Dexter

We probably spent a good forty minutes explaining our encounter with the Elites as well as the magic they utilized. From the hidden cubby holes to the electrified cage to the bloodform potions. I even explained how we came to find out that the elites concealed specially enchanted weapons on their person and knew to check the ones we’d managed to capture. Rurigig seemed to show interest at our mention of their transformation potions. “That is how they stole our form and strolled into my prison?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Dumag nodded as he let out a disgruntled growl. “My nephew had the misfortune of serving as one of their ingredients,” he added angrily. “I am eager to demonstrate how grave a mistake they made with such a decision.”

Rurigig nodded as he gestured at the items. “My condolences, but what of this potion of theirs?” He asked, looping the topic back on course. “What can we do to counter its use? Is there an item that may detect such a modification?”

Dumag let out another angry growl as he shook his head. “None that we know of,” he replied. “The potion itself is also new to us, using alchemical techniques to enact a change rather than our method of instilling a spell into a compatible medium.”

Rurigig grumbled in kind as he glanced at me. “What of you?” he asked hopefully. “Does your outsider magic have a device that could work?”

I let out a sigh as I shook my head. “My world doesn’t even have transforming abilities like this,” I explained. “This whole magic thing is still new to me. Hell, I’ve not even taken a class on potions yet because I wanted to focus on healing and defensive spells. Best we have is really really good makeup and that can always be removed with a wet towel.”

Rurigig nodded as he thought deeply. “Unfortunate,” he muttered. “I was hopeful that there may be a method of detecting if such incantations were present. If there were, I would be able to trust new soldiers more easily. As it stands, I am fearful that such a potion may be used to plant an agent within these very walls in the coming months.”

I let out a muttered curse and leaned back as I realized what he was talking about. “It’s gonna be like that for just about everyone now,” I added angrily. “Once they know what we did they’re going to try every trick they can to get the drop on us.”

Dumag nodded as he glared at the small pile of magical items still resting on the desk. “There would also be mistrust abound if word got out,” he muttered thoughtfully. He suddenly shook his head as he appeared to steer the conversation back as well. “In any regard, we have a compatriot who may be able to look into such matters.” Dumag then gestured at the door behind us. “We have also given the Institute a copy of the papers we discovered. If you know of anyone that may be able to assist our understanding of the potions, direct them there.”

Rurigig nodded as he sat back in his seat again, eyeing the magical items once more. “Perhaps I should,” he mused. “If merely to have the concoction studied and known to the prison’s keepers.”

At the mention of keepers, I turned back to the warden, recalling what he said in that weird sweltering hallway. “Speaking of,” I said, leaning forward in my seat again. “We told you our story. Has that earned us a few answers?” Rurigig looked up as he appeared to scowl at my words.

Dumag quickly interjected as he seemed to notice the warden’s expression. “What my tone-deaf colleague means to say is that we have some questions of our own; questions that may help us properly formulate a means of baiting the Elites to return here.” Rurigig seemed to relax again as Dumag explained further.

I silently cursed myself as I realized I’d done it again. “Yeah, that,” I said, gesturing at Dumag. “They’re not to be underestimated and we need to make sure any trap we set up is going to be foolproof.”

Rurigig nodded again as he let out a sigh and sat back, eyeing the magical items again while deep in thought. “I can answer a few of your questions,” he finally replied. “You have demonstrated yourselves and from what I have heard of your endeavors you can be trusted.” He then gestured for me to continue. “Ask away,” he encouraged.

I nodded as I pointed with my thumb back towards the door. “What’s with the hallway we passed through?” I began. “It was practically a sauna back there. Does this place have some kind of heating system? If so, why at such a high temperature?”

Rurigig smiled widely and chuckled at the barrage of questions. “That is quite a singular mindset,” he remarked, glancing at Dumag before turning back to me. “In regard to the heat, every prison is built to be inescapable. There are many techniques to accomplish this. One such technique that White Rock utilizes is exhaustive measures, measures that tire prisoners before they have a moment to consider a means of escape.”

I furrowed my brow at the idea but nodded as I understood the idea. “So this entire place is abnormally hot,” I assumed. “You aren’t worried about prisoners passing out from heatstroke?”

