Morgan lay still, the sound of footsteps fading into the distance. Only once they were out of earshot did he rise slowly from the blood stained mattress, the panel hovering in the corner of his vision.
"Fuck! I think my nose is broken."
He held his tender nose gently, tongue tracing the gap in his teeth. The Baron and the Knight were freakishly strong, the former hit like a truck and the latter was like smashing against a massive steel wall.
It was abnormal, and Morgan was starting to suspect the blue panel might not have been a delusion. He'd seen similar concepts before, in videogames and stories, so he had an idea what it might be capable of – assuming it was real, that is.
He wasn't willing to risk his sanity on that though, until he could meet another reasonable human and ask them about it, he would simply assume it was his mind playing tricks.
There was more pressing issues, however.
Crouching next to the bed, he gazed under it and grimaced. It was filthy, dirt, moss, and some other brown substance pushed together in hastily made piles.
'It looks like whoever cleans this cell just sweeps it under the bed.'
A metal glint caught his eye from one of the piles, reaching out he tenderly lifted it from its… unhygienic prison, careful not to get any of the revolting brown slop on his hands.
The object jingled as he raised it up to the light, a wide grin on his face.
It was lucky the Knight seemed more occupied with keeping his boss happy than he was keeping track of his keys. Still, Morgan knew to be realistic, it wouldn't be long before the Knight would notice they were missing and return.
He had been incredibly lucky his hastily made plan worked in the first place, if the Knight hadn't hung his keys on an open hook, Morgan never would have been able to kick them off. Once they were on the floor, he simply had to kick them under the bed as he stumbled and presto blamo.
Morgan sat back down on the bed with his ankle in front of him and the cuff facing up.
With no time to waste, he immediately got to working testing each of the keys for one that would unlock his shackle, but after five agonisingly long minutes and the entire key chain, he made no progress.
"FUCKKKK! Why can't this shit be easy. *Sigh* Thank god I've got a backup plan."
In the fight (put beating here) earlier he had tried to get as many objects as possible, one of which, a golden brooch engraved with runic patterns, he had plucked from the Baron's coat shortly before the Knight grabbed him.
It was a risky move, but he bet on the Baron being too stupid to realise Morgan wasn't attacking him.
This, he was pretty certain would take a while to be noticed.
'There's no way I'm staying here to be branded and sold, fuck that shit.'
The brooch consisted of two parts, the first was the actual brooch, a decorative golden shield with a sword tucked behind it, it was likely pretty expensive going by the weight alone. The second part – the part he wanted – was the pin.
Roughly ten centimetres long and made from gold, it was thin enough to bend but at the same time strong enough not to break. Which made it perfect for a makeshift lockpick.
'Now… how do I do this…'
One thing he forgot about when hastily making his plan, was he didn't actually know how to pick a lock. Sure, he'd seen the inner workings of many locks, and he'd practiced with a professional kit for fun, but he'd never actually opened a proper lock without help.
'Trial and error I suppose. I should first try and feel out the lock, looking at the keys I stole it might only have as little as three pins.'
Sweat dripped down his head and mixed with the drying blood as he gently felt out the inside of the lock with the pin. He was in a rush, once the Knight noticed his keys were missing he'd storm back here to retrieve them, if Morgan wasn't out by then, then he'd never leave.
*Click*
The lock shifted slightly as he tensioned it and pushed up on the back pin. He'd seen a video once that explained the basics, and one method mentioned was putting pressure on the plug and forcefully pushing the pins into place. The method didn't work though if the lock had mushroom pins as then it would just catch.
Luck seemed to be on his side, and with a slight bit more effort he pushed all the pins up, the cuff opening with a light click.
Jumping to his feet, he grabbed the keys, wincing as he used his broken hand by mistake.
'I can't believe that worked! Ow. I really need to find a doctor, I'm a mess right now. Actually, how am I even walking? Those two hit me really hard and while it hurts like hell, it's not hindering me too much.'
Another question was added to his small hoard as he reached the door.
On closer inspection it was obvious the door was of a higher quality then anything else in his cell, with no lock on the inside, the hinges flush with the wall, and no rust, it would have been impossible to escape if not for the bars.
Standing on the tips of his toes, Morgan looked both ways down the dark stone corridor. After confirming everything was clear, he carefully reached out through the bars and shoved the first key into the lock before twisting.
Nothing. The key didn't turn.
Again he cycled through all the keys, his movements growing more erratic with each failure. The Knight should have been back by now, he'd been at it for almost fifteen minutes. Morgan could only thank his luck the knight was either busy, or oblivious.
*Click*
While he was thinking, he finally got the right key, with a loud click the lock popped open and the door came loose.
Rushing out, he looked once towards the right, then headed left. It was risky, but he didn't know the layout or where the exit was, what he did know was the direction the men came from, which was the right.
