Angelus

City Jail B1, Meteo City

Twirling my wand through my fingertips, I can more or less sit back and let the beefcastles up front take care of business without any intervention on my part - though the grey-skinned guy is definitely not taking the concept of avoiding unnecessary damage very seriously, the exact kind of tank I absolutely despise having to babysit. The kind that thinks, oh it's fine, the healer will handle it. As if the healer having to heal is in any way preferable to them having the space to do something else.

I know it's the job I signed myself up to do, but that devil may care attitude has seen to the death of more tanks under my care than mistakes on my or anyone else's part. I legitimately feel a piece of my soul shriek and die every time one of these reckless fools runs dick first into a tankbuster to measure up.

By contrast, Silver is hardly taking any damage, although this is more by virtue of just murdering anything in range of that ugly sword of his. From the irritation on his face, it doesn't look like he's enjoying himself too much.

Glancing at Astra, I quickly mutter the incantation necessary to invoke a Minor Succor, wounds increasingly showing up on the thick-skinned brute. The magic washes over him, sealing the cuts, punctures and scrapes. He doesn't appear to take much notice.

I yawn, then look to my fellow mage, who has yet to cast a single spell or look as though she's even considering contributing, "So, are you saving your MP, or are you content to let them work?"

"I'm content to let them work," She admits, not the slightest bit ashamed, "If a boss or something shows up, I'll pitch in, but they've got it under control from the looks of things."

I sigh inwardly. Are these supposed to be the other top players in the region? I won't deny that the fool - who I feel forced to throw another heal at - is effective at brutalising the mobs that come his way, but he's not anywhere near what I would expect from a tank. Add in a damage dealer that refuses to do her job, and I have to ask how they've gotten this far, if not by dumb luck.

"Almost...done...gimme another minute, guys!" the red-headed assassin calls out, concentrating fully on the lock, tools splayed around her.

"You jinxed it, Lieutenant coming in on my side!" Silver calls back to us, decapitating one last mook. Casually, I toss a heal his way as a reward for making my job easier. The other guy isn't getting shit.

The miniboss that caps off the wave of enemies is a snooty looking woman better suited to a political drama than presiding over a prison, as her overly-ornate armour is starkly at odds with what I've seen of other Empire of Stone soldiers. Not even a little bit battle-ready. It's a fucking cosplay project.

The mage woman takes this as an opportunity to get off her lazy ass and start casting spells, as promised. Her companion, meanwhile, practically shoves Silver out of the way to engage the miniboss himself, as if he'd do a better job of staying alive against her than the man who only needed one heal so far.

I miss the guys. A shame they quit, really, they'd have enjoyed this - though, perhaps if they hadn't I wouldn't be here to begin with. Who can say?

Checking out mentally, the peacock lieutenant falls before I realise it, very much dead, and Astra doesn't look too far behind, so with a twinge of annoyance, I toss yet another heal at him. The amount of MP I've spent keeping this idiot standing is borderline unforgivable.

Silver, however, seems less inclined to forgive, "What the hell are you doing? I was perfectly capable of tanking her."

The Quirstic man snorts derisively, "It's my job and my glory. Not yours."

Furrowing his brow, Silver jabs his finger at him, "This isn't about your ego, this is about your conduct. I don't know how long you've been a tank, but you don't fight for aggro on a boss that's already been tagged."

"Bah, you wouldn't last five blows against a boss monster," the tank mocks.

"I wouldn't need to, because I wouldn't try to absorb them like a masochistic sponge," Silver fires back. Hm, I like that one, I think I'll steal it.

"Done!" Olrica calls, putting their squabble to rest. With a shrill squeak, the door is pushed open.

Shouldering his bloodstained blade, Silver smiles appreciatively, "Good work. How's the Proficiency looking?"

"Went up to 4-Star Novice in one go, which is pretty nutty," she supplies, gathering her tools up, "A little disappointed that I've not gotten any World Announcements."

