Learned Helplessness

Forlorn Hope Ch22v3

On the seventh eve, after the last servant bid me good night and my hearth had been reduced to dying embers I stole away into the darkness. As expected, my room was locked, but my newfound strength allowed me to push the door open anyway, tearing the bolt from the wall. Thankfully, there was no sentry in front of my room, and the noise of my brute force escape drew no attention as far as I could tell. Uncertain as to whether there was some other trick to my prison, I began to move quickly.

I needed to secure food, an exit, and that wand which held me in bondage. First was food. Truth be told, I really did have little stamina from not eating for so many days. The complete lack of body fat and dehydration rendered me freakishly muscular, and miserable. I was loath to admit it, but the soup made this escape possible.

Following my nose, I crossed through the empty darkness of what I quickly recognized to be a castle, specifically the central keep. I passed by narrow arrowslits that stood just a little too high for me to properly see out, but I could at least catch glimpses of the stars and that ruined moon. My path led me down spiraling staircases and hallways. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of torchlight from a sentry, but I often heard them or smelt them long before they were seen. It was easy to evade these few patrols, their discipline lax. By their lack of arms or armament, I assumed them to be mere monks, patrolling to keep an eye on their fellows and any midnight mischief, rather than out of fear of a nightborne infiltrator, or me, an escapee.

My nose eventually led me down to what appeared to be a servant’s kitchen, or at least a secondary one. I entered through an attached dining room, only to find someone already there, sneaking out some fruit. They looked young, and equally terrible at doing anything quietly. I patiently waited for a nightguard to catch them, give them a beating, and escort them out.

Now free to move about, I found a satchel and began to load it with whatever seemed to last. Nuts, dried fruit, dried meat, a waterskin, hardtack. A few pieces of bread and cheese were consumed on the spot. Strengthened and fortified, I began the real impossible tasks: finding Missol and the exit.

By following the breeze, it was easy to find ways to escape. The first route I found led to a battlement that extended out from the keep and revealed the whole of the castle. Everything was illuminated by the soft light of the moon, making it clear as day. The first thing I realized was that it had been built on top of a mountain. Though it was superficially Spanish-European in architecture, the technique of taking a mountain, leveling the top and building a castle on it was distinctly Japanese. It was a big place, and from my explorations, I realized that though the keep may stand five stories tall, it actually extended deep into the earth, at least five levels, possibly more. It may even extend down to the Dungeon, and if it did, that meant that the entire mountain was the Dungeon. Considering what lurked below, such a castle felt like a reasonable response. Assuming this place did not also carry some kind of strategic importance, which did not seem to be the case. Then again, maybe the Dungeon was the strategic location.

The mountain was covered in forests. Its closest neighbors were other mountains also covered in dense forests, forming the rim of a valley whose opposite could barely be seen, shrouded in fog. Further down from the mountain fortress, some small villages and terraced farmland could be seen. It looked beautiful, and quaint, if not vast, mysterious and absolutely untamed. Seeing it so undeveloped, I could only assume that this place was some backwater, the only bastion of civilization for leagues.

Noticing that a larger world did exist, and that it largely resembled earth, it all made me wonder where the Stone Solari fit into all this. They spoke a great deal about their religious beliefs and goals, but they never actually explained themselves. Did they hold dominion over all this land, or did they pay tribute to someone else? Since Javier spoke of them taking in refugees, they were not complete isolationists, and at least maintained some kind of positive relationship with the outside world.

Whatever that might be, it didn't matter right now. Focusing back on the castle, I saw that large swaths of its courtyard were devoted to non-military functions. Pleasant gardens and gazebos with plenty of opportune locations to meditate, statues to presumed holy figures, fountains, and other devotions to beauty and art. The practical concerns to war could still be clearly seen- a free standing barracks with an attached stable, and a few other buildings that were designed to be mini-keeps in their own right, but none that stood more than three stories. The farther bastion walls and their towers were manned and lit. The only notable entrances were a large primary gatehouse, wide enough for an army to march through, and a couple of secondary gatehouses for more mundane traffic. All were barred and guarded. These exterior guards were obviously armed and armored, but not heavily. Clothing made for cold nights rather than open warfare, and basic weapons such as spears. Nothing and no one that made me concerned.