Rurigig, unsurprisingly, shook his head. What was surprising, however, was his response to my question. “Not the entire prison,” he replied. “Merely the path that brought you here.” I frowned in confusion, not understanding what he was saying. Rurigig continued as he saw my confusion. “The interior is insulated by several means. It is still sweltering, but not to the extent which we passed through.” He lifted the hem of his shawl as if to present it. “My guards are also readily equipped to tolerate such temperatures. What’s more, we have a wing of the prison devoted to the opposite of that heat.” Once again, I felt my face twist in a confused expression. Rurigig seemed about to continue before he seemed to reconsider and rise from his seat. “Perhaps I should show rather than tell,” he said, gesturing at the bundle of items on the desk. “Bring those. The keepers will wish to examine them, in any regard.”

With that, Rurigig rounded his desk and gestured for us to follow. Dumag quickly scooped the items back into one of his pouches as we stood and followed the warden out of his office. Once again, he placed his hand on the door, causing it to glow and clank open. He then led us past the same guards and to the other side of the room. This time, I saw the smaller door that was embedded into the wall opposite the warden’s office. The warden led us through it and down a set of steps that lay beyond, talking all the while. “Naturally, the conditions that White Rock and its inhabitants are subjected to are not accomplished by natural means,” he explained. “Ordinary fire is adequate but you are far more likely to have a focused location of heat rather than the ambient discomfort you encountered today. What’s more, natural fire cannot be utilized to accomplish the cold that dominates the other half of this prison. Here we are,” he said as we finally arrived at the bottom of the steps, a door guarding what lay beyond. With a swift motion, Rurigig reached into his shawl and extracted a ring of keys; flipping through them before selecting one and unlocking the door with a loud click.

Leading us through the door, Rurigig gestured about, revealing the room beyond. Well, I call it a room, but it was more like an open furnace. Either side was dominated by U-shaped beds of coal, metal piping running into it before rising and stabbing into the ceiling. That wasn’t the strangest part, however. The right side glowed an orange much brighter than I thought possible, the flames bouncing up and causing the metal to glow the same heated color. The left side of the room glowed a scorching blue color, the flames licking up and covering the pipes in a layer of frost. I had to do a double-take as I saw the frost covering the left side of the room. A powerful wash of cold was emanating from that direction and it suddenly occurred to me what the warden meant in his office. It was only then that I noticed that the pipes might run over the flames, but the two sides weren’t connected. Instead, they were separate, both sets of pipes sporting the distinctive markings that each flame was breathing into them. Looking around, I saw orcs tending to the flames, pouring what must have been fuel onto the coals and causing more of the magical fire to spring forth. Their shawls were devoid of the coarse fur, instead composed of thick leather that seemed to gleam in the dancing lights. Each of them also wore some kind of ruby-adorned pendant; meant for some kind of protection, I assumed, with how close they were getting to the beds of coals. Even standing there, I could feel the extreme temperatures, the middle of the room acting as a battleground for the enchanted flames.

Rurigig pointed to a pair of such orcs that were reading from a roll of parchment before shouting and gesturing them over. “Olfin, Suhgan, I need your attention for a moment.”

The pair nodded as they rolled up the parchment and stepped forward, doing their own double-take as they saw me and Dumag standing behind Rurigig. One of them pointed toward me as he turned and gave a confused look towards the warden. “What is the outsider doing here?” he asked, in an almost derogatory tone. “Has he recaptured the general?”

Rurigig pursed his lips as he shook his head. “No, Suhgan,” he replied. “The outsider has not. However, he does believe he can capture those responsible for his escape.” Suhgan grumbled at the idea as he turned to me, scowling.

I couldn’t help but scowl back as I felt the familiar sting of animosity. ”Friendly face. Amelia isn’t here to bail you out if you say something stupid.” I quickly corrected my expression to at least seem friendlier than I was feeling. “Hey,” I said in an equally friendlier tone. “The warden said you’d want to take a look at what we brought.” I turned to Dumag as I gestured towards Suhgan. Dumag nodded as he again pulled out the pouch containing the Elites’ artifacts and presented it to Suhgan.

Suhgan gave me a sidelong glance before taking the pouch and opening it up, examining the cavernous interior without extracting its contents. “These measly trinkets?” He asked, turning to glare at me and Dumag. “What use could they possibly serve?”

Dumag growled at the curt words and caused Suhgan to soften his scowl in fear. “If you would allow us a moment,” he said poignantly. “We would explain.” He then turned to me as he gestured for me to continue.

