Fading Colors in Shadow

Where Dreams Vanish

Camille was slowly starting to get used to all the open mouths staring at her as she followed Wriothesley past the reception and into the Fortress of Meropide. Some of them looked surprised, some were whispering to others about it, and some were just confused. She caught a few of the whispers which said this was 'special treatment' which meant he didn't do it often. Considering his previous words, she had a feeling it was a favor to Neuvillette.

He led her to a row of benches, and a little Meka stood beside a counter. "And this is where you can claim one free meal a day," he said, with a bit of a flourish. "Speaking of, it's lunch time. Care to join me?" His eyes had a strange twinkle in them, and she couldn't quite place a finger on what it was.

She squinted at him. "I would be honored."

He tilted his head and smiled at her. "Your face says otherwise." With her in tow, he headed over to the counter. "Two deluxe welfare meals."

The man at the counter looked offended. "You can't just-" His face changed abruptly. "Ah, it's the Duke. Alright then, please wait a moment."

Camille was quite surprised at the sudden shift in tone. Duke Wriothesley certainly had the respect of all the people in the Fortress. She wondered why. "You can't just what?" she asked Wriothesley, looking up at him.

"It's a bit of a lottery system. Depending on your luck, you can either get a good meal or a bad one." He folded his arms and leaned against the counter, indicating the man with a jerk of his chin. "Wolsey likes to play around."

"Back in my day," Wolsey started, sounding like someone's grandfather, "You'd have to go hungry for a day or two before you could earn enough to eat. And then he went ahead and made one meal a day free for the inmates." He looked at Camille with a hard look. "Do you know what that means?"

Camille shook her head.

"It means you lot get to slack off if you want." He handed the trays of food to Wriothesley, who carried them over to a free table. Before Camille could follow, Wolsey stopped her. "Say, lad. What are you in here for?"

"Murder," she said calmly.

He coughed, and Wriothesley shook his head with a smile.

"You don't seem remorseful in the slightest," he said, looking her up and down. Camille just shrugged innocently. "Hopefully that'll change in a day or two." He tapped the counter with his finger, clearly expecting her to answer.

"Maybe," she started, but then she considered the outcome if she hadn't fought back. The fellow might not be dead, and she wouldn't be in the Fortress, but... there's no recovering from things like that. "Nah, probably not. Thank you for the food," she said with a polite nod of her head, heading back to Wriothesley. She pretended not to see Wolsey's appalled face.

"You really shouldn't provoke him," said Wriothesley, with what she thought was a hint of exasperation in his voice. He took a seat across from her.

"I did say thanks," said Camille sliding into the bench.

He shook his head again, and Camille was very sure that it was exasperation. "Consider this a treat from me." He indicated the food. "From tomorrow onwards, only your luck will save your stomach. Work starts tomorrow, and a guard will take you to the Production Zone." He looked her up and down, and then said, in a rather pitying voice. "Well, just remember that there's more than one way to earn Credit Coupons down here." He placed a coupon in front of her, and she picked it up to inspect. Nothing spectacular about it. "You can buy meals if you'd like, or you can buy something else from the Rag and Bones shop."

"What's in the Rag and Bones shop?" asked Camille, handing the Credit Coupon back to him.

"You can go see for yourself tomorrow. I'll show you where it is."

After they'd finished their meal, Wriothesley stood up. "Walk with me," he said. And so she did.

She walked just behind him as he pointed out the Rag and Bone shop, the Pankration Ring, and the elevator to the Production Zone. He nodded to all of the guards who made eye contact with him, and Camille could've sworn he smirked when some of the prisoners ran out of his way or pretended they were part of the wall. Some stopped to greet him, shaking all the while.

"I can't tell if they're terrified of you, or if they respect you," said Camille, watching someone else stammer their greetings.

"A general rule down here is that the less you see of me, the happier you are."

Camille waited as he spoke to one of the prisoners, swearing he seemed sarcastic. "And what does this say about my situation here?"

He smiled, and gave her a side-eye. "That's up to you to decide, dearest." He stopped at a flight of stairs, which led to a circular opening. "These are the dorms. Marianne!" he called out.

A guard came running up to him, and then stopped, placing a fist over her chest in their characteristic salute. "Yes, Duke Wriothesley?"

He nodded to Camille. "Take her to her room."

Marianne nodded, and then Camille turned to Wriothesley. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"No need to be so formal," he said, tapping her shoulder lightly. "After all, you've got a year down here." Camille watched him walk away, his handcuffs and coat swinging as he threw a wave over his shoulder.

She then turned to Marianne, who was surprisingly waiting patiently. Camille followed Marianne as she took her into the pipes, and Camille scrunched her nose up at the smell of rust. Maybe she'd be covered in mold by the time she got out of here.

Marianne nodded to her, noticing her expression. "You get used to it here. I'm responsible for the dorms on this side, so let me know if you need anything."

"Miss Marianne, how long have you been here?"

Marianne stared at her for a second, as though she'd never been respectfully called Miss in her life. She schooled her expression. "In the Fortress? Almost five years."

"That's quite a while," said Camille, as they headed into a room, where a bed was shoved to the side, and a desk and lamp were next to it.

Marianne stood near the door as Camille looked around, and when Camille turned back to face her, she nodded. "Get some rest, and I'll wake you up tomorrow. I'll take you to the Production Zone for your morning shift."

"Thank you, you've been very nice to me."

She turned to leave. "I know. If His Grace favors someone, then something must be up. However, you won't receive this sort of kindness from the other guards, so steel yourself." And with that, Marianne headed out.

Camille sat down on the bed, and looked around the room. The Fortress of Meropide was awfully devoid of color. She looked around at the rusty walls, at the lamp that cast an eerie glow on everything, and she sighed. She missed her room, which she herself had painted every square inch of. The fact she was thinking of paint made her feel a little like a spoiled brat. Gritting her teeth, she lay down, staring at the ceiling, wondering how her life had turned upside down in a day.