Suvau stumbled into the dungeon, collapsing to his knees, breathing heavily. He was covered in green monster blood, sweat and dust. The other prisoners stared at him, unable to help because of their chains and even if they had not been bolted to the wall, it was possible their broken wills would have kept them where they were, especially as Urik fumed at Suvau from the top of the steps, on the cusp of the dungeon.

  “Don’t think you can fool me with your pretence of exhaustion,” he accused, his face shadowed and ugly, “you will continue to be my choice until your will is broken.” He looked at Jole who stood passively by his side. “Halve their rations!”

  The door slammed shut and the prisoners were, once again, alone.

  “Suvau?”

  “Do not be concerned for me,” he said, pushing himself up, waving back Gustin’s genuine inquiry, “I am not as broken as I am making myself out to be,” he groaned as he knelt on the stone, feeling his body ache and groan, “unfortunately Urik is not a fool and called me out on it.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for his ire,” Oska urged, “Urik likes to halve our rations for no better reason other than to watch us suffer.”

  “And I swear they never go back to the full amount afterwards.” Gustin lamented.

  “I’ve been known to eat snails and any bugs I can when I’m working outside the fort’s walls.” Ermaus admitted.

  “If not for this arm,” Gustin eyed his useless limb, “I would be assigned to the fields and would probably do the same.”

  “If your arm was not so useless, you’d be back in the Arena.” Palo snorted in his usual scathing tone. “Urik will not waste a healthy young body…unless he is bribed to do so otherwise.”

  “Palo, enough,” Ermaus grunted gruffly, “we have enough enemies outside to contend with.”

  Palo muttered something coarse and turned his back. Suvau stood up and looked around.

  “Huh…he forgot to chain me before he left. It’s good to walk around.” Suvau immediately approached Gustin and inspected his chains. “While the chains are strong, a little leverage behind the plate bolting them to the wall would easily pull the bolts out of the stone.” He walked around the dungeon, noting that all the chains were equally easy to remove.

  That told him two things. One, that no one bothered to inspect their bonds and relied on halved rations to keep the prisoners weak. Two, that Urik was very confident even if someone should escape the dungeon, they would not get far. A point which Oska promptly confirmed.

  “And where would we go, Suvau?” Oska asked. “You’ve seen how deep we are in the fort. There’s no way out except through that locked door then the soldier’s mess, the barracks, the upper and lower baileys and even the marketplace. And should we do the impossible and make it outside Fort Mavour, we’d have monsters to contend with.”

  “We’ve had enough practice at killing those with our bare hands.” Gustin chuckled.

  “Some of us.” Palo grouched.

  “What if we didn’t leave the way we came?” Suvau asked.

  Oska eyed him in the hazy darkness. “Where else would we go?”

  “Into the pit.”

  “What?” Palo snorted. “Out…into Maul? That’s your plan?”

  “At least Urik doesn’t ‘waste’ flesh in the pit,” Oska added onto Palo’s protest, “the gate comes down and the monsters are thwarted. But out in Maul…”

  “I doubt we’d last a day,” Gustin sighed, looking at his arm, “some of us even less.”

  “You must see reason, Suvau,” Oska insisted, “here we are prisoners but at least we are alive.”

  Suvau opened his mouth to argue then clamped his lips shut. “Yes, perhaps you are right…” He stood up and walked over to Ermaus. “Perhaps I can adjust those chains of yours so that you can lie down.”

  “I’ll lie down when I’m dead.” Ermaus grunted with a wiry grin and let Suvau lean in close to inspect his chains. “You saw the gate,” he whispered like a warm breeze through dry grass, “in the pit today?” Suvau nodded. “You don’t intend to lead them into Maul…but into the wall?”

  “That’s my idea.” Suvau saw Ermaus shaking his head. “There are doors in the wall that lead out into Terra. We were told as much.”

  “Locked from the inside and bolted from the outside.” The older man sighed. “I’ve been around. I’ve heard guards and soldiers talk…”

  “I was a metal worker in Fort Omra,” Suvau whispered, “locks I can deal with…but the bar on the outside is a problem, that I grant you.”

  They heard the door to their dungeon being opened and Suvau hastened back to his position and sank onto the ground, his head resting dejectedly on his chest. Jole doled out the rations which were never plentiful before yet now, Suvau began to wonder if he would have the strength to stand in the Arena with so little in his stomach. However, after Jole left, forgetting once again to chain Suvau to the wall, Oska gestured for Suvau to come close and scraped his ration into Suvau’s bowl.

  “While you’re in the pit, you’re keeping one of us out of it.” He said before Suvau could ask.

  “You could still starve to death.” Suvau pointed out.

