“Fifteen seconds,” Terrok announced.

“Interesting,” Raylas muttered.

For the past hour he had been doing experiments of going inside the bag and waiting. From what he had come to learn was time appeared to flow much faster inside the bag than outside, specifically each minute in the bag was around a second outside.

“Care to explain what yur doin’?” the dwarf asked, a knowing smile on his face.

“Just killing some time,” he dismissed and leaned back on the cot.

“Indeed.” Creaking noises sounded from the other cell. The dwarf had moved away from the bars so he was hidden by the stone wall, but the straining wood meant he was also sitting on his cot.

“I was interested in how high you could count,” Raylas lied. “A smith and merchant of your stature has to know some fairly large numbers.”

“Only ever had to learn up to the nineties,” Terrok laughed. “Ya gotta build up some intelligence to reach them higher numbers, and I’m mostly good at swingin’ me hammer and makin’ stuff.” A pause, then the dwarf spoke in an extremely flat and calm voice. “They say that when you get into yur head time will go faster. The smarter you are the longer time will stretch, if you catch my meanin’?”

They both fell silent. Raylas thought at the dwarf’s words, curious if he knew the secret of the bag. In the end, whether he did or not didn’t matter. The fact that there was a difference in the time spent in the bag and in the real world was a windfall advantage which he would have to learn to use to his advantage. Specifically in his ability to gather weapons to pull out when needed.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, the night’s sounds echoed into the cells along with a chill breeze. He felt cold during the night but with a quick use of the bag he was able to bundle up in a warm, wool blanket. To Be honest it was surprisingly comfortable. There was not much reason to try and escape due to the strength of the bars and walls. He couldn’t escape the last time he was locked in here, so fighting against the room was just a waste of energy.

.

A tink sounded across the hall. Then another tink. A methodical clanking continued, over and over again as the night grew deeper. It was a higher p itch yet there was the vocational crack when the sound resounded. At first he thought there was an animal trying to dig in eventually he heard something loud hit the ground across the hall.

A tired looking guard stumbled inside shortly after, glaring into Raylas’ cell. Raylas just gave a small save making the man snort and turn to look at the Dwarf.

“Hey! What in the name of the gods are you doing?” he shouted.

“Makin’ this place look more homely,” Terrok sniffed. “Right now its just a boring box with some iron bars?”

“The Captain told you before that is what a prison is supposed to be,” the guard moaned. “How did you even get that chisel?”

“I didn’ know you lot tortured folks,” he grumbled. “Even the worst dwarven jail I’ve seen has a nice trim, at minimum.”

The guard sighed. He mumbled about needing to report this to Sim and walked out.

Raylas chuckled and laid down in his cot. Whatever was going to happen would happen tomorrow. In the end all he could do is prep and sleep like he usually did during his expeditions, that way he wouldn’t be caught by surprise by the guards when they came to get him tomorrow. He’ll figure a way out of whatever they planned then.

He steadied his breathing and let his muscles relax. Soon he felt the world drift away as slumber overtook him.

* * *

[Another hand touches the Chain]

Raylas shot up and out of bed, sweat caked across his entire body. The dream returned. He was in the fire again, but the orb didn’t speak to him. It just flew over him while the fiery walls closed in. Before it touched him they flickered out completely. Then the orb burst into light and declared another hand holding the chain which shocked him from sleep.

He cursed at his luck. He lost the chain and ring yet the nightly visions kept invading his dreams. He growled and sat up in the cot only to pause. The room felt… different. He peered around at the walls, morning light pouring inside illuminating a number of fresh trimmings and sculptures.

The bars to his cell had been set to the side, leaning against the wall, as well. The frame of the door appeared to have a slot dug into it but there were no metal remaining. Even the wall looking into the hallway was cut into multiple arches with holes lined down the center. The tinking sounded further into the jail and Raylas peaked out to see Terrok digging at one of the far cells, two guards watching him. One of the guards held a broken mace while the other had a black eye and his arm wrapped in a sling.

