The air of the dungeons was thick and radioactive. The smell of oil and mildew became normal for all its residents, including the scraggly young man shoved into cellblock #309. In his hands, he held a tray of gray mushy slop — he hadn't a clue what it was, but after being holed up inside a cell for four painstaking years, he learned that food was food no matter how bad it tasted.
Not that it truly mattered anymore. It wasn't like Orion could remember the taste of genuinely good food.
'Just one more bite…'
Orion shoved the final piece of rubbery bread down his throat, not even trying to chew it into pieces before he swallowed it. It smelled of chemicals, and he grimaced at the metallic taste on his tongue. It probably wasn't bread at all.
"Fuck this nasty shit!"
A new prisoner down the hall roared and tossed his tray through the bars of his cell, the metal clanging loudly against the chipped stone walls. There was a string of curses from other inmates.
Orion didn't know what any of his neighbors looked like, but he imagined them all to look the same. Bald, bulky, and gruff. Okay, well, it was a very biased imagination. It's what his last cellmate looked like before he was hanged on the gallows three months ago.
It was a shame. A framed man shouldn't have been sent to death like that — but it wasn't like any knight cared about that. The concept of 'Justice' was as dead as the skeletons buried under the King's throne.
"You shouldn't throw your tray out. It's important to eat what you can; you won't get anything else," Lucky, a prisoner who has been there longer than Orion, piped up. His voice was soft with age.
'His name is very ironic for being stuck in a place like this…'
"Of course, disgusting vultures like you can stomach this shit! I'm Jonas Va Vinlan, an esteemed member of the Vinlan Family—"
"No one cares, jackass!"
The hall exploded in laughter when a random inmate snapped back. It wasn't the first time that a newcomer started rambling about their background as if it made any difference here.
Inside the Clocktower, every prisoner was considered equal. It didn't matter if you were a murderer or an arsonist; class and wealth meant nothing. Power didn't buy you out of this place, and family ties sure as hell didn't either. If blood was strong enough to keep you out, then it should have been strong enough to null your crimes completely.
Orion sighed bitterly. He made the mistake of trying to use his family a long time ago to get out of prison as well… and all he got in return was a black eye and a busted nose. The knights mocked him about it for weeks after. They hated every inmate, but they also hated nobles. It was just his luck that he was a disowned one.
Prick, which Orion named the newcomer, threw a rock from his cell. He banged his fists against the bars and screamed.
"Hey, is anyone there?! Someone get me away from these mutts! Hey! Anyone?!"
Orion rolled his eyes and lay back on his cot, propping his head up on his arms. 'This idiot is going to get his teeth busted out…'
"I'm just saying… if screaming worked, none of us would be stuck here," Lucky warned.
"Of course, they wouldn't listen to criminals, but I'm not a criminal. I was framed, I haven't done a single incriminating thing in my life, you hear me?! I was framed and—"
Orion groaned and kicked the bars of his cell, shutting Prick up. "Listen, no one gives a shit about your last name or the reason why you're here. If you're as important as you say you are, then you wouldn't have been thrown here in the first place!"
"And who are you? Some degenerate murderer who gets off on chopping up children?"
Orion's eyebrow twitched. Unlike what a lot of people thought, he wasn't the worst criminal on floor three, even if it housed the worst of the worst. Sure, he was traitorous, he did everything that he was accused of — but he wasn't even close to the degenerates in cellblock #304. Those men were the ones who truly got off on hurting children.
"Yeesh. What are you going to say to that, Orion?" Lucky hummed.
A couple of other inmates chuckled.
"Nothing. A knight will bash his teeth in soon enough for his attitude," Orion deadpanned.
Hopefully, they'd make him learn his lesson and stop his insistent whining. Orion didn't want to get used to a cell neighbor like this.
Prick stammered. "Wait, what? Bash my teeth in?!"
Other inmates noticed the opportunity to abuse him, so they jumped in and heckled at his fear. It was tradition at this point. Newcomers always became punching bags for horrible jokes and funny threats. Orion remembered the time he was threatened by other inmates when he was first thrown inside…
Ah, how nostalgic it is now.
"Don't worry, everyone gets a turn."
"Just start praying to the gods that they knock out your back teeth instead of your front teeth."
"Don't scream too loud or they might take your tongue too!"
'Okay, well that one is a little bit exaggerated…' Orion thought, slightly amused.