The sound of flesh slapping against stone echoed down the corridor as Morgan ran barefoot towards freedom. This was it, he was halfway there, he'd gotten past the difficult section.
Yet no one wins forever, and for all his good luck, Morgan was due some bad. Turning the corner, he skidded to a halt, despair plastered across his face as he found himself faced with a cracked stone wall. It was a dead end.
"No… no no no!"
Panic surged through him, by his count it had been twenty minutes since the men left his earshot, time was already running short. To run back to his cell, that alone would take him five minutes if he could even keep the same pace.
His breath came in quick shallow gasps as years of poor health caught up to him, he couldn't fight, he couldn't run, and apparently he couldn't use his ears properly.
'Maybe I stay here? This is a nice dark corner with lots of moss, I might be able to hide here while they look for me. If I'm lucky I could persist off the moss and moisture long enough for them to call off the hunt, or at least till they let down their guard.'
Morgan paced back and forth through the short, dark hallway, non-broken hand scratching anxiously at his chin as he tried to devise a plan.
"…hello?"
He stopped, eyes drawn to a door he had failed to notice in his panic. It was similar to the one blocking his cell, just with far more rot. Edging closer to it, he gazed through the bars into darkness.
"Is… someone in there?"
"…yes… who… are you?"
A weak raspy voice, little more than a whisper sounded from the darkness. For a brief instance, Morgan felt a spark of hope, maybe this person knew the way out.
"Do you know the way out?"
"huh?... way out?... who are you?"
"Yes or No!"
"…are you a guard?... I thought… you left… me to die."
Angry, Morgan squinted at the cell. It was like this person was being deliberately difficult, couldn't they understand he had no time for formalities?
"No! I'm not a guard. Now, do you know the way out?!"
"…"
"…let me out."
Morgan tugged at his hair, eyes flitting to the dark corridor he'd come from. What were his options at this point? Let out the potentially deranged criminal and hope they knew the way out? Or go it alone and risk getting caught.
Quickly coming to a decision, Morgan started shoving the keys into the lock.
"You better know the way out."
Mumbling under his breath, he looked skittishly over his shoulder. It wasn't paranoia when they were really out to get you.
*Crunch*
The lock turned with a crunch, making it obvious this door hadn't been opened in a long time and the lock's internals had rusted over. Idly, Morgan wondered how this person was alive, they'd obviously been here far too long, and he doubted they were fed.
'Hopefully they're not a cannibal.'
A quick push of the door revealed it wouldn't be that easy, so he stepped back before charging it with his shoulder. The door budged slightly but didn't open.
It took four hits before the door opened wide enough for him to get in the frame and push it the rest of the way, by the time he was done, his shoulder ached and he had a feeling he'd need to update his tetanus shots when he returned to society.
Darkness greeted him as he stepped inside the forgotten cell, his bare foot sinking into the ground with a squelch. He keeled over, his face scrunching in disgust as a stench more putrid than the worst he could imagine assailed his nose.
Unable to hold it in, he retched, vomit spraying from his mouth. Stumbling out of the cell, he ripped the bottom of his shirt off and tied it around his face, completely forgetting about his broken nose as he tightened it as much as possible.
"Urgh. You, the door's open, get out of there NOW."
"…I… I can't… stand."
Morgan stopped, thoughts racing. Here was a person of dubious origins, who may or may not have been a cannibal, they were festering in a forgotten cell, and likely didn't even know the way out.
Everything about the situation screamed liability to him, he would likely be better off leaving them and making a break for it. But he didn't.
He was alone in an unknown country as the prisoner of an equally dubious group. He knew nothing, the man in the cell did, and that alone was enough to tip the scales in Morgan's mind. Afterall, he firmly believed that knowledge was power.
"Call out, it's too dark to see you."
Steeling his nerves, Morgan sprinted back into the cell, doing his best to ignore the texture of the floor and the stench of the air.
The person, whoever they were, was all to eager to make noise and quickly Morgan found them, his hand closing around what he briefly thought was a bone, before it moved and he realised it was the person's arm.
'What… what have they done to this person. Which god would subject someone to such a nightmarish fate?'
Pity was all he felt as he hefted the shrivelled person like a sack of potatoes, a grimace on his face all the while. That could have been him if he wasn't proactive, forgotten in a dark secluded cell rotting away in a pile of his own shit.
Bursting from the cell as quickly as he could, Morgan finally got a look at the person.
They were a living skeleton, mottled skin clung tight to their bones, any muscle or fat long since atrophied. They were missing their left leg from the middle of the thigh and he couldn't even tell their gender due to the filth.
'How is this person even alive?!'
Shock rippled through him, this person should have been dead, there was nothing left of them to sustain their organs, let alone their brain. Yet they were alive, and speaking.
"Shit… I hate to rush you given your… condition, but do you know the way out?"