I nodded as I let out a relieved sigh. “Well,” I began. “We’re hoping they’ll draw in the ones responsible for the general’s escape. Given what we saw when we ambushed them, they have a way of tracking each other. We don’t know how so we can only assume something on their person allowed them to do it. We took those items off four of them so they might come sneaking back if we give them a bit of time.”

Olfin took the time to step forward and peered into the still open pouch before turning to me. “What about themselves?” He asked. “Could they be tracking them through their essence? Where are the owners of these items?”

I shrugged as I gave what I hoped was an apologetic expression. “Potentially, but like I said we don’t know how they’re able to track each other. Don’t worry about the elites though. We already have them in a safe location, one that they shouldn’t be able to break in or out of. In any case, we’ll know more once one of the places receives some unexpected visitors.” At the thought, I then turned to Dumag. “We’ll have to make regular trips to the glade to check on Mabel; make sure she’s not been overwhelmed by something unexpected.”

Dumag nodded affirmatively as he turned to Suhgan and Olfin. “We came here today to lay the foundations of a trap that will ensure the sneaking fingers of those Adympian mercenaries are stuck steadfast. Your warden said that you may be able to offer assistance in that regard.”

Suhgan grumbled at the idea while Olfin glanced at the pouch before reaching in and extracting one of the items, the key. Olfin examined the item carefully as he reached into his shawl and pulled out a small milky gemstone. “Have you identified their purpose, at least?” He asked, palming the stone as he spoke. “I would like to know what these artifacts are capable of if merely to know what to expect, should a confrontation occur..”

I shook my head at the question, feeling an unwarranted pang of annoyance rising up. “We didn’t want to hang around their hideout,” I explained, “and our mage that usually does that was already exhausted. Plus, all of this happened yesterday so we haven’t had time to take stock of everything we grabbed. Considering the Elites, however, we wanted to get these to a safe place, preferably where they couldn’t sneak up on us.”

Olfin nodded as he examined the key again. “If they are as formidable as that, then you have made a sensible decision.” He then began gesturing in what I vaguely recognized as an identification spell.

Suhgan growled again as he turned angrily towards the warden. “How do we know the outsider was not working with the Elites?” He spat. “He has barely been here a season and you want to put your trust in him? They knew the outsider was in the city and that the general was imprisoned here. How do we know he was not the one to tell them this?”

I felt a surge of anger as my head reflexively tilted to the side and caused a string of pops to emanate from my neck. Suhgna turned to glare at me as I gritted my teeth, reminding myself to at least try to play nice. “Y’know,” I said angrily, “At least give me a fucking chance.” I then tapped my chin where the scar still tingled uncomfortably. “I risked my life fighting those guys. They came close to killing me. The only thing I’m asking for here is help; help in making sure the Elites won’t be able to sneak around anymore.” I gestured to Dumag as I felt another surge of rage, this time directed outward. “In the three days I’ve known about their existence, they’ve thrown the city into chaos, kidnapped his nephew, and managed to escape an ambush that was hours in the making. They can’t be underestimated and I don’t intend to let their actions slide.”

Suhgan scoffed at the barrage of words, unphased. “Your words ring hollow, outsider,” he spat.

“Call Me Dexter, God Damn IT!” I shouted suddenly. “I’m Getting Sick And Fucking Tired Of Being Called An Outsider All The God Damn Time!”

I moved to step forward, but Dumag grabbed my shoulder and squeezed, pulling me to a stop. “Calm yourself,” he said firmly. He then turned to the warden as he gave him what must have been an apologetic expression. “I apologize. We have a great many tasks to complete today and we are short-pressed on time.”

The warden nodded as he looked at me warily. My rage continued to boil over as he turned to Suhgan. “Suhgan,” he said sternly, causing the offending keeper to turn. “It is clear you have a qualm with this outsider, but I order you to stow your tongue until such a time as you are off duty.” The words he used were deliberate and firm. Even with my enraged and socially blinded conditions, I could tell he was wielding his authority now. “You are a valuable keeper, but this is a matter beyond any personal contempt and it would weigh on my heart if your time here grew short. Am I Clear?”

Suhgan’s face immediately fell, the gravity of the warden’s words not lost on him. “Y-yes sir,” he stammered, bowing his head.

