With a final crack of the rock, Rex had split your chains in two. He discarded the lump of stone and admired his handiwork. 

"What do you think? Does it look convincing enough?" You said, fiddling with the severed iron links on your shackles. 

"Those idiots couldn't tell a slave from a king. Everything will be fine." 

Your hands jittered with anticipation. "Are you ready?"

Rex smiled and patted your shoulder. "Whenever you are." 

You inhaled a shaky gulp of air. After you had finished internally reciting a short prayer to the Rukh, you mustered up all your courage and began to shout for the guards. 

A set of particularly annoyed footsteps stamped their way towards you. "What is it?! I swear, if it's another plea for freedom, I am going to tear my hair out! " 

An agitated man appeared behind the bars in a flurry of complaints. 

"I think there's something wrong with my chains." You pouted. "Could you look at them, please?"

The guard's seething subsided, he stepped in and bent over with a huff. Rex slinked closer to the gate and gave you the thumbs up. 

"It looks like they have been-" The brute was interrupted by a savage kick to the nose. He howled horribly and clutched his bloody face. He flailed at you wildly, only to receive a strike to the back of the legs. He crashed to the ground and in a flash, Rex materialized on top him. Rex pinned the guard's arms to the floor with his own sturdy pair. 

"Go!" Rex called. 

Weaving around the guard's thrashing legs, you managed to restrain one of them. You pried off his shoe and proceeded to peel his sock away. You balled up the rancid-smelling item and stuck it into the guard's mouth. Successfully gagged, the guard writhed and moaned even more. You seized the keyring clipped to his belt and then struggled to remove the coal-colored, burlap sack tied along with it. The same bag that a slaver would shove over his victim's head in order to blind them. To scare them, to make them docile, not willing to resist.

In an ironic twist, you forced the sack over the bandit's greasy head, securing it with a braid that would make the Gordian knot jealous. Lastly, you utilized his leather belt to bind his wrists together. The lout squirmed a little and then finally accepted his fate.

Justice was served.

Now that the fight had ended, you slumped against the wall, completely drained. You could feel the energy, the magoi, being torn from your muscles. Those blasted shackles!

Rex popped off his target and onto his feet. "Hey, nice work. Let me help you with those." Rex claimed the keyring from you and gingerly slipped the bonds off your ankles. "There. Better?"

You cringed at the inflamed, serrated flesh where the chains had grinded into your ankle. A powerful queasiness began to churn in you gut. 

"I'm fine. Let's...let's move on." 

Staggering from the wall, you enjoyed your first few steps, unhindered.

"How's that for a plea?" Rex leaned over the guard and flicked him on the head, before spinning and walking out of the cell.

You giggled at his antics. "Come on, you. We have to make a little pitstop."

It must have been nighttime for the many corridors of Melichor's prison were vacant. Your party traversed the darkened halls with relative inactivity. After a good half-hour into your trek, you arrived at your destination. 

Two slabs of iron rose from the floor and came together in an arch, forming the entrance into a vault.

"Here is the single most valuable place in the prison: the armory."

You witnessed Rex's eyes take on a hungry glow. 

"Let's enter carefully; there could be security or-"

Your warnings fell on deaf ears. Rex strode forward and drove his forearm into the metal. The portal slithered across the ground with a thunderous rumble. You could only wince at the uproar.

You would have gladly scolded him; however, the magnificent chamber before you had stolen your breath away. Before, you could only imagine what waited past those doors; now, you could barely comprehend it. 

A world of steel, gold and silver sprawled before you. It had evidently been constructed upon a vast cavern; the air tasted of a stale, musty moisture. A string of stalagmites spiraled up from between the glossy tiles of slate and were wreathed in loops of polished jewelry, each nestling in a pool of gold doubloons. Multiple trains of shelving ran from one wall to the other, only breaking to grant crossing between one track of racks to another.

You marvelled at the brilliant gallery of armor and weapons. As you were cruising from display to display, a particular set of leather greaves caught your eye. You strapped on the rugged greaves and grabbed their matching pair of boots. 

"Hey, Rex!" You skipped over to your new friend. Rex was examining an intimidating scimitar. He had shed his worn clothing and was swaddled in a set of pristine, linen robes. "Wow. Those look like they were tailored just for you... Speaking of perfect fits, check out this armor! Melichor is not going to stand a chance."

His eyes met yours, as kind and determined as ever. "Are you sure this is what you want? I would feel absolutely awful in having such a delicate flower fight my battles for me." 

You squinted at him. A bulky, steel sword was glinting on the ground next to you. You yanked the oversized sword off the ground with a grunt. 

"This, this isn't your battle. I've wanted Melichor's head for fourteen years. I am NOT stopping now, dainty flower or not."

You arms began to wobble, turning to gelatin. A smirk crept onto Rex's features. 

