The smell of fear never bothered Merasiel before. At least, not until it was her own.

“Please, mercy! I have money, I can pay you! Let me live!”

Merasiel silently stared down the man before her. She was not afraid; the cloth wrapped around her head served to disguise her features. In any case, the man wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone. A minor noble, who in a fit of insanity, tried to improve his station by hiring a pair of thugs to kidnap the eldest son of one of his rivals and deliver him to slavers. A common story, with an all-to-common ending. The would-be kidnappers had failed, and had squealed when placed under the slightest of duress.

“Please!” Sweat trickled down the man’s face, and he looked over his shoulder at the dark hole behind his feet. “I swear to you, I did not commit any crimes.”

Merasiel chuckled. “I’m not paid to care. Lord Rufus and his son send their regards.” With no other preamble, she shoved him off the edge. A moment later, a series of splashes echoed from below. This particular fate had been chosen by her employer. She almost admired his imagination. The fall would, of course, be cushioned by the water below. He might have received a bruise from hitting the water at an odd angle, but nothing more. But, and she looked up at the nearby ocean, there was a particularly nasty breed of fish that liked to visit this cave during high tide. Their bite would make his last moments on this world very unpleasant.

She waited until his screams stopped before leaving. All part of the job, of course.

Merasiel’s head snapped back as a gauntleted hand connected with her jaw. The faint taste of blood let her know that her lip was cracked open this time.

“I asked you a question, elf. What were you doing skulking about the Baroness’ estate?”

Merasiel had to fight the urge to laugh. It was a comedy of errors, sadly. Merasiel had been hired by the Ladyship herself to pay a visit to one of the other minor nobles and “discourage” him from his continued rivalry with the allies of the house of Moirea. She was on her way back to report on her success and be paid when she stumbled upon a dark cloaked figure leaving the estate, followed by the sound of the alarm being raised. A very messy fight soon followed, which led to both of them fleeing on foot when a passerby called for the guard.

Merasiel had no idea how the guard managed to track her down at the inn where she was staying, but over the next few hours, she was able to piece together at least some of what happened. Apparently the figure she had run into was a simple thief and had made off with a few valuables. Merasiel, of course, was fingered by the Baroness’ staff as having been seen skulking around the premises earlier in the evening and looking very shady at that. The Baroness herself claimed no knowledge of Merasiel and Merasiel, of course, couldn’t reveal the truth behind her presence in the estate as it would implicate her employer and break terms of the contract. In the end, the guardsmen decided that there was no need to look further for the thief, and Merasiel found herself subject of an interrogation for a crime she had no part in.

Merasiel’s mind snapped back to the present as a blow landed to her belly and she doubled over in pain. Her ears were ringing from the repeated blows she’d endured, and it wasn’t until a new voice spoke that she realized that someone else had entered the room.”She won’t speak, Captain.”

“It matters not. She is a common thief and we will not waste the judge’s time with her.” The “Captain” reached out a hand and hooked a couple of fingers underneath Merasiel’s chin, forcing her gaze upwards. “She looks like she has a bit of spirit in her, doesn’t she? Put her in the Gutter.”

The guard glanced over at the Captain, who noted the silence. “Do you have a problem carrying out this order?”

“No sir.”

“Then you have it. I have word that Lord Proximo will be in need of some new stock in a few days. We’ll see if this one is ready by then.”

After the Captain left, Merasiel spoke for the first time. “What’s the Gutter?”

The “Gutter”, as it turned out, was a long, deep trench where the worst offenders were forgotten until they either died or were sent into slavery. Sections were barred off, but still there were a handful of prisoners in each one. Food and water were tossed down from above, and those who were strongest were the only ones who ate. The smell was horrendous, but what was worse were the faces that peered up at her from the darkness. Not a one of the prisoners were female.

Merasiel swallowed and felt beads of sweat break out on the back of her neck. “Please. Mercy.” She barely recognized the sound of her own voice as the words came unbidden. The guard unshackled her wrists and shoved her forwards. “I’m not paid to be merciful, miss.” Merasiel’s fall was halted by several pairs of grimy, groping hands.

A short while later, two of those in her cell lay unconscious over by the wall where she left them. The other three were huddled nearby, nursing black eyes and broken noses. One of them had finally managed to get his shoulder back into its socket. Merasiel stood against the other wall of the cell and glared at them. She was hurt badly from the fight, but she was damned if she’d let them see it.

As the week drug on and she had little to do but defend herself from the attentions of her cellmates and think, she reflected on her current state and her mind drifted back to all of the times she had been the recipient of cries for mercy, and all of the times she ignored them. A strange, unfamiliar feeling crept into her consciousness. She had never truly felt remorse before, but now that she was on the receiving end of unnecessary cruelty, the feeling would not go away that this was somehow penance for more than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her thoughts eventually drifted to her former companions as she heard one of the guards tell another about this fantastic show he had seen with amazing magicians and ferocious dragons that had tried to eat ten, no twenty people in the audience! She wondered what they all were up to.

After a week of terrible food and very little sleep, the guards came and lowered a rope ladder for the all of those in Merasiel’s section to climb out, one by one. They were shackled as soon as they were off the ladder, and herded out of a back entrance into a cart bound for the estate of one Lord Proximo.