"You guys are just trying to scare me!" Prick snapped, voice cracking like a preteen after a nightmare. "Gods, does this place have any fucking light? I can't see a damn thing!"
Unfortunately, all of the corridors inside the dungeon were dark on the inside, minus the small windows within each cell. They faced the sky, and if you peeked out, you would see the gothic buildings of the Leoline Kingdom towering like stilts.
They were made out of gears, stone, and old metal. Steam and smog ruined the sky like looming death. It wasn't a pretty sight, especially at night, where street lights would cast shadows across the towering steam. But any glimmer of sunlight through moggy clouds was better than the flickering oil lanterns the knights sometimes walked through the halls with.
'If floor three smells this bad, I don't even want to think about how bad the ground floor smells. They get the most trash.'
But of course, floor three also had its challenges.
The entire dungeon wasn't a boring brick building, but a towering Clocktower. It was Leoline's pride and joy, its most renowned prison, and it became the centerpiece for the entire kingdom. It was marked as a tourist destination even though no one had access to go inside. It was named the 'Tower of Gold' because the gears inside were — you guessed it — made out of solid gold. And not the fake stuff either.
The tower chimed every hour, shattering the eardrums of every prisoner there. Orion has learned to get accustomed to it, along with the other veterans there, but newcomers were constantly complaining about how much their ears rang.
Orion's hearing was too busted to work anymore. He was surprised he wasn't deaf.
"At least there's enough light so we don't go blind," Lucky sighed.
"Barely! The only thing I can see is my damn cell, I can't even look down the corridor!"
There was a pause before Lucky spoke.
"…Has anyone told you that you have a very foul mouth?"
"Oh fuck you!"
Orion zoned them out as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms, stretching his legs out until his hip popped. He couldn't remember the last time he ran without limitations. The most exercise they could get was pacing back and forth, pushups, situps, and other small workouts.
He supposed that was why he was so weak now, his muscles had no stamina or definition after being locked away for four years. His mind flashed to the memories of his childhood home — the large manor, pretty garden, and spotless rooms. As a kid he always ran down the halls playing with fake wooden pistols while his maids tried to reign him down.
The thought left him bitter instead of nostalgic. He'd rather not dwell on it.
"Entering!"
In an instant, the entirety of Cellblock #309 went dead silent, Orion included, when the heavy metal door at the end of the hall screeched open. He peeked out from underneath his arms with a scowl.
'They already fed us for the night... No knights should be making an appearance.'
Anticipation flooded the chests of every man there as they waited to find out why a couple of soldiers were making an unexpected appearance. No one ever got released, that was impossible, so were they going to take someone to the gallows? Or to get their head lopped off at the execution block?
Orion prayed it wasn't Lucky. He liked him.
He sat up when the shadows down the hall got closer to his cell. Armored boots clanked against the stone floors when a knight walked past his cell door and stopped. Orion felt his blood run cold.
'Shit, are they here to send ME to the gallows?'
He wouldn't be shocked if it was his time. He wasn't exactly a loved public figure; the entire population of Leoline hated his guts.
When he was arrested, the knight who chained him up made sure to leave an impression, going as far as to break one of his legs. The only reason any doctors healed him was because his trial encompassed the whole kingdom like a shadow. He was in newspapers, plastered on papers glued to dirty streets, written in notes.
The Order didn't want to deal wirh the chance of anyone taking his side, even if they knew the public hated him. They were cautious.
The knight glowered through the bars. "You have a guest. Play nice, Rustrat."
Rustrat. Just like a rusted gear placed in a promising machine, it was a slur used for inmates held accountable for treason. It was Orion's most common nickname these days.
"Rustrat? Wait, he's a traitor?!" Prick gasped.
"Shut it!"
He squeaked and went silent when another knight yelled at him. Before Orion had a chance to demand answers, a handsome middle-aged man stepped in front of his cell from the dark hallway. He looked no older than his late thirties.
He looked regal in his black top hat, trench coat, and recently waxed shoes. His wealthy cane was decorated with a silver tiger pommel, his leather glove gripping it tightly as he dug the end into the floor. The very tip of the cane was sharp like a knife. If he wanted to, he could easily jam it through the bars and stab Orion through the chest.
His sharp gold eyes narrowed on Orion like a target. His black hair was not yet graying, his face had close to no wrinkles, but a nasty scar ran from his left temple to the hook of his nose, carving out a chunk of his eyebrow. It was a miracle he wasn't blind.
'Who the hell—'
"You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."
