Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 108 Forgotten son(1)

Chapter 108 Forgotten son(1)

Tiberius pov:

The straw on the floor stank of urine. There was no window, no bed, just a bucket to shit and pee in. He remembered the white floor and wall of his room , the beautiful scenery outside his window.The only thing he could now only sightsee was the shape of his feces, which was also his only entertainment . Once the door had slammed shut, he had seen no more. The dark was absolute. He had as well been blind.He begged days and nights to the men outside the dungeons for a small candle.The first hours he believed they could not hear him.Then finally they maybe took pity as he was given one .

That was two days ago, or so he believed he had no way of knowing apart from when he go to sleep and then wake up , not that it was a reliable way of telling the hour. The glob he was given to eat was hard bread and a soup that was more dirty water than soup.

He was the son of the emperor , illegitimate as he was , still he had eagle blood in him. Has he done anything to deserve this?He knew that mattered little , his very own existence was a slight to the empress and she lost no time immediately after she got power , to sweep that little trouble away from her sight. He could not think of any other reason

The dark silence pressed down like a weight on his chest. He was isolated in every sense of the word, not just from the world, but from hope, from his own sense of worth.

The candle had almost burned itself down. He watched the tiny flame eat away at the last of the wax, its flickering light barely illuminating the edges of his small world. He liked to think the candle was his life—a dim spark that would go out when the wax was finally gone. He even hoped for it. When it ended, perhaps his suffering would end too.

He made plans to keep himself sane, and built castles of hope in the dark, destined to fall .

Tiberius was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; it had been long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to his eyes.

The jailer thrust a jug at him. He grasped it with both hands and gulped . Water ran from his mouth and dripped down through his chin. He drank until he thought he would be sick or that he would die , apart from the dirty soup this was the first drink he had .

The man slid the key into the lock, the metallic click reverberating like music in Tiberius's ears. The door creaked open, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Tiberius saw the corridor beyond his cell—a narrow, dimly lit hallway that stretched into darkness. Freedom, however distant, was suddenly in reach.

"Keep quiet," the man behind him whispered sharply, pressing a finger to his lips as a warning. Tiberius didn't need to be told twice. He nodded eagerly, his fear mingled with a strange relief. They weren't here to kill him—they were rescuing him. But why? What possible reason could anyone have to free him? He was nobody now. No allies. No powerful friends. No titles or lands. Nothing of value to offer anyone. The very act of rescuing him seemed, from his perspective, a fool's errand.

As they pulled him to his feet and ushered him quietly into the corridor, Tiberius's mind whirled with questions. What did they stand to gain from this? What could possibly make this worth their while? He cast one last glance at the unconscious jailer, slumped by the cell door. Why me?

The two men led Tiberius through the dungeon corridors, their footsteps eerily soft against the cold, damp stone floor. They moved with practiced caution, glancing around every corner before signaling him to follow. Tiberius's bare feet padded silently behind them, his heart racing with a mix of fear and hope.

They walked in near silence, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the dungeon. Tiberius, though weak and disoriented, couldn't help but notice how methodical the two men were. They paused at every intersection, waiting and listening, ensuring the way was clear before proceeding. It was a level of care that heightened his confusion. Who were these men?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity winding through the labyrinthine halls, they reached a small wooden door. Tiberius recognized the area immediately, though it made no sense to him. The latrines? It was different from the grand, marble-lined lavatories used by the nobles. This was far simpler, meant for the guards and servants, tucked away in the lower parts of the keep—far from the eyes of anyone important.

The wooden door creaked slightly as one of the men pushed it open. The smell hit Tiberius immediately, a mix of stale air, dampness, and the unmistakable stench of human waste. The stone floors were wet, though not from water alone, and the dim light from the corridor barely penetrated the room. He hesitated, unsure why they had brought him here. This wasn't an escape route—this was a lavatory.

The man in front turned back to him, a brief glance in his direction as if to signal him to enter. Tiberius followed, though confusion gnawed at him. Why here? He had imagined a break for freedom, perhaps leading to an exit or a hidden passageway, but instead, they had led him to this filthy, lowly place.

The answer came to him when the two raised the wooden board where people sat to shit.

This was their way out, freedom would be reached through the shit of dozens of people.