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"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, what say you in your defense?"

"Ah, shit! Here we go again."

"What?"

"Yeah yeah, I am guilty, I’ll come quietly."

"Tsk! You’ll never see the sun again, you hear me? No One Escapes Cidhna Mine... No One!"

***

*Cidhna Mine*

"Alright, Prisoner. You are in Cidhna Mine now. And we expect you to earn your keep. There is no resting your hide in a cell in this prison. Here, you work. You’ll mine ore until you start shitting up silver bars, you got it?"

"... But that doesn’t sound very healthy."

"Don’t get smart with me, Draugr Face. I’m in charge. You keep it up and I’ll get your toes cut off. Well, one foot is already off so let’s see how you fair with the other. My advice... don’t get it eaten, Hahaha!"

The one roughing up Jon was a female Orc who works as the prison warden of Cidhna Mine, Urzoga gra-Shugurz.

She tried to beat up Jon a few times during the interrogation but despite doing her best, there was no cracking this hulk of a man. It didn’t matter anyway, inside Cidhna Mine, tougher beasts were broken and a Nord can’t survive among the horde of the Reachmen piling up in the mine. He is just one man after all.

The problem now was when the news reaching the Silver-Blood family. This Nord killed Nepos the Nose, someone who works for the Silver-Blood and makes some important links around the place even though Urzoga and her brother Mulush, the one overseeing the Silver-Blood Smelter, had some animosity with Nepos.

Not that it mattered anyway now, another Nepos will come to handle things. That’s how things go in the Reach.

Jon was admitted in with the alias of ’Draugr-Face’. None really cared and took him for a madman, his half damaged face and body were all scary to look at so they have him a face-cover and tied a stick to his left leg to use as a foot out of courtesy, his fake prosthetic foot was confiscated after all.

As Urzoga shoved Jon in through the metal gate of the mine, he walked in on the wooden platform that leads down to the mining ground. Jon stopped at its edge and looked down to see a horde of people under the platform looking up at him.

Reachmen, all of them.

It was obvious, Nords do not survive in this place if they don’t serve the Reachmen.

His eyes scanned the place around as he walked down. The was no hint of sunlight coming down to this place and to tell how long a prisoner stayed here is to look how pale its skin has become.

Arriving at the ground level, Jon had no plan on his mind on how to deal with anyone around her. He looked around and found a bucket with pickaxes. He picked one and walked further in the mine.

"Hey." A voice called at him from the back.

Jon stopped and looked towards the caller.

"That one is mine."

A young Forsworn appeared behind Jon looking up at him with challenging eyes. He was pointing at the pickaxe Jon took. The thing is, there was a pickaxe already on his side.

Jon looked down at the little man who came and handed out the pickaxe. The Forsworn held the pickaxe and tried to pull it from Jon’s hand but it was a cute try in Jon’s eyes. The young man pulled the axe but it was as if trying to pull out a piece of a wall, Jon wasn’t even moved.

"Little guy, watch for your size." Jon mocked him.

The Forsworn seemed to have not liked it and jumped at Jon swinging some small metal nail at Jon’s neck.

*tink*

The nail’s tip bounce of Jon’s skin broken and fell with metallic sound on the cold stone.

The young man backed away looking at the nail in his hand with a pale face. Jon simply extended his hand and grabbed the young man from his neck pulling him closer.

The surroundings turned quiet suddenly and some people stood up around Jon. The Forsworn were clearly sticking up for each other.

Jon simply smiled and let go of the young Forsworn then walked in. The young man remained as still as a log of wood.

***

Being as large as Jon has its advantages. Prisoners will be wary and show some respect but of course, taking things too far will cause the prisoners to revolt. Men are scary in tight spaces.

Still, Jon wasn’t planning to spend a lot of time in jail. He just needed to see how things work here.

Cidhna Mine was much like the Chill of Winterhold. The Chill was Winterhold’s mine before the Black Room. It was an ice cave where people get locked in cages then get released to mine around the Chill Isle.

Here in Cidhna Mine, it was just an underground mine where one can only mine all day and rest but resting was a challenge. None could tell the day and night in here and just a few hours were enough to mess with anyone’s biological clock. Also, having a safe and quiet place to sleep was a luxury none had.

