"What would you do if it was me, Sergeant?" he asked in a low tone. "Just answer the fucking question," Jashad hissed the last word through clenched teeth, pinning Gwili to the nearby wall with his forearm.
No getting out of this one, is there? Shit, with a single shout, he could summon a full company of those large guards, Gwili relented, knowing he was beaten.
"It was, but I didn't do it to destroy the artifacts. Those were merely a byproduct of what I needed to do," he whispered as Kamil mindlessly continued down the stairs, still in obvious shock from the whole situation. "I knew it. I knew you were a rat from the moment I laid eyes on you," Jashad said, sending a few droplets of spittle flying onto Gwili's mask.
"Before you call the guards on me, there's something you should know," Gwili began, straining under the pressure of the forearm at his neck, prompting a maddened chuckle from the sergeant. "And what could a rat like you possibly say to save your skin from being scorched and dragged through the city behind a horse?" Jashad asked.
"Your Queen isn't all she's made out to be. If you think I'm a rat, then she is the cheese a beggar would have coating the tip of his prick," Gwili said, producing the small, leatherbound book from a fold in his armor. "How dare…" Jashad trailed off, his eyes opening widely at the sight of the book with the Royal insignia on top of the button.
"What is this?" he asked, thinning his eyes in suspicion. "It's an account of everything that's taken place in the past two years that wasn't made public for obvious reasons," Gwili began, feeling the pressure begin to ease on his neck. "I'm glad you Harutians are so organized with your history, as it saved me a lot of time in finding this. Go ahead and see for yourself," he said with a gesturing nod towards the book.
Hesitantly, Jashad released the pressure on Gwili and took the book out of his hand. Within a few moments of reading the contents, his facial expression told Gwili enough.
It goes deeper than what I saw, doesn't it? Gwili thought as Jashad's eyes opened widely.
"This is the Queen's handwriting, and I'm starting to think not even Yarathea could save her if this got out," Jashad said, hardly believing the words he was reading. "See what I mean? That's why I'm here, but my question for you is: What are you going to do, now that you know?" Gwili asked, gingerly rubbing the base of his neck and getting a both frightened and confused glare from his would-be enemy.
"Uh, Sergeant?" Kamil's voice came from the bottom of the stairwell that led to the exit. "Hide this," Jashad whispered quickly, handing the book back before turning to face his subordinate. "What is it, Kamil?" he asked, moving down the stairs to see what the matter was.
Not sure what this means, but I think I got through to him, Gwili thought as he began to follow Jashad.
"It looks like there's someone out there," Kamil said, squinting his eyes in hopes of seeing better through the darkness as the others promptly joined him. Gwili, trying to be as subtle as he could, infused his eyes with a little bit of mana to help him see better.
"It's a woman, and she looks injured by the way she's walking," he muttered, garnering a confused glance from the other two. "I-I mean, that's what it looks like to me, anyway. What do you see?" he stammered quickly, trying not to blow what was left of his cover.
"Let's go help her, then," Jashad said, rushing out of the doorway towards the vast, open desert before them. As they approached, Jashad realized that Gwili was right in his earlier assessment and gave him a wordless, curious glance. "H-help," the tall woman said weakly from about twenty meters away.
After she collapsed to the floor, Gwili rushed to her aid and held her head up for her to drink some water from his flask. "She's probably been walking for days, given the state of her clothes, hair, and dusty skin," he said, giving the rest of her body a quick once-over to see if there were any other wounds he'd missed as a small trickle of water touched her chapped lips.
"But where did she come from? She's certainly not from Harut," Kamil said, kneeling beside her. "You're right, Kamil. She's Hjalfarian," Jashad said gravely.
Do they have shitty relations with them, too? Is there anyone they're allied with? Gwili thought after hearing the comment.
"Bring her with us. We'll dress her wounds and make sure she has some water, but she'll have to stay under a watchful eye until we can verify her identity," Jashad said. "Yes, Sergeant," Gwili said, scooping her up in his arms like a child.
She's a warrior, that's for sure, but this gives me a perfect excuse to escape and tell Leona what I've found, he thought, trailing behind the other two.
Once they were back within the confines of the palace, Jashad dismissed Kamil for the night and accompanied Gwili to the medical chamber, only passing a handful of guards along the way since most were busy investigating the incident with the artifacts.
They stripped her of her armor, revealing dozens of thick, deep battle scars and wounds from long ago, as well as the fresher wound on the back of her leg.
"What sort of mad land did she come from? Are they all this barbaric?" Jashad asked, glancing down at the wounds in awe. "Perhaps not all of them, but these markings on her hands and cheek are identical," Gwili noted, tilting the woman's face to the side.
Glancing at each other curiously, they dressed the wound at the back of her leg, as well as the burn marks on her hands and left cheek, before dressing her in a fresh set of linen. "I don't know much about Hjalfarian culture, but I think it would be wise of us to ask someone who would know," Gwili suggested.
Come on, take the bait, he thought.
"You're thinking of the giant in the dungeon, aren't you?" Jashad asked with a raised eyebrow. "I am," Gwili replied with a nod. "Ah, that's awfully convenient for you, but I will still have to make a report on whatever it is we find out, as too many other guards saw us come down here with her," he said, rubbing his mask-covered chin.