Rurigig nodded as he turned to Dumag who was still gripping my shoulder. “I apologize as well.” He said, his cheery tone returned, though in a much more subdued form. “We are still reeling from the unprecedented escape of that general and tensions are running a tad high.”

Dumag nodded as he pulled me back, forcing me to stand beside him. “As well you should be,” he replied. “Let us hope that our plan will work as intended.” Dumag then leaned down to whisper into my ear. “Let me handle the matter from here. It would not bolster your image to be attacking guards in the heart of a prison.” I felt my head twist again as a quieter string of pops ran up my neck. I still wanted to punch Suhgan, but I urged myself to follow Dumag’s advice. With a quiet huff, I finally relented and relaxed my shoulders, stepping back as Dumag finally released me.

Rurigig nodded as he saw the tension ease and he turned to Olfin who was just now completing the spell. The familiar flash of red marked Olfin’s insight into the strange item. “What can you discern?” He asked, watching Olfin scrutinize the iron key.

Olfin turned the key over in his palm as he let out a frustrated hum. “The enchantment is certainly elven,” He muttered. “I’ve not seen magic such as this before. I can discern it is meant to unlock an object or number of objects, but I cannot tell its limitations or the number of charges.” He lifted the item as he took an unexpected sniff. “With a charge condition to boot.” He added. “Vinegar, if I am not mistaken.”

Dumag grumbled angrily as he crossed his arms. “Of course, they need to utilize a charge condition.” He mumbled. “It saves the need of embedded manastones and makes them far more difficult to detect without searching.”

Olfin nodded again as he lifted the key, letting the identify spell dissipate. “Fortunately, that means they have a different limiting factor. They require time to recover, typically with the proper ingredient present. For this item, it seems that vinegar is the key. For how long, I am not certain, but I am certain it is vinegar. The iron positively reeks of it. Which means the others may depart for a time while their weapons are restored.”

Dumag nodded, his expression stern. “That is encouraging,” he replied, “It gives us more time to formulate a counter to their measures.”

Olfin nodded as he looked at the key again, spinning it absentmindedly. “It is certainly encouraging, but it does not detract from the need to prepare. As I gather, they are expertly trained.”

Dumag nodded as Olfin replaced the iron key into the pouch and extracted the pair of bracelets. Dumag quickly interrupted as Olfin began to cast his spell. “That will not be necessary with those items,” he said quickly. “We determined their purpose not long ago.” Olfin nodded before reaching in and pulling out the feather, repeating the process of Identify on it before moving onto the pouch. The feather, he gathered, also had a charge condition, requiring ash as a means of possessing an avian creature, however that worked. The pouch was found to transmute coins. As for what they transmuted into, we couldn’t tell. The teef looked the same coming out as they did going in. Interestingly, though, it required an honest to god Magma Worm heart to function. With how long it took for him to go through the two items, I found my rage began to simmer down once again, but I could tell it was still liable to flare up again so I held my tongue.

Rurigig nodded as the coin pouch was placed back with the others. “Excellent,” he said. “Suhgan, could you fetch a pair of shawls for our guests?” Suhgan gritted his teeth silently but nodded as he handed Olfin the pouch and made his way to the far side of the room. There, I finally saw a small wooden door hidden at the far end of the room. Rurigig continued as Suhgan disappeared within. “You will thank me once we enter the eastern wing. The heat is bearable, but in your attire, you may struggle with the cold.”

I scowled down at my clothes as Rurigig turned to wait for Suhgan to return. My jeans and shirt were definitely not winter-ready but I bit my cheek again as the annoyance from earlier flared in my mind, leaving Dumag to nod gratefully. “We would be glad for the garments.” He replied. “Am I correct in assuming you have already chosen a location for our ploy?”

A smirk crossed Rurigig’s face as he nodded, tapping his fingers on his mace absentmindedly. “I have given some thought to your decision to imprison those elites in another location. Naturally, I know not where, but I can see the wisdom in such a decision; a decision that I wish to imitate.” He turned to the far end of the room as Suhgan finally re-emerged, carrying a pair of shawls over his arm. They “I think it better to show rather than tell of this notion of mine.” Suhgan handed me and Dumag a pair of shawls as Rurigig turned back to Olfin. “You have a melt glove with you, yes? We will need to enter one of the long-term chill rooms.” I couldn’t help but glare at Suhgan as he handed me the shawl, but he avoided my gaze and merely pursed his lips as he returned to Olfin’s side.

