Prison Break (Anna)

Prompt:  Fresh out The Slammer

The Forsworn seem to be a strange people really. Are they Bretons? Technically. Do they behave like most Bretons? No, not at all, the magic use not counted. I certainly never expected to uncover a conspiracy regarding them when I first set foot in Markarth, just like I didn’t expect to almost witness and thankfully prevent a murder from taking place in broad daylight in the market. Then again, I didn’t expect to be arrested and sentenced to execution that was narrowly avoided at the last minute due to a dragon attack when I first set foot in this country either. It seems I’ve found myself once again arrested, for no reason, and tossed in jail without explanation. Those around are mostly Forsworn or their affiliates, a rather unsavory bunch. What the guards who arrested me have done with Farkas I’m not sure, he wasn’t arrested with me for whatever reason, despite standing not three feet away when the incident occurred. Hopefully he’s working on a plan to get me out of here. Harsh manual labor never was my thing, I’m not made for mining silver. The days are long and boring as I try to keep to myself, until at long last the day comes for freedom. The old man who runs the prison on the inside makes me aware that dwemer ruins run through the city including into the cavern where we are held. I go ahead by myself to scout, as I won’t be missed when the guards come to check.

The ruins are damp, dark, and full of still working dwemer machinery. Thanks to magic I’m able to sneak by most of the machines, and when needed fight others off with a combination of magic and a shiv one of the inmates had given me. Bound armor ends up being quite useful, as basic cloth trousers and an ill-fitting shirt with no shoes is not the outfit of a warrior. By the time I make it to the large golden gates that lead to the outside world I’m exhausted, and yet I must push on. Tugging one of the doors open just enough to slip through I make it out into the fresh air and sunlight of the canyon and city of stone. The exhaustion quickly catches up with me as I stagger and collapse to the ground resting against a moss covered rock as my vision becomes blurry, likely from dehydration and no small amount of sleep deprivation, and eventually everything fades to black as my eyes begin to feel heavy and close, no matter how hard I try to keep them open. I wake some time later with a start as I feel something, or someone, nudge me lightly. “I didn’t kill anybody I swear!” I yell upon being woken up, putting my hands up and dropping the shiv to the ground. “Of course you didn’t…or at least not anyone innocent.” I look up recognizing the voice and find it is in fact not a guard or anyone who would throw me right back into the slammer which I am quite literally  fresh out of, but Farkas. Confused for a moment I sit there like an idiot, too many thoughts racing through my head. Eventually I realize he’s holding out his hand to help me up, and probably has been for the past few minutes. I accept the offer and am pulled to me feet which are still unsteady. “Did they clear my name?” I ask as I notice some guards on patrol and am told that yes, everything is fine now. The conspiracy has been uncovered and resolved, there should be no more issues for me. That’s a relief.

I find standing to be tiring, along with talking, and moving, even involuntary movements like breathing or blinking. How I’ll get from here to home, or even the closest other building, is beyond me. Markarth has too many stairs, they clearly never thought about people with disabilities, even if Divayth Fyr’s friend has prosthetic legs. Tired, I stare at the rest of the city of stone, trying to figure out a plan. My thoughts, however, are interrupted when I’m picked up and Farkas begins walking. “I forgot this was a hypothetical option.” I mumble, as my brain is mush from too many days in a damp dark cave with little to eat and drink. I could use another nap…and a bath.

I get both upon returning home, along with a few pieces of toast and as much water as one can drink without feeling sick. The three help immensely, though I still remain tired even after waking again. “What did you do while I was in there?” I ask Farkas upon waking up, referencing vaguely to the general direction of the mine that serves as the city's prison. “Oh you know, besides attempting to get you out, keeping things clean, talking with the steward about the Forsworn, seeing if anyone knows anything about the attempted murder…threatening the silver bloods…you know, the expected stuff.” He trails off toward the end but I catch what he says, it doesn’t surprise me. Farkas may have the general personality of an adorable puppy but he can be intimidating when he needs to be, and when he is, it usually works. “And I was uncovering information about a conspiracy and learning a sad old man’s life story.” I respond regarding what I was doing while in the mine “and mining silver…” I add after a moment. “I really hate mining silver. In fact, I hate mining anything.” Farkas then makes a comment that I was not made for manual labor. “You’re right, I wasn’t! This is why magic exists!! The whole idea is work smarter not harder, but do the silver bloods realize that? No, no they don’t…and they’re idiots for it.” That response makes him laugh a little, not so much because he thinks it’s incredibly funny, as much as the way it was said, and the fact that I’m right. I may be sleep deprived, dehydrated, and hungry due to being fresh out of the slammer, but I can still make logical arguments about people I wish to see incinerated by a temperamental dragon, or perhaps chased by a horker.