Archeko’s streets that were bare became filled with people and merchants, and their loud chatters soon filled the space. Perhaps, to aid the glory of the sun that burnt the citizens to almost a crisp, the winds whistled. This caused the trees to sway as the horses occasionally neighed, enjoying the momentarily chill it gave. The carriage where Henry and June were both in, trundled against the rough surface. 

Despite June's stoic and aloof demeanor, his heart drummed hard against his chest, as if attempting to escape its cage. His leg bounced up and down, betraying the facade he created. 

The young lord named Henry sat opposite of June, gazing out the window with boredom. He clicked his tongue, then his attention snapped to the useless butler in front of him who had been refusing to meet his gaze ever since this trip had commenced. 

“You had one job to do, yet you failed at it.” Henry hissed under his breath.

“Master, I—” June tried to interject, but Henry gave him one sharp look—a warning.

“It was such a simple thing, June—keep an eye on it. But now? You even let Matthias see it.” He snapped and leaned back with frustration, as things did not go as he planned. 

“You're lucky that your head is still attached to your body,” Henry added. He frowned, the smell of iron, mixed with feces and piss wafted against their nose, dancing around the carriage. It did not help the sour mood Henry was already on. 

June remained silent, unable to argue back.

Henry was correct. After all, he owed his life to him—and he could easily take it or keep it. Everything was all according to his whims and needs. Nothing was in his control other than his own emotions—was it still his, or has he been influenced by his own transformation?

But there was one thing June knew; his want to be free was still his. That was for sure and he refused to give up, not when he was already getting closer to his goal. He was determined more than ever. His eyes that were usually dead became fiery with motivation as he spoke, “I haven’t explored what’s beyond this town—I cannot give up yet.” He murmured with his new profound energy. 

Hearing June's words made Henry amused. “That's why you are my servant. Desperate, and pliable. Just how I like it.” He declared, a sly smile laced on his lips like a medal—after all, having a cute dog would make one smile. However the one he owned bites, not that he minded. After all, what was the fun in things that just follow your whims? 

At the corner of both of their eyes, they caught a glimpse of a young girl, who was begging for help. 

‘Ah, it's that one girl from the orphanage.’

Leila desperately cried and begged the guards to not take Matthias away. She kneeled, gripping the pants of the officer who dragged him away. She sobbed and wailed, her grip tightening as she used all her weight to hold him down but to no avail. She was far too lightweight to stop him. 

She did not want him to be sent to the  underground prison! 

She trembled, tears flooded her eyes, making her sight hazy. “Please, he did nothing wrong—I swear we arrived there and it was already like that—!”

“And you expect me to believe that?!” The guard roared, looking at her with disdain. The exchange gathered numerous eyes due to the commotion which made the guard hesitant to act like he usually does with these commoners. He thought they were filthy, raggedy, and disgusting; all of them should just rot in the underground prison to clear up this town. 

He clicked his tongue with a frown. “If you insist young miss, I will also send you to the underground cell with him!” 

The threat automatically made Leila drop her hand to her sides. She was motionless, the coldness of the tiles seeping through to her knees up to her body.  Her inability to help Matthias and the harsh truth hugged her small body, like a cocoon—preventing her from moving. 

‘I'm useless and a coward,’ her eyes closed tightly as her head drooped low. Noticing how the young woman stopped arguing, the guards decided to take Matthias away. 

Matthias’ jet black hair stank with metallic and rusty odour, making the guards wince in dismay. He did not even try to argue, knowing  it would be futile. Who would believe him, when he was drenched with Harry's blood? He let himself be dragged, matching the pace of the guards as they soon entered a badly illuminated room.

Scanning the area, he couldn't help but think.

‘They have the classic spiral staircase. It looks awesome,’ he laughed inside his head. The fact he had time to be amazed with a simple structural design meant one thing: he had not given up yet. He accidentally let out a smile which made the guards clasped their hold on each of his arms. 

“Walk,” they both commanded as they took one step at a time. Matthias nodded, obediently following the order. He did not want to cause an argument or more misunderstanding when there was already one—the exact reason why he was now brought down the dungeon. 

He heard the distant cries and screams of prisoners—some for mercy, some for death, some cursing the heavens, others cursing the nobles and the town heads—as they continued to venture down below. The moldy smell, damp and cold mixed with piss and feces danced within the air.

