, and if the inmates want to get around they have to keep all of them as a part of their constant possession. Even the stairs to the diner has two doors, one for the staircase and one for the room itself. The mansion is truly one of the most secure places. The best place to house criminal tendencies. The best place to house secrets.

The house keeper, the maids and the other various forms of help seem hold all the keys except the ones to the 18 inmates rooms. All people living and working within the Mansion seem well cared for despite no payment being required. Some of the occupants make regular payments out of respect and thanks for all they do for them. But it is never asked for, and certainly never demanded. Secrecy within the Mansion came at no cost. A reason to stay as long as possible.

The walls are a deep red, with little patterns on the panels every so often. The floor is made of wood yet is covered by an enormous red rug which stretches down past every locked door. All eighteen plus, secured shut. Maids and the help work around the clock to hide any sign of blood or mispattern in the rug or upon the walls.

The maids trust in the unlikely security the criminals bring.
They inmates trust in eachothers secrecy.
They trust in the house keeper and his promise to provide for them.
They trust their tracks will be hidden when they leave, as if they were never there.

Trust in secrets is the foundation on which The Gallows Mansion was founded.