He was racking his brain, desperately searching for a way forward. The only path out was through the captain's permission, but how could he possibly get it? Showing his face was out of the question. Even if the captain didn't know every guard personally, one look at his eyes, the way his body moved… it would be enough to for captain to understand that something was wrong.
Time was a running out. A few hours, at best, before that guard returned to his cell and discovered the truth: the man on the ground wasn't him.
He drifted across the courtyard, feigning aimlessness, then slipped back inside the prison. The other wing, adjacent to the main block, was quieter. He took the stairs up and reached the first of the sleeping quarters. He had no idea which room the dead guard was staying.
There were three rooms in total, one on each floor, each with 7 bunks. He eased the door open. Inside, a few men were sleeping, while one remained awake, dressed in regular clothes and bent over his laundry.
Moving as if he belonged there, he wandered to the lockers and bunks, eyes flicking to the awake man every few seconds.
The lockers, as expected, were sealed with padlocks.
He drifted to the bedsides of two sleeping men, he searched their clothing. The awake guard, now apparently finished with his chores, stretched out on his bunk and began settling in for sleep. Perfect.
He found keys.
Moving quickly, he tried them in the padlocks. One, then another, until with a faint click, the first locker swung open. Inside were piles of clothes, a few cheap trinkets, and… silver coins!
He scooped every piece into a pouch he took from the locker, gave the room one last glance, and slipped out.
Up the stairs to the second floor.
This time, the room wasn't quiet. Three guards were sitting around a table, playing a game of cards, coins scattered on the table.
"Ah! Gotcha, Gustaw! Hah!"
"What? No! You cheated! You pile of shit."
"Don't be a sour loser. You lost because of your own idiocy."
"Fuck! That was my monthly salary!"
"You should've played smarter, idiot."
Gustaw groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh! Fuck! Fuck! How the hell am I supposed to survive the month?"
The other one leaned back with a devilish smirk.
"Maybe we give your money back. How about that?"
Gustaw narrowed his eyes. "Really? What's the catch?"
The smirk deepened.
"You let us use your body. We haven't touched a woman in months, we could make do with a cheap, ugly replacement like you. Right, Carson?"
Carson, the winner, grinned without shame.
"That's a fine idea, Balu. We could make him our little slut."
Gustaw got off of his seat, rage trembling through his voice.
"What the—ABSOLUTELY NOT! Get that thought out of your head before I gut you!"
He unsheathed his sword. For a moment, they froze. Then both burst into laughter.
Carson smirked. "Relax! We're just joking."
"Yeah, you idiot," Balu added. "You think either of us would touch your disgusting, flea-bitten carcass? No way. I'd sooner use my own hand."
Gustaw's chest heaved. He took a long breath, then put the blade back into its sheath and sat back on to his seat.
"Fucking assholes."
Carson's grin widened. "Can't handle a little banter? I thought you were a man, not a sulking boy."
"Shut up, Carson." Gustaw spat.
Balu mocked him with a fake pout. "Aww, is poor Gustaw upset?"
"Carson, maybe we should apologize," he added in a singsong tone. "Before he runs off to the Sergeant and cries onto his boots."
They laughed again.
Gustaw's fists clenched. He slammed down on the table, the coins rattled, he then turned and stormed toward the door.
That's when he noticed him standing there, but Gustaw was too furious to care.
"Move!" he barked, shoving him aside before walking down the stairs.
He hurried after Gustaw, catching him just before the man stormed out of the building.
"Excuse me!"
Gustaw's eyes blazing as he looked at him. "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
He flinched at the roar. "I-I heard you with those guys upstairs. They were mocking you, weren't they?"
Gustaw's voice was firm with barely contained fury. "Those pigs took all my money and laughed at me like I'm some weakling."
"I understand," he said quickly. "They mock me too, for being the unexperienced newcomer."
"You too, huh?" Gustaw's expression softened slightly. "What's your name, newcomer?"
His mind searched for a name for his false identity. He couldn't use his real name.
"I'm Waylen."
"Waylen, huh? Well… good to meet you, I guess. I'm Gustaw."
"Good to meet you too… Can I ask you something?"
"Go on."
"Did I hear you right? You really lost your monthly salary up there?"
Gustaw's jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth. "Yes! Those bastards baited me into raising my hand higher and higher, until I lost every damn coin."
"I see… Was the money for something urgent?"
"Yes. I've got a mountain of debts to pay. Why do you think I'm doing this job, huh?"
