Shattered Sanity

(Yard Time, Riven’s POV)

Riven felt a forceful shove against his shoulder as he approached the gate separating the rest of the prison from the exercise yard, the sudden push practically forcing him through the narrow entrance before he had even mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

Behind him, several hardened prisoners glared at him with open irritation.

"I only get one bloody hour a day out here, you motherfucker," one of them snarled. "So quit blocking the gate and move your ass."

Not wishing to provoke anyone so soon after arriving, Riven immediately stepped aside before quietly making his way towards a distant corner of the yard, where he stopped with his back against the wall, believing that remaining away from everyone else was probably the safest option available to him.

Only then did he begin observing the prison yard properly.

The open courtyard stretched much farther than he had expected, filled with inmates who had naturally divided themselves into dozens of smaller groups scattered across the grounds. Although this was Riven’s first time witnessing prison life firsthand, it took him only a few moments to realize that these groups were not random at all.

Most had formed around shared ethnicity or skin colour.

The darker-skinned prisoners occupied one section of the yard almost exclusively, while the fairer-skinned inmates gathered elsewhere. Men bearing similar accents naturally gravitated towards one another, and those who shared a common homeland or background seemed to trust each other far more readily than strangers.

Beyond those larger factions existed even smaller circles.

Some prisoners gambled noisily over carved bone dice, while others quietly exchanged contraband beneath the indifferent gaze of the guards.

Near the centre of the yard, a pair of broad-shouldered inmates traded punches inside an open circle as dozens of spectators shouted encouragement and placed wagers using scraps of bread, bronze coins, and whatever little possessions prison life still allowed them to own.

There were loners too.

Grey-haired old men sat silently against the walls with empty expressions, while others wandered aimlessly around the courtyard talking to themselves, laughing without reason, or cursing enemies from rival prison gangs.

The longer Riven watched them, the more he felt like this was the worst place he had ever been in, as even compared to slave life, the prison life seemed worse.

However, while he kept entirely to himself, unfortunately for him, his arrival had not gone unnoticed.

Before long, curious eyes gradually began settling upon the unfamiliar boy standing alone beside the wall.

"Oi!"

One prisoner shouted from across the yard.

"What’re you in here for, punk?"

Another looked him up and down before bursting into laughter.

"Did ye go and bed some noble’s daughter or something?"

"Nah..." a third prisoner scoffed. "Look at him. Kid’s too quiet for that. I’d wager he stabbed some Imperial bastard while he slept."

"Or maybe he poisoned somebody."

"Hell, maybe he is here for his daddy’s crimes, taking a fall for someone else."

The theories became increasingly absurd, with every prisoner trying to outdo the last, yet throughout all of it Riven remained completely silent.

He neither defended himself nor answered a single question.

After everything he had endured over the past few months, being mocked by strangers no longer felt worth responding to.

His silence, however, only seemed to make the others even more interested.

"A mute?"

"Or maybe he’s scared."

"I’d be scared too if they threw me in here looking that young."

Just then, one particularly broad prisoner detached himself from a group gathered near the centre of the yard before leisurely making his way towards Riven.

Unlike the others, there wasn’t the slightest trace of mockery upon his face.

Stopping only a few feet away, he casually jerked his head towards the largest gathering inside the prison.

"You..."

He said.

"New blood."

"Boss Pei wants to see you."

Riven instinctively followed the direction indicated.

Seated upon an overturned barrel surrounded by nearly a dozen inmates was an older prisoner with weathered features and a jagged scar stretching from his forehead to the corner of his mouth. Although nobody stood directly behind him, everyone nearby naturally gave the old man space, making it obvious that he occupied the highest position within the prison’s unwritten hierarchy.

"...Why?"

Riven asked cautiously.

The broad prisoner immediately burst into laughter.

"Why?" he repeated. "Hahaha... Listen, son, this is a prison. Out here every man belongs somewhere. Boss Pei wants to know whether you’re going to stand beside him or against him, because your treatment in here depends greatly upon which one you choose."

Riven remained silent for several moments.

Refusing outright seemed unwise.

If this old man truly controlled a large portion of the prison, antagonizing him within minutes of arriving hardly sounded like a sensible decision.

"...Alright."

He replied eventually before cautiously stepping away from the wall.

"I’ll hear what he has to say."

The broad prisoner nodded before turning around and leading the way through the crowd.

However, completely unbeknownst to Riven, right this moment, another figure had already begun moving as well.

Diddy kept his swollen face lowered as he limped quietly between the surrounding prisoners, deliberately allowing larger inmates to conceal his movements while his fingers slowly tightened around the crude metal shiv hidden inside his sleeve.

Every step brought him closer.

And although prison veterans paid close attention to him, since his target did not seem to be them or their gang member, they stayed silent.

As little by little, he kept gaining on Riven, until eventually....

STAB!

Riven’s entire body jolted violently.

For the briefest instant, he did not even register what had happened.

It felt less like being cut and more like someone had driven a burning iron rod straight through the muscles of his back, the impact forcing the air from his lungs as a sharp, searing pain exploded beneath his shoulder blade.

His eyes widened as his thoughts froze completely, while an unfamiliar warmth immediately began spreading beneath his torn robes, and only when he felt the blood running down his back did he understand that he had been stabbed.

Before he could even turn—

STAB!

The second thrust buried itself lower than the first.

"Die, you little bastard!"

Diddy shrieked, his voice cracking with madness as he ripped the crude shiv free before plunging it forward again.

STAB!

Riven stumbled another step, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him as agony shot across his back and into his ribs, each movement making it feel as though the wounds were being torn wider from the inside.

Around them, the prison yard erupted.

"GET HIM!"

"HAHAHAHA!"

"That’s it!"

Several prisoners burst into savage laughter while others instinctively backed away, creating an open circle around the attack.

Blood dripped steadily onto the packed dirt beneath Riven’s feet.

Yet Diddy refused to stop.

Driven entirely by hatred, he raised the shiv once more before lunging with every ounce of strength left inside his battered body.

"I SAID DIE!"

STAB!

The fourth strike landed before Riven finally reacted.

"AAARGH!"

He roared, twisting around with every muscle in his reconstructed body exploding into motion, as he fought through the pain and retaliated.

CRACK!

The punch connected squarely with Diddy’s face.

There was no contest.

The force behind the blow lifted the grown man completely off his feet before hurling him sideways through the air, where he slammed into the prison floor hard enough for the stone itself to tremble.

Several teeth flew from his mouth alongside a spray of blood.

His head bounced once against the masonry before his body collapsed heavily onto the ground.

The entire prison yard fell silent.

Even the laughter stopped.

Riven remained standing where he was, breathing raggedly as fresh blood soaked the back of his filthy robes, while his trembling hand instinctively reached behind him and came away slick with crimson.

Only then did he fully understand.

He had been stabbed. Four times.