It was as if his whole world changed, transitioning from the cruddy living outside to the opulence of nobility in the Keep's interior. As he slowly stepped into the grand hall within line, the large door closed behind them, sending a heavy clack to reverberate through the hall. Soldiers who must be guards stood like statues against each wall. It came to his attention that gilded banners hung from arches that separated embowed ceilings, intricately carved with ornamental patterns. The whole colour pallet being of dark shades. The walls were strongly built with heavy stone bricks, supported by thick, square pillars. This was a Vercerian structure, he noticed. Because of his years in and out of battles in different countries, he could differentiate between architecture, cultures and customs. Victor, along with the rest of the slaves got halted by a new voice, standing upon the mezzanine across the hall from the door.
Victor perked up his head, seeing General Leerstrom stand with pride upon the solid entresol. He wore the emblem of Epriston- The people who slaughtered his family and kidnapped him and Damian to be the strives they are now. Oh, how hateful Victor has become, despite the guilt tearing him apart at night.
The emblem was black, with the silhouette of a shield lined with gold. The emblem was plain, having but a golden annulet centred in the shield. If this is a Hardovian structure, but Epristonian soldiers and generals are the authority, they evidently took over this part of Hardovia.
He realized something. The enemy is taking over his home country.
"Slaves of Yorthanden," Sedric announced, gripping Victor from his thoughts, "we have noble visitors and all of you are obligated to work hard enough to satisfy our guests," his voice stridently explained.
"Now, if any of you are to be caught labouring incorrectly, you will get punished. If you disturb the Noble guests, execution is ensured." Sedric said, his formal crookedness dripping from his tone.
"Guards, inform them of their chores and let them work," he commanded, instantly engaging the guards to take action. Victor took a last look at how the general turned around on the mezzanine as he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor behind him.
The guards all around sorted the slaves into groups, barking orders at them with some groups following them into different parts of the Keep.
"Come," a muffled voice spoke before Victor's arm got pulled by a guard, the cold steel sending a shake through his spine. The air was cold enough between dimly lit candle chandeliers. The guard pushed Victor into a group of slaves who obediently stood in silence, awaiting their orders.
"Your work for today is to scrub the dining-hall floor," The guard said, lifting his head with an informatory tone. Voices of agreement spoke as the group accepted the task, but Victor said nothing. He was silent.
"You know where the dining hall is," the guard admitted, "now make sure that floor is spotless."
Victor, not knowing the Keep, followed the group into a long corridor.
Now, he must find the person who knows the restricted parts of the Keep and get to the War-room before the Warlords finish dinner tonight.
The dark marble floor of the Dining-hall was quite distracting, the beauty of it never before seen by Victor's eyes, but those eyes were darting around at the room, searching for the person of interest while he was on his knees with a scrubbing brush in his hand. The hall was spacious indeed, with the stone ceiling above making for the perfect arches it was lined with. Victor's searching eyes glanced past the walls of the hall. Huge, stained glass windows depicting gods and goddesses were shrouded by draperies coloured black. The curtains have been adorned with jewels and fancy tassels.
"What are you looking for?" a soft voice whispered, followed by the wet scraping of a floor brush sweeping over the floor.
Victor noticed it was a pale and bruised slave beside him.
"Nothing," he responded, keeping an eye on the guards slowly patrolling the hall. He also didn't want to tell the man, being afraid he might expose himself.
The man recognized Victor somehow.
"You are Nathan's friend, are you?" the slave asked. Victor experienced a sudden twinge of shivers in his back, instantly halting in his sweeping of the floor. He was slightly startled in his anxious nature, confused as to how this stranger of a slave knows his friendships.
Victor took a brief look at him, recognizing the cut on his small nose and seeing his dark complexion. The guy looks trustworthy alongside his calmness.
"Yes, I am," Victor answered, creasing his brow in thought.
"My friend took quite the beating the other day, and it's your friend's fault," the guy cited, pulling a wet cloth towel from a bucket of murky water on the floor, twisting it tightly to force out the moist.
Victor's mind clicked. this guy knows the person he is looking for.
"I'll have to say sorry on his behalf," Victor whispered empathetically, lifting his brush from the cold marble floor, "he causes people trouble." Victor humbly tried defending his friend diplomatically.
"It has nothing to do with me anyway," the man replied, his voice soft but deep, "I do not recall that you have duties in the keep."
Victor was starting to feel unsafe, being questioned by a stranger, "for as much of the strangers we are to each other, you're speaking to me as if you know me," Victor said.
"I recognized you, didn't I?" the man replied.
"Give me your name and we won't be strangers," Victor inquired, trying to lighten the tension.
The man looked at him, splatting the cloth towel onto the floor, "Edwin," he smiled, "Edwin Holmquist."
"Victor Kultan." Victor replied.
"Listen, Edwin. How badly do you want to get out of this place?"
"With a sore heart." Edwin said, clearing his throat afterwards.
Victor looked around the hall, relieved to see that the guards were on the other side of the Dining-hall.
"The Warlords are here today because they plan on plotting an attack on an outpost near us," he quickly whispered his words, "and I snuck in to hopefully learn what they will plan because we want to escape during the objective," Victor explained, grabbing Edwin's attention.
"How do you know about this?" Edwin asked.
"Trust me when I say Sedric hates my guts," Victor whispered.
"Well," Edwin gestured, looking up at the guards stepping his way, "I'd believe so after he ordered a guard to take you to his chambers."
They stood up and navigated to another part of the floor, blending in to look like they were working.
"I need some to know something," Victor said, "I need to know how to het to the War room, but the guy Nathan beat sketched a map of the Keep, and I…"
Edwin interrupted him…
"I drew that map," he said.