"Fine, but you are going to need something more your size, Milady." He sniggered. 

Snickering all the way, he went over to one of the shelves and salvaged a dull, pathetic dirk from what appeared to be a trash pile. You snatched it from him and took it upon yourself to  scrutinize every scratch or dent in the blade. 

"This could barely slice warm butter!"

"Good thing we aren't cooking. You know, you could always wait here, Milady..."

"And let you get to Melichor first? I think not. AND STOP CALLING ME MILADY!" You directed your sour glares off to some nonexistent thing to your right. "I'm just some no-name slave, that's all." 

You risked a glance at Rex and immediately regretted it. He radiated a warm, comforting aura despite the trace of sorrow in his eyes. "I'm sorry you feel that way." He searched your face a moment longer, spun and walked towards the exit and gestured for you to follow. "Are you coming...Madame?"

You were winding up to deliver a heated lecture, when rowdy voices boomed from outside the armory doors. 

"Yeah. They said they found Gerald tied up in one of the cells." grumbled one.

The other cackled in response. "That idiot, I bet he's really tasting de-feet!"

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, like, because he had a sock in his mouth? Heh, get it?" 

"Sure, whatever."

"I thought it was funny..." The other whinned. 

Skittering behind one of the shelves, you flattened yourself against the frame with your back to the entrance. Rex had claimed the line of shelves to your right, leaving you divided by the wide walkway. 

"Hey, look. The armory wasn't open when we were here earlier. Stay here, funny-guy."

The bellowing of the door reverberated throughout the grotto. Footsteps echoed from all round as the lone watchman plodded along. A dense pit settled at the bottom of your stomach. You realized the footfalls were advancing down your aisle. 

You threw a confused look at Rex. He grinned cheekily and winked. As silently as possible, Rex scooted over to a stalagmite on his side and snapped of the tip. He tossed the chunk of minerals in his hand while waiting for the watchman to get closer. As the man drew nearer, Rex lobbed the nugget over a case. It landed two rows down from both of your hiding spots. A small clack bounced around the, otherwise mute, maze of treasure.

The rattling of armour reached you from over your right shoulder where the slaver had jumped. Inching past you, the guard seemed fixated on locating the noise's source; he was completely oblivious to you or your partner. Rex motioned for you to send the blade to him. It completed a full revolution before being plucked from the air. In one fluid act, Rex jerked the weapon downwards, whipped it up and cracked the guard on the back of the head with the butt. The formerly imposing man tottered then impacted the earth, like a felled log.

Rex tugged at your arm and told you to follow. He edged towards the yellow light that streamed through the skinny gap in the doors. Every once in awhile, a silhouette would break the ray as he peered in the room. 

A firm arm secured itself around your waist, pulling you to Rex. A startled squeak escaped your mouth, "Eeep!"

"Are you alright, Bud?" You heard the jokester inquire, worry seeping into his voice.  

You glowered at the Rex. 

What is he up to?

"You are definitely not going to like this," he whispered.

Scooping you up with one arm, he used the other to tickle away at your sides. You resisted as long as you could, but eventually, laughter erupted from you. 

"Heh," the watchman said, wandering into the room. "Looks like you've discovered my comedy gold. Get it? This place is filled with loot." 

Rex pounced at him, sword drawn.  "Oh, we got it alright. Now, get us to Melichor." 

The remaining watchman gripped his spear tighter. "Why would I do that?" 

"Because," You prodded him in the back with the tip of the dirk. "We have an appointment." 

The jokester trembled and whined, but reluctantly led you through Melichor's labyrinth. Late into the night, as you were starting to suspect your guide has been leading you astray, he halted. 

Bowing deeply, he introduced you to a massive set of ornate spruce doors. They soared a staggering twelve heads above you, reminding of you some sinful, perverted temple. The shadow images of history were burned into the burnished wood. The irregular shapes and jagged lines culminated in a tribute to the slavers' revolting crimes; ancient scenes of hatred that are still illustrated to this day. 

A troop of gnarled, sinister gargoyles defended the aperture. The eerie statues sneered at you from either side of the passage, eye gleaming manically and teeth bared fiendishly. 

"This is it. I'm certain." Rex announced. He addressed the escort with a serious tone. "Leave this place, renounce Melichor and you will live to tell more bad jokes." 

The escort thanked him effusively and skittered off into the prison with a grateful expression. 

Both of you approached the entrance. You traced the engravings with a jittery hand. It emitted a cool sensation and, more notably, uncertainty. 

Eyes wide, you sought an answer from Rex, the very man who helped you make it here. He rested his palms on the spruce surface and faced you. 

"Flower or not, right?" He chuckled softly. 

You steeled your nerves. "Right." 

Dirk in hand, you summoned all of your courage and launched all your force at the door. 

Retribution awaited.