It was an early evening in the next day. Commander Wirlun had finished reading the reports of the day and was ready to go back home to his wife, Magga. Wirlun and Magga had been married for over half a century, but married life was not always easy for Wirlun. Magga had always been quick to anger and slow to forgive. When they argued, which was often, Wirlun would usually end up having to spend a week or two ’in the doghouse’, in other words working and sleeping in his office above the outer gates of Zigil-jâbal. Yesterday Wirlun and Magga had finally made up after a long banishment period and Wirlun had had the luxury of sleeping in his own bed beside his wife for a change. This evening Wirlun was in a hurry because Magga was expecting guests at eight and it would take at least a week before he was allowed back home if he would embarrass Magga in front of her relatives by being late for supper again.
Wirlun locked the office door and walked towards the exit of the hallway. Frimron had already left for the day. When Wirlun was in the doghouse he would take it out on Frimron by making the adjutant work (or snooze behind his desk) all night with him, but when things were fine between Wirlun and Magga he would feel generous and often allow Frimron to leave early.
Wirlun descended the stairs to the outer gates, walked through the entrance tunnel and the inner gates to the Great Hall. Near the entrance to the residential hall he was approached by two guards. Wirlun had never spoken to either of them before, but he remembered their names – Khoror and Grofin. He frowned. He did not have time for delays and interruptions tonight.
”Yes, what is it?” Wirlun asked impatiently. ”I’m in a hurry tonight. Have to be at home before…”
”Commander, I’m afraid we will have to ask you to come with us”, Khoror said. ”It would be easier if you don’t resist, but we are prepared to put you in irons if you do.”
”What?” Wirlun gasped, flabbergasted. He was sure he had misheard. ”Excuse me, come again?”
”I’m afraid we will have to ask you to come with us, Commander”, Khoror repeated. ”You are under arrest.”
”WHAT? What did you say… for what? I demand to know what I’m being charged with… and by whom!”
”We are not at liberty to tell you anything more than we have already said”, Khoror said. ”Everything will be explained to you in due time. Will you come with us peacefully, or in chains?”
Grofin rattled the shackles ominously.
”Not at liberty to… all right, all right, put that thing away, you fiend! I will come with you peacefully, damn you!” Wirlun would not suffer another insult to his dignity by being dragged away in chains like some common thief through the Great Hall, where somebody might see it!
Khoror and Grofin positioned themselves to either side of Wirlun and started to escort him towards an opening in the wall.
”That is not the entrance to the Pits of Justice!” Wirlun protested. Grofin rattled the shackles again. Wirlun ground his teeth but remained quiet.
The entrance they walked through led to the old iron mines that had been abandoned decades ago after the vein had dried up. Hardly anyone ever visited these old tunnels anymore. Khoror took a burning torch from the side of the entrance and used it to light their way as they walked through the dark, musty mine. The old iron mine was a labyrinth of caverns and tunnels, and Wirlun soon lost all sense of direction as they turned left and right, but Khoror and Grofin seemed to know the way.
Finally they turned to a narrow, long tunnel that led them to a door. It was a heavy oak door reinforced with iron fittings. The door had a small window with sturdy metal bars fitted into it. Grofin took a set of heavy keys hanging from a keyring on his belt and opened the door. Khoror pushed Wirlun on the back and shoved him inside. In the light of the torch Wirlun saw a bed and a small desk. On the desk there were some candles and a flint and steel.
”For your comfort, Commander”, Khoror said. ”But be warned – if you start a fire, nobody will hear your screams from here, and nobody will come to your aid.”
Wirlun stared. As the garrison commander he was supposed to know the blueprint of Zigil-jâbal and be aware of all ongoing building projects, yet he had had no inkling that somebody had built such a facility in the depths of the old iron mines. When had it been constructed, and who had ordered it?
”What is this place?” he asked.
”It’s an old storage room”, Khoror explained. ”We just fitted it with a sturdier door.”
”On who’s orders?”
”Everything will be explained in time. One of us will serve you meals twice a day. If you have any requests, we will do our best to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.”
”My stay?” Wirlun huffed. ”This… this is not legal! This is kidnapping, banditry, treason! I am the garrison commander! I demand to…”
But the door was slammed shut behind Wirlun’s back and the heavy key turned in the lock. Wirlun banged on the door and pushed his shoulder against it, but it would not budge. Wirlun pushed his ear against the door and listened to the footsteps of Khoror and Grofin moving further away as they walked up the tunnel, leaving Wirlun alone in his cell. He screamed and yelled and raged, but only the echo answered, as if mocking him.