“Please stop…” the injured guard begged. “Leave at least one secure.”

“These cells will be a lot more secure once you add in some bars,” the dwarf gloated. “There’ll also be less hiding spots to remove risk ta guys like you. Prisoner’s can’ ambush ya if there is no wall to cover them.”

“But we need bars to secure anything-”

“Of course ya do!” The dwarf swung his chisel around and almost smacked the guard. The man flinched back but held his position. “And I’ll be supplin’ it once you give me back my box, like I said earlier.”

“We can’t give it back without inspecting the contents,” the guard sighed. “But there has been no progress-”

“Course you can’ open it!” Terrok snorted. “Ya need to be a dwarf to do that. An’ you got the only dwarf in town stuck here doing basic masonry work.”

“Good quality work, too,” Raylas announced. The two guards jumped at his voice and spun around. The one with the broken mace

The one with the broken spear pointed the weapon at him and bellowed for him to remain where he was. Raylas shrugged his shoulders and calmly walked back into his cell, sitting down on the cot again. He glanced at the carvings as he waited for the soldier.

They were precise and angular. Geometric shapes lined the edges of the walls up to the ceiling where it tapered off. The blocky shapes appeared to enhance the frames of the doors and openings in the walls, but the floor was covered in a large pile of rubble except where the holes were carved.

He was going to examine the sculptures as well but the guard marched inside and pointed the spear at Raylas again.

“I told you to stay still!” he shouted.

“I’m still in my cell,” Raylas replied halfheartedly. “It wouldn’t be hard to escape right now either.”

“You dare threaten to escape justice for what you’ve done?”

Raylas rolled his eyes and sat back on the chair. With a flick of his wrist a small dagger which he used to clean his nails. They had gotten surprisingly dirty over the past few days. He wasn’t sure where the worst of the dirt came from but it probably was from playing with the fairies.

The guard gaped at him and his weapon. He reached to snatch it but the dagger disappeared before he could grab it.

“I demand you hand over all your hidden weapons,” he growled, the tip of the broken weapon almost touching Raylas.

“You’ll find nothing on me,” Raylas snickered.

If the man tried to actually search him he would just have to do a quick trip into the Vault, unload, then return. He had the perfect smuggling bag now, able to always keep weapons on hand or armor. He could store all his camping supplies and food in a place that nobody but him could enter. The convenience was unparalleled.

He shook his head at the thoughts. He was in a situation now but he shouldn’t get too conceded in the artifact. They were dangerous and unpredictable. While this one could possibly be extremely useful the book inside also warned him of using it without people to guard him so he couldn’t jump in and out of it without prior planning. For now, though, he would use it to his advantage to keep the guards from taking advantage of him. The main thing was keeping his valuables out of their greedy hands.

Guards typically were good protectors of a town or city, but even they have rotten apples. From what he has learned of the ones in this town they are either too scared to fight off the powerful monster or they’ve found a way to become corrupt. Both of those situations were dangerous to him.

The guard gave him a level stare before backing toward the cell door. Apparently he decided not to search him, which was a bit of a relief. Raylas didn’t want to be manhandled if he could help it.

The man gave him and the dwarf another look before marching out of the prison wing and into the main part of the jail. Once the door opened Raylas heard a heated argument. Not much was gained from the short period of the door being open but the voices sounded familiar. One was definitely Sim, but the other was a younger voice which he couldn’t fully place.

He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the dagger back out to continue cleaning his nails.

Not long passed before the door burst open again for the guard to return followed by Sim and the man who accused him of being a slaver. Sim saw the dwarf working and sighed, then turned to Raylas and stormed over to him.

“What did you do to the Smith?” he interrogated.

Raylas shrugged his shoulders and continued to clean his nails. They were looking a lot better now, though his clothes still felt sticky from his night sweat, though such things were not uncommon on the field. The cool breeze of the winds outside were a reminder it was still winter, though luckily it felt not as cold as yesterday.

