Clip-clop my hooves went as I strolled across the Mardukryon prison. Rooms crudely dug into the rock secured by vertical metal bars lined the left and right sides of the path. Evenly-spaced golden crystals along the walls illuminated the prison.
Prison or dungeon?
A quick internet search told me that a dungeon was an underground prison. Both terms were correct, but ‘dungeon’ was more apt. Another useless fact added to my knowledge. Herald Stone, the Prison Expert.
Most of the cells were unoccupied. The crime rate of Kurghal Village was low. The few Mardukryons here were the same ones I had seen when I was imprisoned for trespassing. I had thought it was acceptable to ransack a house for loot—many RPGs allowed it, often hiding valuable items in cabinets—but it turned out it was illegal. I probably needed a thievery or stealth Ocadule to do it without getting caught.
“You’re back, laddie!” called one of the prisoners. He grabbed the bars of his cell and framed his monstrous grin between them. He had broken horns, and deep scars faintly glowed orange on the black of his skin. “What are you in for this time?”
“I’m not under arrest,” I said. “I’m here to visit someone again.”
These NPCs weren’t just decorations. They were quite entertaining to interact with, as I found out last time I was here. Before I visited Bawu, I chatted with them to learn about their backstories. Most had typical crimes, like stealing a sack of beans from a farmer or beating up another Mardukryon due to a disagreement. Then there were those who violated weird laws, such as selling a bottle of wine to an intoxicated Mardukryon.
“Keeping straight on your new path in life?” he said. “The ancestors are proud of you. And so am I.”
“Wow, that’s wholesome,” I said, stopping for a moment and looking back at him. “I hope you change your life when you get out of here, random criminal NPC.”
“Are you here to visit me?” someone else shouted down the hall.
“He’s not here to visit you!” another yelled. “He’s here for the traitor. The sister of the witch.”
“Hush now!” A guard banged his gauntleted hand on the bars. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll transfer you further inside!” Turning to me, he waved. “Hurry, young one. Don’t waste your time talking to these dregs, or you’ll become like them.”
“I think they’re quite nice. But then again, we’re on different sides of the bars.”
The guard led me further down the tunnel until a double-winged metal door sealed by glowing chains stopped us. The guard held an amulet with a carved golden crystal inset on its black stone pendant against the door. The chains stopped glowing and slinked back into holes in the wall like slurped spaghetti strands. The doors swung open.
We descended a steep incline and entered the sort of ‘maximum security’ part of the dungeon.
Individual cells were spaced thrice further apart than before and burrowed deeper into the earth. Enchanted barriers instead of grills kept the prisoners inside. It was far dimmer, with only the shields faintly radiant, that I couldn’t see clearly into each cell. I could make out only silhouettes of Mardukryons so gigantic that they must be near the age of Mehubanarath, their ember lines very faint. I badly wanted to ask them what crimes they had committed, but the guards wouldn’t allow me to stop until we reached Gula.
With the curious amulet, the guard brought down the barrier and gestured for me to enter. “Remember, no spells,” he sternly repeated the warning he also gave previously. “You can’t use any even if you will try. I will return.” The barrier went up again in a whoosh.
“Healer Gula?” I sat on the ground near the barrier. It slightly hummed and made the fur on my legs stand.
Gula’s form, outlined by faded webs, stirred in the shadows after I called her name.
“Healer Gula, it’s me,” I said. “The best Mardukryon ever. I’ve come to visit again, as I promised—I always keep my promises like the trustworthy lad I am.”
[Mardukryon Lvl 39|Prisoner: Gula] shuffled into the light of the barrier with wobbly knees. A simple robe wrapped her torso. Her bare arms showed her ashen skin flaking like dandruff. Gone were the trinkets and beads that used to dangle from her horns. I couldn’t tell Gula apart from her sister, Mad Brewer Bawu—or Witch Bawu, as Mardukryons now called her—if it wasn’t for Gula’s tusks cut short.
“I’m a Healer no more…” she feebly said, sitting in front of me.
This was progress. Previously, she needed some coaxing before she talked. Even then, it took much work to converse with her because she incoherently answered with broken sentences.
