Chapter Text
"Captain, Sir."
The tall, shadowed figure turned to face the soldier who called for him, his heavy cloak dragging on the floor. "What is it?"
"There's been an incident involving Lady Citlali. Her Highness King Mavuika wishes for you to interrogate the perpetrator."
Sighing, the Captain gently pushed the weakly glowing mauve crystal back into the cloth bag on his desk, his fingers yearning to keep it within his grasp, yet letting the pulsing warmth leave his hand. Later.
A bloodied mess of a man stood limply in the centre of the barred room, arms restrained by heavy iron chains wrapping his wrists, the commanding figure of the Head Priestess imposing over the slumped prisoner, rolling up her sleeve, ready to deliver another blow to the defenceless captive. As she drew her tightly squeezed fist, the screech of the iron door being unlocked made her stop mid-swing, whirling around to see who had interrupted her, a tirade of curses ready on her tongue- but was rendered speechless as she saw the grand silhouette of The Captain step over the threshold.
"Lady Citlali. Leave. I will not have you killing my prisoners before they have been judged."
About to simply comply, the priestess gathered up her robes and almost ran through the door, but stopped momentarily. "Hold on, Captain, this incident concerns me. Shouldn't I..." Her words trailed off as she realised it was futile trying to argue with this man, who was clearly already exasperated and tired of her. She sheepishly left the room, pouting slightly. As the door was bolted again, another soldier strode up to the Captain, merely taking a breath before being told, "You should leave too. I have no interest in listening to hearsay."
Flinching as the chains were loosened around his arms, the man sucked in a few breaths and rubbed his indented wrists, backing away quickly from the masked captain, lest he was more of a terror than the woman before. His fears were justified after all. This man had a striking presence, towering over anybody in any given room, with a quiet, yet commanding voice that demands authority. At his hip was slung what a normal person would see as a greatsword, but on this man, it appeared like a normal longsword, a silver hilt wrapped with leather, an icy glow emanating from it, almost as cold as the man himself. An imposing, silver-lined mask, reminiscent of a ritual headdress, cast an impenetrable shadow upon his face, rendering his visage in mystery, leaving his enemies intimidated and striking fear into their hearts; a man whose face could never be connected to his deeds was fearsome indeed. There was no doubt that this Captain was worthy of his title, and the convict would do anything to keep himself away from being on the wrong side of that sword at all costs. So what he heard next came as a surprise.
"Calm down. You shan't be harmed no more, unless you are found to be, undeniably, guilty. I shan't hurt you." The dull sound of metal lightly clinking to the concrete floor. "I'm not asking you to trust me, young one. Merely bear with me until the truth is revealed."
Looking up, his eyes were drawn to the heavy sword propped up against the wall, then to the other man now visibly unarmed, his cloak draped over an arm, his figure somewhat less imposing now. A long black braid, adorned by silver cuffs, snakes over his shoulder, a sharp contrast to the wavy locks swept into a high ponytail that cascade down his back. Silver gauntlets adorn gloved fingers, chains of the same colour wrap his muscular figure symmetrically, a heart-shaped emblem resting squarely on his chest. A long, open skirt hangs from a belt that sits at his hips, an air of elegance brought with it as it billowed behind him, open sleeves following suit. If he had not been a prisoner in the Captain's hands, the young man would have surely turned and fled at the sight. Though still on edge, he feels a little safer now that the big sword is out of reach, and relaxes his shoulders slightly.
"Mm. Good. Tell me, then. Who are you, and what happened? You have no reason to lie to me, tell it how it is." He sits on the floor, inviting the younger man to do the same while he spoke, attempting to make the interrogation less terrifying for him.
"My name is Ororon. I came to seek refuge from the Ma'i Vaomatua within King Mavuika's kingdom, and so I came here to seek audience with her. Upon arriving, I was accosted by the head priestess here- you called her 'Lady Citlali'. She told me to leave the palace at once, and wouldn't back away when I asked her to; so I took a feather to her throat and threatened to harm her if she kept getting too close to me-"
"Pardon- a feather?"
Ororon could almost hear a grin on the Captain's face as he interrupted, inclining his head quizzically. "I believe I've heard enough, sirrah. You couldn't risk being exposed to elemental magic that could be tainted with the Ma'i Vaomatua, hence your threatening reaction- albeit with a feather. I shan't doubt your martial prowess, sirrah, but it is unlikely that a feather would be enough to cut Lady Citlali's throat. I have deemed you to be not guilty, and I shall pass this message on to her Highness." The smile faded from the end of his sentence as he switched back to his practiced, efficient front. "In the meantime, I shall assign you to be taken to the Doctor; these injuries must be causing you a great deal of pain. I assure you that Lady Citlali will receive no merit from harming you to this degree." He pushed up from his seated position easily, swinging his cloak over his shoulders once more, and taking his sword in hand, before rapping once on the metal door. As he departed, Ororon was left with a strange sense of comfort in the Captain's words.