“Guard,” called Farris, careful to keep his tone more diplomatic than before. “You said the Triad’s army was sent to the frontline to hold the horde back. But what about the Churchguard?”

The guard stopped, and then took a moment to reply. “The Churchguard will remain within the Basilica. The Arch-Canon has ordered that the ancient relics and texts of the Church should be protected from whatever threat may enter the city.”

“And you agree with this, that your place is to stay here and guard us, instead of protecting the citizens of Penance?”

“I have my orders,” said the guard. “I will not abandon my post.”

“I understand,” said Farris, staring back at the Simian guard. “I grew up in the Dustworks, in poverty, and I know how important it is to make a living. I’d take the Faith and lick the Arch-Canon’s boots if it meant my family would be clothed and fed.”

The guard’s stern gaze wavered for half a breath, but that was enough for Farris.

“If I was in your position,” he continued, “I would not question anything, either. It’s the Church you serve, not the people of Penance, and that is the life you have chosen. Some Simians may resent you for taking the Faith, but not me. I know what it’s like to go to sleep hungry, night after night. Thanks to your sacrifice, your family will never know that same pain.”

“Whatever you say,” said the guard. He went to leave, but Farris cleared his throat to speak again. When he saw that this caused the guard to stop where he was, Farris knew he had hit a nerve.

“But this night changes everything,” he said, careful not to be too overbearing. “What good are you down here, when the dead are butchering the same people you’ve sworn to serve?” He paused for a moment, letting the silence add to the weight of his words. “Or do you serve the Arch-Canon first, and the people second?”

“You better watch your tongue, or—”

“Or what? You’ll have me killed? Open your eyes. We’re already dead! As long as we sit here waiting, there’s no hope of surviving the night.”

“You’re wrong,” said the guard. He took a step closer to Farris’s cell. “The Basilica walls will hold. We are safe in here.”

“Listen to yourself. Listen to the battle unfolding right outside your door. The walls of Penance couldn’t hold them back, what makes you think these walls will do any better?”

“The Arch-Canon said—”

“The Arch-Canon doesn’t give a fuck about you, or your family. If he did, he’d have you armed and outside protecting them. If he really did, he’d empty the cells and put all of us on the front line!”

“Now you listen here. There is no way in Sin’s Shadow that the Church will let you lot out. I don’t know about your crimes, but these cells are filled with the worst criminals the city has ever known. Many are petty thieves and blasphemers, but some are murderers and worse. No force on this earth will change the Arch-Canon’s mind on that.”

“He doesn’t need to change his mind,” said Farris, lowering his voice. “You hold the key. You hold the power to save this city. Arm us and send us into the battle. It’s likely that these criminals will die, and no longer be a threat to society. At least they can help protect this city beforehand. Even the most hardened criminals have families to protect.”

“Do you think I’m some sort of fool? Do you really think I’d just let you all… go?”

“I don’t take you for a fool, nor do I take you as a coward. You want to join the others in the battle, but you’re forced to waste away down here with the likes of us. When the dead come, would you rather die protecting your family, or die guarding the worst criminals the city has ever known.?”

“You’re… you’re wrong. You—”

“You can join us,” said Farris. “If by some miracle the city is saved, you can tell the Arch-Canon that we overwhelmed you. That we forced you to set us free. You’d be absolved of all blame. Or if you spin it right, you’ll be hailed as a hero.”

The guard shook his head. “I… I can’t. I won’t… it’s just—”

A sudden shriek of terror rang out through the darkness. It was a woman’s voice, far closer than the others from before.

“They’re well inside the city walls now,” said Farris. He paused and considered the guard for a moment. He was visibly shaken. A bead of sweat ran down his brow from under his half-helm.

“Tell me,” said Farris. “Do you have any family living in the Dustworks?”

The guard’s jaw dropped slightly, and panic flared in his eyes. Trembling, he reached for a small satchel tied to his waist and pulled out a large ring of keys.

“There’s an armoury down the hall,” he said, fumbling a key into the lock of Farris’s cell. “Do you know how to use a sword?”

Farris nodded, trying hard not to smile. He caught the eye of the burly prisoner across the way, whose mouth was agape with awe.

“How many others are imprisoned here?” asked Farris, just as the lock clicked open. “Will there be enough arms and armour for them all?”

“There’s a dozen,” muttered the guard as he pulled open the cell door. “There should be enough, yes. Is it really wise to let them all out?”

Farris snorted. Now he wants my advice?

“There’ll be no harm done,” said Farris. “Some of these men would probably kill you if they got the chance under any other circumstance, but they’d be less likely to turn on their saviour.”

The guard’s lips moved silently, then formed a smile; Farris guessed he was musing over the word saviour.

“There’s six held up on this floor,” he said, handing Farris the ring of keys. “I’ll get the rest, upstairs, and meet you outside the armoury down the hall.”

“And the other guards?”

“I’ll talk to them. I imagine most would want to join us.”

A loud crash rang out from somewhere outside, joined by a cluster of scattered shouts. Even though he was so far away from the fight, Farris could swear he smelt the faint scent of burning wood outside.

“We best not delay.” He gripped the keys in his hand and nodded curtly to the guard. And as if dismissed by a superior, the guard bowed slightly and went on his way down the dark corridor.

“Are you going to let me out or what?” asked the prisoner, both arms resting on the exterior of the cell, the bars pressing tight against his biceps.

Farris hesitated for a moment, then shook his head started sorting through the keys. “As long as you fight,” he said, twisting one key into the lock, only to find that it didn’t fit. “As long as you don’t flee.” The second key fitted in more smoothly but was unable to turn. “And only if you do as I say.”

The third key proved successful, and the cell door opened without further hindrance. The prisoner stepped out slowly, his massive frame at height with Farris’s.

“I’ll give you my word on the first two,” he said, squaring up to Farris. “But no more.”

Farris left the prisoner and began working at the other cell doors. Some of the men and Simians inside asked questions, to which Farris repeated the same sentiment he had before.

“Fight, don’t flee. Follow and do as I say, and you’ll have your freedom.”

Soon, four more prisoners filled the hallway. Two of were incredibly malnourished Humans. Farris could only guess how long they had spent down here. The other two were Simians. One was a head taller than Farris, with black fur speckled with white and grey, while the other stood hunched over and crooked, though this didn’t seem to hinder his movement. When Farris had opened his door, the Simian assured him that despite his appearance, he was as capable of fighting as well as any other.

The company made their way down the hall, where a locked door met them, thick wood reinforced with massive slates of steel.

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind. Farris turned to see several more prisoners had joined the group, with expressions of bewilderment and glee upon their faces, and the red-robed guard pushing his way through the crowd.

“Let me through, thank you,” he said, almost too politely. Farris stepped aside, and the guard began working on the armoury door.

“Any problems?” asked Farris, taking a moment to count the number of other prisoners.

“No,” said the guard. “Not yet at least.”