Release that Witch

The vertical main channel led directly to the depths of the mountain, around every three hundred feet (about 100 meters), Mayne had to cross a checkpoint. He knew that the Church was using each segment between two checkpoints for a different task. The most outside area was used as the living area for the warriors who had to stay their whole life in the castle. The second segment was used as archives, for the storage of instruments, and fragments of ancient books. The third section was the jail area, where prisoners were housed who weren’t allowed to see the light ever again… innocents included.

After crossing through the third checkpoint, Mayne stopped. Further in, was the castle’s secret area. All of the Church’s research materials and inventions originated from this place, and without the Pope’s authorization, no one was allowed to enter. Since he became the Archbishop three years ago, he had only stepped into this area once before.

When Mayne walked closer he took the left path.

After a short walk, the way was ended by a door, with a plate at the height of the chest on it on which read “Elders!”

Mayne nodded to the guards and ordered, “Open the door.”

Behind the door the corridor continued, there were burning torches hanging on the wall, like small sparks of light within a sea of darkness, continuing along the path until the end. On both sides of the road were many wooden doors and in the middle of each door hung a plate with a number on it.

One of the Judges who followed Mayne raised a torch to illuminate the surroundings. While walking down the channel, Mayne looked all the while at the numbers on the plates. When he finally saw the number 35 mottled into the plate, he stopped and pulled a key out of one of his pockets and inserted it into the keyhole, turning it lightly. At the bottom of the doline, the sound of opening the lock was especially harsh, and its echo could be heard even at the end of the channel. As if it was a signal flare, suddenly many cries could be heard through the doors, there were calls from men and women. When listening carefully, Mayne could understand some of them! “Quickly save me!” “Help me!” “Please, kill me!” and the like.

But Mayne was unmoved by the cries. He only ordered the guard standing beside the door to immediately shut it after he entered the room, leaving the chaos of screams outside.

Behind iron rails the bishop saw an old man sitting on his bed — perhaps he was not so old, but now his hair had already turned white, and his face was covered by wrinkles. His beard looked like he hadn’t groomed it in a long time, almost reaching up to his neck. Since he hadn’t seen the sun for a long time, his skin had become terribly pale, and his hands and feet were as thin as bamboo.

Mayne glanced at the food plate behind the rails, which looked like it hadn’t been touched, registering this he sighed, “You should treat yourself better, the Church doesn’t lack for food. And the meals are even made according to a king’s standard, except for the wine. Even the fish, it’s first-rate Cod coming from Port of Bluewater. You should be familiar with its taste, right Your Majesty King Wimbledon?”

Chapter 85 Thorny Road

It took a moment before the old man showed a reaction, he slowly lifted up his quilt, moved it to the bedside and looked in the direction of the Archbishop.

Then he opened his mouth and asked: “If it were you who was locked up in this damnable place, do you think you would be able to eat?” His voice wasn’t easy to understand, it sounded like his throat had been blocked by something, “Half a year, I’m already trapped here for six months, without any news… Tell me how are my sons and daughters doing?”

When taking a closer look at the cell, Mayne noticed, that it seemed like one wall was scored with a nail. Is the old man using this method to calculate the date?

He moved to a chair facing the King and then asked in return: “Why ask about things that will only make you unhappy?”

“…” The King kept his silence for a long while, but eventually spoke, “It doesn’t matter to me, after all, you will kill me anyway, right?”

Mayne only answered with one word, “Yes.”

“Then as a dying man, what does pleasure mean to me, before I die, I just want to know their situation!” The longer Wimbledon spoke the more his voice resembled a growl.