There's a quote that every normal day you spend could be a bunch of miracles in disguise.
"Sylvia," she said finally, her voice cautious. "And you still haven't answered my question. Why are you watching this building?"
Glen's friendly expression faltered for just a moment, something darker flickering across his features before the smile returned. "Because someone I care about is in there. Someone they took."
Sylvia's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Glen glanced around nervously, then gestured for her to follow him into the deeper shadows between two buildings. Once they were out of sight of the main street, he set down his satchel and pulled out a small notebook.
"That warehouse," he said quietly, "it's not what it looks like. It's a holding facility. A prison, essentially. They keep slaves in there people they've trapped through debt or just outright kidnapped. Force them to work in terrible conditions, threaten their families if they try to escape." His voice carried genuine anger, genuine pain. "My sister is in there. Has been for three months now. I've been trying to find a way to get her out, but I can't do it alone. I'm not a strong enough."
Sylvia studied his face carefully. Everything about his story added up the emotion in his voice, the way his hands clenched when he talked about his sister. But after that illusion she was still a little cautious
"Slaves," she repeated. "You're sure?"
"I've seen them," Glen said. "Late at night, when they move people between buildings. They're chained, and terrified. Some of them are just children." He met her eyes. "I know how it sounds. I know it's hard to believe something like this could happen in what seems like a normal town. But I've spent weeks gathering evidence, watching patterns. It's real."
Sylvia's mind raced. If what he was saying was true, then Rudeus could be in there right now. Trapped, imprisoned, maybe already abused. The thought made her stomach twist with fear and anger.
"You said you've been watching me," she said. "You asked if I know someone who went missing. Why?"
Glen's expression softened with sympathy. "Because you have that look. The same look I see in the mirror every day. Like you're searching for someone, like you won't stop until you find them." He paused. "Do you? Know someone who's missing?"
Sylvia hesitated. Every instinct screamed at her not to trust him, not to reveal anything. But if there was even a chance he could help her get Rudeus out…
She nodded reluctantly.
Glen's face lit up with something like hope. "Then let me help you. Please. I've been planning this for weeks, but I need someone who can actually fight. Someone who can handle themselves if things go wrong." He grabbed her hand, his grip urgent. "Together, we can save them both. Your person and my sister. We can get them out tonight."
"Tonight?" Sylvia pulled her hand back. "That's too fast. We need a plan, we need to know the layout.."
"I have all of that," Glen interrupted, pulling out his notebook and flipping through pages covered in sketches and notes. "I told you, I've been watching this place for weeks. I know when the guards change shifts, where the blind spots are, how many people are on duty at any given time. I know everything except how to actually fight my way through if something goes wrong."
Sylvia looked at the notebook, at the detailed maps and observations. It was thorough.
"What can you do?" she asked. "In a fight, I mean. If things go bad."
Glen's expression turned sheepish. "I'm… okay with a dagger? I'm not completely useless, I promise. I won't slow you down. I just need someone to handle the actual combat if it comes to that."
Sylvia was quiet for a long moment, weighing her options. Going in alone would be suicide she didn't know the layout, didn't know how many guards there were. But trusting Glen could be walking into another trap.
She thought about Rudeus. About how much time had already been wasted while she was unconscious in that carriage. About how every moment she delayed could be another moment he suffered.
"Alright," she said finally. "You can help. But if you're lying to me, if this is some kind of trick—"
"It's not," Glen said quickly, relief flooding his features. "I promise, Sylvia. I won't disappoint you. We'll get them both out safely."
They waited until the moon was at its highest point, when Glen claimed the guards would be at their least alert. He led her through the narrow streets, keeping to the shadows, his movements surprisingly smooth for someone who claimed not to be a fighter.
"Well he should at least be sneaky." she thought.
As they approached the warehouse, Sylvia's heart pounded. The building loomed before them, dark and imposing. She could see two guards at the front entrance, both looking bored and tired.
"This way," Glen whispered, leading her around to the side of the building.
He stopped at a particular section of wall and pointed up. There was a window about fifteen feet up, partially boarded over but with one board hanging loose.
"That's our entry point," Glen said quietly. "I noticed it during my surveillance. The room inside is usually empty some kind of storage area. We can get in without anyone noticing."
Sylvia looked at the window, then at Glen. "How do you even know what's inside? You can't see through the boards."
"I…" Glen hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "I managed to get inside once before, during the day. Pretended to be a merchant making a delivery. I saw the layout before they caught on and kicked me out."
The explanation was weird, but Sylvia pushed the feeling down. She was being paranoid, and needed to focus on saving Rudeus
"Fine," she said. "How do we get up there?"
Glen pointed to a stack of crates nearby. "We can climb up, then I'll boost you to the window. You're lighter, so you go first, then help pull me up."
They moved to the crates, and Sylvia climbed up as quietly as she could. The wood creaked slightly under her weight but didn't give way. Glen followed, less gracefully but managing not to make too much noise.
From the top of the crates, Sylvia could just reach the loose board. She worked it free carefully, wincing at every small sound. Once it was off, she could see the dark interior of the room beyond.
"Clear," she whispered down to Glen.
She pulled herself up and through the window, landing in a crouch on the floor inside. The room was indeed a storage area, filled with crates and barrels. She turned and reached back through the window to help Glen up.
