Hearing the sound of footsteps on the stone stairs, the prison guard on patrol in the dungeon looked up. In the flickering light of a lantern, he could see a well-built young man pulling along a girl. Her clothes were of the highest, yet she was bound with ropes.
Just as the guard was thinking that they made an odd couple, the young man yelled at him.
“Are you the prison guard?” Sykes arrogantly asked.
“Yes, sir. I am.”
The guard had no idea what was going on as he watched Sykes, having reached the basement, untie the girl and shove her from behind.
“Throw this wretch in a cell. Prince Elliott commands it. We haven’t decided when we’ll release her yet. Well, I guess that’ll all depend on how well she reflects on her actions.”
“Ah, is that right?” the guard said rather unenthusiastically.
Sykes scowled. “What?”
“You see, um, about the prison...”
Sykes followed the guard’s line of sight and realized that the jail...had been converted into a storage closet.
“What is this?” he exclaimed, caught off guard. Various-sized wooden boxes were piled inside the prison. Near the back, they rose almost all the way to the ceiling. They took up more than half the cell, although it wasn’t clear what was inside them.
“Well, some bureaucrats happened to come by here just this afternoon, and they said they needed to temporarily store some things they no longer need in there,” the guard explained. He scratched his head awkwardly as Sykes stared in blank amazement. “We rarely ever use the palace dungeon, you know? I would never have expected a guest to be staying so soon.”
“Why do they have to be using it as a glorified closet now?” Sykes lamented.
“Well, it’s my first time seeing this happen too. But we so rarely use the cells that there wasn’t any reason to refuse.”
Sykes clicked his tongue. So the bureaucrats had brought in some documents or something that needed to be stored somewhere, had they? The timing was poor, but he could see that there was still sufficient space between the cell door and the toilet. Fine. That would be enough for Rachel to lie down.
“It is what it is. Just throw this witch in there. And I don’t want any lip from you about it being too crowded. Be grateful you’re not sharing a room with a criminal.”
“I understand,” Rachel said meekly.
Sykes motioned to the prison guard with his chin. The guard opened the cell door, which was at one end of the iron bars, with his key.
Having figured out the situation, the guard’s smile turned scummy. “A well-to-do lady like yourself may find this place a little creepy, but, well, they say a man’s home is his castle, right? Give it a week and I’m sure you’ll settle right in. Try to think of it as a unique inn and enjoy yourself. Not that I know how many years you’ll be here.”
Rachel listened to the guard’s intimidating spiel, which he’d likely plucked right out of the manual, and silently walked through the door. The guard closed the door behind her and locked it. Then he rattled the door to ensure that it was completely secure, as was tradition.
The guard smirked at her as she quietly sat down inside the cell. “If you’re going to cry to somebody important for help, you’d best do it early, for your own good, you know? This underground prison is rarely used these days. It’s not easy to find either, and I tend to forget who’s down here.”
Sykes laughed. “Ha ha ha, the man has a point. His Highness wants to forget about you and have a good time with Margaret. I’d suggest you bow your head to him before he forgets we threw you in here.”
Sykes and the guard turned to leave, laughing scornfully at the dim-witted fool of a girl. They left behind the duke’s daughter, crushed by what had happened to her...or so they thought.
Just as Sykes and the prison guard were about to ascend the stairs...
Rattle, rattle. Ka-chunk!
“Ka...chunk?” Sykes muttered, mimicking what he’d heard. Both he and the guard turned toward the strange noises.
Rachel had been sitting there dejectedly, but now she was wrapping a large chain around the door and metal bars. Then she put a padlock on it.
This was her moment, the moment she could strike back and harass them.
“Huh?” the guard blurted.
“Wh-What are you doing?!” Sykes stammered. He ran up to the bars, but Rachel had already finished locking up. “Hey, what is this?!” Using his well-toned muscles, he shook the door, but it was tightly chained and wouldn’t budge an inch.
On the other side, Rachel watched him with a cool expression. “‘What,’ you ask? I have ensured the door is locked for my own safety.”
“This is a prison, you know?!” Sykes shouted. “The prisoners aren’t the ones who lock it up!”
Rachel remained blasé as she explained, “I am still an unwed woman. I couldn’t bear it if anything untoward were to happen to me. After all, I’ve heard the guards get their jollies by cavorting with the prisoners when their superiors aren’t looking.”
“Still, this is unprecedented! Where did you even get that chain and lock?!”
“That is my business, not yours,” Rachel said, refusing to dignify his question with an answer.
Sykes and the guard were speechless. Although they’d locked her in, it was as if she had shut herself up in there.
“Wh-What should we do?” the prison guard asked.
Sykes shook his head. “Don’t ask me...”
“Well, what are you going to do?” Rachel interjected.
“No, don’t you say that!” Sykes snapped.
“No, no. Given that this directly affects me, I have every right to speak, don’t I?” Rachel countered, her tone serious.
“Wh-When you put it that way, I suppose you have a point...”
“Well, what’s it going to be? Come on, hurry up. How about an opinion?!”
Sykes, who wasn’t used to thinking about anything particularly difficult, broke under Rachel’s pressure and started to panic.
“Didn’t I ask you what it’s going to be?!” Rachel continued. “Come on, out with it! Now, now, now, now, now!”
“Stop! Don’t rush me, okay?! Uh, what do I even do about this?” As he had more brawn than brains, Sykes couldn’t keep up. He could only think of one thing to do. “F-First, I’ll report this to the prince.”
The son of the commander of the knights practically fell over himself on his way out of the dungeon, racing back to the party to call the prince.