Bard of Laketown

Part Thirty-Four

PART THIRTY-FOUR

Alfrid drags me back down the wooden stairs, with me still cursing the 'Master'. "How can you stand to serve such a airbag?" I say loudly.

Alfrid smirks. "You did not think he came up with his ideas by himself, do you?"

I bang my shins on the last stair and gasp in pain. "So you are the one who really rules this town?"

"Only inside these walls."

"But this is where he makes all the laws and decrees, is it not? He's come to rely on you, not only as a servant, but as his leader!"

"You've got the just of it."

"There's something I'm missing. Why do you want to rule this town?" A simple question with an easy answer- but only at the first glance.

Alfrid waves his hand around at the tapestries and polished wooden furniture which takes up too much space.

"Do you not notice the dust, dirt and grease that covers everything in here? Including its residents?" I ask pointedly.

"You've seen where other townspeople live. This is higher up on the ladder."

"You're still not answering my question."

We come to a heavy wooden door, which is bolted and locked. Alfrid pulls out a ring of brass keys and unlocks the door. It opens with a creaking sound. Grey stone steps, cold and crumbling, lead down into a dark, foul-smelling tunnel.

"For the same reason they all do," Alfrid says. "To have a nation bowing at your feet. Grovelling, worshipping! They will eat out of my hand if I tell them to."

He gives me a hard shove, and I only just manage to catch myself before I tumble headlong down the steep flight of stairs.

The walls down here are cold stone, with filthy water dripping down the stones and onto the dirt floor.

I can't hear anything besides the sound of our breathing and Alfrid's loud footsteps on the ground.

Wooden sconces every six feet hold torches which provide dim, flickering light.

We walk in silence. Alfrid turns left and then right down another dark corridor.

There is another door at the end of this one, and Alfrid uses another brass key to open it.

The heavy door opens, and I am now facing rows of cells, most unoccupied. A few hold people who look like mere skeletons, crouched on the floor, their eyes sunken in and clothes in tatters.

A large, gruff man with a matted grey beard and hard eyes sits on a wooden bench at the end of the row.

"Grümbold, we have another prisoner!" Alfrid says, pushing me forward.

The prison guard lurches to his feet. I can smell the cheap ale from here.

"What you in here for, luv?" His breath is disgusting. "I would love to know myself, actually." I say, stiffness in my voice.

He chuckles and grabs my forearm. "Good thing we have enough cells in this place," he says, then catches sight of my ears. "Ah! So you are an elf, then! Haven't seen one in quite some time. You're the first to enter this prison in an age!"

We come to one of the empty cells and he throws me inside. I land hard on the stone floor, the breath knocked out of me. The mouldy straw did nothing to cushion my fall. Grümbould laughs and unties the rope from my hands, then wipes his hands on his already dirty trousers.

The metal door clangs shut, and the key twisting in the lock finalizes it. I am going to die here.