Olfin nodded as he reached into part of his shawl and revealed a leather glove before slipping it back in. Rurigig nodded as he turned to me and Dumag. “Don your shawls. We have a trap to lay.” Dumag nodded as he quickly pulled the second shawl over his first. I hesitated for a moment before following suit, struggling for a moment as I was still agitated and unfamiliar with wearing the garment.

I felt a myriad of loose flaps beneath the fabric as my head finally popped through. I reached in and felt what must have been a dozen pouches hidden beneath the animal skin. I could be excused for missing the faint hum of magic as the warmth and cold of the two halves of the room dissipated to nothing. “How many pockets do these things have?” I asked, recalling the dozens of times an orc was just able to reach into their garment and pull out an item.

Dumag chuckled as he finished pulling his own shawl over his own and Rurigig began to lead us back to the staircase, Suhgan and Olfin in tow. “The material is far stronger than it appears,” he explained, not answering my question. “Gashur’s skins are the envy of the tribes. The pockets are easily capable of carrying any tool one might need for their day-to-day lives.”

I scowled skeptically at the enchanted pouch resting on Dumag’s hip. “Everything?” I asked skeptically.

Dumag nodded as he reached into his shawl and pulled out a vial of powder. “Our line of work needs a greater variety of materials,” he continued before returning the vial to his shawl. “The preparations made for the city were merely an addition to my day-to-day precautions.”

I nodded as I let out a sigh, following Dumag as we began to climb back up the winding steps. “I’ll need to get some of my own then,” I muttered aloud, tapping the hilt of my sword again. “The sword is useful, but it’s not enough.

Dumag nodded again as we continued to climb. “One matter at a time,” he said, likely trying to be encouraging. “Let us first ensure the elites will not pester us unexpectedly. We are still uncertain how they were able to track their own.”

I sighed as I glanced back at Olfin and Suhgan, the pair remaining silent as they followed us up the spiraling steps. I turned back as I stifled the brief resurgence of anger. “Not worth it,” I reminded myself.

Rurigig glanced back as we emerged once more from the steps, addressing Olfin. “I would have a word with you and the others, once we are finished here. The exterior hallway was far hotter than normal.”

Olfin let out an exhausted sigh as he nodded. “An unfortunate matter of supply, sadly,” he replied. “Our hippogriff talons have run low and no mercenary group nor guild has been able to supply us with more. We have been forced to substitute with falcon and eagle talons, but they make the results inconsistent.”

Rurigig sighed as he shut the door behind us and began to lead us down the hallway running along the outside of the prison, this time through the one opposite of the one he had led me and Dumag. “I am unsurprised,” he growled, reaching up and scratching one of his shoulders. “Those creatures are dangerous. The western mountains are still untamed because of them.”

Olfin nodded again as he reached into his shawl and pulled out a scrap of parchment and examined it. “We are still reeling from the healing potions we used during the assault, as are all the shops in the city. Spring is just beginning so I anticipate the herbs to begin flourishing once more. They will be far easier to purchase in the coming months, but we will still need to brew them into propper vials.”

Rurigig nodded as the floor began to change, the white stone growing tufts of frost and taking on a blue tinge. “The weather has been fair so far. Let us hope it is a sign of the times to come.” We rounded the corner as the frost grew thick enough to begin crunching beneath our feet.

Out of curiosity, I ran a hand along the wall and felt a muted chill permeating the stone, much warmer than it should have been. I turned to Rurigig as the realization finally dawned on me. “Your guards all wear shawls like these,” I said aloud. “That’s why I didn’t see any of them sweating earlier?”

Rurigig chuckled as he glanced at the wall. The frost was becoming ice now, causing the straight hallway to undulate and shift as it went. Only one or two breaks in the ice marked where a door might have been. “Still on about the furnaces, are ya?” he asked, amusement thick in his voice.

I shrugged, feeling the remnants of my annoyance fading again. “I can’t help it. Like I said earlier, this magic stuff is still new to me. Every detail I learn about it just entices me.”

Rurigig roared with laughter this time before stopping in at a small divot in the wall. “If that is the case, then I suspect you will find this next trick very enticing.” he then gestured Olfin over. “This one will do,” he said, not bothering to explain what came next.

