An icy night hung over the desolate city of Bell-Row. Amid the gray clouds, a pale moon emerged, casting its cold light over the aging buildings and narrow alleys. A deathly silence enveloped everything, not a soul in sight. Or so it seemed...
On the rooftop of one of the residential buildings stood a stranger, his face hidden beneath a long, dark cloak. He glanced around, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Well, well, didn’t expect fate to throw us together under these circumstances... That little troublemaker...”
He lingered a moment longer, taking in the cityscape, before vanishing silently, as if he’d never been there at all. Normally, at this hour, you’d spot at least one or two patrol guards in any district of the city, but not tonight. Today, Bell-Row was celebrating a momentous occasion.
“Miroen! The infamous Miroen has been captured! The city guard and Lord Elro rejoice!” Such proclamations echoed from the town criers since early morning, when news broke of the arrest of one of the most notorious and dangerous thieves in the land. As a crowd of gawkers and thrill-seekers gathered in the main square, the mayor, unable to contain his excitement, declared, “The prisoner will be tortured, and in a few days, we’ll execute him publicly!”
The city’s ruler couldn’t stop gloating over what he believed was a gift straight from Deus himself. To mark this “holiday,” he gave all his subordinates the day off, convinced that no greater threat could possibly loom. Little did he know, this would go down as the most reckless decision of his entire reign.
***
The infamous Bell-Row prison sat on the outskirts of the city, sprawling over a vast area. The four-story structure, resembling a massive hexagon from a bird’s-eye view, was considered one of the harshest places of punishment in Rahas. Few ever died of natural causes here, and escape attempts were unheard of. Prisoners could perish from the scorching heat, thirst, or the bites of scorpions and snakes that often slithered into the cells.
The mayor was a notoriously greedy and stingy man. He believed prisoners didn’t deserve food, that no one needed to clean up after them or take them out for walks. What he enjoyed most was watching them weep, beg for mercy, and die in agony. Whenever such scenes unfolded, Elro would simply shrug, throw up his hands, and laugh loudly at the miserable wretches.
Time passed. The city grew poorer, and its people simmered with resentment toward their leader for his inaction. So, the mayor came up with a brilliant distraction: public executions, diverting the citizens’ attention to gruesome spectacles.
At midnight, a hoarse voice echoed between the prison floors. A guard muttered to himself, occasionally cursing loud enough to be heard even in the farthest corners of the building. He was old, moved slowly, and grumbled about his failing eyesight. His body was clad in tight leather gloves, boots with low heels, and light chainmail; strands of gray hair peeked out from under his helmet. The defining feature of all the guards was a patch bearing the city’s emblem—a neatly embroidered two-headed serpent.
The guard wrinkled his nose, reluctant to tear himself away from the festive feast, but his nightly rounds were something of a personal tradition. He trudged up to the top floor and made his way to the end of the corridor, where a lone criminal awaited him.
“Well, well, played yourself out, didn’t you, Sinful?” he said with such pride, as if he’d single-handedly captured the man himself.
The old man raised his torch closer. Behind the iron bars, the silhouette of a young man emerged, spending his final days in captivity. His build was lean and muscular; his face was thin, slightly elongated, with sharp cheekbones. Long, light-brown hair partially covered his ears and forehead. On his bare shoulder, a black tattoo of a raven’s head stood out.
The prisoner turned his attention to the guard.
“What, cat got your tongue? Not talking? Don’t worry, you won’t need it much longer!”
The guard wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. The prisoner’s hands were shackled to the wall with rusty chains, preventing him from taking even a single step.
“No, no, sir... I’m just waiting for midnight...” the young man replied in an innocent tone.
“Hmph, it’s already midnight,” the guard pointed out.
“Oh, really?” the prisoner said, feigning surprise. “Wanna see a trick?”
“You mocking me, boy?”
“Not at all. A buddy of mine taught me this one. It’s called ‘how to slip out of shackles in just a few seconds.’”
“Yeah, right! How’re you gonna get out when you’ve got nothing on you?” the guard asked, stepping right up to the bars out of curiosity.
“Who says I’ve got nothing?” The young man snapped his fingers quickly, but nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.
“Hmmm...” he mumbled, sounding puzzled. “Gotta say the magic word.”
“And what’s that?”
“Die.”
“Die? Sinful, you’re a lousy magician! They’d pelt you with tomatoes in the square for a stunt this shoddy... uh... wha...”
The guard choked, a sharp pain piercing through his body. Looking down, he saw the blade of a two-handed sword protruding from his chest, having pierced straight through his heart. Blood trickled from his mouth as darkness swallowed his vision.
“Didn’t anyone tell you as a kid that you’re a problem child?” a voice said from behind the guard. Pulling the weapon from the lifeless body, the figure began searching carefully for the keys to the cell.
