Work Text:
“Will you state your name for the record?” The interrogator begins.
“Taskhand Verin Thelyss, youngest child of the Umavi Deirta Theylss, current commander of the forces at Bazzoxan and proctector from the Deeps. But you can call me Verin.”
The subject is young. Charming. Obviously rich in the way that those who are Den-born are. The scribe notes all of this down for the record, along with his general demeanor.
“Now, can you try to say that your name is Leylas Kryn?”
The subject tries. He cannot. The Zone of Truth is apparently in effect.
“Good. We can begin.” The interrogator nods to the scribe to watch closely, and the scribe dutifully turns over the sand timer. “What is your relation to the former Shadowhand Essek, formerly of Den Thelyss?”
“He was my brother.”
“Not is?” The interrogator sounds sympathetic, but the scribe notices that his eyes are sharp upon the subject.
“He was reported dead six months ago, after a failed expedition to Aeor with Caleb Widogast.”
“What do you believe he was doing during that expedition?”
“It was reported that he was investigating the ruins to bring back holy relics that had been discovered within.”
“That was not the question. Do you believe that he was bringing back holy relics?” The interrogator’s voice gets sharper.
The subject sighs. “No. He probably saw something weird and dangerous and decided to poke at it with a stick so he could study its reactions.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“Essek had always been easily sidetracked. Dangle a problem in front of him and he’d want to dissect it until it was completely flayed. Chances are he was investigating something and forgot that he was in a wizard-killing wasteland.”
“The person he was with. Caleb Widogast, was an Empire mage, yes?”
The subject pauses for a fraction of a second. The scribe notes the pause. “Yes.”
“Do you think that any research he might have had would have passed to the Empire through Mr. Widogast?”
“From what I’ve heard, since returning the beacon, Mr. Widogast has killed one member of the Cerberus Assembly, imprisoned another, and is angling to take down a third. It’s amazing that they’re allowing him to walk freely, but I doubt that they’ll be going to him for advice any time soon.” For the first time, the subject’s voice edges on sarcastic, losing the even tone. The scribe notes the agitation.
“Fair enough. You said that his death was reported. Do you believe that your brother is dead?”
The subject pauses, takes a deep breath, and stares. “Who put you up to this? Is this Den Tasithar? Are they angry that they got busted and need to take it out on the whole Den?”
“Please answer the question or specify that you are refusing to answer.” The interrogator almost sounds bored, in the way the interrogator does when they’re trying to avoid sounding angry. The scribe is aware that the interrogator dislikes their integrity being questioned.
“Look - ask anyone, I’m not the politics guy in the family. If I was, I’d probably shut up and know the best way to answer your questions. But even I can tell this is a hit job. And you know why?”
“Please tell us.” The interrogator says, dryly.
“If this is true, there is no win condition for the Umavi. Either she distances herself from her son and looks heartless or she defends her son and looks like either a fool or a traitor. And the Umavi is a perfect soul, one who chose Essek to be part of her Den. Who approved of all of the responsibilities he was given. How can a perfect soul react to such a situation? The only correct course of action would have been to anticipate such an occurrence in the first place - not given him access to do such a thing.”
The subject has fully given up standing in parade rest, and has started to gesture to emphasize their point.
“Nobody is denying that this looks bad for your family. However, this doesn’t answer the question. Any further stalling will be noted as a refusal to answer.”
Their previous answers have already been noted, and the scribe would never deign to pass judgment meant for higher level lens operatives. The scribe notes it as such.
“Yes, I believe that my brother is dead, because he is. He took a sabbatical right next to a deadly evil mystery city, and this was the man who spent his breaks trying to solve Novych’s theorem. That was unsolvable. Until he solved it. I believe someone is using his death as a convenient weapon to harm my Den, in part because Essek would have known what the outcome would have been, and I do not believe him capable of wishing so much harm on all of us.”
Everyone in the room takes a breath. The only other sounds are the scribe writing. The scribe looks up, assesses the situation.
“Would you like a glass of water?” The scribe asks the subject.
“I.. Yes. Please.” The subject seems to notice the scribe in the room for the first time, or was perhaps unaware that the scribe was imbued with the powers of speech.
The interrogator allows this pause, and a glass of water is quickly procured. The scribe and the interrogator have worked together for a while, and the interrogator trusts the scribe to notice when more information would be gathered by lowering the temperature, so to speak.