"You'll be competing with The Town of Forgiveness for that. The Scout Mentor there is a Master Lockpicker, supposedly," Silver informs her, eliciting a disappointed groan, "In any case, Olrica, you're with me, we're going down. You three stay here and keep our way out Guard-free, please. If we come across anything we can't handle on our own, we'll run back here, so listen out for us yelling for help, alright?"

I grimace, not wanting to be left alone with these two, but boss's orders. Ideally, the topside team should be handling any problems that might come our way.

"Oh, we'll also be sending them up here as we find them, so don't get trigger happy," he warns.

The mage acknowledges it, "We won't kill anything out of uniform."

"Ok. After you, Olrica."

The two wander off into the cellblock.

Sighing, I stroll over to the wall and take a seat on the floor against it. Maybe if I pretend to meditate, they won't try and talk to me.

---

 

Cells B2, City Jail, Meteo City

Despite how many people could potentially commit a crime and run afoul of the City Guard, the space available to a mundane, auto-generated 1-Star City Jail is not unlimited nor really all that much. If I had to place a number on it, from 5 double-sided rows of 20 Cells to a floor with five floors, this Jail can hold 500 people in the normal cells at any given time, and some of them will be trapped down here for days or weeks at a time in the more extreme cases.

Unsurprisingly, a significant portion of the current population would really like to kill me.

"Get your bitch ass over here so I can rip your ears off my teeth!"

"I've been in here longer than in my wife, asshole!"

"Can you unlock this cell so I can rip off your head real quick? Won't take long, promise."

"LET ME EAT YOUR SPINE!"

Olrica snickers, "Look at you, Mr Popular."

"It's a natural consequence of my life," I deadpan.

The floors are structure such that those with more severe crimes are buried deeper underground. Thus, the prisoners on this floor are basically petty thugs starting brawls over an argument and would-be shoplifters who tried to make off with equipment from Stone Arsenal or some other Merchant NPC store.

Odds are, Jupiter is somewhere around here, according to his message.

"Jupiter Trail! If you're on this floor, speak up now!" I shout out as we go along the rows. On the fourth row, I hear the muted cries of my name.

"Over here! Heeeey! Hey, over here Silver! I'm here!"

The whining is obnoxious, but helps to pinpoint his location amongst the constant insults, begging and death threats from the other cells. Zeroing in, I stick my head close to the grille, a Silva man, more than a little worse for wear sits with his arms chained high above his head to the wall.

"Holy shit you actually broke in to get me. I could honestly kiss you right now, but I won't and can't," Jupiter remarks. Looking at him a little closer, the memory of our meeting stirs to the forefront.

"You look like hell," I comment blandly, waving Olrica over.

He rolls his head, "Yeeeahh, well, when the guards are convinced you're some kind of really tight-lipped spy or whatever, they get creative. Nah, that's a lie, they have nooooo imaginations whatsoever. It's just punching, kicking and whipping in the exact same way every time. The exact. Same. Way. Boring as hell, man."

Moving out of Olrica's way, she giggles, "You just might be the first person I've ever met who called being tortured 'boring'."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not like, into it or anything, I'm just really good at mentally distancing myself from what is essentially just a video game character, even if I'm, y'know, in first-person control and such," Jupiter rambles, "It's like, I know it's all in the actual mind, but for realises? So I can just sort of ignore that it's happening even if it feels like it is. Which, I mean, yeah it is, but...y'know?"

I feel like I'm going to go cross-eyed if I keep listening to his man talk.

"Yeah, I getcha," Olrica. at least. seems capable of following along as she starts on the door's lock, "I used to do something similar to get used to the uhhh...the feeling of pushing a knife into a 'person'. The scraping of the knife on bone still gives me a shiver up the arm and spine from time to time."

"Yeah, exactly," Jupiter agrees.

Put like that, I suppose I also understand.

"So, I'm Jupiter Trail. What's your name, ma'am?"

"Olrica. The one with the 'keys' to your freedom," Olrica introduces herself, swapping picks and placing the first in her mouth.

"Ulrica?"

