Interrogation at the Harbor

The water's surface was bathed in a magnificent, almost divine radiance as the golden sunlight broke across the waves. The scene was peaceful, the sort of scene that poets could write about, but to Shen and his friends, the peace seemed like a cruel joke. Shen felt a deep, agonizing exhaustion that had become ingrained in his bones, causing every muscle in his body to scream in protest. It seemed like a lifetime ago, the fight for the pirate captain's ship, their last-ditch escape, but the psychological and physical toll was still a thick, oppressive shroud.

A tightness in Shen's chest relaxed just a bit as the sharp, tooth-like rocks that surrounded Regalia's harbor finally broke the horizon. He and Fenix and Kelly looked at each other wearily. They had succeeded. Finally, the long voyage had come to a conclusion.

They anticipated a wary, possibly hostile, reception as their hijacked ship sailed near the pier. A pirate ship is not greeted with open arms. But what they saw was nothing like the silent suspicion they had expected. Soldiers' loud, barking orders divided the air, which was heavy with the smell of salt and fish. Shen's eyes darted to the dozens of spear tips gleaming in the sunlight, all pointed squarely at them, as soon as the ship groaningly hit the wooden wharf.

Immediately, his training took over. Slowly, Shen lifted his hands in a global sign of peace, palms facing out. He glanced at the group of warriors, observing their gleaming armor and the strange banners billowing in the ocean wind. The royal guards were not these people. The militants owned them. This made matters much more difficult.

Beside him, Fenix said in a low, strained voice, "We can't just give up without a fight." He felt the heat of frustration as his hand naturally moved toward his sword's hilt.

With a sad face, Shen shook his head. "Not now," he answered in a stern voice that cut through Fenix's restlessness. In an instant, he had assessed their situation: they were outnumbered, tired, and on uncharted territory. It would be suicide to fight. "The only thing that keeps us alive is surrendering."

A man with a face like chiseled rock, the leading soldier, stepped forward abruptly. His captain nodded curtly, and he yelled, “Arrest them!”

With methodical efficiency, the soldiers flooded the deck. Shen's, Fenix's, and then Kelly's wrists were encircled by the icy, weighty bite of iron chains. With a mixture of terror and disdain in every eye, they were hustled from the ship and into the busy harbor. Beneath the city lay a wet and chilly dungeon hewn out of the stone. The air smelled of mold and hopelessness, and it was heavy and thick with wetness. A relentless, annoying drip… drip… drip of water reverberated off the walls, intensifying the oppressive air until it was difficult to take a deep breath. They were plunged into near complete darkness when the iron door slammed shut behind them with a loud clang.

Fenix sagged against the wet wall, his shackles clattering in the deafening quiet. "Wonderful," he mumbled, his tone brimming with irony. "We're already prisoners before we've even entered this country."

Kelly's tone remained piercing and incisive, and a slight, sardonic smirk appeared on her lips. She snapped back, "Well, perhaps it wasn't the most subdued of decisions to enter insurgent territory while donning the military uniforms of our kingdom."

The deep silence of the cell engulfed their fleeting teasing. But Shen said nothing; his mind was already busy digesting and making plans. He had long since discovered that patience was a weapon, and at times such as these, it was the most potent weapon he had.

Maybe thirty minutes passed before the sound of approaching, heavy footsteps disturbed the silence. With their senses sharpened, Shen, Fenix, and Kelly all straightened at once. They squinted as a dim, dusty shaft of light cut through the darkness and the agonizingly slow moan of the iron door being forced open.

A man with a gruff appearance entered the cubicle. He was middle-aged, a lighted pipe clutched between his teeth, and a sharp scar over one eye. The lines carved on his weathered face told tales of innumerable fights and restless nights, and his thick beard was streaked with gray. The man exuded a tired authority, flanked by two soldiers with heavy weapons.

"I apologize on behalf of my men," he said, his voice a rough growl with a hint of earnestness. These days, we don't tolerate pirates too much. However, soldiers from the kingdom don't often arrive at our door, particularly not under these dire circumstances.

Shen examined him closely, absorbing every nuance, and then he spoke in a cool, collected tone. "Are you aware of our purpose for coming?"

After taking a lengthy, methodical drag from his pipe, the man exhaled a fragrant cloud of smoke, the cherry flickering briefly in the darkness. "You're seeking answers," he said plainly, not as a query but as a reality. "Am I mistaken?"

There was a brief gaze between the three companions. The small cell became more tense. The chains around Shen's wrists clinked softly as he made a tiny step forward. Additionally, how can we be certain that you have the answers we need?

The man signaled for them to follow with a calloused hand. He remarked, "Let's talk about this in my office," in a cool tone that was laced with a command that made no space for disagreement.

They reluctantly followed him as he left the dungeon. He escorted them across a wide courtyard where soldiers were practicing spear maneuvers in rows, their movements accurate, coordinated, and lethal. The fact that the entire compound was reinforced was evidence of the insurgents' military skill and discipline. Even though he was impressed, Shen's gaze followed their motions.

After entering the man's office, he sank behind a big, intimidating wooden desk in an old leather chair. He motioned them to take the plain wooden seats across from him. Only tactical maps that were tacked to the walls and featured troop movements and key locations adorned the sparsely furnished area.

Leaning back, the man tapped a tiny clay dish with the ash from his pipe. He fixed Shen with his piercing eyes, one of which was framed by the silvery scar. "I am aware of your king's attempted assassination. His words fell into the silent room like stones. "I know you're searching for the truth behind it," he murmured. "However, the answers you're looking for won't be freely provided."

Shen's eyes remained fixed. "What do you mean?"

The commander put his forearms on the desk and leaned forward. His surroundings became more predatory as the tired air grew sharper. "Everything has a cost," he remarked, his tone becoming increasingly implied.