Nathaniel didn't know how long they'd been in the pit.
Could've been an hour, could've been three, time stopped working right when you were standing waist-deep in human waste with a face that felt like hamburger meat
The woman beside him had gone quiet after her initial crying, just standing there shaking
His broken nose throbbed with every heartbeat, ribs grinding against each other whenever he breathed, one eye swollen shut and the other barely working through all the blood and filth
Moving hurt.
Not moving also hurt.
Everything fucking hurt!
He looked up at the privy holes above them, dim light filtering down, no sounds of boots or voices anymore
Either the raiders had moved on or they were waiting.
"W-we have to... to get out," the woman whispered, her voice breaking
"Yeh," Nathaniel tried to say through his ruined face, but talking made his nose scream and the words came out wrong, mangled by his broken bones and swollen lips, "probem ish how"
They couldn't climb back up, raiders might still be there, and they couldn't just stand here forever waiting to die of infection or dehydration
He scanned the pit again with his one working eye, multiple privy shafts dumping waste from different parts of the keep
But there, against the far wall, a darker patch near the floor
Opening of some kind.
"Dere," he pointed, had to use his whole arm because turning his head made everything spin, his speech slurred, "drainge tunel maype"
The woman looked where he was pointing, her face went even paler, "Y-you can't... can't be s-serious"
"Ded sheriush,"
"…"
"dat or we shtay 'ere"
She didn't argue.
Nathaniel started wading toward it, each step pure agony as his broken ribs shifted and ground together, the sewage was deeper here, almost to his chest, things floating in it he refused to look at
The woman followed, both of them trying not to think about what they were walking through
Up close the opening was worse than he'd hoped, maybe three feet high and two feet wide, pitch black inside with sewage flowing out in a steady stream
"Th-this is... is how we d-die," the woman said, her voice flat
"Maype," Nathaniel crouched down to look inside, his words thick and distorted, he couldn't see more than a few feet into the tunnel, "but at leasht we tri'd shumthin"
His brain was having a complete meltdown, screaming about bacteria and disease and tetanus and a thousand ways this could kill him
But the alternative was staying here until raiders came back or they died of thirst.
"I'll go firsh," he said, every word a struggle, "if ish bloked or goesh nowere I'll com back"
"A-and if you... you get stuck?"
"Den you know not to folow"
He dropped to his hands and knees, the sewage immediately soaking through what was left of his clothes, then crawled into the tunnel before he could change his mind
Tight didn't begin to describe it, his shoulders scraped both sides, the ceiling pressed against his back, moving forward meant dragging himself through flowing waste
Behind him he heard splashing as the woman entered the tunnel.
He had to crawl forward, ignore the pain, crawl forward, ignore the smell, just keep moving
It was pitch black, he couldn't see anything at all, not his hands, not the walls, nothing, just the feel of slick stone under his palms and liquid filth flowing past his body
His hand slipped and he went down face-first into the sewage, came up gagging and retching while his broken nose exploded with fresh pain
"K-keep... keep g-going," the woman's voice came from behind
How long had they been crawling? Five minutes? Twenty? No way to tell
Then he saw it, faint gray light ahead cutting through the darkness
"Exshit," he gasped out through his mangled mouth, then forced himself to keep crawling toward it
The tunnel widened slightly as they got closer, enough room to almost lift his head without hitting stone
The light was coming through metal bars set into the opening, spaced maybe eight inches apart, beyond them he could see weeds and sky
Freedom.
Nathaniel grabbed the bars and pulled with everything he had left.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder despite his broken ribs shrieking in protest.
The bars didn't budge at all.
"No no no," he was pulling frantically, the bars were solid, set deep into the stone, weren't even loose
The woman came up beside him and tried too, both of them pulling until their hands bled from the effort
The bars still didn't move.
"W-we're... we're trapped," she said
Nathaniel slumped against the bars and wanted to scream but didn't have the energy, three days of hell just to die in a sewage tunnel ten feet from freedom
Actually perfect, the universe had a sense of humor after all
Voices outside made him freeze, boots crunching somewhere beyond the bars, rough laughter and the clink of bottles
Nathaniel pressed against the metal to look through
Two men moving through the overgrown ditch, both carrying crossbows and looking like they'd rather be drinking than scouting
Their armor was mismatched, dented, one had a torn surcoat and the other was missing a boot, they moved with the casual swagger of men who'd seen too many fights to care about proper discipline
Raiders?
No wait, their surcoats, even torn and dirty, had a symbol stitched on them
A golden boar.
Nathaniel's one working eye went wide despite the pain, he knew that sigil, had seen it hundreds of times in the game
The Company of the Golden Boar, Vlandian mercenaries, mostly local levies who couldn't adjust to peacetime and chose constant warfare instead
In the game they were known for being undisciplined and brigandish, would loot friendly villages if you didn't watch them close, but they were cheap and fought hard when paid
He'd scammed them so many times it wasn't even funny, taking contracts then ditching before payment, stealing their equipment, even convinced their captain to attack the wrong castle once for a quest
In the game it was hilarious.
Right now it meant reinforcements had actually come.
"'elp," Nathaniel tried to shout but his broken face turned it into a weird gurgling sound
The mercenaries kept walking past, one of them taking a swig from a flask
"'ELP!" he tried again louder, forcing air through his ruined nose and swollen throat
One of them stopped and turned back, "you hear something?"