“You are a Healer,” I insisted. “Being here doesn’t erase your knowledge and skills.” And I hope you can pass those to me someday, I added in my head.
“I cannot heal anyone while imprisoned.”
“You can heal people again once you’re free. Your patients are waiting for you… unless they’re already—Anyway! We’ll clear your name and—”
“There’s no name to clear,” she croaked. “I made a grave mistake a hundred and twenty years ago when I idly stood by, watching my sister’s perilous experiments. Another mistake was helping her escape justice. A continuous mistake of keeping secret her hiding place despite knowing the danger she posed. Here we are, at present… My sister caused numerous deaths, more, far more than the last. Their souls are on my horns as much as hers.”
If we’re talking about guilt, then I’m guiltier than you. I didn’t have a counter-argument because what Gula said was true.
Instead, I thanked her again for not revealing my role in this whole affair to Chief Nogras, though Gula wasn’t aware of how huge my actual part was. All Gula knew was that I was their courier boy, ferrying letters between sisters, maybe doing some errands for Bawu.
“Their souls are also on my horns,” I said. “Yet you spared me imprisonment by keeping… What’s a fantasyesque way to say, ‘keeping your mouth shut?’”
“I do not deserve thanks,” Gula said, shaking her head. It was eerie not hearing her rattling beads. “It is I who should ask your forgiveness for entangling you in this sordid affair. Leave this place and let us talk no more, lest you are suspected of a connection to me and my maniacal sister.”
“I’m not going to leave. I mean, I am going to have to leave in around ten minutes for my morning jog. Before that, let’s talk about, uh, anything.”
Out of all NPCs I had met, Gula was the one I trusted the most. Bawu mentioned some doubtful things about her, which could be true, but so far, Gula has proved herself an ally by not snitching on me. I also needed Gula for my Plaguetank build—the healing part. I resolved to continue working on my relationship with her.
“Tell me, what of the village?” Gula asked.
I sighed in relief that she didn’t return to the far corner of her cell and shooed me away like last time. This felt like a dating simulator—I had played a few of those as a kid when I was yet to know the complicated dialogue trees of real women. Some RPGs require building connections with NPCs over a long period to unlock questlines or for great rewards.
I recounted to Gula the recurring Arcane Blighted attacks, the missions of the Hunter-Warriors into the tunnels, the cleanup of the Blighted pollution, the extent of the destruction of the settlements on the cliff walls, and the homeless Mardukryon living in tents raised where the Mirdabons used to gather outside the northern gate.
“They destroyed the wards made by Elder Pabislag,” I said. “That area was most convenient for an evacuation site, so they had to drive away the Mirdabons. Just pray that Buvalu doesn’t attack, I suppose.”
Gula covered her face with gnarled fingers and heaved. “The handiwork of my beloved husband, all gone. I may rot in jail and be buried by history, but I hoped my husband’s works would continue to be honored by the village. That is, no more.”
“Intense emotional scene,” I said. “Is this the start of your villain arc?”
“If only the world permits time to coil back.” Gula lowered her hands and stared at the floor. There were no tears in her eyes; Mardukryons probably couldn’t cry. “I can’t believe Bawu did this. If only I knew, I would have her arrested long ago!”
“You did it for your family. As for Bawu, she’s doing whatever the hell she’s up to in preparation for revenge on the Mountain Guardian. Both understandable motives, even if the consequences of your actions are… not so good.”
“It is not so simple, young one,” Gula said. “Family, yes. That is part of the reason I took care of Bawu. After the Great Quake, only she and I remained. But Bawu never thought of me as her family. The Arcane Brewers are her family, their Lodge her home. She seeks revenge on the Mountain Guardian for her fellow Arcane Brewers, not her family by blood. Our parents, our uncles and aunts, our cousins, and many more who died during the Great Quake… Bawu does not care for them.”
I scratched the bottom of my tusks in thought. “It is strange that Bawu wants revenge for the Arcane Brewers but not for her actual relatives. There’s obviously more of your family than just the two of you, but I never thought about it until you mentioned it.”
“When I met Pabislag, he became my family,” she whispered. “I should’ve listened to his counsels against saving my sister.”