He recoiled and the guards groaned as the stench tickled their nose. They all mentally groaned, unanimously agreeing in silence that the smell itself could be a deterrent to those wishing to commit crime. 

Click, click, clank. The sound of metal hitting against another metal. The groans and wails of the prisoner made Matthias realise that he reached the bottom already.

A long hallway, dimly stretched out without an end. His vision was swallowed by rows and rows of rooms separated by metal bars which caused him to take a deep breath. The air was heavy and humid. He started taking fast shallow breaths. The smell stinging his senses, making his vision hazy. 

The guards covered their noses with their other hands, dragging him along the hall. They stopped at the third cell, with one of them opening the gate and throwing Matthias in. The younger man groaned in pain and disgust.

The floor was freezing and the smell became putrid. It made him gag, noticing that the mushy substance that his hand rested on was not mud but it was cold,  slick and—far more foul. The metal door squeaked as the guards closed it, looking down in disdain at Matthias as he remained on the floor. 

“I hope you rot in this cell,” one of the guards spoke—his voice raspy and full of hatred, glaring at Matthias. 

“Don’t be that harsh Pedro—we cannot wish for another person’s misfortune,” replied one of the guards. His eyes soft, looking at Matthias with pity, as if he already knew his ending.

“Richard, that’s why your wife left you. You are too kind—even to those who do not deserve it!” Pedro yelled at Richard, his anger directed towards him.

“You did not have to bring that up, Pedro…!” He whispered, rarely above a whisper.

“And you should have kept your mouth shut then, Richard!” His voice boomed and bounced around the endless hall.

Matthias remained frozen in his cell, now realising the weight of the accusement towards him. The sun does not reach this place. It smelled putrid, mixed with puke, decay and rotting flesh. In desperation, his eyes travelled to the cell that faced him. 

Seeing a little faint of hope, he called out to him. 

No one answered.

“Hey!” Matthias’ voice echoed. 

Clank, Clank, click. The humanoid figure slumped forward, its head disconnected from its neck—rolling on its side, then finally kissing the floor. 

Tik, tik, tak. The hollow sockets were staring at his very own eyes. The smell intensified—rotten  and decayed. 

A past prisoner, someone who was unfortunate not to survive, he thought. The person was dead. That flicker of hope disintegrated. 

Will I ever see the sun again? How ironic that I am here, for a crime I’ve never committed. Matthias sighed. His knees wobbled as he stood up, using the wall as leverage to stand up. He then slumped on the concrete bed, infested with rat droppings and insect eggs. Despite this grim situation ahead, he couldn't help feeling appalled with the way hygiene is treated in this era. 

“No wonder black plague happened,” he uttered to no one in particular, his words hanging in the air. Reality settled in his guts. 

Will I ever be able to escape from this? 

Perhaps, I was wrong. 

Was this God’s way of punishing me, for treating this world like a game just because I was not from here? With the unceasing torrent of thoughts inside his head, Matthias suddenly remembered what Chris, the priest, had said:

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you aren't from here, to be exact you’re not even supposed to exist in this era.”

“I’m on your side, Matthias. After all, I am the one who summoned you. You’re from the future, and you’re probably wondering why you exist here. I can tell you why, if you are willing to listen.”

Chris knew Matthias wasn't from this era. That he knew the exact reason why he was here. He hit his head in frustration. He knew he should have listened and gathered information. However, Henry told him to never trust anyone but himself—and that held him back. 

“I should have listened, I should have—then this wouldn't ever happen!” He gritted his teeth with his eyes tightly closed with frustration. His fist clenched as he remained seated on the concrete bed. “There could be a way for me to go back, and I  let my ego take a hold of me! Just because I hated how he saw through me!” Matthias pounded his thighs, clearly agitated.

I'm not going down without a fight, I have to get out of here and figure out what's happening in this damn country and era. Determination took a hold on him, eyes blazing with new fire and purpose—to find out what those trumpets are, why he was here and why the murderers are prevailing. 

He has to find Chris and ask him questions. If working with him would avoid unnecessary deaths and unfolding all the mysteries wrapped in this world, he would do it. 

“I'm not dying here, God!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. It echoed back at him, as if mocking his words.