Day ??? of being reborn in another world.
Ben crouched in front of the metal cell door and began sifting through his ring of keys.
Being reborn into the world of Gaedsea Saga had been the best thing that ever happened to him. But to this day, he still didn't welcome the ability to experience the uglier side of Gaedsea with his five senses.
His scabbard, which held his basket-hilted cutlass, hung heavily on his hip. His leather boots creased stiffly at the toes. His dark hair was matted with sweat. They clung to his lightly-tanned face and itched him terribly. The ring of keys was unwieldy, filled with heavy, thick keys. He had to strain his eyes as he browsed through them. The corridor's flickering lanterns only made his job harder.
But worst of all was the puddle. Blackwater Prison was the last place he wanted to crouch down and be closer to the ground. The entire place was damp and riddled with puddles that gathered water from God knows where. They pool there, stagnant, fermenting that sick poison until they collect every kind of disease known in the field of medicine. And Ben is crouching on that puddle.
Then there was the problem with his cape. It was a handsome cape, rich in colour and expertly woven together. It was cool and weather-proof, made from exotic threads from a land far from the Gaedsea archipelago.
It was now the bane of his existence. It hung low enough to touch the puddle.
His lips curl but he soldiered on. 'The things I do for love,' he thought.
He tried one key, then the second, then the third.
"Dammit!" He cried as his fourth key failed. "This is harder than plugging in a USB."
He breathed a sigh of relief as the 7th key inserted smoothly into the keyhole. He twisted it, and the mechanism unlocked with a heavy click.
He threw the door open, its old hinges screeching, and entered into a cool, dark cell. The only light came from the lanterns from the corridor that spilled inside. It partially lit the body of an unconscious woman.
Black chains held her down by the ankles. He crouched beside the woman and reached for the cuffs when her hands shot forth and grappled him.
Ben fell back on the floor, the woman on top of him. She pinned him with her knee to his arm and pointed a shiv to his throat.
Her red hair flowed down, obscuring her face. Yet he could still see the hint of freckles across her pale, scarred face. And the fiery amber eyes that sharpened with hate before widening in shock.
For a moment, she was so confused she didn't move. And Ben was forced to break the silence.
"Well, this is nostalgic."
Her mouth worked, but the words came out late. "Ben? I could've killed you!"
She crawled off him.
"It's good to see you too, Hagrene," Ben said.
"They took my helmet, Ben," said Hagrene, as if that was all the excuse she needed for her aggression.
"I know that made you upset, but let's think about that after we get out of here. Now show me your cuffs."
Ben began browsing through his ring of keys again, but Hagrene shook her head. "They kept it separate from the cell keys. For safety."
"Smart of them. That's something I would do, too."
Ben produced a lockpick seemingly out of thin air and began working on the cuffs. He had to squeeze uncomfortably around Hagrene to work on the awkward keyhole.
He worked silently. The light clicking and scratching of his lockpick was the only thing audible between them. The silence seemed to stretch endlessly as Hagrene could only wait.
She rested her head on the wall and stared into the ceiling. "I never thought I'd ever be a damsel in distress."
"You're upset?"
"No."
Her cuffs gave in. The heavy iron fell to the floor with a rattle.
Hagrene rubbed her ankles and stood up experimentally.
"Better?"
"Better."
Ben led her out of the cell. She paused when she saw the body of a warden lying on the floor across. He was a man with a crooked nose and yellowed teeth, whose face was frozen in a look of shock and disbelief at the knife stuck in his throat.
"Did you do that?"
Ben frowned as he fingered his keys. "I had to."
"Do not regret it, Ben. He was a scum."
Ben led her through the dark, maze-like corridors of Blackwater Prison. Every part of the corridors looked similar, with the same grimy windows, the same dim and rusted lanterns, and the same bacteria-filled puddles on the floors. The only difference was the occasional dead bodies littering the floor, bearing sword wounds and occasionally the hilt-end of throwing knives, sticking out of their bodies like warning flags. Ben's.
"I think we're going in circles," Hagrene said eventually.
Ben frowned. Time wasn't on their side either.
In his previous life, back when this world was nothing more than a fictional game world, Ben never stepped his foot in this place. He was never supposed to. The hero of the story was never meant to be here in Blackwater Prison. He was never meant to kill those wardens he swore to protect, and he was never meant to save Hagrene Hellflower, the very thing he swore to destroy.
He was sailing towards uncharted waters, and he didn't know if he would find a safe haven at its end.
"I'm genuinely lost. I think we should—"
He turned to find Hagrene crouching next to a fallen warden. She looted his longsword and strapped it to her hip and took his buckler in her hand.
"Alright, Hagrene, I think that's enough. You shouldn't wear his armour. We're going amphibious, so unless you're planning to drown, that's a bad idea."
"It's fine."
She took the warden's iron helmet and wore it. It perfectly conceals her face safe for tiny slits that reveal her amber eyes. Her hair flowed out from under the helmet, giving it an exotic touch that the previous owner didn't.
Hagrene's shoulders relaxed and she sighed in deep relief. "I just needed the helmet," she said, her voice now muffled.
She turned and pointed past him. "It's that way, by the way."
"How do you know?"
"You were saying we're going to go by the sea, right? Then follow the sea breeze."
Ben followed her direction and soon felt a draft blowing through the corridor. He could taste the sea in it, thicker now. It was liberating after the prison's stocky air.
The draft kept growing stronger until it began to howl through the corridors. As they threw themselves into the open, they found why.
Black clouds stretched as far as the eye can see, covering the sky from the stars and the moon, turning the night pitch black. Lightning crackled inside them, thunder followed in their heels, and a horrible rain came last.
Ben pulled at his cape. The cold rain bit right into his bones and made his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin.
Making the rain their cover, Ben led Hagrene to the prison's back harbour. It sat in an alcove, hidden from the sea storm and from the innocent eyes of law abiding citizens. It was a harbour where prisoners would be shipped in, but never out.
"Are we stealing a boat?" Asked Hagrene.
"No. Look, there!"
Far off the coast, a ship broke through the white capped waves and headed to the harbour. It was a small, unassuming merchant vessel.
Hagrene looked at him. "Pirates?"
"Pirates."
They made their way onto the docks. It was a narrow walk that stretched far off the shore. The sea lapped at its sides wildly, spraying brine all over.
Lightning flashed, Ben froze. It revealed black outlines waiting ahead of them. Six tall figures draped in the whitest of robes and suited in fine gilded cuirasses stood in their way. Their hoods obscured their faces. Swords with hilts of gold hung from their hips. They stood still, unflinching, in the middle of a downpour that would make the sturdiest sailor pull at their coats and find shelter. They were like rocks against the foaming waves.
Ben's hand hovered to his sword. "More wardens, damn it."
Hagrene caught his arm and squeezed it. "Those aren't wardens…"
The figures reached for their own swords and drew them, revealing brilliant blades that ignited into great blazes of golden flame. They lit the dark around them like miniature suns. The rain hissed as they kissed the burning metal.
'Dawnspawns. What are they doing here?'