Chapter 4: The Dungeon Master

The grapes were sweet and plump. Andrew thought they would make a nice Chardonnay with some patience and knowledge. He held out his hand to Eliza. She took the grape and popped it in her mouth. The ice in the mountains had melted with May's weather and now, with June ambling through, the stream had become a river. Eliza lay back on the blanket, enjoying the sun on her face and the babble of the water.  Andrew gazed at her lovingly.

"Why don't we come here every day?" she asked Andrew, taking his hand in hers.

"We will," he said, admiring her green eyes.

"But how? You're in a dungeon in the land of the Goblin King." 

Andrew looked at her quizzically. "That's impossible I'm right here with-" 

"Open yer mouth!" the Goblin yelled, hurling two full ladels of slop at his face. Crappy pants, Andrew thought to himself. It was only a dream! The slop dribbled down his neck, less than half reaching its destination. He was hanging by his wrists in the dungeon.The goblin continued down past the other hanging prisoners, hurling food in their general direction. 

His thoughts returned to Eliza. Would he ever see her again? Would he ever tell her how he really felt? 

"You'll see Eliza again..." a voice said from the darkness. 

"What? How did you know I was thinking about that?" Andrew asked, amazed.

"This dungeon makes people lose their internal monologue," the voice responded. 

He's lying, Andrew thought to himself.

"I'm not lying!" the man said. "And if you want to get out of here, you'll have to trust me." 

Trust him? Andrew had just met this man. And the man could read his mind!

"I'm not reading your mind, you idiot. You're saying this all out loud." 

That couldn't be, Andrew thought to himself.
"Alright, I'm sick of this..." the man said, as he began to shuffle away.

"No, wait- I'm sorry! How will I see Eliza again?" 

"By doing exactly what I say." 

"Very well. Then tell me who you are..."

"I am," the man said, as he emerged into the light. "Justin Weissman." 

"Ok." Andrew stared at him blankly.

"We worked together. Remember? At the bank?"

Andrew shook his head.
"Seriously, you don't remember? Business Development. Justin Weissman" 

Andrew didn't.

"Whatever. I don't have time for this." 

Justin pulled a key from around his neck and unlocked Andrew's shackles. 

"I'm working on escaping. But I need a shovel." Justin said. "And you're going to get it for me."

A shovel, but where would he find one of those?

"In the stables, but it won't be easy," Justin replied. "They're guarded by ravenous labradoodles." 

"Labradoodles!? How bad could that be?" 

Justin lifted his left arm up and showed Andrew the end of it. There was no hand, only a festering stub.

Crappy pants, Andrew thought to himself.

"Crappy pants, indeed."

NEXT TIME ON MEDIEVAL LENDER: WILL ANDREW GET THE SHOVEL? HOW WILL HE NAVIGATE THE LABRADOODLES!?