Will

The fat gaoler forcefully shoved Arden down the few remaining steps, almost sending him stumbling to the floor. Arden just about managed to maintain his footing. The immediacy of the cold stone beneath his bare feet sent a jerking shiver through his whole body. He disguised it as best he could. 'Arden Evers, meet your home for the next six moons.' The gaoler chuckled to himself, as he bent to remove the shackles from around Arden's ankles. In the dim light not much could be seen. Only a wide corridor of darkness stretching into the distant gloom, with several doorways on each wall.

The young prisoner was hastily bundled through the last remaining gate, just like an object, not a man. The fat gaoler clanged the heavy, iron gated door shut behind him. Arden momentarily flinched, turning to face the man who seemed to find pleasure in his work. The gaoler nonchalantly shifted several bolt locks into place on the outside of the door, before removing a large set of ringed keys from his belt. Arden kneeled, placing his hands through the narrow opening at the bottom of the door. The gaoler took his time fastening the remaining key locks shut on the door, before reaching down to remove Arden's wrist shackles.

Arden climbed back to his feet. He flexed his right hand, the dull pain beneath the bandage a constant reminder of his injury. A reminder of his guilt. The past day a yellow pus had began leaking from the burn. Balling the hand into a fist was now impossible. The fat gaoler looked him up and down, seemingly weighing up his new tenant.

'A point of mutual interest.', the gaoler proclaimed. Arden stood, attentive. 'Yes?', he earnestly enquired. A minute's silence, the fat gaoler pursing his lips before continuing. 'Do you value your life?', was the question, asked with apparent ease. 'Of course.', Arden gave his answer immediately. 'Would you like to keep your life?', the gaoler continued to press with this uncomfortable line of questioning. 'Of course I would.', Arden's answer quicker than his last.

Again the fat gaoler stood silent, seemingly weighing the young prisoner and taking stock of his responses. The awkward conversation carried on, only one of the two participants garnering enjoyment from it. 'Well, have you ever taken a man inside you?' the gaoler snickered. The sight of those wobbling, stubbly double chins, with a drip of the evenings gravy dried upon them only served to heighten Arden's horror. 'What is your meaning?!', his reply, a little taken aback. 'Well.', continued the gaoler, taking pleasure in the clear signs of disturbance upon his prisoner's face, 'To put it simpler. Have you ever engaged in any type of sexual activity with another man? Or perhaps a group of men?'

For a second Arden could not believe his ears. He blinked a couple of times, doubting if he'd heard the man correctly. He knew he had. 'Most definately not.', his hasty response. The gaoler's facial expression took a somber turn. He took the time to scratch behind one of his plug-like ears, and to flatten his thinning brown hair across his head, before wiping the gathering beads of sweat away from his brow. 'See, the thing is.. you can't have one without the other.' At this the fat gaoler could no longer hide his amusement.

He guffawed loudly, putting a hand over his mouth to stifle himself. 'A trifle impossible. A young, fit man such as yourself, leaving here with both his life and his sexual dignity. Not a chance. A few of the guards like to put a bet on how long the new prisoner's will last. A couple may even want a piece of the action.'

The fat gaoler clearly found all of this hilarious. Arden was of a different point of view entirely. He found himself both shocked and horrified in equal measures. The gaoler wished him luck, before turning and taking his leave, back up the steps from whence the pair of them had descended only minutes earlier. Arden bristled at the clear insincerity in the gaoler's parting words.

Only now did Arden begin to take in his surroundings, his eyes having adjusted sufficiently to the dim lighting. The only sources of light being a couple of miniscule, barred windows located some ten feet up from the floor. No chance of escape, not even for a contortionist. Several chanderliers hung high in the corridor. Of a crude build, the majority of the candles had either extinguished or melted. The light they gave off was minimal. The walls and ceilings looked to be made of the same stone as the floor beneath him. A grey stone, showing signs of charring in places. Cobwebs. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. At this moment spiders were the least of Arden's concerns.

As he slowly made his way further along the prison corridor he began to make out faces in several of the darkened doorways. No ordinary faces. No friendly faces. No invitation in any of them. Only hard, forbidding faces. Worn and tired looking faces. Hungry faces. Feralness apparant in a couple of them. The possibility of these faces belonging to men who had overheard the conversation between himself and the fat gaoler made Arden feel a deep sense of worry. The fact he was going to have to pick one of these cells as his own made him feel sick to his stomach.