The Cellar
[section]
Hashlan clicked his tongue in rapid succession as Rána admitted that something terrible indeed was going on. He pointed behind him to a series of shelves that contained mostly dusty bottles, labels faded and lost to time.
” Just behind the barley wines,” the little Halfling said,
” This is just the storeroom, you see. Lots of basement to the Rose, deep roots. The Boxer knows.”
Hashlan tried to smile at Derngar as the warrior kept an ear to the sounds from above, but instead kept averting his eyes, a gaze that sunk even lower at the Gnome’s comment.
” My, my name is from my family,” he tried to affirm in something approaching pride, only for it to fizzle and collapse into ash,
” We are … were from … I don’t rightly remember. Sector Three? Fourteen? Factories. Smoke choking the sky. We fed the fires.”
His face scrunched up, feline eyes going crossed as if trying to recall something unpleasant and finding relief in that the memory, whatever it was, had dissipated. He returned his thoughts to the present, to hearing that the Guard was
looking for someone.
” Oh dear. Oh no. Looking? Looking for Hashlan? No, not Hashlan.”
The pulled at his ears and gnashed his teeth, fretting and moving to grab one of the bottles, uncorking it with his teeth and drinking deeply from it before returning to his train of thought.
” Not Hashlan. Perhaps Rashimi’s friend? Not you friends, other friend. Silas. Courier. Brought strange package other day. Talked with poor man whose little one was sent away. Made poor man angry, very angry. Fire like has not been seen since The Lost.”
Hashlan’s expression drooped even as he drank more, wiping his mouth on his sleeve while his ears folded themselves to the top of his head.
” Not fire, though. No fire except for the factories.”[/section]
Main Floor
[section]
Lorelei’s song seemed to have the intended effect on the masses: even a flautist, getting permission from a soldier, contributed to the music with his pipe. While it kept the occupants of The Rose quiet, the majority of them looked on strangely as they listened to lyrics of hope and miracles.
Was that their City? Was that their Truth? No. It couldn’t be. It was but an impossible dream, all the more so as Okten began the work of The Towers. He sat himself like a king at a table in the center of the hall, the guards bringing over each person individually to have a chat with the Hobgoblin. Okten partook freely of the bar’s more expensive liquor while chatting pleasantly with the terrified captives, sifting through their stories one by one. For each that thought they were innocent, Okten seemed to know every single aspect of their lives.
He knew of the workers that shaved time off their shifts. He knew of the parents whose children would inform their Instructors that mom and dad were less than enthusiastic about The Magi’s glorious gifts. He knew what they spent their money on, he knew which had scuffled before with The Guards, he knew which had family in other Sectors and which had family that had been arrested, exiled, or executed. Okten enjoyed watching them squirm. He relished the fear as he pushed on infractions that he had no intent on pursuing, but wanted these Citizens to remember that at any time, he would happily call The Ordinator and his Golems if they had any truly seditious thoughts.
Just as Lorelei was finishing her song, the Hob had gotten a confession out of a younger man, barely having seen his twentieth year. A tax collector. A loyalist to The Towers. Whether out of dread or actual patriotism, Okten did not care of the source, only the result: a name. Silas. A stranger from another Sector. Travel between Sectors was common enough, but it appeared that this Courier had stayed in Sector Five for a few days now.
Curious.
Ignoring Lorelei’s question for the moment, Okten reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, circular piece of blackened crystal. The disc reflected no light, as if made of a well-honed piece of a Tower itself. Whispering in the speech of The Magi to the object, it responded to the words by glowing in his calloused hand.
” This is Captain Okten. Perform a search of registered entries from Sectors Four and Six. Name Silas. Occupation Courier. Timeframe One Tenday.”
Another voice emanated from the stone in reply;
” Processing Now, Dread One.”
Satisfied, Okten turned to his Guards, still ignoring the Half-Elf Songstress, and called the soldiers over.
” Levan, Yul: Sweep the Upstairs. Garel, Vance, Downstairs. Search for Silas and bring him to me once found.”
The chosen guards saluted by striking their fists to their breastplates and hastened off at once to the stairways. Only then did Okten finally regard Lorelei with a pleasured grin: today would be a good day for The Captain.
” As you were, little bird. You are proving most helpful.”
Before Lorelei could commence further, though, Rashimi was behind the Captain, giving her girl a pleading shake of her head, eyes as large as the Half-Orc could make them while standing rigidly at attention. Fear. Rashimi knew something about this Silas, and believed in Lorelei’s song that somehow, someway, a miracle was going to save her and The Rose. With no sound, her lips moved just enough for the Elven side of Lorelei’s eyes to make out her silent cry.
” Please.”[/section]