With a creak, their head tilted forward slightly, which he took as a yes.
After a quick, anxious glance around the corner he returned and picked up the freakishly light person – they had to weigh barely thirty kilos. With his good hand he held them over his shoulder like a backpack, trying his best not to think about the blackish sludge covering them as he broke into a jog back the way he came.
In his other hand he held the pin and keys, while his wrist was broken he could still use his fingers.
"What can I expect up ahead? I haven't ventured past my cell."
"…fork… at… end."
"Better than nothing I guess, and it'll let me know if you're telling the truth."
Over half an hour had passed since the Knight left his cell, and his nerves were at an all-time high. Each step into the darkness was made with the fear of something coming into view.
Yet by some miracle he ran unhindered down the hallway past his cell – still cracked open slightly – without hearing anything.
Pain bloomed slowly in his chest as his heart beat hard, each breath a struggle. Sweat poured from his head like water, but he pushed on, he couldn't afford to stop. His body however had other plans, stumbling Morgan's toe scraped against the floor as he missed a step and tripped, his body sliding down the wall.
'Thirty seconds, no! Ten, that's all I need. I just need to catch my breath.'
Up ahead a faint light glimmered, the sound of chatter echoing down the hallways.
"Fuck, *wheeze* we can't go *wheeze* this way."
Morgan felt sick to his stomach, pain, the stench, his health, and his impending capture mixing in an attempt to push him over the edge.
"…focus… you… ar-… are… almost… there… you… have… a… chance…"
"I KNOW! Just give me a sec, would you?"
He whisper-yelled at the person hung over his shoulder, it wasn't their fault but he was in a horrid situation and someone stating the obvious didn't make it any better. He needed a moment to figure out a plan.
'That's enough of a break.'
Still breathing hard, he rose back to his feet. There was only one way forward and it was down the corridor in the direction of the voices. Limping, he did his best to mask the sound of his steps against the cold, damp stone.
Blood dripped from his scuffed toe every few steps as he closed in on the voices. Rounding a bend cautiously, he immediately spotted a fork in the path just as his emaciated companion said. The right path led directly into a staircase headed down into darkness, and the left to a staircase headed up.
Light spilled from the left along with the voices of at least four, rowdy men. From what he could hear they were playing some form of game up there.
Morgan snuck closer, each step placed slowly and deliberately so as to muffle the sound, however the closer he got to the junction, the more his body trembled. He was a scientist, not a spy. He never expected to get into a situation like this.
Reaching the junction, he dashed across to the right side before peering around the corner.
At the top of the stairs he could see three men, their legs visible as they sat around a table directly in his path.
'Shit… how am I meant to get passed them? Maybe I could make a noise deeper in, then hide in a cell as they investigate and slip out behind them. But if I was in their shoes, I would only send out one guy to check, they seem to be enjoying their game.
A sudden commotion caught his attention before he could decide on a plan.
"That's fucking rank Bron."
"What? I haven- Fuck, it reached me too. Which one of you two farted, that's nasty."
Dread coloured Morgan's face, he'd forgotten about the stench of the prisoner.
"Nah, I think it's coming from down the stairs, why don't you go check it out Tron, you're losing anyway."
"I don't want to investigate-"
"Captain! we didn't see you there."
A fourth person walked into the room atop the stairs, their identity immediately clear from the guard's slip up. The situation grew ever dire for Morgan, it was clear something was off if the captain came down here.
"Search the cells one by one. I have reason to believe a prisoner acquired an item from outside their cell."
"""Sir, Yes Sir!"""
Footsteps thundered from above as the three guards rushed towards the stairs, the captain hot on their heels.
'Shit, I guess he noticed his keys were missing and wants to retrieve them subtly. Actually… this could be the chance I need.'
Morgan slinked further down the stairs out of sight and waited.
He heard as they reached the first cell, the jingle of keys accompanying the subdued complaints of the prisoners as the guards ransacked each room.
"You, what is that horrid smell?"
The voice of the captain, directed at one of the guards, sounded from above. Morgan's face paled, if they decided to follow the smell it wouldn't take them long to find him. Acting cautiously Morgan slunk further down the stairs.
"I don't know, Sir."
Silence fell across the dungeons as they waited for the Captain to reply. Down the stairs, sweat beaded along Morgan's forehead as he heard someone shuffling around. It sounded as though someone in plate armour had bent over, and he could only imagine it was the Captain.
"Blood? Down the stairs now! Someone has escaped!"
'Fuck…'
Morgan's heart beat hard in his chest as he spun and sprinted down the stairs, he'd done so well to remain hidden and yet he was caught by something as simple as a drop of blood. Regret was for those with time, and the beat of armoured footsteps descending behind him told him that was something he didn't have.
So he plunged deeper into the earth. The chase was on.