( 5 )
N O C T
Noct had started to think that his luck was beginning to run out. After the series of unfortunate ordeals he had gone through and the current predicament he had gotten himself involved in, the thief had thought that, surely, this was the karma of all his years of stealing and deceiving, a retribution brought upon him by the gods called on by his countless victims. In the long hours within the dim-lit cell, when the witch was still unconscious and he was the only one awake, Noct had lost all hope of salvation. That was, until the witch suddenly suggested the truce.
Really, how is this girl so naive?
He had to keep a straight face and resist the urge to laugh the entire time. It was hard, but he had managed. If Noct was honest with himself, the witch's sudden proclamation had completely taken him by surprise. He never expected her to suggest a truce, of all the other things. Who would have thought that even after tricking her and revealing his true colors underneath his facade, after stealing from her and running away, after blaming her for everything that had happened and proclaiming that he hated her kind with every ounce of his being, she still trusted him in spite of everything?
Either she's really too trusting or she's really just dumb. Or perhaps, both, he thought.
It wasn't that Noct had a problem with it, however. In fact, it just made things much, much easier for him. If there was a way where he could end up alive after today, he was more than willing to take it. He certainly did not want to die yet because of some witch he had just met, and especially because he had been falsely accused of helping her. And so, Noct chose to accept her suggestion of the truce.
It was not only that. For some reason, he had a strong feeling that if it was her, she could be able to help him escape. When she had told him about the idea of a temporary peace, the determination had been evident in those unnatural, piercing silver eyes of hers. Noct could clearly see what she had been thinking behind her words. The girl wasn't going to allow herself to be burned no matter what. And furthermore, she wasn't just any normal witch. That was one thing that Noct was sure about. He believed that no average witch could easily heal a wound as serious as hers in only a matter of minutes. When she had hinted that she was capable of more than just healing spells, Noct saw and heard the truth in her voice. Being a liar, Noct could easily detect other people lying without problem. He knew she wasn't.
Perfect.
The thief formulated a plan in his mind immediately as the witch explained her own. What she wanted was for Noct to help her find her satchel, and in return, she would help him escape. However, Noct thought of a different plan. He was thinking of stealing the satchel again after she would help him. There was simply no way was he going to leave without getting anything in return after he survived this predicament. He had gone through great pains, after all. The bruise mark on his cheek and the pounding in his head were physical evidence to that.
He narrowed his eyes. In the end, you shouldn't have forgotten that I'm a thief.
With a fabricated grin on his face, Noct had reflexively reached out and taken her hand to shake it. It was a gesture, he learned after many years of experience, that made people trust him more. That way, she would not get to doubt his intentions of trying to help her. As he did the act, Noct noticed for a second that her hands were tightly wrapped in dirtied bandages that went up to her wrists. She had also flinched when he suddenly grasped them, he remembered, as though she was unfamiliar with acts of physical contact. But whether there was a reason for it or not, Noct decided to ignore it. He did not care, either way. As he looked up at her for a moment, a small tinge of guilt came over him, hovering at the back of his head.
No. She's a witch. Don't ever forget that. Don't ever forget what they did.
He blinked, realizing what was happening. The flickering shadows on the floor of the cell seemed to reach out at him for a moment, and the next thing he knew, he was entirely looking at an entirely different scene before him.
Crimson blood.
He was on the floor, motionless. Somehow, he couldn't move his body at all. His vision blurred, and a hand was reaching out for him, covered in red. A hazy image of a woman crying surfaced before him as she gently touched his face, her tears falling on his cheeks. He could not see her face well, as it was covered in dark shadows. Still, he was certain it had been his mother. How he knew, he was not sure. Black fire was crackling all around, surrounding them both in a grim and unnatural dark-colored inferno. Shadows of people gathered, standing at the edge of the blaze, looking on, whispering words he couldn't hear. There was someone else besides them. From the edge of his blurred vision, another woman was standing a few feet away, dressed in a cloak of black, much of her face shadowed except for the wide and chilling grin on her thin mouth. The black fire licked at her heels, but did not seem to hurt her. She was saying something. She held up a hand. Responding to gesture, the black fire rose to her will.
—Noct blinked again. The illusion disappeared. What he was looking at was the witch's blank face again, at the silver of her eyes. A nauseating feeling came over him for a second as the leftover fragments replayed in his mind. He had gotten such episodes like this, before. Times of when his brain would stop functioning for a second and show him the same scene he had been reliving so many times before. It was a memory he knew nothing of, but was certain belonged to him. Pierre had warned Noct to control his blackouts when he almost fell over a rooftop once. It had become more infrequent as he grew older, and Noct had even forgotten about them for quite some time already. Until now.