"Fine by me," Gwili replied, scooping her up in his arms once more with a small grunt of exertion. "Before we go, however, I would have you give me your name. Your real name, I mean," Jashad said. "Gwili Gwynn of Caegwen. What's yours?" Gwili asked plaintively. "Jashad Youcef," the sergeant replied with a hand across his chest, mimicking an elven greeting.
"I'd return the gesture, but my hands are already full," Gwili said with a hint of sarcasm. "You're right, we should move before anyone else notices what we've done," Jashad acknowledged, already moving towards the door leading to the dungeon.
Trying not to rouse any more suspicion, they made their way back down the narrow halls that were surprisingly lightly guarded. Jashad greeted the two guards that stood at the entrance to the dungeon who recognized him, and opened the door without any further questions.
That was lucky, Gwili thought as he heard the door latch behind him lock back into place.
"We shouldn't be bothered down here. I will lead you to where your comrades are being held, and we will ask the large one what he knows," Jashad said in a hushed tone, grabbing the nearby torch from its sconce. Illuminating the dank pathway, Gwili could see that there were hundreds, if not thousands, of cells unfit for anyone to survive in.
"You were talking about barbarity earlier, but I think this is far worse than a few burn marks," Gwili noted, receiving only a grunt of embarrassed acknowledgment from Jashad as pained groans could be heard from prisoners shielding their eyes from the bright torchlight as the shadows quickly shed around them.
After passing a few hundred of the cells, they finally reached Leona and the others, getting a surprised look from all of them. "I've brought you all a new friend," Gwili said wryly in Rami's voice, gently lifting the woman as if to present an offering.
Eyeing the two guards curiously, Bernar slowly rose to his feet and proceeded towards the now-opened gate. "Glad to see you're alright, Bernar," Gwili said, using his regular voice this time. "You absolute shithead!" Bernar replied excitedly, quickly taking the woman from his arms and setting her on the bench that Leona quickly made room for.
"Who's this? Friend of yours?" Bernar asked, gesturing to Jashad. "I'm not entirely sure I can call him a friend just yet, but he did help me out of a pretty sticky situation earlier," Gwili began, stepping aside for his partner in crime to move forward. "I'm Sergeant Jashad Youcef. This friend of yours nearly got us killed in his pursuit of information on Queen Zari," he said, extending a hand out to Bernar.
"Yeah, he tends to do that," Bernar agreed, shaking the sergeant's hand firmly and getting a shocked look from Gwili in return. "I don't know what you're talking about," Gwili said, sticking his nose in the air as he shook his head. "Remember that time in the Erebos forest with the Addia?" Bernar asked wryly. "Th-that was different," Gwili said, averting his gaze as he pursed his lips in embarrassment.
"Did you get what we came for?" Leona asked from her kneeling position, caressing the woman's head to keep her from rolling off the bench while Neko and Marte sat with their backs to her hips and legs accordingly. "We did, but Your Majesty, it's much worse than we thought. Jashad here has also seen the information," he said, pulling out the leatherbound book from inside his armor and handing it to Leona.
"It's too dark. Can you bring the light a little closer?" she asked, prompting the sergeant to take a few steps closer. Leona undid the string to the book and began reading its contents. "By the Graces," she gasped, her strained eyes now widened in surprise.
Thorsen, however, was regarding the woman now bathed in torchlight. "Where did you find her?" he asked coldly. "She was wandering the desert when one of the other soldiers, Kamil, spotted her just outside the palace walls," Gwili replied, unsure why Thorsen was looking at her with a furrowed brow.
"What kind of wounds did she have?" Thorsen asked, turning to face the elf. Gwili shrugged and shook his head quickly. "They looked like a coiled snake burned into her skin with acid. She's got them on both of her hands and her cheek, but what do they mean?" he asked.
Thorsen's eyes opened widely before he let out a heavy sigh. "Gwili, I know you meant well, but you just saved a traitor," he said gravely. "We did what?" Jashad asked over his shoulder in surprise.
"It's true. Those markings are known as the Marks of the Unforgiven; they tell anyone who comes into contact with them that they have committed a heinous crime. Wait a minute," Thorsen said, grabbing the torch from Jashad and leaning over the unconscious woman.
"No, it can't be. She's still alive?" Thorsen said, taking a step back. "What do you mean she's still alive? Was she supposed to be dead?" Bernar asked curiously. "Remember how I told you about the Masked One's attack on Grundvollr?" Thorsen said, turning to face him. "Y-yes, but what about it?" Bernar asked with a raised eyebrow.
"She was there, too, but disappeared from the battle shortly after it began. I trained with her for years, but I would never have suspected she'd be a traitor. Her name is Unni, though judging by her current state, it would seem she's an outcast," Thorsen replied, garnering a surprised gasp from just about everyone present. Leona, however, stood up and put her hand on his shoulder to comfort his visible distress.
"It's often difficult to distinguish friend from foe. They could be living within the walls of your own palace for decades before you find out their true nature, praising their own righteousness while being rotten to the core themselves, " she said, hearing a weak chuckle from the next cell over as soon as she finished her sentence.
"Oh, Leona, but you're far more rotten than I could ever be," a weak, raspy voice came from around the corner of the wall that separated the two cells.
Leona's stomach dropped when she recognized the voice.
"M-Mourtis?" she asked weakly, swallowing a dry ball of spit while waiting for a reply as the old man weakly chuckled again. "It seems you're finally getting what you deserve: Retribution," Mourtis replied in a self-satisfied tone.