"Olrica. My actual name ish Ulrica, but I alwaysh ushed-" She takes the lockpick in her mouth back in hand, "-to pronounce it wrong when I was a kid, so I kind of just owned it."

"Cool. Is it just you two? I thought there was supposed to be like, a small army of you or something?"

"They're upstairs," I inform him, "Once you're out the cell, you'll be heading up to the rest of our part of the operation to wait for us. Once we've freed the other two, we'll all be leaving together."

"Gotcha. That means I can finally finish my Quest, so, awesome," Jupiter chuckles smugly.

"What Quest is that?" Olrica asks.

"'The Magpie Demon - Endure and Escape'. Rewards me with 5 Levels for not just starting a new character. I'll be a god of magic when I'm out!" He laughs harder.

Startled, I stand up straight, "5 Levels?!"

"Yeah. I've been accumulating experience points by surviving the beatings and confinement, but I can't cash in until the Quest is complete," Jupiter explains, "Easy Mode levelling. Wouldn't have bothered logging in otherwise."

Taking a mental step back, I suppose that kind of makes a lick of sense, considering he didn't commit any actual crime and got put here forcibly as part of a Quest. It's also not entirely free, since a weaker spirit would have buckled already under the constant beatings and boredom. I'm forced to reevaluate Jupiter's unusually high personal willpower.

With a clink and a crack, the door is finally unlocked.

"That's the door done, now for the manacles. Shouldn't take as long for these," Olrica comments, gathering her tools up and entering his cell.

True to her word, it doesn't even take a minute before the mangy Silva is freed from bondage. A fact that he takes in with gusto, jumping to his feet and pumping his fists into the air, "Fuck yeah! Call me Caldigan Moraby, bitches!"

"Really, you like that movie?" Olrica stares with full judgment at the Hedge Mage for his reference to a universally panned film called Moraby: Darkness Drinker from 2102.

"Nah, but that's what makes it an excellent quote and reference mine," He grins manically, "Thanks, I owe you two big time."

"Wait until we get out before we settle accounts," I remind him, "Now, go wait upstairs."

Jupiter gives me a cheesy wink, then jogs out of the cell, "Catch you later!"

When he's gone, I can't help but sigh, "That is a strange one."

Olrica stretches her legs, "Yeah. I like him, though. Wears his heart on his sleeve, I think is the right turn of phrase?"

"Mm," I concede the point, "Henna should be next."

---

 

Cells B4, City Jail, Meteo City

"Gotta say, all the noise from those guys in the cells is giving me a headache," Olrica admits, kicking over the corpse of a jailer whose throat she just sliced open, "Makes for good cover though."

I step out from around the corner to join her, "Silver linings."

"Something like that," the assassin agrees, kneeling down and patting the corpse for keys, "God damn, not on this schmuck either? The doors have locks, where the fuck are the keys?!"

"Secured in the main building above us, perhaps," I make an educated guess, "There's no reason to risk a prisoner managing to snag the key when they're not taking an escort down to bring them out for interrogation or to release them, I imagine."

"I hate that that makes sense. Totally ruins my media-soaked image of daring prison escapes," Olrica grumbles, wiping her dagger on the corpse's sleeve and standing, "Still an absolute blast to be doing this though, there's that at least."

"Not every day the System encourages you to break into a City Jail to free prisoners," I agree, "Let's go take a look at the cells. I don't believe she'll be much further down, now."

On the second row, in one of the nearest cells, we find her, sat quietly on the edge of a thin cot on the floor.

"Silver..? What are you doing here?" Henna can scarce believe it, her stoicism broken for a moment. Standing quickly she approaches the door.

"Henna, I'm sorry about this. It's my fault," I apologise seriously, "Just wait a moment, Olri-Olrica?!"

When I turn to call Olrica over, I'm surprised to see her stood completely frozen, eyes wide, pupils dilated and shivering. After a few seconds pass in tense silence, a single tear rolls down her cheek, and she collapses to the ground in a graceless heap. Olrica's voice is a barely audible, harsh whisper, uttering a scattered few words before falling unconscious.

"Henna...my...fault..."