"I don't know every man's motivation. Could you tell me yours?"
"I get a free bed, free food, and get paid to babysit a bunch of filth. Perfect job for paying off debts. And if I can't pay? There's nothing they can take from me, and they can't easily arrest me either."
"Then why bother paying at all?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "You don't know anything, do you? But… you're just a boy. You'll learn." He drew in a slow breath, collecting his thoughts before speaking again. "Listen, boy. If I don't pay, they'll send a notice here. Every document, every letter, everything, gets checked by the captain and sergeant. If they find out, they'll beat the hell out of me. Maybe even throw me into one of these cells… and then my own mates will torment me like they do the prisoners."
"That's… extreme. You'd be thrown into the most brutal prison in the kingdom just for not paying your debt?"
"It's practical," he said flatly. "Why waste effort sending me to a regular dungeon when I'm already in one? All they'd need to do is strip me of my duties, take my armour and sword, and lock me up." He let out a trembling sigh. "What the hell am I going to do?"
Waylen's voice was calm, almost sympathetic. "I could lend you some money, if you want."
Gustaw's eyes widened. "Y-you… what? Why?"
"I just don't think you should be thrown into a cell over a debt."
Because you deserve far worse than that… for crimes far greater than you have commited, he thought silently.
"I-I don't understand. Why would you even care?"
"Because I need you too. Maybe… we can help each other."
Gustaw narrowed his eyes, studying him. "Help? And what exactly could you need from me?"
"I need to get out. There's someone I have to meet… someone special." He smiled softly, lowering his face as if embarrassed, carefully crafting a façade of vulnerability.
"Oh, so your little lover's waiting for you, and you need my help?" Gustaw's tone was half amused, half curious.
"I-I…" He hesitated, feigning shyness.
Gustaw chuckled. "It's alright, boy. I get it. But tell me, how do you expect me to help?"
"I just… I just need you to tell me a few things. First, how do I get the captain's permission to leave?"
"You can't. The captain never lets anyone out easily. Only for our short leave, two or three days off every two months, and even then, not everyone gets the chance."
"But there has to be another way," he pressed. "Like… what if I somehow got into the captain's office and used his seal to make a fake permission order?"
Gustaw's eyes went wide.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!"
He flinched at the sudden outburst.
"THAT'S ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE!"
"I-I'm sorry… please, stop yelling." He glanced up cautiously as Gustaw's tone calmed. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"
"You're not just ridiculous, you're insane. No one can just stroll in and walk into his quarters."
"I see… Can you tell me more about it?"
"Look, kid," Gustaw said, leaning in slightly, "his room and office are in the southern watchtower, high enough for him to see everything around the prison and the lake. The entrance is always guarded. Inside, there are more men stationed on every level, and the tower connects directly to the walls. The moment someone spots you and gets suspicious, you'll be surrounded. And even if, somehow, you reached the captain's quarters, there are two guards permanently posted outside his door. Now tell me, how in the hell do you think you'd ever get in there?"
"I…see…" he murmured, feeling desperation tightening around him.
"How do you know all this?"
"There was one time I accompanied the sergeant," Gustaw explained, "carrying a few crates up there. Only then did I get a look at the place."
"Sergeant?"
"Yeah, Sergeant Orson. He is the one of the Sergeants, he is responsible for our squad. He and other Sergeants alongside with Lieutenant are the only ones who're authorized to enter the watchtower and approach the captain's door. And even he needs permission before he can go in."
His mind was working to come up with a plan, but he needed more information and one key person…The Sergeant…
"I need your help."
Gustaw raised an eyebrow, curious.
"Help? How could you possibly expect me to help you with that?"
"I need to meet the Sergeant and convince him to take me up there. But I can't do it alone. Will you help me?"
Gustaw crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Why should I help you, huh? I will get into trouble if he sees through our lies."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch of shining silver coins. "This would cover your debt, right?"
Gustaw's eyes widened, curiosity and greed flashing across his face.
"Yes… yes, it would. But… how do you have so much money? You're just a newcomer."
He swallowed, needing a quick lie.
"M-my lover… gave it to me before I came here. And since we're not allowed to leave and there's nothing to buy around, I've kept it safe. I also don't gamble, so… that's how I have so much."
Gustaw studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded.
"Fine, kid. I'll take the money and help you convince the Sergeant. But that's it. I won't do any more than that. Deal?"
"Deal." He handed over the pouch.
"Alright, then. Follow me," Gustaw said, turning toward the exit of the building.