The next several hours were spent in pained silence.
Freud had nothing to do but think over possible escape plans and try not to think about how much pain he was in, or how hungry he was. The growling of his stomach had him hunched over, and he felt sickened by the stench of his own blood in the air.
The silence would have been almost deafening if it weren't for the shuffling of the guard outside, and Freud's own thoughts. Again and again, he tried to call out to Afrien, only to lose a precious piece of hope every time there came no answer.
Freud wasn't sure how long he had been laying on the cold, hard floor of the cell. It could have been a day, for all he knew. All that he could surmise was that hours had passed. At some point, he must have fallen briefly asleep, for there was a lapsed path in his memory paved by blissful darkness. He awoke with a groan, fingers twitching as he tried to reach towards his throbbing head.
It was too bad that it wasn't all just a nightmare.
As time went on, Freud came to realize that the guards switched every hour. Wincing at how macabre it was, he nonetheless quietly painted the hours that had passed on the floor, in his own blood.
Five hours passed ever-so-slowly before the door creaked open once more. Freud looked up slowly and found himself oddly disappointed when it was just a guard. That disappointment was sharply retracted as soon as he realized the guard was carrying food. A thick, hearty looking stew.
"Our lord ordered to bring this to you," The guard said briefly, looking down at him with poorly masked pity in her eyes.
Perfect; that can be exploited, Freud shrewdly noted despite his overwhelming hunger.
"I'll uncuff you so you can eat, but I'll have you know that there's no chance of you escaping," The guardswoman kept her hand on her sword in a subtly threatening manner. Freud nodded briefly.
Click. She unlocked the handcuffs. Despite his hunger, Freud managed to refrain from eating too quickly and thusly causing himself to vomit.
"Thank you," Freud murmured politely, "Would you mind telling me where we are?"
The woman scrutinized him with her plain grey eyes. A moment passed before she replied, "We are in the mountains of El Nath."
Freud looked surprised. That had been... Far too easy.
"The only reason I don't mind telling you is that anyone could tell you we're practically in the middle of nowhere. Even if you made it out of here, you'd freeze to death before reaching any sort of civilization," She explained, once again with the look of pity.
Ah. Just Freud's luck.
Too weary to think on the matter any longer, Freud sighed and layed down on the hard floor, feeling his body aching, and let his burning eyes fall shut. He fell into a fitful sleep.
The days passed slowly. Freud spent much of the time sleeping, and when he wasn't sleeping, he was counting the hours that had passed. The guards would bring him food and water three times per day. Although it wasn't pleasant, Freud realized that this wasn't the kind of torture he had expected from a man such as the one holding him captive.
Nonetheless, Freud was self-observant enough to recognize that he was falling into a depression. Hopelessness plagued his mind, making him wonder if the other heroes, his friends, were even still alive. How long would it be before he saw the light of day once more?
Phantom, Mercedes, Luminous, Aran... I miss you,
Sometimes, in his unrestful sleep, Freud dreamt that they came to save him.
It was becoming routine, until one day, something different happened.
The familiar sound of the lock on the cell rattling jarred Freud from his dreamless sleep. He opened his bleary eyes slowly, expecting a guard to be bringing him food, but instead, a man entered and set something down on the floor in front of Freud. The dragon master's fingers curled as he sat up and stretched, and breathed in.
The oh so familiar scent of books hit the redhead like a blow, achingly reminding him of his study, where he had fallen asleep in many times, only to be roused with a gentle smile from Mercedes, or a laughing grin on Phantom's part, as he lightly uttered 'Woe is your bed, unused as it is. You ought to sleep where you're intended to. You'll catch a cold, don't you know?'
Freud blinked and the reminiscent memories that flashed before his eyes faded. Instead, it was a stack of leather-bound books that were before them.
"I was ordered to give these to you," The guard explained, flashing Freud a friendly smile.
Freud cast the man a brief nod before cracking open one of the books and peering at it.
From then on, Freud bided his time reading the books given to him. Still, he had to wonder about the intentions behind the books.
Freud scoffed, wondering if the Black Mage (Or rather, Lux) considered himself a benevolent 'ruler' by doing this.
Whatever the case, Freud found himself strangely appreciative of the gift.