[Closed] Show Your Mettle

[Raksha]

8th Yaris, 2719
VIENDA | MORNING

It was warm this day, warm enough to tweak frustrations and put people on edge. It didn’t help that the sun was playing peek-a-boo with the light cloud cover above Vienda, as though it was temping a storm only to return like some love struck puppy. People went about their day, though it was with protest. Women fanned their faces with ornate fans, and men went so far as to remove jackets to move about just in shirts and waist coats, sweat darkening the pits. In the Soot District, the factories had to reluctantly open the high windows and large doors to allow prevent the children fainting in the heat, galdori overseers watching with eagle eyes lest one of the scoundrels tried to run.
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​​Evandria and Emric would both find themselves travelling the city streets on this hot, horrible Yaris day, summoned to Vienda Gaol by Captain D’Arthe. It seemed that Head Office were in need of extra hands these past seasons, and with good reason. By now, most officers would have heard about the interrogations, or alternatively been interrogated themselves. Rumours and stories mostly, but it seemed that the Seventen were questioning suspected Resistance folk, pushing to find the cell members where ever they could.
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​​There were some interesting rumours too. Ruthless methods, and questionable actions, even against their own people.
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​​The two Seventen would be greeted by Damen personally when they arrived at the gaol, sun beaming down heavily on him, brow speckled in sweat and blue eyes glittering with barely contained frustration.
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​​ “Leverenz. Sericks.” He grunted by way of greeting, nodding to each of them as he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed it to his face.
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​​ “About clocking time. This way.” The Bastian said shortly, spinning on his heel and moving rapidly into the oppressive still air of the gaol office. They would have to walk fast to keep pace, Damen striding through and past an officer holding the door to the cells open. Inside, the heat was worse, and from the cells prisoners whines for relief.
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​​So hot! Some water please!
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​​Yards! Put us in the yards!
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​​It fell on deaf ears, as they strode through the wide hall between the small barred rooms. At the end, the Captain stopped and turned to look at them again.
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​​ “I have heard good things about you both from Berowyn. Takes some mettle to be posted in the Tors.” Reaching into his pocket, Damen retrieved a set of keys, searching for the right one before turning to a heavy wood door. He unlocked it, the mechanism clanking thickly, and the hinges squeaking as he pushed it open.
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​​ “Downstairs. Do not speak to anyone lest I tell you to speak.” With that, he took a nearby lantern from the wall and shut the door behind them, leading the two officers down along a stone spiraling staircase.
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​​ “Tell me, Sergeant Sericks, what do you know about prisoner interrogation?” From somewhere far below the faint sound of a wrenching scream would reach their ears, and the smell of sweaty panic would reach their nostrils.
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[Evandria Sericks]

Emric squinted at the morning sun as they made their way to the gaol. He kept tugging at the collar of his green uniform and she could not blame him. The inspector also did not bother to hide the distaste on his face.

“What do you think this is about?” Evandria mused. Unable to tolerate the heat beating down on her head any longer, she pulled her thick black hair into a messy bun. It allowed at least some breeze to cool the back of her neck.

He shrugged. “How should I know? He is your boss.” His calloused hand wandered to the first button of his uniform, torn between unbuttoning them entirely or let it be for the sake of propriety – especially when one would meet a captain of the Seventen. “Although, if I had to guess, this must be related to the recent questionings happening in HQ.”

That wasn’t explanation enough. Evandria had spent a few hours in her bed last night, formulating on why they were summoned. No convincing answer came to her mind. “They could question us in the interrogation rooms in HQ. Why make us go all the way to the jails?”

The Hoxian pressed her lips together as they took their final turn and the gaol finally loomed in front of them. It was difficult not feel uneasy as her own imagination ran wild. People were saying that they were desperate on finding a leak in the Seventen and would do anything. Only yesterday that she heard one of the recruits had returned with a black eye after an interrogation.

She was not sure how she should feel about having Captain D’Arthe himself greeting them at the doors. She had a difficult time deciding whether it was a good sign or a very bad one. Nevertheless, her delicate features smoothed into a neutral mask – a near effortless change courtesy to her Hoxian upbringing. Beside her, Emric’s caution was more noticeable as they walked pass the cells.

“I have heard good things about you both from Berowyn. Takes some mettle to be posted in the Tors.”

“Thank you, sir,” Evandria replied with a slight bow of her head. Despite the compliment, the young woman had always considered her placement in Northern Tors was mostly to send her away before she could make too much trouble. Her time as a recruit she had spent being far too loud and too insistent about her preoccupation with the Resistance.

The young sergeant was not unfamiliar with the jail complex, yet she had to admit she had never walked into the door that the captain was opening. She could not help noting that Damen took out the key from his pocket – did it mean that only he had the direct access to this place? As soon as she stepped pass the doorway, the smell hit her first, those of unwashed bodies and the dankness of the underground.

When Captain D’Arthe asked her about prisoner interrogation, the young woman realized that Emric might be right after all. Her eyes flicked towards her coworker, but the light the captain carried barely reached his face. The inspector was the one who was more experienced in interrogations. Between his investigative training and his perceptive magic, Emric had more of a reputation to pry out answers from criminals. Meanwhile, even though she had done interrogations before, the sergeant had much more experience in apprehending and engaging suspects.

Still, like all Seventen recruits, Evandria was trained in the basics. “We start with isolation and discomfort. The interrogator can start building a rapport, gain the prisoner’s trust. Then we confront them, create a narrative, and watch how they respond. We start digging.”

