Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Canna and Kael spent the next half day learning more than they ever anticipated. The dungeon, which had initially seemed like a pit of despair, turned out to be a goldmine of valuable information. The people imprisoned here weren't just criminals—they were the very individuals who kept the Kingdom of Arenthia running from the shadows.

Canna discovered that it wasn't just dwarves who had been enslaved under the pretense of rewards and opportunities. There were scholars who had once handled the kingdom's lawmaking and political strategies, researchers who had pushed the boundaries of knowledge in various fields, and even gnomes who had been lured with promises of great rewards to tend the royal gardens.

Every one of them, betrayed and enslaved, now languished in the depths of the dungeon.

As Canna continued his conversation with the dwarf he had first spoken to, he couldn't help but find humor in the situation despite the grim surroundings.

"So, let me get this straight," Canna said, grinning. "You dwarves were promised gold, riches, and maybe a pint or two of the finest ale in exchange for your work, only to end up with nothing but these chains?"

The dwarf gave a dry chuckle, his rough voice echoing in the stone chamber. "Aye, lad. And if that weren't insult enough, the ale they did give us was piss water compared to what we make back home. Almost makes the slavery worse."

Kael, listening in, shook his head with a wry smile. "Only you would be more offended by the quality of the ale than the actual enslavement."

Canna laughed. "Well, I suppose that's a dwarf for you. But I have to say, it's not just the dwarves that got a raw deal here. Scholars, researchers, gnomes... All of you were essential to the kingdom, and this is how they repay you?"

Another voice chimed in from a nearby cell. "Oh, they promised us the moon and stars, lad. Said we'd be well compensated for our work, and instead, we get the whip and chain. Makes you wonder why anyone still believes a word the nobles say."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other prisoners, their voices tinged with bitterness and resignation.

Canna's expression grew serious. "Listen, everyone. I know you're all traumatized by what's happened here, but I have an offer—one that's real, not some empty promise."

The murmuring stopped, and the dungeon grew quiet as the prisoners strained to hear what Canna had to say. For the first time in a long while, they heard something that piqued their interest.

Canna continued, his voice steady and resolute. "Work for me. I need talented people like you—dwarves, scholars, researchers, gnomes. I have facilities that need building, knowledge that needs expanding, and a place that could benefit greatly from your skills. I don't even need to ask about your qualifications; you were running the kingdom from behind bars, after all. What do you say?

Help me build something better than this wretched kingdom."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the quiet was broken by a sudden burst of laughter—booming, sarcastic laughter that spread through the dungeon like wildfire. Even the dwarves joined in, their rough guffaws echoing off the stone walls.

"Sure, go ahead," one voice called out, dripping with sarcasm.

"Why not? Let's all just waltz out of here," another added.

"Alright, we're all up," a third prisoner said, still laughing.

Canna's excitement at their initial response was quickly dashed when Kael tapped him on the shoulder, his expression one of resignation. "It's sarcasm, Canna," he said quietly.

As if to confirm Kael's words, more voices chimed in, their tones turning angry and bitter.

"YOU THINK WE DON'T WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE?"

"DID YOU NOT LISTEN WHEN WE SAID THEY ONLY FUND THE MILITARY? THIS DUNGEON IS PART OF THE MILITARY, YOU IDIOT!"

"IF WE COULD'VE ESCAPED, WE WOULD'VE DONE IT LONG AGO!"

The chorus of frustrated voices grew louder, but Canna silenced them with a single sound—a sharp clink as he dropped his cuffs to the ground. The noise echoed ominously in the dungeon, and the room fell into stunned silence.

"These cuffs were meant for humans," Canna said, his voice calm as mana surged back into his body. With one clean cut, he severed Kael's chains as well, freeing his companion.

"Alright," Canna said, his tone shifting to one of determination. "I think I've had enough of this. Mortem, what's the status of your report?"

The darkness in the dungeon seemed to thicken as a cold, deathly presence filled the air. The prisoners couldn't see Mortem, but they could feel him—an aura of death that made their skin crawl and their hearts pound in their chests.

Mortem appeared from the shadows, his eyes glowing with an eerie light as he surveyed the room, particularly focusing on the one who had dared to call his master an idiot.

"There's a lot of corruption in this kingdom," Mortem began, his voice as cold as the grave. "The nobles misuse their power constantly, bleeding the people dry while they grow fat and wealthy. There are seventeen orphanages under the control of the slave markets, each with at least a thousand children.

These children are of various races, not just humans, and they're being sold to different noble households as toys."

Canna's blood began to boil as he listened to Mortem's report. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes burned with a righteous fury. The sheer scope of the corruption and the cruelty inflicted on the innocent was almost too much to bear.

"And Master," Mortem continued, his tone growing even darker, "I found the noble responsible for what happened to Mira."

Canna's rage reached a boiling point, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light. "Ohhh, now that's really interesting."

Without another word, Canna kicked the gate of his cell off its hinges, the iron door crashing to the ground with a deafening clang.

He stepped out into the corridor, his presence commanding the attention of every prisoner in the dungeon. They stared at him in shock and awe, unable to believe what they were seeing.

Canna looked at the assembled prisoners, his voice firm and unwavering. "Do you want to be free and work with me, or do you want to rot in here?"

The prisoners were silent for a moment, the weight of Canna's words sinking in. They could see that he was serious, that he had the power to back up his offer. There was no sarcasm now, no bitterness—only the stark choice before them.

One by one, the prisoners began to speak, their voices filled with newfound hope.

"I'll work for you," the dwarf from earlier said, stepping forward.

"Me too," a scholar added, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Count us in," the gnomes chimed in, their eyes gleaming with determination.

Soon, the entire dungeon was filled with voices of agreement, the prisoners eager to seize the chance at freedom and a new life. For the first time in a long time, they had something to fight for—a purpose beyond the cold, dark walls of the dungeon.

Canna nodded, satisfied with their response. "Good. Then let's get out of here and start building something better."

With a wave of his hand, Canna's magic surged, and the chains that bound the prisoners fell away, clattering to the ground. The prisoners looked at their newfound freedom in disbelief, then at Canna, the one who made this all possible.

Mortem's cold voice cut through the murmurs of hope and relief, "Master, the noble responsible for Mira is close. Shall we take care of that, too?"

Canna's eyes hardened, and he nodded. "Let's pay him a visit."

The group, now free from their chains, followed Canna with determination. The time for change had come, and with Canna leading the way, they were ready to face whatever lay ahead, even if it meant bringing an entire kingdom to its knees.