Vilyn and Gold-Heart sat opposite each other in the prison mess hall. Octavian stood behind Gold-Heart, and the Breton he'd seen in the cell, Guilbert Lelles, stood behind Vilyn. Octavian had learnt that these were the identities of these two shortly after he'd first seen them in the cells near his own. They were wizards. That was why they were locked up so tight. Apparently, they'd killed a handful of Argonians in the backalleys somewhere in the East Side. When he looked at Vilyn and saw those bloodruby eyes and the scars in his face that seemed to ooze and glow with magicka he had no doubt that he certainly had the power to pull that off. But when he looked at Guilbert, the nervous, shifty highborn Breton... his doubts were raised. Mr Lelles looked little older than a schoolboy, with all of the inexperience to boot. He frequently glanced around nervously at the other prisoners. He didn't belong among them, any more than Octavian did. But Vilyn did. There was an icy killer with no regrets behind that stony face. Octavian could feel it.
Both men spoke in hushed tones, lest the guards overhear them, but they were debating with energy. Vilyn leaned on the desk, frozen in place, his eyes never leaving the Argonian. Gold-Heart reacted to the dark elf's quips with lightning smiles and light laughter, but the way his lizard tongue frequently darted out and licked his lips showed his nerves. Around both parties, the prisoners had gathered to watch and listen. Both men had a plan to escape, so naturally they had arranged to meet and discuss how it would be done. Every part of Vilyn's countenance suggested that he hated the idea of working with the mercenary, but his desire to get out alive had won out in the end, so here he was.
The Dunmer spoke. "Gold-Heart. Bit of a pretentious name, isn't it?" There was an undertone to his voice that seemed to crackle like fire.
"They call me Gold-Heart because my loyalty belongs to the highest bidder, not because I'm kind."
"Just as treacherous as the rest of your kind, then. Shame. I was intrigued to see how an Argonian who fancied himself a hero behaved."
Gold-Heart's face was unreadable, but his spines rippled. "You won't find many heroes in general searching in prison cells. If you want to meet an Argonian hero, go to Argonia, there are thousands of them." That raised a few laughs from amongst the prisoners.
"I don't like what you're insinuating, lizard."
"I bet you don't. You're a Telvanni, correct? You've got that unique breed of Telvanni charm about you." Another bout of laughter. A few now eyed the Dunmer, waiting for an equally witty reply.
"Very funny," the Dunmer answered. "You know what else would be funny? I could just roast you in your scales with a click of my fingers." That didn't win him so much support. Fool, Octavian thought. Most of these men around you are Redguard. They have a deep mislike of magic.
"That would be hilarious. Except you can't. Because the guards clamped you. What a tragedy."
"Are you two going to be like this the whole time?" The snooty Breton said suddenly. They both looked at him, surprised. "I'm just saying, you're supposed to be here reaching a decision, aren't you? So far, you haven't gotten anywhere."
"Your boy speaks some sense," Gold-Heart said. "Arguing amongst ourselves won't get us very far."
"So what do you propose? We work together? I'm not working under an Argonian," the Dunmer said.
"Well, I guess you'll just have to stay here, won't you?" Gold-Heart said mildly. He was winning the majority of the prison's support before he'd even laid his plan down. And Octavian was convinced that Gold-Heart's plan was foolproof. Then again, if the Dunmer's proved better, he wouldn't hesitate to back him instead. Whichever offered him the best chance of breaking out of here and getting back to Tullius, and telling him what had happened in the Dragontails. He couldn't wait to see the look on Cirroc's face when the legion hauled his slippery hide back to Skyrim.
"So how do you plan to get us out of here, exactly? Enlighten me." Vilyn was getting aggravated.
Gold-Heart made a show of cleaning dirt from beneath his nails. "Easy. I've found myself in dozens of war prisons in my time. I'm sure you've heard of the Nightdown Disaster at Blacklight, a couple of years back?" Everyone knew about the Nightdown Disaster, where a thousand Argonian prisoners of war had escaped a Dunmer dungeon. Octavian was sure he'd chosen that example just to rile Vilyn further, and it seemed to work.
Vilyn shook his head impatiently. "What of it?"
"Instigated by yours truly." He looked around at the others, the thieves, muggers, thugs and beggars, addressing them now. "I can break out of anywhere. And I can break all of you out, too, if you'll follow me."
"So you can pick some locks. That's a good trick. But what then? Break us all out and then make a mad dash for the desert?" the Dunmer said drily. "We'd never be able to sneak out of here. In case you haven't noticed, it's a lot harder to get three hundred men out undetected than one." Vilyn made a good point, and a couple of concurring nods reinforced that.
"Of course not. Who said anything about stealth? The garrison here is a hundred strong. We have three hundred. We have the numbers, and we'd have surprise on our side. That makes up nine-tenths of a battle, so I've learned in my time. But this needs to be a co-ordinated effort. Across the prison." That means I need your support, that last statement almost said.
The Dunmer scoffed. "How do you plan to do that?"
Gold-Heart grinned. "I think your Breton friend is more resourceful than any of us gave him credit for."
Octavian looked at the Breton. He was holding up a small red flower. "Invisibility," he said as if it needed explaining.
"Very well played," Gold-Heart said. "So, here's what I propose: We wait for the guard. When he arrives, I'll swipe his key. I'll toss it to your friend here, and he can move around the prison unseen and unlock the other cells. Then, we wait for a signal – say, sunset, or something – and storm the place. By the time they realise what's happening we'll hold every tower and gate in the complex, and after that it's just a matter of picking off the survivors."
Colour drained from the Breton's face. "...Me? Surely not... someone else?"
"You're the only alchemist here. You're the safer bet." Octavian said. Gold-Heart smiled.
"I take it you're in then, Octavian?"
Octavian didn't like it as much as he could, he admitted. Not breaking out so many lawbreakers. But... it was necessary. He and Gold-Heart were innocent – he knew that because they were both brought here from the battlefield. He still didn't know about the other two, but he doubted Guilbert would have played a big role in the massacre. Besides, the criminals wouldn't last long once they got onto the streets of the city. Octavian would slip away, regroup with Hadvar and head straight for the stables, rustle a pair of horses, and be half-way to Solitude before Cirroc restored order. If Gold-Heart wanted to accompany them, that was his choice, but he wouldn't be waiting up. "I'll do it, yes."
Vilyn hadn't even had time to state his plan, but he must have guessed he'd never win their support, because he only suggested an improvement to Gold-Heart's."There's just one thing I'd change. Give me the flower. I know more about alchemy than the boy. And, I know a lock-cracking spell. No need to trouble the guard and risk detection swiping a key." It was very clever by Vilyn, taking Gold-Heart's role out of the plan, and giving himself the leading position. But many of the men around them seemed to agree, and there was no way Gold-Heart could reject it, not with good reason. So he reluctantly conceded.
"Oh, and we're stopping by the jailmaster's office before we leave. I want my dagger back."
The statement obviously perplexed Gold-Heart as much as it did Octavian, because he shrugged and said "okay, fine," but the Breton was smiling. It was unnerving, but Octavian had no time to dwell on that now.
Because they were agreed. They were breaking out of Dragonstar Prison at sundown.