Prolog

He was sitting in his cell for weeks now, and had already given up the hope of being released soon after the first few days. His cell was dark, with no windows; the only contact to the outside world was a single metal door. The floor was made out of cold stone and the walls were dripping with moisture that was trapped inside.

Sometimes the door opened for a quick moment but only when he was given food and water, the light often blinded him and whenever he was allowed out his captors pulled a linen bag over his head. Today was one of those days. The door slammed open and four guards clad in chainmail armor walked in to cuff him. Once again a bag was pulled over his head and immediately they began to shove him outside into the "free" world.

Once outside, he could feel the warmth of the stone on his feet. Next he noticed the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore and the smell of salty seawater hit his nose reminding him of the first day he was brought to this wretched place.

His captors were not torturing him; they haven't laid a single finger on him since his capture. He clenched his teeth on the thought of his comrades and friends; he is being stalled here while they need him the most. He hated the fact that he is unable to aid them in the time of need.

Soon they reached their destination; he heard a door opening and closing. He was shoved in and was forced to sit down on a wooden chair, before him was a small and rough wooden table. He heard that someone exchanged a few words in Waldian then the door opened up and closed once again, this time being locked for real.

He heard steps, there was someone with him in the room, the steps circled him, he could clearly hear the slow and steady tapping of leather boots. It stopped for a while, he felt that his "host" leaned closer, inspecting him from the side, then with a smooth and quick motion he ripped the bag off his head.

They were in a small interrogation chamber, one small window was all that gave the comfort of light, and the rest of the room was lit by a lantern that was placed before him on the table. The room was neither cold nor warm, he looked at the door which they came in and before him was another chair for his "host" to sit on.

- I zee your zenzez have already adjuzted to dee light.- A man around his early thirties walked around him and sat down on the chair before him. He was wearing a brown trench coat, light brown but matching pants, dirtied boots that reached up to his knees and brown leather gloves.

- Forgive uz for dee rough treatment, mein freund. But you muzt zee dat deez are not pleazent timez.- His host took out a golden medal, with a silver Aquila engraved on one side and the skits of a saint on the other, then placed it on the table. – You know who I might be?–

- No, but I do know what you are. – He spat the last word at him.

- Dee zame thing, mein freund.–

- I'm not your friend, what do you want with me? – He asked giving his host an angry scowl.

- Dee truth, dee truth about dee relic which you and your "companionz" ztolle.–

- I don't know what you are yapping about.–

- Dee relic! Dee Tear of St. Clervoux, you imbecile! Dee one you and your company ztolle from the Free City of Drestungstad! – He quickly lost his patience and slammed his fist on the table to emphasize the words relic, you and Drestungstad.

- We stole shite; on the contrary we saved it.–

- Ohoho, zo you were juzt happen to be there, during dee ziege and trying to protect Dee Tear?–

- It's more complicated than that. – He muttered under his breath.

- No, mein freund. There iz no other ezplanation to it. – He pushed the medal and the lantern away to the side of the table and put out a stack of letters. – Dieser Briefe povez you and your Kollegen haz aligned themzelvez with Marganth and dee dragon folk, dee Drakken namely!-

- What can you expect from sellswords and mercenaries? – He admitted silently.

- Talk! I want to hear it! -

- What do you want me to say?–

- Dee confezzion of your crimes! – He stood up and leaned closer to him from the other side of the table. - Everything, all of it! Dee truth and only Dee truth! –


So this is the prolog of the new fanfiction I wrote together with the help of LoVe23. We hope you'll enjoy it as much as Project:S.O.U.L, although this story will be much more dark and gory in some bits, so I'll rate it M just in case and also any names,events and places that will appear in this story are the work of fiction. If any of those above appear in the real world that is just the work of coincidence.

Please enjoy and feel free to review.