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Chapter CXXXV – It shall free thy father, and thou shalt bruise her heel.
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 18:51:10 +0000 UTC11th of Spring 5860 The depths of Castle Casamonu, Casamonu Clang, clang, clang-a-lang-a-lang-a… Yaz Inkwell was clanging the bars of his ce
11th of Spring 5860
The depths of Castle Casamonu, Casamonu
Clang, clang, clang-a-lang-a-lang-a…
Yaz Inkwell was clanging the bars of his cell. His fingers travelled to, and then to fro, making something akin to a metallic melody of boredom. He looked back at his cellmates, who were equally bored and slumped in a corner. They had exhausted all topics of conversation a season ago. Their only entertainment was either making music with the cell bars, or following specs of dust dancing around the rays of light entering from the one window which was too high to look outside from.
Sigh. Clang, clang-lang-a-lang. Clang.
The clangs echoed throughout the empty halls of the dungeon. Not the fun dungeon full of monsters – it was the boring type of dungeon full of monsters. There were no guards around, for nobody expected the noblemen to do something crazy like jumping out of the dungeon. It was on a tower after all – a high one, and Yaz would become a fine red splat on the ground if the made his way out the window.
Clinkity-clink-clang. Clang-lang… Tap-tap-tap?
The clangs were interrupted by… footsteps? They sounded awfully quick and panicked compared to usual. “Huh, are they coming to execute us or something?” he asked.
“Thank the Divine if that’s the case” answered a fellow inmate.
Yaz couldn’t help but grumble in agreement. At this point he wasn’t afraid of death. He just wanted it over. He stood up, fixed his suit, and prepared to meet a dignified death. “Come and get me, you knaves! Come and… come.. come?”
The soldiers definitely weren’t ones from the mayor who had imprisoned them, judging from their skin color. No, they wore a familiar blue gambeson and copper helmet combo. “Good morning, mister mayor. I hope you’re doing well?” asked one of the men.
“W-what? W-when?” Yaz stammered and trembled. The rest of his cellmates were as shocked as him, making similar disorganized sounds of disbelief.
“The mayor has had a bit of an accident, along with the rest of the troops.” The man calmly stuck a key inside the cell door, and in a moment, it was open. “You’re free now, go do whatever.”
“…why?”
“The captain thinks your imprisonment has been punishment enough.” The soldier stepped aside. “Come on now, I don’t have all day to hold this open.”
Yaz stumbled forward like a newborn lamb, still in disbelief. He had personally seen the army of the mayor, how grand it was, and comparatively how downtrodden the fugitives were. Perhaps this was some sort of sick prank? He raced down the stairs of the dungeon tower, going down and down, until he was out the door and into the yard of the castle.
The scene in the yard helped Yaz be sure that he wasn’t being played around with. None of the mayor’s men were around to be seen. The Earlywatch family banner, of Mayor Azvaran Earlywatch, was nowhere to be seen. It was replaced by a banner as-of-yet unfamiliar to Yaz, one that certainly wasn’t like the usual familial crests of Gemeinplatz.
A festive mood was in the air, as the freemen of the Republic had lit a great bonfire in the middle of the yard. Men were sitting around it, some having even brought out instruments to sing tunes, some enjoying a good drink, and the rest were laying down on the grass to rest after an arduous march.
The old noble man Yaz felt himself as if he was in an otherworld all of a sudden. The citizens of Casamonu, once wary of the newcomers, were dancing and making merry alongside the fugitives. Light and dark, sharing a drink, a cheer, a song for their liberation from the foreign mayor. If the Empire hadn’t left Casamonu a season ago, it definitely had left the city today. The only remnants, as Yaz noticed, were a few prisoners of war from Karabush who were being escorted to the tower where the dungeon was. There, in an unassuming outfit and position in the middle of everyone was the old man John Brown that had so defeated Yaz and his Imperial allies. He stepped forward to say a few words to the old man, before he was interrupted by a shout speeding towards him “Papa!”
The old Inkwell almost collapsed on to the ground as the younger Inkwell tackled him for a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re well!” She was crying on his chest, while pounding it lightly with her fist “Why did you do something so foolish? Why would you stay behind?!”
The old nobleman Inkwell could explain himself. The father Inkwell couldn’t. He let his suit be ruined by the tears and snot, while gently caressing the head of his daughter. Yaz really didn’t know what to say. Especially when there was a tall muscular lady with an enormous sword in the background gazing at him judgmentally. “I-I don’t think I’ll try and leave for the Empire again, dear.”
“Of course, you won’t! I’d suspect you to have become a lunatic if you still wanted to.” Azra wiped her tears off with a handkerchief and handed it to Shakira.
“It was the honorable decision to-” Yaz shut up when he realized how angry Shakira was becoming. He certainly didn’t want to be suddenly cut in half, or choked to death. “Y-yeah, I won’t. It was a stupid decision.”
“Right?” Azra took his hand “Come on, you gotta join the festivities! There’s a dwarf selling really delicious donuts, and then we gotta see the captain and-”
Yaz was already getting dragged away by his daughter, as if nothing had happened. The Empire, all he had known was collapsing around him, a time of certain uncertainty, and yet…
“…some things never change.” Yaz said with a tear in his eye. Perhaps the world he know may crumble, but in the future, there were still things to preserve and look forward to.
His somber comment was ignored as Azra was too busy haggling for some donuts. She was so excited that she didn’t even notice her heel being bruised while running to and fro.
