5 Awake, Who The Hell Am I?

- ORIS PRISON -

A few days passed since Darrel had been arrested and brought to Oris prison, two dozen guards accompanied by iron cuffs imbued with magic-negating runes had been brought to the cart to secure his capture.

Darrel's hands and feet were wrapped with heavy iron cuffs before he was let out of the cage, to top it off an executioner's bag was used to cover his head before he was ushered into a solitary cell deep in the modified caverns of Oris.

Darrel struggled to find a comfortable posture in the cell with the weighted chains still strapped to his feet, the runic symbols etched inside the cell walls periodically glowed and brightened the entire cell for a moment before the light dissipated once more.

"Rune flux number ten…" Darrel muttered. "Day four in isolation begins."

On the day he was locked up, an array of symbols glowed in the dark circular cell walls, the threshold gave a snapping flash as the guards locked the door behind them.

Hours later a similar event occurred and forced him awake, this was immediately followed by a dull meal which he assumed was his lunch, more time passed before another burst of light woke him.

Bang!* Bang!* Bang!*

A loud knock at the door dragged him back to reality, so to cope with the isolating darkness Darrel would slip into a state of meditation where his body would seem to shut down, but his mind would continue to operate in a subconscious state.

This was a good way to get away from the overwhelming reality he had been flung into, however, the technique was fragile and could easily be interrupted by external interference.

"Step back prisoner!" The voice came from the same guard who brought him his only source of sustenance each day.

In all his former life Darrel had never been a picky eater, however, the food he was given to eat here had a taste of its own.

His first meal had taken him well over an hour to consume, and after all his efforts he could barely stomach the strange food. When he realized that no other meals came till the next day, he immediately swallowed his pride and his 'lunch' and made sure to keep it down.

"Here you go!"

The guard pushed up a miniature version of the cell door and proceeded to slip a bowl from beneath the open space, a broken loaf of dry bread immediately trailed behind it.

"Dry bread and a bowl of mystery soup, my favorite," Darrel commented sarcastically.

During his stay, Darrel noticed that the prison guards in this world had a common trait with the ones in his former life, which was their tendency to throw food at the prisoners.

"After what you did to those men, you are lucky you are getting anything to eat at all." The guard grumbled as he walked away.

Darrel plucked the bread from the floor and dipped it in the mystery soup then he bit down on the crusty bread, this was a method he had come up with to counter the nauseating taste of the soup and the bread's bland flavor.

As he chowed down on his unsavory meal, a small note fell out of the half-eaten loaf of bread and landed on the floor.

"A note?"

His hand paused in mid-air before it could pick up the mysterious note from the ground, he pondered on who might have sent this note to him and their intentions. Darrel's main concern, however, was the fact that whoever sent this note to him had enough power to influence one of the prison guards to do his bidding.

'One of the knights perhaps, but then why would they bother sending me a secret note instead of summoning me? They seem to be the ones running this place.'

Darrel wondered what it may all mean.

'But if it was one of the prisoners, then they must know about my being here.'

He reached down and picked up the note from the floor then he unwrapped the note slowly, careful not to accidentally tear it. The shriveled-up paper was plastered with oil and barely readable in the dark windowless cell, but a bright idea came to his mind as he took another bite out of his bread.

• • •

A low humming sound was followed by a flickering of an array of lights as the runes in the walls started a magic influx, Darrel quickly rolled from his sleeping posture and opened the note.

"Okay, this is it…"

Darrel's eyes skimmed through the note making sure he did not miss a word, by using the light emitted from the magic symbols on the walls he was able to get a clear look at what was written on the note.

"Wait... What the hell is this?" Darrel eyed the note dubiously as he tried to fathom what was written on the note.

The light slowly faded as the magic influx came finally ceased, Darrel sat at the far end of his resting place with the note shriveled up in his palm.

"Someone must have had the time of their life writing this." Darrel grinned bitterly.

If this had been a ploy by one of the guards, he probably should have heard them laughing about it from across the hall, but what had him still clinging onto hope was the fact that the note was written with drops of blood.

The next morning several guards approached Darrel's cell while he was still asleep, a loud banging of the iron cage door was all it took to wake him from his hard-earned sleep.

"Wake up prisoner!"

Darrel grumbled weakly as five guards entered his cell, two of the guards ceased his arms while another two clamped the same iron cuffs that were used to seal his magic when he had been captured a few days ago.

"Where are you taking me?" Darrel protested.

"Move!"

The guards holding his arms hoisted him up and out of the cell since Darrel refused to move his feet.

A turtle formation was created with Darrel as its center, it seems rumors of his previous notoriety were still fresh in the air and the guards had acknowledged how dangerous he was, especially during his capture, and took extra careful measures as they escorted him from his cell.

Darrel had been keeping an oral diary from the time he of his imprisonment and after figuring out the cycle the magic influx took he had counted five days of confinement in the solitary cells.

As they approached the exit of the catacomb cells that led back up to the upper-level cells, he could hear a roar of chanting and whistling from the exit.

"You two, make sure we have a clear path." One of the guards barked at the guards leading the formation.

The light was blinding for a moment, but the noise from all the prisoners making noise was deafening. Rolls of cells on either side of the straight path were filled with other individuals in similar circumstances, and for a moment the atmosphere grew silent and each prisoner's gaze fell upon Darrel.

"Knight-Bane!" One of the prisoners roared and shattered the silence and the whole level went into an uproar.

Some of the prisoners banged on the cell doors, while others voiced all sorts of complaints that had nothing to do with Darrel as he passed by and a few of the prisoners even tried to grasp at him, however, those that attempted this had their arms smacked ruthlessly with batons by the guards escorting Darrel.

This was not going as he had hoped, but with everyone's eyes on him, this was perhaps his only opportunity to further spread rumors about himself.

'Well here goes.'

As Darrel walked between the file of cells wrapped with a blanket of guards on both sides, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Keep moving prisoner!"

One of the guards exclaimed nervously, but Darrel ignored the guard's weak command and stood in a more poised manner. The sudden show of rebellion gained some of the prisoner's attention and slowly the chants turned to murmurs and the hoarse shouting became mellow whispers.

"My name is Darrel, and I am a magic user!" His voice wavered at first, he was not used to speaking out loud, but for his sake, he had to make this look as convincing as possible. "I will blow a hole through this place!"