His voice was smooth like velvet, unlike Orion's, which spat back with venom.
"Yeah, it's almost like dungeons don't have an age limit for criminals. Who would have thought?"
A couple of the other inmates couldn't help but laugh, even if they tried to keep their voices down. Drawing attention to yourself was bad luck — you never wanted to grab the attention of a knight. But luckily for Orion, or maybe unluckily, the rich man didn't even look remotely close to a knight.
"No, but they do have expiration dates, and yours is coming up fast."
Orion felt his mouth go dry.
'So I was right, my execution is coming up soon…'
The entire cellblock held its breath at the news. While none of them knew Orion personally, except for his crimes and constant brittle humor, none of them wanted to see him walk off to the gallows or execution block. It was easy to make friends with even the worst types of people after you've been stuck with them for four years straight.
Orion glanced at the knights, but their expressions gave nothing away.
'A normal man wouldn't be permitted to speak to me, much less allowed to enter the tower at all… This means that this man is of noble birth. High ranking nobility at that — but who?'
And yet the knights weren't scowling at the man or treating him differently. It was odd. They always spat at the name of nobles when they patrolled the halls.
"Stop rattling those dentures, old man, and spit it out. You're here for a reason, so get it over with."
He didn't seem offended by the jabs; instead, he raised an unimpressed eyebrow. It was almost funny how much he reminded him of his father. Orion hadn't seen his father in years, but the man in front of him had the same cold, calculating gaze. As if he were staring at a chess piece instead of a person.
"You can most likely already tell from my attire that I'm not here to see you about your crimes. I have no interest in how you betrayed the kingdom."
"For someone who has no interest, you sure brought it up fast."
The man made a noise in the back of his throat, and Orion swore he saw a flicker of a smile on his lips. Yeah, no way. Rich guys like this always blew a gasket when they got insulted by anyone. His father was a prime example of that.
"Get him out. I need to speak to him privately."
Orion's eyes widened. 'Shit!'
He didn't want to leave the sanctuary of his cell, but the knights didn't waste a single second before they were marching forward and unlocking the gate with a ring of rusty keys.
A large hand grabbed his bicep and hauled him from his cot. He tried to rip away, but he was too weak to escape the brutal hold of the soldier, making his skin bruise underneath their fingers. Once he was hauled out of the hallway, he could finally see the other cells he hadn't seen since he got there.
A pair of eyes glimmered from the shadows of the nearest cell. Old warm eyes set in a weathered face.
Orion didn't need an introduction. He knew, without a doubt, that this was Sunny. The old man's gaze carried a gentleness so rare it could have belonged to the Saint of Creation herself.
'He looks… so normal.'
The thought settled in his chest like a stone. No monster lurked behind the bars—only a man who was old enough to be someone's grandfather. Maybe he was. Perhaps he was one of the many who were caged by mistake.
And now that Orion thought about it, he realized he knew nothing about Sunny. He didn't know the supposed crimes he commited or about his famiiy.
Other inmates pressed their faces against the bars of their cell to see what was happening, but none of them were at the correct angle to catch a glimpse of Orion's face. Soon enough, familiar voices flooded the corridor.
"Orion, sock those bastards in the jaw!"
"No, no, don't do that! Don't listen to Jax!"
"Are you trying to get the kid killed!?"
The knight hauled Orion around like a ragdoll. He bared his teeth, almost tempted to take a chunk from his hand — but knew that would like the situation. He'd have to keep his wits about him.
The wealthy noble shrugged his shoulders and spun his cane around his hand like he was taking a stroll inside a park instead of a prison cellblock. The sharp end of it was the only thing keeping Orion from spitting insults at him. Dying in general wasn't a fun idea… but dying from the sharp end of a cane? Now, that was just humiliating.
"Orion!"
Sunny was yelling. Rust smeared against his pale, ghastly skin as his cheeks smashed against the bars.
"Stay smart and stay safe!"
That was the last thing Orion heard before he was dragged down the cramped stone hallway. He saw glimpses of faces through the cells, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, damaged from the years of abuse. None of them really knew him, and he didn't know them, but he swore he saw some of them smile at him.
'I need to get up and run!'
His nails scraped at the grey chipped walls as his palms kissed jagged stones. His skin turned an angry pink by the time they reached the door, the dirt beneath his nails caked together as his cuticles turned an angry red. They looked like they were on the verge of popping off.
— and just like that, the door to cellblock #309 slammed shut, signalling a turning point that would change Orion's life forever.