Chapter 7: The Plan for the Prison

Once they had returned from Auntie Nub's, they rested for a day or so before everyone piled into Ballan's room to discuss their plan. Boots had been surprisingly amenable to the idea of breaking someone out of prison, though Ballan still had his reservations. He had heard plenty of stories about the Wall…

"It wasn't always a prison." Tilda griped, smoothing a piece of parchment onto the table. Ballan's leg was still on the mend, and they did not have an urgent need to fight any enormous crab monsters, so he was in bed again. Boots and Holgith stood opposite the table from Hilda, and Kahya was sitting to the side, resting her ankle.

Tilda tapped the parchment - a map of the prison, though he could not see it from where he was - and shook her head. "Twenty years ago, it was a fortress, so it's built to do more than just hold a hundred or so rowdy ne'er-do-wells. What's more, the sort of things the fortress was built to keep out were magical, so there's countermagic plastered over every brick."

Tilda glanced around the room, frowning at Ballan and Boots.

"As it so happens, I was instrumental in placing many of the protective magics you are speaking of." Boots volunteered, raising a paw. "And so, when it comes to the various wards, traps, and alarms magical or otherwise, you may rest assured that they will pose no problem."

There was a brief silence. Tilda stared at Boots, while Kahya and Holgith simply nodded along, knowing everything had been sorted.

"You helped build the wall?" Tilda asked, and Boots nodded happily, then turned thoughtful. "Well 'build' isn't how I would describe my contribution. No, no, I simply handled the enchantments - and only the defensive ones at that!"

Boots waved his paw over the map of the prison, and a projection of the entire fortress, rendered perfectly to scale, appeared above the table. With a click of his claws, the areas within the walls, and below ground began to glow blue.

"Another skilled mage had a hand in the countermagic that prevents external entry or otherwise thwarts attempts to undermine the foundation of the fortress." Boots gestured at the image, and it suddenly ballooned out, revealing the subterranean levels of the prison.

"Down here, for instance. This entire area has been covered in an anti-magic field."

"Like Pythogoras' gaze." Kahya commented, and Boots nodded immediately. "Exactly right!"

Boots turned his attention to Ballan, who raised an eyebrow at him. "Ballan, you came face-to-face with Pythogoras - how would you describe anti-magic?"

Tilda turned to give him an aghast, unbelieving look, but Ballan did his best to keep his expression neutral. "It's not really anti-magic." Ballan explained. "It's a spell that destroys all ambient mana in the area. No mana, no magic."

Boots nodded sagely. "Just so! In a battle of wizards, it is ill-advised to attempt such spells, as they invariably require as much mana to cast as they destroy. Which means…"

Boots trailed off, but Ballan barely noticed as he suddenly realized what that meant.

"...If the spell is permanent, it must be continuously powered." He shook his head. "But over such a wide area, for so long - the cost in mana would be astronomical. Where is it all coming from?"

Boots' eyes twinkled, and he gestured again, and the projection shrank inward, showing more of the countryside surrounding The Wall. To the south lay a small farming village, but even further south stood enormous stone pylon. The Eastern Ward.

"Astute observation, my apprentice!" Boots pointed at the obelisk. "I have it on good authority that the prison is attached to the same ley-network as the Eastern Ward. Such a spell would only tax a fraction of the total network, but if the network attaching it to the prison could be temporarily neutralized…"

"No more anti-magic." Tilda said, nodding. "Is that something you can do, fuzzybritches?"

Boots looked affronted for a moment, before chuckling to himself. "Of course, madam thief." Boots bowed sarcastically. "Though it will take even one of my enviable talents some time to do so without disrupting the operation of the Wards themselves."

"Alright, we've got a window where our heaviest hitters can shine." Tilda glanced at Ballan. "That's you, assuming your leg heals. And don't think for a second I've forgotten about the snake god. You owe me that story later."

Ballan blinked as she returned her attention to the projection, and waved her hand dismissively at it. Nothing happened, so she looked expectantly up at Boots, who wiggled his claws. The projection vanished.

Tilda placed her palms on the map. "That leaves me, Holgith, and Kahya to solve a much bigger problem: The guards."

Tilda sighed, but Holgith brightened up. "Simple!" Holgith punched his palm and grinned. The expression was… unpleasantly feral. "Holgith will simply crush them!"

Ballan snorted, but found himself smiling, and even Kahya laughed. Tilda massaged the bridge of her nose for a moment, before pausing. "I don't think that's gonna work but… No offense, you are pretty terrifying."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "In fact, I don't think anyone would balk if someone like you were to be transferred to the prison itself…"

She grinned, and then pointed at the map. "That's it. I'll have to nab some transfer papers so I can use them as forgery templates, but after that we'll be able to waltz Holgith in through the front door in chains. They'll just let us in. If everyone's properly disguised, that is…"

"Ugh." Kahya shook her head. "More skullduggery."

"We've developed quite the knack for it." Ballan commented, which at least caused her to chuckle.

"The only real worry, then, is the warden." Tilda pointed out. "He's a dwarf named Greldon Deepburrow, and he used to be the Wall's commander - back when horrors still came out of the wastes. Well-decorated, and well-respected, by all accounts. The thing is…"

Tilda lowered her voice and looked around. "Rumor has it he was something of a butcher on the battlefield. The uncompromising, 'victory at all costs' type that didn't give a damn about the people he sent into the grinder. And those sensibilities have extended to the inmates."