  “I’ll survive.” Oska insisted.

  Suvau did so, scraping his bowl clean but the food sat heavy in his gut as something niggled at his consciousness. Why did Oska’s chains appear to be better oiled and maintained than the others? If only the useless in the Arena were permitted to work outside in the fields, and Oska was able bodied, where was he going so often that his chains showed signs of daily use?

  The next day Judd returned from his early morning ride with Captain Chael and the soldier patrol. It had been a sizeable group that had ridden to the border where Fort Mavour’s territory met up with Fort Callain’s to the west. Apparently there had been a surge in volunteers, despite the frostiness of the weather which meant every pound of Xenon’s hooves snapped frozen blades of grass.

  Upon returning to Mavour, Judd immediately took to the soldier’s bath house, sweaty and smelling like horse. The soldiers thought this was marvellous too, able to talk with him about the monsters he had slain on his journey to knighthood. Without Giordi there to recount his adventures, Judd had to relay them himself so his bath was brief but hot and he returned to the servant’s chambers that abutted his own. He dug through his bag, hunting for a clean shirt then found one hanging from his bed.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  He was just struggling to get it on, the cotton sticking to his still slightly damp skin, when he heard his name called then a laugh and hands grasped the fabric, pulling it down. Aalis appeared when his head finally emerged through the hole in the top.

  “Aalis,” he blurted, yanking his shirt down, “I’m sorry…”

  “I would not have bothered you except you have a visitor.” Judd glanced at the door which was closed. Aalis shook her head. “No,” she pointed to the main chamber, “you have a visitor…”

  “Oh, of course.” Judd had forgotten that he was expected to be in the master chamber. “Thank you.”

  He tried to tie the laces at his cuff of his white shirt but in the end decided it was better to be prompt than perfectly dressed…

  …a decision he immediately regretted upon seeing Willower waiting on the threshold, dressed in cream and soft buttery gold.

  “Miss Donimede,” he cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the dangling laces from his untied cuffs and how his shirt might still be clinging in certain, inappropriate places, “I was not expecting…”

  “I apologise if I have interrupted you…” She said, blushing hard.

  “I should have made sure I was properly dressed first…”

  “There was no need to answer the door if you were otherwise engaged…”

  Judd paused, suddenly suspecting that they might be talking about different things. “Willower?” She would not meet his gaze. Judd looked down at his haphazard appearance and frowned. “What did you think I was doing?”

  She swallowed. “Barely dressed with your nomad bride answering the door…”

  Judd closed his eyes. “Willower…Aalis…”

  “Please, I should know better…” She turned and began to flee.

  “No, wait, listen,” Judd chased her down, catching her at the end of the corridor, “please…I gave up my bedchamber to Aalis…and Verne.”

  Willower’s brow furrowed and she licked her lips, trembling. “Aalis and your archer?” Judd nodded. “They are…” He nodded again. “Oh…” Judd stepped back as she looked up, her hazel eyes shimmering with tears. “I am so…embarrassed. You said as much and I believed you and then to find her…and you…”

  Judd didn’t know what to say to ease her embarrassment. While it was clear they both knew their ‘courtship’ was a farce, Willower’s heart was still in danger. For all her brazen attempts to seduce him upon his first night in the fort, possibly encouraged by liquor stolen from her father, Willower was innocent. But more than that, she was na?ve.

  It was that very reason that Judd knew he could never propose to her.

  Willower lifted her chin, still blushed and a little glassy eyed but able to meet his gaze.

  “My mother asked if I would remind you of her invitation to supper tonight.”

  “Given that I snubbed her last night for the soldier’s mess,” Judd nodded, “I was not going to forget.”

  “I will let her know.” Willower paused. “You also ought to be aware that mother sent out invitations the day you arrived, to a feast in your honour.”

  “Invitations?” Judd blanched. “To whom?”

  “Fort Omra, Verion and Callain.” Willower said, every fort she named causing Judd’s brown eyes to grow wider. “I do not believe the knights will be able to attend but many of the nobles and their wives…and daughters, will be arriving in Fort Mavour. Some have already arrived, forgoing any invitation, in anticipation.”

  Judd pushed his hands through his hair, pacing on the spot. “No, no, no…”

  “Mother wants to honour you,” Willower insisted, “and when you live this far south, any reason to host a feast and show off to the other forts is a welcomed one. There is not much society here unless we cultivate it ourselves.”

  “But I haven’t even slain a minotaur yet!” Judd exclaimed. “What if I don’t? What if I’m a massive failure?”

  Willower gazed at him, puzzled and slightly amused. “Judd LaMogre…how could you possibly fail?”