Along the keep itself, I could see a few more battlements and balconies jutting out of it, as well as a single primary entrance and a few secondary ones. All entrances had sentries, but there were few present and lingering on the exterior upper levels. There were plenty of ledges and handholds, and I figured it would be easy to descend. That would be the play, escape via descent. A mental map of the exterior and interior were beginning to form in my mind.

From there, the best exit appeared to be a stretch of the wall extending from the mountainside. For some reason, it had far less of a presence. From my vantage point I couldn't tell what it could be, but I guessed that there was a sheer drop on that side. Otherwise, it seemed my best bet was to climb up a wall, and descend in the shadow of one of the towers, and flee into the forest.

Considering circumstances, I figured a weapon would be prudent in case it came to force. As much as I wanted to kill everyone I ran into, that was a foolish idea. Bodies needed to be hidden, fights could escalate and put the castle on high alert, and I honestly didn't know how many people here were on board with this psychotic death cult. It could be a religious conspiracy that only leadership indulged in, and the rest were ignorantly innocent. Following the scent of metal and oil, I quickly found a small armory. The armor was all adult sized and of little use for me, but the other equipment was good. A short bow, suitable for the arrow-slits, made for a full sized bow for me. A quiver of arrows, a hatchet and a dagger had utility value. For actual fighting, I chose a hefty broadsword, although in my hands it was a proper great sword. It took adapting a girdle to my size by puncturing new holes into it, but I made it fit, and soon I was outfitted.

The next step was to find Missol. I'd been with her now for so many days that I could track her scent easily. I followed it, tracing her daily routine, as her scent was all over. Roaming through the castle, I found its more specialized quarters- a vast hall filled with religious iconography that I assumed to be the chapel, a library filled with wizened books, studies lined with desks, more armories, training grounds, lavatories. I'd even found the grand gates to the Dungeon, deep below the keep.I recognized it by the smell of rot, blood, and the faint, fading scent of Amparo.

Eventually I found that Missol’s scent gathered most strongly in a room on the fourth floor. I found the door unlocked. Peeking in, I found Missol sitting in a simple wooden chair, asleep. She was not dressed in sleeping attire, but stripped down to her basic underclothes and britches. By her side on the table was her sword, the magic wand which enslaved me, and the sole source of artificial light in the room, a half melted candle. There was other furniture, including a bed, dressers, an armoire, a dead hearth, and little else. Some moonlight filtered in through a pair of high windows, leaving long rectangles of light cast onto the walls, that seemed to make the darkness deeper.

I slunk into the room, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible. My first goal was to take the wand, my second, optional objective, was to murder Missol in her sleep. From all the people I'd seen and met, she was the only one who registered on my fear response. Besides, I had not let go of my grudge for her throwing me into the depths of the shithole.

Just as my hand hovered over the wand, Missol's eyes flashed open and she grabbed my arm, "Naughty, naughty, bear cub."

Not giving me time to react she threw me away and onto her bed, where I landed on my feet.

"Look at what you've done! You're ruining my sheets." Missol said, barely stifling a yawn. "You took far too long getting here. I almost fell back asleep."

As I feared, there was some alarm on my door, but by the lack of response, only Missol was aware. I had a chance, if I could win, and I wasn’t sure I had much of a chance at all. I drew my sword with a low, growling hiss. I didn't even mean to make those noises, they just spilled out of my throat. Missol's eyes followed my own as they darted to the control rod.

"Of course you would come for this. That much was obvious, but you're clearly still more than just a brat.’ Missol said as she stood up, drawing her sword. ‘I could just use the rod to make you obey, but that wouldn't do. You need to learn helplessness, little cub."

Our exchange was brief. I hardly saw it. I didn’t even get the chance to activate fury. She rushed me down, far faster than a woman of that size had any right to move. She disarmed me with a flourish and disabled me with a punch to the gut. Everything in my stomach came spilling out and onto her sheets.

"Great, now I must replace the whole bed, lest it smell like brat vomit." She sighed, backhanding me down before kicking me in the pit of my stomach. "Goodnight my bear cub, we'll talk about this all in the morning."