Mining was also a challenge. There were places with silver ore and places with no ore. Those who don’t mine silver don’t get food and the Forsworn were really in control of the process in Prison. Not just that, they used the policy of divide and conquer with the Nords. If you are a Nord, you can’t stay with other Nords, it is better if you snitch on them or steal them to please the Forsworn so that you can survive down there. That kind of situations wasn’t wired as far as Jon could tell.

Also, sleeping mats were precious so one must make himself space to sleep and guard it.

Jon sighed to himself in the end then found an empty spot and started striking the pickaxe in the wall. Sure enough, Jon’s strikes were loud and strong, a lot of people looked at him with more respect now. Still, Jon failed to notice that besides the wall was an old man in mage robes sleeping peacefully, with that first hit, the old man woke up scared!

"Who? Where? What? When?... sometimes Why? You! Knocking on my pillow. I’ll call you Pillow-Knocker. Explain yourself... No! Speak Up! Honestly, they are the same policy, as far as I know."

The old man in a mage’s robe seemed to be quite familiar to Jon especially with his silver hair and yellow glowing eyes.

"... Yeah..." Jon was taken by surprise from the man’s frenzied tone. "I kinda think this is a mine so I’ll just keep... mining my own business."

"Pfff-waHAHA! Good one! Just stop knocking on that wall, boy. It is now ringing all over my head... oh, wait! Wasn’t is always ringing? Nevermind! You won’t find anything where you dig. It was all cleared up ages... ages ago."

"Then?"

"Well, unless you think this is a quarry rather than a silver mine, keep doing what you are doing someplace else."

"Haha!" Jon smiled and decided to give up.

The old man pointed for Jon to sit.

"How did they catch you, boy? Don’t tell me you let yourself get caught for a noble purpose." He asked.

Jon smiled and thought of a reply.

"... Lollygagging."

"Pffft!"

The old man held his sides and started laughing hard.

"So... what are you in here for?" Jon looked at the old man.

"Me? I am here for you! I am sure you were clumsy enough to get yourself captured after that bloodbath you made, want to get out?"

"Not this soon."

"Well, at least you need a method to go out, don’t you?"

"I already know it."

"WhaAaAaAat? Where is the sport in that? Tell you what? I’ll give you a staff that can teleport you out in exchange for your heart and lungs."

"Pretty sure I will need those."

"Really? How boring! Then a knife that can tear out those metal bars... or a sword that you can fly on."

"What do you want, uncle?" Jon asked with a tired face.

"What do I want? I was just bored you know... I wanted to have a game with someone and I found you in a predicament. Here, I have a good idea, let’s have a contest. A contest wrapped in a mystery, with an enigma glaze. Oh! What fun will we have!"

"I killed or your chickens last time! You sure you want to have a contest with me?"

"What is wrong with that? It was fun seeing you blowing all those kurkurs in a cloud of feathers."

"You welcome then. So what is the contest?"

"Oh! You know it, one of the regular Deathtraps I give you mortals. Nothing too fancy as say, resembling the [Staff of Chaos] or reconstructing the [Numidium]."

"Oh God! Please, no!"

"Well, here goes the contes..."

"I’ll stop you right there." Jon held out his hand. "Look, I am in the middle of something right now. I got both Azura and Molag Bal to deal with and believe me, if you are feeling charitable, just give me a handout and don’t ask for anything."

"WHAT? Without a contest? A trial? A competition?"

"Tsk... fine! See this prison we are in? I’ll kill everyone in it and mutilate their corpses then damn them to Oblivion for eternity except for someone that I will save for later, what say you?"

"Eeeeeh!" The old man seemed unwilling.

"And I’ll invite you for the next family gathering... but no tearing anyone’s insides out." Jon put that on top of the offer.

"That should be fun! Deal."

Jon got closer to his dear uncle and asked.

"Now tell me, what is the news? I seem to be gathering some attention between the nobility of Oblivion."

"Oh! You think so? It is actually true, you got on Dagon’s bad side really well, even I will have to raise my hat for that. He insisted to make a big bet that you will die on your Labours. And Malacath hates you for some reason, I also hate Malacath. Actually, everyone does hate Malacath."

"Yeah, I heard."