"What sensibilities are these?" Kahya asked flatly.

"Torture. Hard labor. Isolation. Getting word into and out of the prison is nearly impossible. It's his own sick little playground."

Ballan grimaced. The idea of Krakkus being stuck in there was deeply unsettling.

"Holgith will crush them." Holgith growled, looking down at the map. "Uh, but Holgith has forgotten the first part of the plan."

"A recap, then!" Boots shouted suddenly, clapping his enormous paws together. "Tilda is to procure disguises and paperwork, and then we are to stage a prisoner transfer to the Wall. Once everyone is safely within the prison confines, I will disconnect the prison from the ley-network that is powering the antimagic spell."

He looked around the room gravely. "You will have no way of contacting me once inside the prison, and so it will be best if we agree upon a time. As such, it is imperative that we adhere strictly to any schedule we agree upon. Ballan, once the antimagic is down, a simple invisibility spell should do the trick - though I imagine much of the prison will be in chaos once the inmates have access to magic again."

Ballan grimaced, and silence fell in the room. There was an unanswered question hanging in the air, and Ballan was keen to clear it out. "Should we be… doing this?" He asked slowly.

Tilda didn't turn around, she just kept staring at the map. "Innocent people could get hurt. Criminals could escape - real criminals, not Krakkus."

"Krakkus did steal several arcanum crystals." Kahya pointed out. "He might have stolen Boots' arcanum crystals."

Boots chuckled nervously at the mention of his missing crystals. "Well, it would be difficult to cast such aspersions without seeing the crystal in question first…" He said, and then perked up. "Which we cannot do if poor Krakkus is still incarcerated."

"...and as long as Tilda withholds the crystal's location from us." Kahya pointed out.

"Alright, you got a problem?" Tilda snapped, glaring at Kahya, who simply returned her gaze evenly.

"Yes. You should be in prison as well, and the arcanum crystal should be returned to its rightful owner - without coercion."

Kahya stood up, not even wincing as she put weight on her injured ankle. "If this is the course of action we have decided upon, then so be it."

With that, Kahya exited the room, Holgith and Boots frowning after her. Ballan, however, could not help but agree with Kahya. This was a major risk, and they were being coerced into assisting. What was more, it was not as though he and Tilda's history together was pleasant.

"If it was me who was locked up." Tilda said quietly. "I'd say she's right. But Krakkus doesn't deserve to be in prison. I just kept dragging him into scheme after scheme, and it's not right… it's not right that he pays the price for this."

Ballan sighed again, remembering Krakkus. He was a Sauronid - a reptilian people from the south. Ballan had not met many others of his kind, but Krakkus was certainly a shining example of his people. He was polite and thoughtful, and considerate to a fault. In battle, he was completely fearless, and he even knew a bit of healing magic and other defensive spells.

Honestly, were it not for Krakkus coming to Ballan's defense after the botched job, he may have landed in even hotter water than just being kicked out of town. Ballan also did not believe Krakkus deserved to be in prison. He had his peculiarities, but…

"...Let's just mitigate as much damage as we can, alright?" Ballan eventually relented. He caught Boots smiling, and shot him a questioning look, but the bear just shook his head.

"Thanks." Tilda said. "I don't deserve it, but thanks." She walked over and punched him on the shoulder. "You're not so bad."

"Spare me." Ballan scoffed. "Now, I'd like to get some sleep - if you could shut the door and draw the curtains on your way out."

Boots closed the blinds with a wave of his hand as he exited, and Ballan adjusted himself on the bed as Tilda closed the door behind her. For a while, he just stared at the ceiling. Breaking into a prison, locating arcanum crystals, Boots…

There were so many strange things about this situation he was in. So many unanswered questions. For the first time, though, he felt like… he did not need to know the answers to those questions. He just had to keep pushing ahead. He just had to keep doing what he felt was right. He still had doubts about the future, sure… But for the first time in a while, he drifted off to sleep without any fear.

Kills-the-Joke watched light filter in from the high window of his cell. Starlight. Moonlight. He counted the time it took for the stars to slip between the bars… and out of sight. Rotating on a point he could not see, so slowly they might as well be standing still.

"I am Krakkus"

A deep voice drifted over from the adjacent cell. This was the first time Kills-the-Joke had ever heard the man speak. It was the sauronid - the one the warden tortured occasionally. He was… introducing himself. How quaint. Perhaps he was dying - the Warden had just left. If he was trying to get someone to acknowledge him before he died well… It was bad comedy.

"I am Krakkus." The sauronid repeated, sounding strained. "You have listened to them hurt me for days now." He took a deep breath. "Tell me: What compels your silence?"

Kills-the-Joke paused. "You are asking why I have not spoken to you." Kills-the-Joke clarified flatly.

"I am."

"...You have not spoken to me." Kills-the-Joke pointed out.

"My apologies, then." Krakkus replied. "In a place such as this, I had thought it best not to intrude on the solitude of others." He grunted sharply, as though something pained him. "But I will admit that my desire for companionship has overpowered such sense in me."

"You won't find any companionship here." Kills-the-Joke told Krakkus flatly.

"You don't think so?" Krakkus grunted. "Are you sure? You've been sharing in my silence all this time."

Kills-the-Joke snorted. "Then let us share." And he returned his attention to the window.

The sauronid laughed, but did not try to speak with him again. The more the better. His punishment, apparently, was to be bundled into a hole in the ground and forgotten about entirely. The sooner that happened, the better.