  He put his hands on his face and yelled into them so his voice was muffled. “Not you too, Willower.” He moaned. “Listen to me, I am not this paladin knight that I am being made out to be.”

  “You mean, all the monsters you have slain…it is all a lie?”

  “Well…no…”

  “Are the stories your minstrel tells in the soldier’s mess true?”

  “In that they happened, yes,” Judd cringed, “however I am decidedly more flawed and clumsy than any of the retellings acknowledge.”

  “Then you deserve a feast,” Willower smiled, “you can hardly stop it now. Mother has already set the menu and the great hall is being scrubbed clean by a fleet of servants as we speak.”

  “I suppose.” Judd’s shoulders sagged.

  “And perhaps, if I might be so bold as to claim a dance at the feast…”

  “Of course.” He said, possibly a little too bluntly but Willower’s delight dulled any doubt in her mind.

  She farewelled him with another reminder about the supper invitation and Judd wandered back to his chambers and closed the door behind him, leaning against it, wishing they’d never been driven to Fort Mavour because of the need for him to kill a minotaur. He rubbed his face and grunted in frustration, letting the room come back into focus. The first thing he saw was a beautiful cloak and hood, trimmed with fur, hanging from a hook. The embroidery on it was stunning and very elegant, which immediately brought the feast back to mind.

  “Aalis has been shopping.” He smiled then sighed. “I don’t think I’ve got anything grand feast worthy in my swag…” He knocked on the concealed entrance from the servant’s chambers to his own and peered inside. “You might have told me it was Willower at the door.” He admonished Aalis lightly.

  “She did not say,” Aalis admitted, “she simply asked if you were available to speak to.”

  Judd nodded, deciding it would only become awkward if he told Aalis what Willower suspected them of doing just before she knocked.

  “She said her mother has arranged a grand feast in my honour,” he tried not to shudder but couldn’t keep the sarcasm completely out of his tone, “and I don’t think I own anything…” He gestured to himself.

  “You do have some decent clothing,” Aalis pursed her lips, “perhaps not worthy of a feast in the second grandest fort of the south…”

  “I was wondering, could you look into purchasing me something appropriate? Sword master Roust asked if I would come down to the training hall and I’ve been invited to supper tonight then I’m out riding with the early patrol again tomorrow…”

  “I am concerned you are going to be too exhausted to fight this minotaur if and when it comes.”

  “I am starting to wonder the same thing.” Judd sighed.

  Aalis studied him with oblique eyebrows. “I will go to the market and find something for you.” She promised, putting her hand on his. “One less thing you need to concern yourself with.”

  “Thank you.” Judd breathed. “This whole place…I just wish we were elsewhere.”

  “I know.” Aalis sighed. “I am worried about Suvau. It has been days since we saw him.”

  “I saw some of his people in the fields on my patrol ride. It’s probable that he is being put to work digging up vegetables.”

  Suvau walked down the steps into the dungeon, feeling oddly refreshed after three hours of sitting in the pit without a single monster incursion. Behind him he could hear Urik berating Jole as if the presence of monsters was somehow the brute’s fault. After Urik had exhausted his vocabulary, but not his frustration, he stormed off and Jole came into the dungeon and hauled Suvau onto his crate, his expression of brokenness barely masking his anger.

  “What does Urik have on you?” Suvau asked, feeling a little cocky.

  Jole grunted and pushed him down, locking the manacles around his wrists. Once Suvau could not retaliate, Jole struck Suvau in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. He stormed out of the dungeon and slammed the door shut.

  “Suvau?”

  He waved back their concern, feeling his jaw already bruising. “I’m alright,” he spat out the dirt he’d inhaled, “I should have seen it coming…”

  “Maybe you should let one of the monsters strike you…just give Urik the satisfaction of seeing you broken.” Suvau shook his head, shifting his jaw from side to side, hearing it click back into place. “Is it worth your life just to cling onto your pride?”

  “It is more than just that,” Suvau argued, “while I am in the pit, the rest of you are spared.”

  He could feel the air sucked out of the room and knew his words had stunned them.

  “Suvau,” Ermaus offered gently, “we all play a part in looking after each other here. This is not on your shoulders alone. You cannot do this alone. Let us help you.” Suvau shook his head. “No monsters today means there might be a big one tomorrow.”

  “I won’t let Urik break me…he’ll have to kill me first.”

  “Knightly nobility has no place in the pit,” someone said flatly, “you’ll die for your ideals.”

  Suvau knew this was a distinct possibility, for while he had a very possible way out of the dungeon and fort, it only emptied into the wall. Without help, he doubted they would be able to get through it and on the other side, they would face wild land where monsters roamed almost constantly and soldier patrols were frequent.

  Ermaus was right. Suvau could not do this on his own.