the prison

The prison was in the basement of the Headquarters Building, its only access a winding staircase of dubious quality carved as if into the earth, and a tiny grated window at its far corner designed to allow a breath of vitalizing air and the demoralizing view of the bustle of the outside world. For now, the chants of Kouros had settled into a silent night. It was one of the oldest and simplest sections of Headquarters, one corridor lined on both sides by prison cells, and dating back almost a century, when Lemuriana was established. The rumours say the first settlers came across many a strange and exotic fruit when arriving in the lands. Delilah, later dubbed “Delinquent Delilah”, had travelled north towards the Dark Forest. Her aim was to procure timber for the settlers. But during her time in the wild she came across a tiny black berry, naturally both sweet and sour, succulent and bitter. The stories told of how a bellyful of the berries had caused the sweet, small Delilah to turn into an overpowering force, requiring every settler of Lemuriana to restrain it. The prison had been built to house a monster, or at least until the monster returned to Delilah the settler. She lived out her days in one of those cells, crying and screaming, yearning for just one more bellyful of berries.

The prison’s existence was not widely known to those outside the Guard, and at first glance it seemed unimpressive, almost neglected, as its walls were green with moss and its steps crumbling away. But it had been useful to the city’s rulers. First to hold the Delinquent Delilah, then as a storehouse for surplus food, and then as a jail for those who tried to steal from it. The General’s father, owing to his extensive use of it, had ordered its damp corridor be extended to create twenty more cells. The stairwell he left alone though. Perhaps the Chairman felt its oppressive appearance gave an impression of oblivion to those consigned there. No doubt he knew, as did all who tread on it, that its length had been deliberately set, at the distance a prisoner’s cries could not be heard by those above.

But there was only one Prisoner, and he had maintained his silence. The General had all the other cells evacuated upon his arrival almost a week ago, and ordered three guards to watch him, two changing shift guards by his cell, and Kaleb the messenger. It was boring. The guards remembered fondly when the cells had been full of crooked, cheerful thieves and rowdy con artists, each serving a seventh, maybe an eighth, term under the General’s lenient rule. “For all people have the potential to be saved”. For the prisoners were mostly harmless young men from good families, with too much time on their hands. The guards would spend their nights threatening, scolding and joking with them in equal measure, accepting bribes for non-existent early reprieves. For those few hours, the three of them could pretend they were no longer lowly soldiers given a job no one else wanted, but the stern keepers of a stern peace, protecting the innocents of their fair city, with tongue lashings severe enough to chase the evil out of a poor man’s soul, and turn him back onto the streets an honest man. Of course, they were deluded, and they knew it only too well; but the nights were long and lonely, and boredom demanded these delusions. The prisoners, delighted at the novelty of actually being considered dangerous, were grateful conspirators with many a story to tell after their freedom. There were mixed among them a serious criminal or two, but these were housed down the corridor in separate cells, and left alone. Time would pass quickly, and soon enough the thud of boots would be heard coming down the granite staircase, and they would leave to a nice home and to bed for a much needed sleep, with “Regards to your wife!” ringing in their ears.