"And you had to go to Molag for help? Molag! Of all the princes? I mean... what happened to your dear old uncle?"

"Molag is more actually manageable than a particular someone. At least I know what he wants and I give it to him. Deed is sealed." Jon replied with a sullen face.

"True, but that will bite your ass in the end."

"I am well aware. As long as I am not dragged to Oblivion, I’ll manage as long as I recover my power. Oh! By the way, can’t you help me with that vine?"

"What? Where is the fun in that? Also, this is Azura’s Labour and I can’t interfere."

"One hell of an uncle you are."

"At least I will get some massacres out of this." The old man said and stood up. "Will be seeing you, Nephew... real soon!"

As he finished his words, Sheogorath disappeared from his place. Jon looked around and found no one seemed to have noticed Sheogorath or the conversation they had.

He sighed in his heart and started observing the prison.

***

At night, Jon was resting his body to a cave’s wall when most of the miners were asleep. Some were on the lookout but that didn’t stop Jon from calling out Nefertiti and getting the [Cube], [Greed] and [Molag’s Mace] from her.

"Hey, I want you to check some place for me. It should be in that direction. I will be waiting for you there." Jon gave her some instruction and she followed quietly.

He also quietly took out the metal head of his pickaxe and walked through the sleeping miners to the wooden platform leading in the mine. None of the guards was present closeby so he had all that he needed.

"It is as you said but it is a bit tight for you to pass, you need to do some digging." Nefertiti returned back to him confirming Jon’s information.

"Good." Jon agreed and told her to come inside his shadow.

With all that said and done, Jon was ready to commence the second part of his plan. He put the pickaxe’s head through the bars of the prison’s gate an used his brute force to bend the metal into a knot sealing off the prison.

"Xikil, come out."

Jon called for his Dremora companion.

"Mortal... oh! Look at all those prey, you were planning to get yourself in such a delicious hunting ground from the start?"

"Shut up, you pervert. Hey, why is your face so full of scratches?"

"... Let’s just say... Daedric Princes are not the common cause of death in Oblivion. Female Dremoras are scary."

"By Shor, what an odd coincidence is this! We have that too. Let’s just get done with what we have in hand then I will listen to your story."

"Yeah, yeah."

***

Call it chaos, call it mayhem. To Jon, it was just another bloodbath where he had to step on many bugs in a hack and slash ’one vs. many’ fight.

Ever since his power grew dramatically, he was no longer considered a human even in the eyes of himself. No human has the stamina to take that number on his own without getting tired or injured. His skin was tough and can resist any unenchanted and common materials. Also, the prisoners in this world wear anti-magic bracers that Jon didn’t need with his vine to begin with.

He killed so many and the place was filled with blood and guts. There was that man that Jon took of his arm and started beating him with half to death before claiming his life with the mace.

The prisoners didn’t dare to attack Jon first and kept trying to focus on defense in groups and some tried to play dead but Xikil had some good eyes for alive prey.

In the end, Jon reached the central cell in Cidhna Mine and broke its door. Behind it, there was a corridor that led to a large room. There, Jon could see some of the NPCs from the game. Uraccen, Duach, Borkul the Beast and most importantly Madanach, the King in Rags.

From their point of view, Jon was a towering bloody warrior covered in blood and smiling the creepiest smile they ever saw in ages. Despite being Forsworn and used to killing and raiding, this man was another level of crazy.

"Now!"

Madanach shouted and the three around him bounced at Jon in one go.

Jon bashed the first with his hand and smashed the other’s head with the mace. The last was Borkul the Beast, a hulk for an Orc, Jon simple sliced his guts open with [Greed] and dug his hands in then took out Borkul’s intestines and started strangling him with them.

"Strangling someone with their own intestines? Classic!" Xikil couldn’t help but applaud.

Borkul was already dead in Jon’s hands anyway. Jon turned around to face finally face Madanach.

"O’ Your Royal Majesty, I came to escort you out." Jon said mocking.

"You... who are you?"

"Me? I am Jon Dare, and I fucking hate your kind."

Jon punched Madanach before the later could swing his shiv. Madanach lost consciousness and laid on the ground, Jon simply approached him and took him in the [Cube]’s prison space.

Now that the package was recovered, it was time to break out and escape from Cidhna Mine.