He couldn't say that he was expecting a palace. It'd had been about a decade since he'd come to Arca and in that time the city itself had changed so much. He knew the old shops and where many of the streets were, going down many of them to sell what skins he had and traveled all the way back through Adela to his homeland just to bring the profits of his trade to the village. There were so many things about this venture that reminded him of the times of old. The way his feet struck the stoned streets and the people that gawked at him strangely as if he was some demon. The gazes hadn't changed, they still glare at him oddly, some even scurrying away and others gossiping.
But this time was different. He wasn't here to trade skin or crafts he'd created, he was here to be thrown into the city prison. In the days that past, the silence between him and his captor had not been a comfortable one on his part, and he said nothing aside from the occasional word of necessity indicating a river or a stream or thanking her for the rations she shared with him. He knew his days were numbered and there was little motivation to do anything about him.
Hysaeda had been dragged from her horse as if he were a slave to be sold on the market, he didn't resist them, but forced them with his body and strength to let him stand upright on his own. As they led him down to streets to be carted away, he walked with dignity, his head high and he looked straight at anyone that dared met his gaze. He would enter the prison with his sense of pride and he would not let them break him down. Hysaeda knew that he would probably be killed in a few weeks, whenever they scheduled for him a trial or an instant execution. He hoped it would be the latter; it was obvious they would make it so that all evidence stood against him.
He said not a word when one of the soldiers questioned him, asking his name. He'd been dragged to a dark building that was built into the walls of a stone fortress, something that resembled a military fort. Perhaps this was the barracks that Adalia spoke off. Lost in thought for a moment, it wasn't until the guard spoke to him again that he met him with a glare. "You're name, godsdammit. Don't make me beat it out of you!" His cold grey eyes stared deep into Hysaeda's amber-reds.
Summoning up as much saliva as he could, he spat at the guards face and it was then that he felt a club come down on his head. His vision flickered with specks of white as he was carted off down a stony hall. He could feel his legs being dragged across wet stone, and suddenly the stench of mildew struck his nostrils when he came through. They tossed him into the last cell on at the end of the hall and the clank of steel and chains were so loud, they resonated off the stone of the prison structure. When he opened his eyes, his eyes were met with utter darkness and he heard the main guard laugh when he said, "A few days in there and you'll be telling us your name soon enough. The warden will be coming down soon and then you'll be talking."
That was two days ago. In the time that he'd been thrown in there and locked away, the only light he saw was the one in the tiny barred window that was too narrow for even a cat to fit through. The air was thick with the sweat and moans of fellow prisoners trying to make a distraction for themselves. Hysaeda sat there, refusing to eat the porridge that they served him. The guard that brought the meal every time down his section of hallway was met only with a glare and deafening silence. This time, he just dropped it through the bars and didn't bother to look at the Umbraeon that sat in the corner away from the light. Hysaeda's eyes glowed outwardly like a demon lurking in the shadows.
He heard footsteps coming down the usually empty hall. The other prisoners occupied the other wings, but it was rare for anyone to come here except for the occasional guard. A woman appeared with black hair and black eyes, and a pale pinched face. Yes, he remembered now. Serendipity was a country filled with albinos. He didn't think this one was any different from the rest. She looked at Hysaeda with warm, angry eyes, but with a discretion that seemed to be that of quiet joy in seeing him behind bars. "So you're the newest addition," she said, pulling something out of her pocket. Looking it over she nodded. "Hysaeda was it? The lead guard of this wing told me that's what you said after they beat it out of you.
"You're the first drow I've seen in my life, you know. A rare catch. If you weren't already set up for execution, I would have thought you'd make a nice slave to add to the market."
"I'm not a drow," he growled, baring his teeth at her from beneath scarred and cut lips where brutal blows had made their landing. Hysaeda did not move for the sake of his ribs that were still sore. If he'd crawled into the light, one could easily see the cuts and bruises that covered most of his body. His left eye was still sore and swollen.
"It doesn't really matter what you are. As long as you're a prisoner in my ward, you're scum just like every other lost soul here. I'm Warden Quijira, by the way. And I'd stay in the light if I were you. It will be the last you'll see it for a long time. And you have a visitor scheduled to come in today. Someone who knows you, I'm guessing." She winked a black eye at him then stood and strode down the hallway.
Hysaeda got up carefully, clutching his side and crawled to the bars of his cell, looking down the way the warden came. "Who would be coming to see me?"