A dull pang of hatred came over him, reminding him again of how much he simply hated the Witchfolk. It had all been their fault. They had taken everything away from him.
Noct smiled as naturally at the girl as he could, trying to even out his voice and hide the resentment laced behind them. He hoped she hadn't noticed his brief episode. "So... with all those difficult matters aside, I guess let's begin by creating a strategy, don't you think? A clear plan to escape this morbid place."
The girl pulled back her hand. There was a hint of curiosity on her face. Or, perhaps not. Maybe it was the torchlight, playing tricks on his eyes. Noct blinked twice to make sure.
In the dull silence, her quiet words escaped her lips in a whisper, "... and my satchel?"
The thief nodded, trying his best to morph his face to look like he was concerned. "Actually, for that, I have a feeling it's somewhere above us right now. By my information, usually, when a hunter captures a witch, they first bring their belongings to a guard house to inspect it for any deadly potions and other things, as they state officially. In reality, they just smuggle it and sell it in the black market. However, they don't touch it yet before the owner is executed, because they believe it's cursed and brings bad luck. So, there are actually huge chances that your sku-—satchel is right over our heads right now, inside one of the storage rooms. So now, all we need to do is to make a plan of escape that'll make sure to spare our lives by the end of the day."
The girl's face remained blank as always, but she nodded.
And then I'll steal your satchel and make my escape.
Noct grinned. "Now here's what I suggest..."
Sorry, little miss, but I'm not just called the Crow Thief for nothing.
The guards came almost an hour later.
Chell and Noct had been quiet when they arrived, seated at opposite sides of the wall and not saying anything between them. They had already discussed the plan for their escape at full length, and Noct could only hope that she was gullible enough for him to trick long enough before she realized his true intentions.
The door to the dungeon opened with a loud creak. With heavy clanks of their armor, the guards announced their presence. Two of them, from the sound of their footsteps. Eerie shadows stretched on the floor as they neared their cell. Noct almost hoped that they would pass theirs, but instead, they paused right outside the bars. They peered at the thief and the witch, two men who were already well in their middle ages. They were wearing the standard full body armor that bore the insignia of the kingdom embedded on their breastplate. Evidently sharp spears were held in their hands, tips gleaming in the torchlight. Both of them however, Noct noticed, didn't look anywhere close to an ideal soldier, though. The first one had a mean expression that said he would have rather done anything else than what he was doing now. His huge belly didn't fit his armor right, and small scars filled the right side of his face. The second one was horribly thin, gangly, and had a far-off expression that only a unmistakable drunk person would have. Noct caught a faint whiff of alcohol from him.
The first one sighed loudly as he took out a metal spiral of keys from his belt. Noct and the girl watched him open the cell door in silence. The bard groaned as he swung it inwards.
"Come out," he barked to the two. He sounded both bored and tired. "Obediently, please. No useless violence. We wouldn't want to, ah, accidentally use deadly force before your time," he glanced at his spear, as if reminding both of them of how dangerous it was when used on people. "So get up, and move quietly. Quickly."
Noct had to resist the urge to knee him in the gut at that exact moment.
"Up, up, up, up, up!" the second one echoed with a manic laugh, his stale breath rancid. "Burn into ashes!"
Noct steeled his nerves and stifled a depressed sigh. Then, he stood up, a look of utter defeat etched on his face. His aim was to let their wariness decrease by admitting their loss. The witch followed his lead, silently rising. Noct raised two hands, looking down at his muddied boots and doing his best to make his voice sound devoid of life. "Okay... Okay, we give up... There's no use in struggling when you know you're about to die, anyway. Better to be in less pain than necessary... right?" he asked meekly, looking up. The second guard responded to this by laughing loudly and clapping his hands once.
"Smart one, we have 'ere!" he exclaimed.
What a stupid one, we have here, too, Noct couldn't resist the thought. He was about to say it aloud, but managed to hold it in by biting his tongue. The first guard glanced at his partner and studied Noct. The thief tensed. He averted his gaze, head bowed in submission. After a moment, the guard sighed.
"Right. Well, just follow us, quietly. Don't even try anyhing funny. Make sure to cherish every second, though, 'cause this is probably the moment when you'll get to see the last light of day in your lives." He shook his head and spit on the dirtied floor. Then, he gestured with his thumb. "Alright. Move already, move."
Noct forced a strained smile, as he tried to gulp down his anxiety and fear behind his mask. He glanced at the witch again. She nodded once at him. There wasn't even a hint of fear in her blank expression. Or maybe there was, and she was simply hiding it. Noct couldn't figure it out. Instead, he simply nodded back at her. Then, he breathed in, first to step out.
The public execution was starting.
----> thank you for reading!
Special mention to cranerain for the wonderful cover she made above!