The next day was just as hectic and troublesome as the day before. The captives who were rescued the day before were scheduled for interrogation; as their testimonies were going to carry the weight of a mountain against the Baron in the upcoming trial. Lord Commander Lucien delegated this duty to his able assistant, Rena Tharford. Rena Tharford was a gentle and charming lady. At a first glance she would seem to be entirely unfit for the ranks of the Throne Guards, until someone was foolish enough to challenge her to a duel. In an instant, that innocent lady would transform into a bloodthirsty battle maiden, dispatching her opponents with a vicious, almost sadistic precision. Lorian had once seen her sparring with fellow soldiers and he found her ruthless style strangely amusing.
Lorian understood why Lucien had chosen her for this task. Her disarming appearance would put the traumatized victims at ease, making them feel safe enough to open up. A pretty face opens many doors- it was a truth that remained eternal in all time and place.
However, Lorian took the interrogation of the demi-humans upon himself. And the first to be interrogated by him were the dwarves.
In the fantasies and lore of his past life, Dwarves were peerless craftsmen. But in this world, according to the scrolls he had studied, they were recorded as isolationist cave-dwellers who had vanished from the mainland centuries ago for unknown reasons. The only remaining proof of their legacy was the city-state of Glimmerfall, the former capital of a Dwarven empire that once dominated the Eastern and Central part of the continent. While the great houses of Glimmerfall, including the ruling House- House Stoneheart, traced their lineage back to those ancient lords. However, they were all humans now, despite their claims of Dwarven ancestry. To see a true Dwarf on the mainland was as rare as sighting a dragon.
Because of this, Lorian was quietly excited at the prospect of meeting a real Dwarf, though no one else in the Auric Spire shared his enthusiasm. In Veridian superstition, which was shared by many other Human nations, Dwarves were considered harbingers of bad luck and misfortune. This belief was recently only bolstered by the sudden fall of Baron Bistro; gossips whispered that the Baron's ruin was a direct result of harboring such 'cursed' creatures. Nevertheless, given the Prince's strange choices and inclinations, as well as sudden intensity, no one dared to deter him.
The rescued humans were housed in a guarded guest house near the Auric Spire, allowing them to remain safe while staying in touch with their families. The demi-humans, however, were kept in the sparse wing of the Throne Barracks. The Beastmen however enjoyed a slightly more comfortable arrangement, thanks to the elevated status of Jax and Zara. Afterall, no one wanted to enrage the retainers of the future Lord of the city, by mistreating their kin. The Elves were also kept at relatively comfortable cells which were well lit and clean. The four Dwarves however were not that lucky. They were placed in the dungeons below the barrack. The official excuse was to make the 'cave-dwellers' feel at home, but the truth was much simpler- the Throne Guards wanted to maintain as much distance from the 'cursed' beings as possible.
When the Prince descended into the dungeon and expressed his intention to enter their cell, the guards were both surprised and terrified. Their instinctual urge to flee the Dwarves' presence was only overridden by their ironclad loyalty to Lorian. They followed him, steeling their nerves, though they remained a few paces behind.
The cell was dark and damp. The air was heavy with a foul, stale odor. In the shadows, the complexions of the four souls appeared even darker. Lorian looked at the two children huddling behind the female Dwarf, and for a brief second, a wave of genuine pity washed over him. They looked so small, their big innocent eyes were wide with a terror that no child, be it human or demihumans, ever should know. He wanted to hug them tight and assure them that they no more had anything to fear, that they were now safe. He wanted to offer them warmth and a soft bed. He felt a pang of guilt;- compared to this dingy, cramped hole, the Baron's holding cells almost seemed luxurious. Their luck had truly forsaken them, it seemed.
But Lorian did not let his emotions surface. His past life had taught him one harsh lesson- whenever you show vulnerability, people exploit it. This was his second chance, and he was not going to waste it by repeating the same mistakes of his past lives. He would not let his feelings be used as a handle for manipulation.
Lorian remained standing, as his silhouette was being framed by the flickering torchlight of the corridor. He stopped at the threshold of the cell, neither moving toward them nor speaking. He simply watched them with a gaze that was neither cruel nor kind- it was the gaze of a superior, an authority who held their lives in the palm of his hand.
The elder Dwarf was the first to break the silence. Slowly, he approached the human at his doorstep. His eyes were a storm of questions, accusations, and rage, yet a faint glimmer of hope flickered within them. He looked up at Lorian's shadowed face and bowed his head.
"Good evening, My Lord," the Dwarf rumbled.
Lorian felt a flicker of amusement at the intended sarcasm, carefully hidden behind a mask of ignorance. He decided to play along.
"Good morning."
"Oh, forgive this poor old Dwarf, My Lord," the Dwarf replied. His tone was apologetic but his voice was carrying a subtle mockery, "Locked in this dark cell, I seem to have lost my sense of time."
Lorian leaned down, looking directly into the Dwarf's eyes, and spoke in voice cold and sharp like a dagger of ice, "Don't press your luck, old man. Losing your sense of time in a mere half-day, whether intentional or not, will not play in your favor. If you think your situation cannot get any worse, you aren't paying attention."