After waiting a few days, I decided to take the direct approach. I just walked right up to the gate of the human city and tried to get in. I figured the lord of this town had probably heard about me already, and hopefully he’d be interested in meeting. If everything went okay, he could bring in a scholar who studied languages, and between the two of us, we’d find a way to communicate.
Yeah, in hindsight, perhaps it wasn’t really the best plan.
I was immediately surrounded by a bunch of shouting guards, who led me to a prison cell. At first, I figured whoever was in charge would eventually clear up the misunderstanding, but at the end of the day, nobody had arrived to release me. As I waited, I passed the time by reading the descriptions of my new and improved skills and remotely improving the towers I’d set up.
Another day passed, and still no pardon from the governor, so to speak.
Don’t I get a phone call or something? Where’s my lawyer? I guessed this world didn’t have those kinds of rights for prisoners. At least, not for adorable Sprigian prisoners.
There was always at least one guard posted outside of my cell. They rotated around the same times every day. Each time a new guard arrived, I tried talking to them, but I was never able to get a dialogue going. It was frustrating, but I tried not to let it get to me.
They’re just doing their jobs. Talking with prisoners is probably against the rules.
Just to be clear, I let them put me in prison, but I never allowed them to touch me. I had barrier spells for that. Even once I was in the cell, I could still have left any time I wanted. There were multiple reasons I allowed them to lock me up and didn’t just leave.
At the time, I really thought I might end up meeting with the local lord or whatever and come to some sort of understanding. When I thought about fighting back, I remembered that armor plated bear, and I just couldn’t do it. I could probably have leveled this whole city if I really felt like it, but I wasn’t here to hurt anyone. Besides, if the soldiers failed to catch me, or let me escape, they could lose their jobs, or worse. I didn’t know exactly what kind of culture I was dealing with, so I really didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. When I got frustrated, I would just tell myself that these were decent, hardworking people who were just following orders. So I stayed put, and hoped for some sort of attempt at communication.
Don’t ask me how the food was, I didn’t try any. Sprigians are frugivores, so when the guards gave me rock-hard bread and awful-smelling water, I just ate things from my inventory instead. Even from my cell, I could still tell my cook, Bistro, to deposit meals into my inventory, so I could enjoy his cuisine even while I was behind bars. My towers were all growing nicely, and I was able to link more of them together. I wondered what Hegram and the rest would think if they saw the first tower dungeon again after all of the changes. I’d added a bath to the ground floor, and washrooms right next to every staircase.
The prison cell was underground, but thanks to the clock on my tablet, I could still tell exactly how much time passed. That’s how I knew I was down there for more than two weeks. I used a barrier when I slept to make sure nobody tried anything. Luckily, I’d checked beforehand to make sure this was possible in the safety of my own room at the tower, and I was pleased to report that the barrier stayed up the entire time without issue. The “bed” in my cell was pretty much just a pile of straw, so that was probably the worst part. The cell also didn’t really have a toilet. There wasn’t even a hole in the floor. Luckily, I was able to grab various types of furniture from my inventory, and I had a few different types of toilets available.
There was one modeled after a pitcher plant that was helpful in this situation. In real life, the pitcher plant this toilet was modeled after produced sweet nectar to lure tree shrews in; as they ate the nectar, it stimulated them to do their business, and the plant used their waste to nourish itself. Think of it as a nonlethal version of carnivorous plants like the Venus flytrap—and instead of dispensing nectar, my toilet version had a bidet. To make sure the guards didn’t peep at me when I did my business, I used a folding screen.
Since the guards didn’t keep that close of an eye on me, and I was pretty good at covering my tracks, I’m not sure they even knew half of my little ways of getting around the awful living conditions down there.
Whenever I finally get to talk with the local lord, I’ll have to mention the lackluster accommodations.
Anyway, my extended stay came to an end one fateful night when the guard reported to his shift drunk. I don’t mean just a little tipsy either: He was hammered. The sloshed guard showed up, and the guy he was supposed to relieve didn’t even give him a second look before he took off. Instead of just sitting in his little chair with his back to me like normal, the inebriated guard came over to the bars of the cell. At first I was kinda excited—I thought I might finally have a chance to try out some phrases. I’d been studying my chat logs from Hegram and his buddies, along with the ancient language I got from Redimir, and I was eager to try communicating. Unfortunately, the guard was more eager for something else.
He pointed at me and yelled some stuff, then seemed to get frustrated when I couldn’t understand him. He made some gestures and moved his body, but I couldn’t really tell what he wanted. Finally, he took his pants off. Yeah, that was when I realized what was on his mind, and I got pretty grossed out. So I made it as clear as I could that I was not interested in fooling around with him.
That just made him angry. He whipped out the key to the cell and shoved it in the lock. The metallic scraping sounds it made as the key turned hurt my ears. I could see where this was going, so I immediately teleported right the heck out of there with my Fairy’s Homecoming Band.
I wonder how he tried to explain what happened. Maybe he got fired, maybe he was executed; at that point, I no longer cared. He deserved whatever he got.