“Nice trick, I’ll have to remember that one,” the prisoner remarked. “But you don’t look like a rabbit pulled out of a hat. So, who are you?”
“Having known sorrow, the dancing fox sways gloomy shadows,” the stranger replied hurriedly as he unlocked the cell.
“Hold on... The lost bird mourns friends, those in their graves... And together we...”
“Are free as wild beasts, nearly blood brothers,” the two young men said in unison.
Throwing back his hood, the stranger revealed his face. Standing before Miroen was a tall young man, roughly the same age as him. His face was slightly unshaven, round, and stern, with grayish eyes that gleamed with joy at seeing his old friend. His attire was dominated by dark tones: a black leather vest over a fine white shirt, dark pants, bracers, and high boots with buckles. The sheath of an unusual bastard sword was slung across his back over a cloak, and around his neck hung a subtle talisman—a thin, long claw of a wild beast.
“Hertz?” the prisoner asked, surprised.
“Who were you expecting, a forest fairy?” his friend laughed. “You know, I didn’t exactly dream of reuniting under these circumstances. Care to explain why your mug is plastered on every pole in town, and why half the guards are drunk and passed out instead of standing watch? I hate holidays I’m not invited to. Plus...”
The gray-eyed wanderer suddenly fell silent. Listening closely, he realized someone was approaching. A small flicker of light appeared near the stairs, growing larger by the second.
“What’s going on up there?” someone shouted anxiously. “Where are you, Todd? You’re missing all the fun!”
“It’s getting noisy. We gotta move. Let me get you out of those chains.”
“Nah, I’ve got this,” Miroen countered, snapping his fingers.
His hands glowed with a green light, and a moment later, he held an object that looked more like an awl than a lockpick. With a few deft movements, the shackles clattered to the floor.
“Your escape skills aren’t exactly the most impressive thing I’ve seen,” Hertz said, frowning with disapproval.
“For once, I’m grateful for Elro’s greed. Good thing he didn’t think to chain me in cuffs that block magic...”
“Magic?” his friend asked, intrigued.
“You’re asking too many questions I can’t answer right now. We’ll talk later, okay? For now, we need to get out of here,” Miroen said seriously.
The guard who’d come looking for his colleague froze at the sight before him. Hertz was pleasantly surprised when, instead of calling for backup, the man charged at him with a short, rusty sword. The skirmish lasted less than a minute, and the outcome was decidedly not in the guard’s favor.
“You know we’re not getting out of here unnoticed, right?”
The prisoner rubbed his numb wrists.
“Yeah. I don’t know how the heck you got in here, but there’s only one way out—through the main gate. Once they figure out what happened, they’ll send every last man there.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
“For starters, I wouldn’t mind getting my clothes back.”
***
The iron bells rang out in alarm for the first time in decades. Those who’d been drinking sobered up fast, and those asleep jolted awake. Panicked men hurriedly donned their armor, grabbed their weapons, and rushed to the main entrance.
It took them only a few minutes to form ranks and prepare for the intruders’ arrival. A loud-mouthed commander, who’d led the operation to capture Miroen, did his best to boost morale, assuring his men that “some pathetic worm couldn’t possibly take on a crowd of armored guards.” But he wasn’t alone.
At the end of the corridor, the culprits of the chaos appeared. They walked slowly, deliberately, without a trace of fear or hesitation. It was as if they had a plan.
“There’s more of them than I expected...” Miroen said, sounding disappointed.
“Didn’t think your sorry self would get this much attention,” Hertz remarked.
The guards held their formation, silently watching the criminals’ every move. The commander waited for the right moment, ready to give the order.
“Stay out of this,” Hertz suddenly said. “I’ll handle them.”
The prisoner raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“If your fighting skills match your cockiness and showboating, then do whatever you want.”
With a sly grin, Hertz drew his sword, picked up speed, and dove into the crowd of enemies. With a fierce swing of his bastard sword, he knocked the weapons out of the hands of everyone in the front row. The second swing brought screams, cries, and sprays of crimson blood. The surroundings darkened with stains.
The guards weren’t prepared for such a reckless move from their opponent. The men, along with their captain, faltered, forgetting how to wield their weapons. They swung their swords and halberds clumsily, losing focus. But the agile fox danced with his bastard sword, sparing no one.
Miroen stood frozen, watching in awe as his friend single-handedly took on the entire guard. He never could’ve imagined that, after all these years, Hertz’s combat skills would reach such a level.
The armored men realized they stood no chance against this madman and turned tail to flee. Hertz wanted to chase them down and finish the job, but his companion stopped him just in time.
“Calm down! We need to go!”
Hertz let out a heavy sigh, barely managing to rein himself in.
“You’re right. I might’ve overdone it a bit...”
Opening the gates, the fugitives bolted out and disappeared into the quiet streets of Bell-Row. Word of what had happened spread through the city like wildfire, and the first to be devastated by the news was, of course, Elro himself.