"Probably a rat in the shit drain"
"No seriously, shut up a second-" the mercenary with the crossbow walked toward the bars and peered into the darkness
His eyes met Nathaniel's face pressed against the metal, covered in blood and sewage.
"Holy fuck there's someone in there!" he yelled, dropping his flask, "Gregor get your ass over here!"
The other mercenary jogged over, looked through the bars and cursed, "that's nasty, how long you been in there?"
Nathaniel tried to answer but only got out a wet gurgle.
"Don't matter, we gotta get them out," the first mercenary turned and shouted back toward wherever they'd come from, "sergeant! We got survivors in the castle drainage!"
More voices responded, boots running through the overgrowth, at least a dozen mercenaries appeared, some still buckling armor or carrying food like they'd been on break
A big man with a scarred face and sergeant's markings pushed through the group, "what're you idiots yelling about?"
"Two people stuck in the sewage tunnel, they can't get through the bars"
The sergeant looked through the bars, saw Nathaniel and the woman, then examined the metal, "these are set deep into the stone, we need tools to pry them"
"Supply wagon's with the main camp"
"Then get it, and someone tell the captain we found castle survivors," the sergeant turned back to the bars, "how many of you in there?"
"Two," Nathaniel managed through his broken mouth, the word barely understandable
"Two now but how many still in the castle?"
"Don' know," Nathaniel's words were thick and broken, "raiders took da kashle, been trapped tree days"
"Three days?" the sergeant's face went serious, "any defenders still alive?"
"Maype forshy milishia wen I got sheparated, keep'sh shtill holding lasht I knew"
The sergeant cursed and yelled back at his men, "someone find Captain Rodrik, tell him the keep's still under siege but holding!"
Two mercenaries ran off while others stood around the drainage opening, some looking disgusted at the smell, others making jokes about shit duty
The mercenaries with the tools returned faster than expected, crowbars and hammers in hand, started working on the bars with surprising efficiency despite their rough appearance
Metal screeched against stone as they pried and hammered, took several minutes before the bars finally came loose with a crack
"Alright come on out," hands reached in and grabbed Nathaniel under the arms, dragged him out into daylight
The sunlight was blinding, he collapsed on the grass outside the castle walls while mercenaries stepped back from the smell
"God almighty he reeks," one of them said
"You'd reek too if you'd been swimming in shit"
The woman crawled out after him, two mercenaries helping her up while trying not to gag, she was shaking and crying again, the shock finally hitting her
"Get the healer!" the sergeant ordered, then looked around, "and where's that captain?"
Nathaniel lay there trying to catch his breath, his one working eye taking in the scene around him
The Company of the Golden Boar was spread through the tree line maybe a hundred yards from the castle, eighty or ninety mercenaries by his count, with supply wagons and crossbows being readied
They'd clearly been advancing on the castle when the scouts found the drainage tunnel
A woman appeared above him, not old but weathered and scarred, with a medical kit that looked like it had seen a hundred battlefields, "let's see the damage"
She took one look at his face and whistled, "that's a proper beating, hold still"
She started cleaning his face with something that burned like liquid fire, he whimpered but didn't have the strength to pull away
"Nose is completely shattered, ribs are cracked or broken, and you're covered in human waste so infection's going to be your biggest problem," she said while working with practiced efficiency, "you'll live if we treat this right"
"Can I wok?" the words barely made it past his swollen lips
"Not for a while, you're going on a stretcher and staying there"
She called over two mercenaries who brought a canvas stretcher and lifted him onto it without much gentleness
The woman from the sewers was sitting nearby wrapped in someone's cloak, still shaking
She was young, maybe nineteen or twenty, one of the castle servants who'd been with the old man and the other girl when the raiders came
Lost both of them in that room while Nathaniel hid and got his ass kicked trying to help.
Nathaniel wanted to say something but his throat was too swollen
A man approached through the mercenaries, older with a captain's insignia and the golden boar prominent on his battered breastplate
Captain Rodrik, had to be, same face from the game, maybe a bit more scarred and weathered but definitely him
This was one of the guy Nathaniel had screwed over at least a dozen times in Bannerlord.
"You're from the castle militia?" Rodrik asked, kneeling beside the stretcher with a professional assessment in his eyes
"Milishia," Nathaniel managed, "Pravend vilage"
"How many defenders still holding?"
"Maype forsthy wen I got sheparated dish morning,"
"Captain Aldric wash shtill commanding"
Rodrik nodded and stood, already processing the tactical situation, "and the raider strength?"
"Maybe hundred fifty, dey control da courtyard an mosht of da keep, been looting for tree days"
"Good," he turned to his sergeants, "form assault companies, we wait for the others"
The mercenaries moved immediately despite their rough appearance, officers barking orders, crossbowmen checking their weapons, infantry forming up with shields and whatever melee weapons they carried
The Golden Boar might be undisciplined and brigandish but they were still professionals who knew their business.
Around Nathaniel the company was preparing for battle with efficient chaos, some mercenaries were still finishing their meals, others sharpening blades or making crude jokes, but they were getting ready fast
Jade and the others were somewhere in that keep if they were still alive
Three days of holding against impossible odds, they had to be running on nothing but desperation