“If not familial ties, then why are you helping her?” I asked, suspecting the answer.
“There is this potion I am… I was attempting to make.”
I raised a brow.
The [Large Fragile Bundle] was still in my inventory—a collection of potions, chemicals, and other substances. Before going into hiding, Bawu left the items with Gula. I was supposed to return them to Bawu—Gula thought they were all dangerous—but then, Bawu revealed they were gifts. Ingredients for an important concoction, contrary to what Gula thought.
Gula continued, “My sister had created a healing elixir so powerful that it can cure almost all illnesses, known and unknown, and bring back anyone from the brink of death. I was planning to recreate it as penance and a symbol of contrition to the village for aiding Bawu’s escape long ago. Other than motives personal and albeit selfish, reconstituting the recipe of this ultimate panacea will be helpful to the village. By staying connected with Bawu—”
“You’re hoping to get her secrets?” I finished.
“Alas, I cannot make it now,” Gula said. “I wasn’t even close to completing it. All for naught.”
I weighed if it was time to reveal the truth of the [Large Fragile Bundle], but hoofsteps and a large shadow looming from the other side of the barrier interrupted my thoughts.
“My time’s up, Healer Gula,” I hurriedly said. “I’ll return tomorrow. Do you have any lead on what Bawu could be doing next?”
“I cannot fathom my sister’s thinking.”
“This healing elixir you mentioned. What if I recreate it? Is that possible? Maybe Chief Nogras will forgive you—”
“Nay, you are far less experienced.”
“It is time to leave, lad,” the guard said, the barrier dissipating. “Return on the morrow if you wish to talk to her further. I advise you not to interact with traitors.”
“I’ll be back on the morrow, Gula!” I said.
Temple
More revelations and a possible way to save Gula? We’ll find out eventually. The next chapter will be about the real world. Time for an update on the real world and Herald’s fitness journey.
Fifteen advanced chapters on Patreon. Thanks to all patrons, especially Cidule tier Teeneet (aka Whale)
Read my other story: REND - a psychological novel with an atypical protagonist
Join our Discord
Clip-clop my hooves went as I strolled across the Mardukryon prison. Rooms crudely dug into the rock secured by vertical metal bars lined the left and right sides of the path. Evenly-spaced golden crystals along the walls illuminated the prison.
Prison or dungeon?
A quick internet search told me that a dungeon was an underground prison. Both terms were correct, but ‘dungeon’ was more apt. Another useless fact added to my knowledge. Herald Stone, the Prison Expert.
Most of the cells were unoccupied. The crime rate of Kurghal Village was low. The few Mardukryons here were the same ones I had seen when I was imprisoned for trespassing. I had thought it was acceptable to ransack a house for loot—many RPGs allowed it, often hiding valuable items in cabinets—but it turned out it was illegal. I probably needed a thievery or stealth Ocadule to do it without getting caught.
“You’re back, laddie!” called one of the prisoners. He grabbed the bars of his cell and framed his monstrous grin between them. He had broken horns, and deep scars faintly glowed orange on the black of his skin. “What are you in for this time?”
“I’m not under arrest,” I said. “I’m here to visit someone again.”
These NPCs weren’t just decorations. They were quite entertaining to interact with, as I found out last time I was here. Before I visited Bawu, I chatted with them to learn about their backstories. Most had typical crimes, like stealing a sack of beans from a farmer or beating up another Mardukryon due to a disagreement. Then there were those who violated weird laws, such as selling a bottle of wine to an intoxicated Mardukryon.
“Keeping straight on your new path in life?” he said. “The ancestors are proud of you. And so am I.”
“Wow, that’s wholesome,” I said, stopping for a moment and looking back at him. “I hope you change your life when you get out of here, random criminal NPC.”
“Are you here to visit me?” someone else shouted down the hall.
“He’s not here to visit you!” another yelled. “He’s here for the traitor. The sister of the witch.”
“Hush now!” A guard banged his gauntleted hand on the bars. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll transfer you further inside!” Turning to me, he waved. “Hurry, young one. Don’t waste your time talking to these dregs, or you’ll become like them.”