Olfin merely squeezed passed as he pulled on the strange leather glove. Only now did I see the arcane marking along the back of its hand, a small gemstone adorning its center. With a flourish, Olfin ran his hand along the wall, leaving a trail of steam behind as the ice began to shrink back. Olfin continued to palm the wall as the ice melted away and turned to steam, drifting up and gathering as a new layer of frost along the ceiling of the hallway. Within a few minutes, a new recess had been made, revealing a damp but intact wrought iron door. Olfin then stepped away as Rurigig gestured happily at the new doorway.

I let out a “Woah,” as the warden reached into his shawl and produced the same ring of keys and unlocked the door. “How many times can you do that?” I asked, jumping to the most obvious question first. “That’s gotta be a must-have for traveling in a tundra.”

Olfin sighed sadly as he eyed the leather glove. “Only a handful of times a day, unfortunately,” He explained. “It has a daily capacity of only a cubic yard. Useful for our purposes, but a burden in places with a more untamed nature.”

The door let out a loud CLANK as Rurigig pushed it open, revealing row upon row of shelves burdened with wrought iron chests, both big and small. A few of them lay open, but most of them were closed tight with a layer of frost growing on them. The larger chests had a flat rectangular lid that almost touched the shelves above them; while the smaller chest had a rounded top, anchored to the shelves they rested on by way of thick iron chains. Just from a glance, I could tell that the room had been designed in such a way to force you to remove the large chest from the shelves if you wanted to open one and that the smaller ones were to stay where they were. Both chests used latches to ensure the contents remained shielded from the outside, but only some of them had locks attached to them. “Guess the locked wall of ice is considered a sufficient means of securing the room. Wonder what’s in those locked chests though.”

Before I could inquire further, Rurigig moved into the room, a brief clinking sounding as he moved, and briskly walked over to a secluded corner, not easily visible from the entrance. He finally stopped at one of the chained-down chests and undid the latch, opening it to reveal a barren box made of cold wood. He waved Olfin over as he gestured at the empty box. “This should be suitable. If you could place the items within.” Olfin nodded as he stepped forward and placed the pouch within. Rurigig nodded as he turned to Dumag. “Do you have an incantation you wish to use? One that would alert you should these precautions fail?”

Dumag let out a tired sigh as he shook his head. “Not at present. We have companions that are making an effort for such a spell. Our trip here was merely a means to place the items in safer hands. … The outsiders’ current abode is not presently equipped to handle such foes.”

Rurigig nodded understandingly as he flipped the small lid shut and secured the latch. “Of course,” he said, revealing a small lock in his hand. A sharp click sounded as the lock was secured onto the chest and Rurigig turned to us, revealing a small key which he added to his massive ring of keys. “Return here if you wish to add such an incantation. From what you have told me, such a precaution may be necessary.”

I nodded and sighed in relief as Rurigig returned his ring of keys to his shawl. “We’ll let you know if we learn anything important about the Elites,” I said, giving an equally relieved smile. I then turned to Dumag as I gestured towards the door. “Let’s get going. It’ll be getting late soon.”

Dumag nodded his head before turning to Rurigig and tapping his chest. “We are grateful for your assistance.” He said. “Alert us should these items go missing from this room.”

Rurigig nodded and tapped his chest in kind as we turned and made our way out of the storage room. Suhgan and Olfin were still standing outside the door, waiting for us to exit. Shugan glared at me and I felt the twinge of annoyance bubble up again. I felt my mind pinch itself as Amelia's voice rang in my head. ”Play nice.” I let out a sigh as I reached up and pulled off the enchanted shawl. Almost immediately I felt the biting chill of the hallway and goosebumps rose along my arms as I held out the bundle of animal fur. “For what it's worth,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I'm hoping those black-clad fucks never return. Unfortunately, the chances of that are pretty slim right now.”

Suhgan said nothing as he continued to glare at me. Finally, he took the shawl gingerly from my grasp, draping it over his arm as dumag pulled off his own shawl and handed it to Olfin.

I turned to Dumag as I gestured down the hall, likely looping back to the lobby we had entered from. “Ready to go?” I asked.

Dumag nodded as he stepped forward, the frost crunching beneath our feet as we made our way out of White Rock prison. Next stop, the eastern barracks.