They went deeper into the earth and she felt her throat tighten. With the darkness and the claustrophobic walls, this place reminded her too much of the time she was trapped in Berowyn’s mine. Against her sounder mind, the young woman decided to speak. “Sir, if I may ask, what are we doing here?” While some might say that was a poor decision, Evandria found impossible to say nothing as the screams got louder. Loud enough to send an uncomfortable shudder up her spine.

Judging by how Emric nudged her with his arm, he was perhaps one of those people who would tell her to shut up. Despite feeling the weight of his gaze, it at least served as a reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone. The inspector was just as clueless as she was. It brought her the smallest bit of comfort.

[Raksha]

8th Yaris, 2719
VIENDA | MORNING

The Bastian nodded as they walked, holding the lantern high in the oppressive heat as they moved further down the staircase.

“Indeed, those are our basics. Build trust, rapport. Get the prisoner to trust you, to open up to you. Unfortunately these techniques don’t always work, as we well know.” He moved rapidly, as though he was anxious to escape the stony spiral, the screams from below louder now. And the stench. By the Gods the stench was almost unbearable. Damen whisked his freehand around them, gathering his oppressive field sharply and casting Clean Air to save the trio from it, even momentarily.

At Evandria’s question, Damen stopped abruptly, turning to look at them both with a frown. He regarded them, considering her words carefully for a moment, before turning back to continue their passage down.

“You are here, Sergeant, because there is a need for trustworthy officers. We have a substantial situation that requires a select set of skills from a select set of people. People who have the mettle to do what their colleges perhaps can’t. Or won’t.” Reaching the end of the staircase, Damen pulled the keys from his pocket, to unlock a cast iron barred door. He swung it open, inviting the two officers to step inside ahead of him.

Once past the threshold, the two officers would find themselves in a small reception area that led away to a hallway. Down the hall way were rooms, most with closed wooden doors. Another wailing scream pierced the air, closer now. Far closer. Only down the hallway in fact. In the reception there was a small empty desk and a chair, occupied by a gentleman wearing a dark green uniform that was nearly black. It was more of a suit than a uniform, sharply pressed and tailored with golden buttons and a brassy metallic embroidered emblem of a clock on the jacket pocket. Monite was scribed in gold thread around the cuffs, and epaulets on the shoulders were marked with two brassy stripes. His hat was flat, with a small black polished wood brim at the front, and on its front face was the same emblem.

“Captain!” The gentleman snapped firmly, standing straight and raising his hand in a sharp salute. Damen saluted him back, before turning to face the two officers again.

“Sergeant Sericks, Sergeant Leverenz, this is Agent Riyadh. He is an Second Level Intel Specialist in the Cadre. He specializes in prisoner interrogation.” Putting the lantern on the desk, Captain D’Arthe raised his brow slightly, looking sideways at the man in uniform.

“Perhaps not in the way you’ve understood it though.” Agent Riyadh didn’t smile, holding his salute and staring ahead with a stern face, until Damen waved him down. Relaxing with his hands clasped behind his back, the man waited for instruction. Another wretched wail pierced the air, and the Bastian rubbed his temple.

“We have a situation at hand that requires assistance from officers that aren’t closely tied to the Viendan cell of the Seventen. Hence, your assignment. Consider this an opportunity for you both, a chance for a promotion, should you succeed at the task. I warn you though, this is no ordinary assignment, and your performance will dictate your futures should you accept this task. I wouldn't ask just anyone to do this, so you need to be sure that you are prepared to step into this, without hesitation. What lies past this threshold is either your future, or the end of your career.” He paused then, allowing both of the officers the chance to raise any questions they might have so far.

[Evandria Sericks]

The captain’s answer was vague, sprouting even more questions inside her head. Evandria had spent enough time serving as a Seventen that when questions had failed to give clear insights, it was time for her to fall silent and watch.

He brought to a room that was seated deep under the ground. A hallway with doors that hid Alioe knew what. Interrogation rooms, perhaps? Evandria wondered if she would be better off never finding out. Even as high as she had risen through the ranks, there were far too many things that she was not privy to. A galdori rose to attention as soon as he recognized the captain. He wore a uniform not entirely unlike hers. Its fabric was darker than her green, much darker. It was the symbol on his pocket that gave her a hint of the man’s identity.

Like most people, Evandria had heard of the Cadre. Its name was brought up often in the ranks of Seventen and always shrouded in mystery. As far as she could, no one she had ever met knew what exactly they did. Some say they were pulling the strings behind the scenes, securing the safety of Anaxas in the darkness. Others say they served as spies for the High Judge. Once, she had even heard from a drunk ensign that they were
No one really knew what the truth was, only that they were extremely secretive.

This was perhaps the first time she had ever truly laid eyes on a member of the Cadre. The Hoxian gave Agent Riyadh a nod in acknowledgement. A specialist in prisoner interrogation.

“Perhaps not in the way you’ve understood it though.”

She had a sneaking suspicion on what the captain was alluding to, but she really hoped that her line of thought was wrong. Unfortunately, he screaming that followed her thought did not bode well. The sergeant spared a brief glance at Emric, trying to gauge how he was reacting. His eyes were alert and wary, slowly scanning across the room – much like she did just now.

The inspector straightened and lowered his head. “We are honored to have the opportunity, captain. We will do everything in our abilities to succeed in this task.” Certainly much finer words than the ones that would have come out of Evandria’s mouth.

She had only met Captain D’Arthe a handful of times before. First on her orientation day back in Numbrey, then the day she was granted the title sergeant and placed under him, and a few more times to receive her orders before relocation. The man had always been imposing, but the shadows that were cast on older man’s face made him look almost menacing. Nevertheless, it did not stop her from the question poised on her lips. “With all due respect, sir, does it mean you believe that our ranks has been compromised?”