“I think they’re quite nice. But then again, we’re on different sides of the bars.”
The guard led me further down the tunnel until a double-winged metal door sealed by glowing chains stopped us. The guard held an amulet with a carved golden crystal inset on its black stone pendant against the door. The chains stopped glowing and slinked back into holes in the wall like slurped spaghetti strands. The doors swung open.
We descended a steep incline and entered the sort of ‘maximum security’ part of the dungeon.
Individual cells were spaced thrice further apart than before and burrowed deeper into the earth. Enchanted barriers instead of grills kept the prisoners inside. It was far dimmer, with only the shields faintly radiant, that I couldn’t see clearly into each cell. I could make out only silhouettes of Mardukryons so gigantic that they must be near the age of Mehubanarath, their ember lines very faint. I badly wanted to ask them what crimes they had committed, but the guards wouldn’t allow me to stop until we reached Gula.
With the curious amulet, the guard brought down the barrier and gestured for me to enter. “Remember, no spells,” he sternly repeated the warning he also gave previously. “You can’t use any even if you will try. I will return.” The barrier went up again in a whoosh.
“Healer Gula?” I sat on the ground near the barrier. It slightly hummed and made the fur on my legs stand.
Gula’s form, outlined by faded webs, stirred in the shadows after I called her name.
“Healer Gula, it’s me,” I said. “The best Mardukryon ever. I’ve come to visit again, as I promised—I always keep my promises like the trustworthy lad I am.”
[Mardukryon Lvl 39|Prisoner: Gula] shuffled into the light of the barrier with wobbly knees. A simple robe wrapped her torso. Her bare arms showed her ashen skin flaking like dandruff. Gone were the trinkets and beads that used to dangle from her horns. I couldn’t tell Gula apart from her sister, Mad Brewer Bawu—or Witch Bawu, as Mardukryons now called her—if it wasn’t for Gula’s tusks cut short.
“I’m a Healer no more…” she feebly said, sitting in front of me.
This was progress. Previously, she needed some coaxing before she talked. Even then, it took much work to converse with her because she incoherently answered with broken sentences.
“You are a Healer,” I insisted. “Being here doesn’t erase your knowledge and skills.” And I hope you can pass those to me someday, I added in my head.
“I cannot heal anyone while imprisoned.”
“You can heal people again once you’re free. Your patients are waiting for you… unless they’re already—Anyway! We’ll clear your name and—”
“There’s no name to clear,” she croaked. “I made a grave mistake a hundred and twenty years ago when I idly stood by, watching my sister’s perilous experiments. Another mistake was helping her escape justice. A continuous mistake of keeping secret her hiding place despite knowing the danger she posed. Here we are, at present… My sister caused numerous deaths, more, far more than the last. Their souls are on my horns as much as hers.”
If we’re talking about guilt, then I’m guiltier than you. I didn’t have a counter-argument because what Gula said was true.
Instead, I thanked her again for not revealing my role in this whole affair to Chief Nogras, though Gula wasn’t aware of how huge my actual part was. All Gula knew was that I was their courier boy, ferrying letters between sisters, maybe doing some errands for Bawu.
“Their souls are also on my horns,” I said. “Yet you spared me imprisonment by keeping… What’s a fantasyesque way to say, ‘keeping your mouth shut?’”
“I do not deserve thanks,” Gula said, shaking her head. It was eerie not hearing her rattling beads. “It is I who should ask your forgiveness for entangling you in this sordid affair. Leave this place and let us talk no more, lest you are suspected of a connection to me and my maniacal sister.”
“I’m not going to leave. I mean, I am going to have to leave in around ten minutes for my morning jog. Before that, let’s talk about, uh, anything.”
Out of all NPCs I had met, Gula was the one I trusted the most. Bawu mentioned some doubtful things about her, which could be true, but so far, Gula has proved herself an ally by not snitching on me. I also needed Gula for my Plaguetank build—the healing part. I resolved to continue working on my relationship with her.
“Tell me, what of the village?” Gula asked.
I sighed in relief that she didn’t return to the far corner of her cell and shooed me away like last time. This felt like a dating simulator—I had played a few of those as a kid when I was yet to know the complicated dialogue trees of real women. Some RPGs require building connections with NPCs over a long period to unlock questlines or for great rewards.
