Some would call you lucky. So few mortals know of the Demon Bull Fortress, an armored garrison powered by lava, hidden deep within the earth- and fewer still receive the rare "privilege" of standing in these ancient, arcane halls. Some would call you lucky to stand here, met by a trove of curios and artifacts at every twist and turn, each hall lit softly by glass tubes filled with enchanted lava, soft chunks of igneous rock melting into each other within the containers.

As far as demonic garrisons go, it's very nice, blanketed thickly by plush purple carpet and sprawling both outward and upward for miles each, so intimidatingly spread wide that you would take years to learn every room, much less the nooks and crannies. Many would think you lucky.

Those people would not be aware of the circumstances you were presented with- being stolen from the streets of Megapolis as a potential pawn for an evil family seeking world domination, though what precisely you would be useful for was, admittedly, quite dubious. As for your lodgings during this period...

"This," Red Son scoffs, wagging a length of metal in your face, "is a shackle, peasant. Though I hope to not use it so soon, I will not hesitate to bolt you to the wall if you burden either myself or my parents. Understood?"

At his feet is a mat of blankets and pillows, presumably your new "bed"... shoved into the least-crowded corner of his clustered room, barely a few inches thick and comprised mostly of moth-eaten fabric.

"I said: Do you understand, peasant?"