He was heavier than she expected, and she had to brace herself against the wall to pull him through. He tumbled in less gracefully than she had, nearly knocking over a crate, but managed to catch it before it fell.
They both froze, listening for any sign that they'd been heard.
Nobody came rushing over.
Glen grinned at her in the darkness, excitement clear on his face despite the danger. Sylvia didn't return the smile. She was too focused.
They made their way to the door, and Sylvia pressed her ear against it, listening. Footsteps in the hallway beyond, but they sounded distant. She eased the door open a crack and peered out.
The hallway was dimly lit by oil lamps spaced far apart. The walls were bare wood, and there were several doors leading off in both directions. At the far end, she could see stairs leading both up and down.
Glen moved up beside her, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. "The cells are in the basement," he whispered. "That's where they keep the prisoners."
Sylvia nodded and slipped out into the hallway, keeping to the wall. Glen followed close behind. Every step felt like it took an eternity. Every creak of the floorboards sounded impossibly loud.
They passed several doors, all closed. Behind some, she could hear movement people working, having quiet conversations. They had to be staff or guards.
A door ahead suddenly opened.
Sylvia reacted on instinct, grabbing Glen and pulling him into a small alcove. They pressed themselves flat against the wall, barely breathing, as a guard walked past carrying a lantern. He was humming tunelessly, completely unaware of their presence just feet away.
The guard continued down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.
Sylvia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. That was too close. Way too close.
They continued forward, reaching the stairs. Glen pointed down, and they began their descent. The stairs were old and wooden, each step threatening to creak and give them away. Sylvia moved with excruciating slowness, testing each step before putting her full weight on it.
Glen wasn't as careful. Halfway down, he stepped on a particularly weak board that let out a loud groan.
They both froze.
"Did you hear that?" a voice called from somewhere below.
"Probably just the this dirty old warehouse," another voice replied. "This place is falling apart."
"Should check it anyway."
Footsteps began climbing the stairs toward them.
Sylvia grabbed Glen and pulled him back up, looking frantically for somewhere to hide. There was a door at the top of the stairs she tried the handle and found it unlocked. They slipped inside just as the guard rounded the corner below.
They were in some kind of office a desk covered in papers, filing cabinets along the walls, a single oil lamp burning low on the desk. And nowhere to hide that wouldn't be immediately obvious if someone came in.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Stopped. The guard was right outside the door.
Sylvia's hand went to where her short sword should be, finding only empty air. She'd have to use her bare hands if it came to a fight.
The door handle began to turn.
Then a voice called from downstairs. "Oi! Stop wasting time and get back down here! The boss wants his report!"
The guard outside their door cursed under his breath. "Coming!" He walked away, his footsteps receding down the stairs.
Sylvia let out another shaky breath. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
"That was close," Glen whispered, and she could hear the excitement in his voice. Like this was some kind of adventure rather than a life-or-death situation.
She ignored him and moved to the door, listening carefully. When she was sure the coast was clear, she eased it open and they slipped back out.
This time they made it down the stairs without incident. At the bottom, they found themselves in a corridor lined with doors heavy doors with locks on the outside and small barred windows at eye level.
Cells lots of cells. Sylvia's breath quickened. Rudeus had to be here somewhere. He had to be.
She moved to the first door and peered through the barred window. Inside, she could see several people huddled together on a dirty mattress. They looked up at her with hollow, hopeless eyes.
None of them were Rudeus. She moved to the next cell. More prisoners, but not who she was looking for.
The third cell. The fourth. The fifth. And then she saw him.
Rudeus lay on the floor of the cell, curled on his side, his single arm tucked against his chest. He wasn't moving. For a terrible moment, Sylvia thought he might be dead.
"Rudeus," she whispered, her voice breaking. Glen appeared beside her, looking through the window. "Is that him?"
Sylvia didn't answer. She was already working on the lock, pulling a metal clip from her hair and bending it into shape. Her hands were shaking, making the work harder, but she forced herself to focus.
The lock clicked open.
She shoved the door open and rushed inside, dropping to her knees beside Rudeus. Up close, she could see he was breathing shallow, but steady. She gathered him up, pulling his head against her chest, one hand cradling the back of his head.
"Rudeus," she said urgently. "Wake up. Please wake up. It's me, it's Sylvia. We need to go. Wake up!"
He didn't respond. His body was limp, his face slack. It was like he wasn't even there, like whatever made him him had been hollowed out and only the shell remained. She could see tear marks staining his pale cheeks.
"Rudeus, please!" Tears were streaming down her face now. "Don't do this. Wake up. I came all this way I broke free I found you. Just wake up!"
He said nothing. Behind her, she heard a sound that made her blood run cold.
Laughter? Soft, amused laughter that definitely didn't belong to Glen.
Sylvia started to turn, started to reach for a weapon she didn't have, but before she could move, cold steel pressed against her throat.
"Don't move," a voice said Glen's voice, but different now. Definitely colder. With less life in it. All the nervous friendliness stripped away to reveal something else underneath.
"Why?" Sylvia managed to choke out, still holding Rudeus against her chest. "Why are you doing this?"
The blade pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood. Glen or whoever he really was leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Because," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction, "you're my slave."
A/N: holy when will this arc end I wanna write about Sylphie already 😭 this arc is taking up way more time than I thought end this next chapter or maybe 2 more chapters after this definitely write about Sylphie since she would be with Ariel now. Hope this isn't too boring.