I recounted to Gula the recurring Arcane Blighted attacks, the missions of the Hunter-Warriors into the tunnels, the cleanup of the Blighted pollution, the extent of the destruction of the settlements on the cliff walls, and the homeless Mardukryon living in tents raised where the Mirdabons used to gather outside the northern gate.
“They destroyed the wards made by Elder Pabislag,” I said. “That area was most convenient for an evacuation site, so they had to drive away the Mirdabons. Just pray that Buvalu doesn’t attack, I suppose.”
Gula covered her face with gnarled fingers and heaved. “The handiwork of my beloved husband, all gone. I may rot in jail and be buried by history, but I hoped my husband’s works would continue to be honored by the village. That is, no more.”
“Intense emotional scene,” I said. “Is this the start of your villain arc?”
“If only the world permits time to coil back.” Gula lowered her hands and stared at the floor. There were no tears in her eyes; Mardukryons probably couldn’t cry. “I can’t believe Bawu did this. If only I knew, I would have her arrested long ago!”
“You did it for your family. As for Bawu, she’s doing whatever the hell she’s up to in preparation for revenge on the Mountain Guardian. Both understandable motives, even if the consequences of your actions are… not so good.”
“It is not so simple, young one,” Gula said. “Family, yes. That is part of the reason I took care of Bawu. After the Great Quake, only she and I remained. But Bawu never thought of me as her family. The Arcane Brewers are her family, their Lodge her home. She seeks revenge on the Mountain Guardian for her fellow Arcane Brewers, not her family by blood. Our parents, our uncles and aunts, our cousins, and many more who died during the Great Quake… Bawu does not care for them.”
I scratched the bottom of my tusks in thought. “It is strange that Bawu wants revenge for the Arcane Brewers but not for her actual relatives. There’s obviously more of your family than just the two of you, but I never thought about it until you mentioned it.”
“When I met Pabislag, he became my family,” she whispered. “I should’ve listened to his counsels against saving my sister.”
“If not familial ties, then why are you helping her?” I asked, suspecting the answer.
“There is this potion I am… I was attempting to make.”
I raised a brow.
The [Large Fragile Bundle] was still in my inventory—a collection of potions, chemicals, and other substances. Before going into hiding, Bawu left the items with Gula. I was supposed to return them to Bawu—Gula thought they were all dangerous—but then, Bawu revealed they were gifts. Ingredients for an important concoction, contrary to what Gula thought.
Gula continued, “My sister had created a healing elixir so powerful that it can cure almost all illnesses, known and unknown, and bring back anyone from the brink of death. I was planning to recreate it as penance and a symbol of contrition to the village for aiding Bawu’s escape long ago. Other than motives personal and albeit selfish, reconstituting the recipe of this ultimate panacea will be helpful to the village. By staying connected with Bawu—”
“You’re hoping to get her secrets?” I finished.
“Alas, I cannot make it now,” Gula said. “I wasn’t even close to completing it. All for naught.”
I weighed if it was time to reveal the truth of the [Large Fragile Bundle], but hoofsteps and a large shadow looming from the other side of the barrier interrupted my thoughts.
“My time’s up, Healer Gula,” I hurriedly said. “I’ll return tomorrow. Do you have any lead on what Bawu could be doing next?”
“I cannot fathom my sister’s thinking.”
“This healing elixir you mentioned. What if I recreate it? Is that possible? Maybe Chief Nogras will forgive you—”
“Nay, you are far less experienced.”
“It is time to leave, lad,” the guard said, the barrier dissipating. “Return on the morrow if you wish to talk to her further. I advise you not to interact with traitors.”
“I’ll be back on the morrow, Gula!” I said.
Temple
More revelations and a possible way to save Gula? We’ll find out eventually. The next chapter will be about the real world. Time for an update on the real world and Herald’s fitness journey.
Fifteen advanced chapters on Patreon. Thanks to all patrons, especially Cidule tier Teeneet (aka Whale)
Read my other story: REND - a psychological novel with an atypical protagonist
Join our Discord