“The man was content to stay here and work, yet yesterday after you visited him he destroyed his forge and tried to fight his way out of town.”

“He wanted to go with me after we spoke.” Raylas flicked his wrist and the dagger disappeared. He placed his hands behind his head and looked into Sim’s eyes.

His face was red and he had visible veins popping from his neck. He was quite upset by everything, though nothing was purposefully done by Raylas.

“You told him of the purge coming, didn’t you?” Sim growled. “You informed your companions of the situation in town then returned to start the slaughter.”

“If there is a purge it would be from that monster you deal with,” he dismissed. “My companions left me after the zombie attack. I’m here mostly to take shelter, especially after last night when I was almost overrun by monsters.”

“She still defends us from dangers to the town,” the man smiled.

“Who did you meet last night?” the accuser from the tavern asked… Aymor! He was that grandson of the Knight.

“Well your Grandfather saved me from a very powerful monster then he left to find reinforcements,” Raylas informed. “I got my ass beat and he said it was too powerful for him as well.”

Sim paled while Aymor frowned.

“Then the monster which the town made a deal with has become hostile,” Aymor surmised.

“Hostile and searching the woods with a whole manner of beasts and goblins,” he confirmed. “We got lucky and found some unexpected allies who hid our presence from the Dryad and her minions or we would still be fighting now, or be dead.”

“I see no lies in your statements,” the man said.

Sim gasped and turned to the grandson.

“What do you mean no lies? He has to be lying. There is no way he could have survived if he angered that monster.”

“Do you doubt my grandfather?” Aymor asked, his mood darkening.

“I do not…” Sim gulped. “But she is dangerous. More so than almost anything else in the realm.”

Aymor snorted but Raylas nodded.

“It's true she is powerful,” he added. “It was like the forest came to life around her to try and strangle the life out of me. Even the ruins didn’t stand a chance against her roots and vines.”

“Ruins?” the grandson’s eyes widened. “There is a lost city in the woods? Do you know which one?”

“I’m no scholar so all I know is it was bad news to stay there. If I wasn’t found I would have turned tail and ran from there as fast as I could.” He sat up on the cot and gave both of them a serious look. “She is far too dangerous to leave alone. For now we must hold down and survive until Sir Vodianus returns.”

“The village will give you back to her if she demands it,” Sim hissed. “Your life isn’t worth the town’s safety.”

“Even if she thinks humans and the town brought the undead into her territory?” Raylas asked.

Sim paled again and looked behind him. The guards shook their head but nobody could say anything to refute his words.

“She can’t believe that,” Sim denied.

“It would make sense, though,” Aymor said. “The undead seen so far have only been human. No elf, dwarf, or any other species has been seen in the roaming bands. It would be logical to conclude that humans were the cause.”

“I tried to convince her it wasn’t us but then she tried to make me into fertilizer,” Raylas admitted.

“We… we need to…” Sim turned and moved to the door. “Tie up the prisoner. I need to find her.”

The guards gave him a salute, but one turned to the dwarf who was still chiseling away.

“What about him?”

“Leave the dwarf,” Sim snapped. “Just get the Inquisitor ready for the hearing.”

“Oh good, I am getting a fair trial,” Raylas sighed.

“I’ll defend you,” Aymor said.

Sim snorted and ran out leaving the guards to look around. One searched inside the cell then turned to his partner.

“Didn’t we have a chain in here to tie him up with?”

“I thought you took it out when the dwarf started digging out?”

“Why would I untie a prisoner with walls open for easy escape?” The guard snapped.

Raylas chuckled and turned to Aymor. The man was staring at him with expectant eyes.

“You have more to share, I assume,” the grandson asked.

Raylas nodded and put his hand in his pouch. He pulled out the coin the Knight gave him and flicked it to him. The grandson caught it with a surprisingly fast swipe and gave it a glance. He nodded and gave Raylas a raised eyebrow before stashing it away in his coat.

“Understood. Let's work on your defense.”