In the gaudy banquet hall, Elliott and his hangers-on were enjoying yet another loud toast as they ignored all the people around them speaking in hushed voices.
“Ha ha ha ha ha! Oh, this is delightful!” Elliott exclaimed.
Margaret congratulated him. “You’ve finally done it, Your Highness!”
“Yes, finally, I’ve brought that horrible woman to account for her crimes! Margaret, I thank you for your help.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t do anything.”
The people watching all hooted. The mood had turned romantic, and Elliott and Margaret no longer cared who saw them. Their faces drew closer together, and then...
“Your Highness!!!”
A well-built young man raced into the hall.
“Sykes, you have the worst timing,” Elliott scoffed, glaring at the commander of the knights’ son.
Sykes grabbed Elliott’s arm. “We have an emergency! Please, come at once!”
“Hey, what is this about?”
Panicking, Sykes began to drag Elliott away. He pulled the prince through the crowd, looking a bit like a jilted ex abducting the bride in the middle of her wedding.
Before he could chastise Sykes for this indignity, Elliott needed to calm him down or he was going to get hurt. He slapped the hand Sykes was using to grip his arm and yelled, “Hey, stop pulling! Your grip is too tight, and it hurts!”
“Oh, sorry!” Sykes hurriedly let go.
Elliott thought he could finally ask what was the matter, but Sykes wasn’t giving up.
“Now, please, come this way!” he cried.
“Huh?! Hey, stop it!”
Sykes scooped Elliott up in his arms, carrying him like a princess, and ran off at a speed that would put a horse to shame.
The people left behind began whispering immediately.
“Sykes...j-just took Prince Elliott? Wh-What does that mean?” Margaret asked, cocking her head.
“Oh, goodness! Does this mean his true love is Lord Abigail?!”
“No, from the way things were just now... Wait, is our haughty prince the bottom?!”
“We’ll have to let everyone who couldn’t make it here today know!”
The young ladies watching from a distance continued to spread important information that could affect Elliott’s position.
By the time Sykes found Elliott and pulled him off to the dungeon—using methods he never should’ve performed in public—the situation had progressed, which is to say it had gotten even worse.
“For goodness sake, what has Rachel done this—? Wha?!”
Elliott, who had been grumbling the whole way, was dumbstruck. Sykes had thought he was prepared, but even he was speechless at what he saw now. It was far beyond anything he’d imagined. The prison had completely transformed in a mere thirty minutes.
The dungeon was a large, square room divided in two by iron bars. In front of the bars was a room for the prison guards to stand by and monitor, and at one end of the wall, there was a staircase made out of the same stone as the rest of the room. The only furniture was a simple table and chair; there was no need for more because interrogations were carried out at the royal guard’s office. Likewise, palace servants brought the inmates’ meals from the kitchens, so there was no cooking equipment either.
Behind the bars was the back room, which was what everyone called the “dungeon.” This was where the prisoners were kept. The interior consisted of stone walls, a stone floor, and a stone ceiling, the same as the front room. There was a toilet and shower in the corner, as well as a sink. The iron bars were the only thing separating the back room from the front room, so essentially it was one big room.
Being a dungeon, it was largely underground. Only a number of long, thin windows high up on the wall let in light and fresh air. They were designed to look like vents that went under the floor when viewed from outside, and they were, of course, barred. They were the only source of light in the room, so without a lamp or candle, the dungeon was gloomy even in the middle of the day.
Quality of life in this dreary place depended on the position of the person detained, and on the magnanimity of whoever put them in here. If the prisoner needed special consideration, or if the person who’d jailed them was feeling merciful, they could lead a reasonably civilized life here. They might receive furniture and carpets, tables and chairs, and a divider to go around the toilet and shower so that no one could see them.
If they were meant to suffer, or if the person in charge was cruel by nature, the prisoner would receive none of those things. They would huddle on the bare stone, shivering in the cold and eating food off trays left on the floor. Every time they defecated or bathed, they would be in full sight of the guard.
These conditions would make most people shudder, even more so if they were to be imprisoned here. Yet most of this was nothing more than urban legend. These days, it was almost unthinkable to use the dungeon at all. The treatment of prisoners had become much more humane, and those who were due some consideration were instead locked in inescapable guest rooms where they were kept under close surveillance. As for petty criminals, there was no need to imprison them in the royal palace in the first place. There was a perfectly good prison on the outskirts of the city. They could go there along with the commoners.
This dungeon had been built a long, long time ago, when treason and conspiracies were a fact of life, in order to torment those of influence who’d fallen from power. Now, after such a long time of peace, only nobles or courtiers would be imprisoned here, and only the ones who were to be treated worse than ordinary prisoners, making the existence of this place rather contradictory.
Rachel Ferguson was just the sort of person who fit those conditions. She was the daughter of a duke, but having incurred the prince’s wrath, she was expected to suffer horribly. There just weren’t people like that these days. She was a rare specimen.
As for whether Prince Elliott had thought that deeply about it...he did not. He’d just wanted to stick Rachel in an awful place and bully her for picking on his darling Margaret. It never occurred to him what the living situation in here might be like. The prince had only thought that if he imprisoned Rachel in a way that was humiliating for any noble, she would kowtow before Margaret and beg for forgiveness. And he wouldn’t be unwilling to grant it. That was as far as his thoughts had gone.
In fact, while he was flirting with Margaret after expelling Rachel from polite society, Elliott had forgotten all about such “trivial details” until Sykes dragged him here. That was why he had no idea why his friend had insisted that he come look at that terrible woman.
But when Prince Elliott arrived at the prison...he couldn’t comprehend the scene unfolding in front of him.
Inside the dungeon, the duke’s daughter was relaxing on the floor. She should have been sitting on stone tile, but instead she sat on a throw rug with geometrical designs on it. The formerly exposed toilet and shower area now had a flowery curtain hanging around it. On top of the throw rug was a comfy, cushioned sofa that could have dragged even a sage down into a life of sloth. She moved to it and lay there reading a book. Of course, next to her was a light bright enough to read by.
The inmate who had just arrived today had already changed out of her evening dress and into something more simple and casual. She had been thrown in there with only what she was wearing at the time, so how had she been able to change? Where did she get the furniture?
It was impossible. Everything about this scene was impossible. On the other side of those bars was the dungeon. It had to be. Yet the bare stone walls now held a comfortable living space.
As all who were present stared speechless at this incomprehensible scene, the young lady appeared to notice something and sat up.
“Hm?”
Rachel resolutely ignored everyone on the other side of the bars as she lifted the kettle from atop her alcohol lamp and poured the boiling water into a teapot. The scent of black tea seemed out of place wafting through a dreary jail cell.
“Mmm!” Rachel smiled in satisfaction as she took a whiff.
Elliott’s jaw dropped even further at the absurdity of a tea set inside the prison. Sykes and the prison guard looked at each other, but not a word was spoken.