The subject takes a sip of water and calms. He returns to parade rest.
“To the best of your knowledge, did the former Shadowhand once known as Essek Thelyss go by any other names?”
“I called him poopyface when I was a child.” The subject is smiling when he says this.
The interrogator manages not to sigh, and then shoots the scribe a look. Maybe the water was a mistake. The scribe notes the alias down, as required.
“Any other aliases besides Poopyface?”
“None that are coming to mind, no.”
“Did he have any acquaintances in the Marble Tomes?”
“I mean, he had one or two friends - maybe? I didn’t really keep track of them.”
“Was one of them possibly named M. Tasithar or AXXXXX ?”
The second name is redacted per Lens policy. M. Tasithar’s name is well known enough to allow for clearance.
“Maybe, they sound familiar. Why?” The subject sounds honestly inquisitive.
The interrogator ignores the question. “Do you believe that Essek might have been consecuted?”
“I … don’t know.” The subject looks at the interrogator, then elaborates without needing to be asked. “I had thought he was, but now the Umavi is claiming he was not, and I don’t know why she would lie about that.”
It might have been a political move, but in the scribe’s mind the more straightforward political move would be to fake the consecution of a high ranking son. This move has previously been noted as suspicious by some members of the Lens.
“Did he make any feelings on consecution known previously?”
“I don’t have to answer that question. I don’t think it’s relevant.” The agitation is returning to the subject’s voice, but he is remaining still.
“We will decide what is relevant. You are in your right to refuse to answer, but please note that this refusal will be noted, and we will derive what we will from your refusal.”
The subject sighs. “He didn’t want to be consecuted. He fought with our father about it, but after our father died, he had regrets and changed his mind. Or at least I had believed he did.”
“What was the reasoning behind not accepting consecution?”
“He… He thought it would interfere with his magical abilities. Or something like that. He had a theory. But he changed - seemed to change his mind after his father’s death. It’s believable that people would think twice about what’s important when grieving. He gave up his position at the Marble Tomes and took a position in Court.”
“Did he come up with these theories after being friends with M. Tasithar?”
“I don’t know. Wait. M. Tasithar. There’s been reports of a spy found impersonating a consecuted member. Was that them?”
The interrogator ignores him, again.
“Did Essek ever give a reason for wishing to gain access to the Bright Queen’s court?”
“Just that he’d wanted to ‘pursue multiple avenues’ after his consecution. I went away soon afterwards, we didn’t talk much. Maybe he was trying to get away from some bad actors? Or he and my mother made a deal?”
The subject seems lost in thought. The interrogator pulls the subject’s focus back with another question.
“How would you categorize his demeanor these last few years?”
“Prior to his death, you mean?” The interrogator gives the subject nothing. “I don’t know, we didn’t talk much.”
“Distant, then?”
“I mean, literally distant. He was busy in Rosohna, I was in Bazzoxan. He could always get so focused in his work.”
The scribe will deign to note at this point that it is odd that someone who had been so focused on academic findings would so easily allow his time to be divided with other pursuits, especially given the contents of his home.
“I have a quote here from Tuss Wacoh, claiming that he is ‘More interested in dunamancy magic than worshiping the Luxon, and he is strangely excited for war with the Empire.’ Does that sound correct?”
“He would -,” the subject is only able to get that much out before the spell stops him. “He was always interested in magic, sure. But I can’t - I don’t want to believe that he would have wished for war. My men died out there! We had to give up our beacon - give up our chance to come back!” The subject seems to be extremely agitated now.
“Your response is noted,” the interrogator says. “As a point of order, Waccoh’s statement is backed up by multiple claims, including some within the Bright Queen’s court.
The interrogator presents the evidence to the subject. The subject takes a moment to look over what is presented to him.
Time is running short. The scribe tries to think of a way to signal to the interrogator to note to the sand timer but the interrogator is watching the subject closely, and the subject is watching everything.
“With all that you have learned or been reminded of today - Of the possible conspiracy with your mother, of your brother’s known associates, and your brother’s actions these last few years - do you wish to revise any of your previous claims that you thought him innocent, or think him dead?”
There is a pause. The sand glass timer runs out. The subject seems to notice, the interrogator does not.
“No,” the subject says.
End of interrogation