The Incineration Chamber

Ura woke up to the Hiraeth Cell's deafening silence. She's chained up with a heavy magic suppressing spell. 

She could see the leering faces of several guards staring at her through the barred window of the iron door in the dim, magically-deadened light.

“Of course…” she thought, her expression one of utter boredom. “This is the nature of men, I suppose.”

The guards outside muttered to each other, their eyes filled with a predatory curiosity. A few moments later, the heavy door groaned open.

Olomyar entered, followed by Baltram and two of his loyal men. The Vice-Captain leaned against the far wall, a silent observer, while Baltram and his knights approached her.

“Guess I have to keep quiet and do what they say, huh…” Ura sighed internally,“I suppose knights do need their entertainment, after all.”

“Who are you?” Baltram began, his voice a low growl. “Who sent you? What is your connection to the vampire?”

Ura remained silent, her green eyes looking through him as if he were made of glass.

“Not talking, eh?” one of the other knights sneered. “Lord Olomyar said we could use… enhanced interrogation methods.”

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Ura didn't flinch. He started running a hand down her arm, his touch invasive.

Baltram moved in, his hands going to the buckles of her oversized robes, slowly beginning to undo them but her face still neutral.

“What’s wrong with this one?” the guard holding her shoulder complained. “She’s no fun. Why isn’t she begging or pleading?”

It was then that Ura finally spoke. Her voice was quiet, calm, and carried a weight that made all of them freeze.

“Did your parents not teach you how to treat a woman?” she asked.

Baltram’s hands stopped. “What did you say, you little witch?”

“Is this what passes for a knight’s honor in the Kingdom of Minilon? And are you finished? Because this entire process is becoming tedious.”

“You arrogant little—!” Baltram snarled, his frustration boiling over into rage. He raised a hand to strike her.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”

The roar came from the open cell door. Zebril stood there, “Get your filthy hands off of her. Now.”

The guards turned, their expressions turning to sneering defiance.

“Don’t you mess with our fun time, Captain,” Baltram said, a cruel smirk on his face. He gestured to Olomyar, who was still watching from the corner. “We have the Vice-Captain’s permission…” One of the other knights stepped forward, blocking Zebril’s path. “…you’re powerless.”

“You are interfering with a matter of state security, Captain,” Olomyar said, finally stepping forward from the shadows. He held up a hand, and the guards tensed, their hands on their swords.

“By attempting to aid an unverified and hostile foreign agent, you have made yourself an accomplice. You are compromised.” He gave a sharp, decisive nod to Baltram. “Detain her as well. She will be held until Captain Destrian and the King can pass judgment.”

-ooo-

Their armor and weapons were stripped away, leaving them in nothing but their thin, plain under-tunics. No boots, no belts, no underwear. They were tied with rough rope to opposite ends of the cell, treated as slaves.

Ura, who had woken up during the procession, took in their new circumstances, “I was under the impression you held a position of significant authority,” she said, “Is this level of insubordination even allowed within your command structure?”

Zebril, who was staring at the stone wall, her mind reeling from the betrayal, shook her head. “They’re just… scared,” she said, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. “Paranoid because of the attacks. Don’t worry,” she added, trying to reassure the girl, and perhaps herself. “They won’t do anything truly bad to us.”

“And why not?” Ura asked, her tone clinical.

“Because these are knights of Minilon,” Zebril insisted, her voice tight with a desperate, fading faith. “They are honorable men. Most of them have families… wives, children…”

Ura let out a dry, humorless chuckle, “Captain,” she said, “A man with a wife and a child is perfectly capable of treating a defenseless girl like this. In fact, sometimes it is because he has a family that he feels entitled to claim what he wants, knowing he has a safe, respectable life to return to.”

She shifted against the ropes, her green eyes meeting Zebril’s in the dim light.

“Five minutes ago, in that other cell, I was one command from your ‘honorable’ knight away from you know.”

Zebril stared, Ura’s cold, matter-of-fact statement shattering the last of her naive faith in the honor of her men.

“I see,” she finally said. Her gaze lifted, taking in their new prison.

It was a sterile, clean cell made of seamless, smooth metal. The door was solid and etched with runes. 

And just enough that they can see it, over the hall, there's a huge, glowing crystal. 

“This is the Power Conduit Chamber.”

Ura looked at her. “And that means…?”

“That crystal,” Zebril explained, her voice tight with grim realization, “is the heart of the barracks. It’s an ancient device, a gift from the goddess Orivaneia herself. It powers everything—the wards, the lights, and the security protocols. It blankets the entire fortress in a protective field. Any guard wearing their registered armor is shielded, safe from any harm within these walls.”

She looked down at their thin, plain tunics, then back at the glowing crystal.

“But it has a secondary function. The field identifies anyone not wearing sanctioned armor as a potential intruder. By placing us in here, stripped of our gear… if we were to somehow bypass that door and try to run, the moment we stepped into the main corridor… the field would incinerate us. We’d turn to ashes.”

The full, ugly picture of the conspiracy was now complete.

“Olomyar and Baltram… they’re staging a coup. This crystal also powers the automated inventory runes in the armory and the storehouses. My authority as Quartermaster is tied to it. By stripping me of my armor and locking me in here, they’ve locked me out of my own system.”

She finally understood.

“They’re not just taking me off the board for a few hours. They’re taking over my position.”

“So,” the witch said, “We’re going to be their slaves for now, huh?”

Zebril flinched. She looked at the small girl, at her blank, resigned expression, and Anna’s story of a broken, enslaved royal came rushing back.

The casual, cynical way Ura spoke of such a horrifying fate… it broke Zebril’s heart.

Gods, she thought, what has this poor child been through to be so numb to this?

“No,” Zebril said, her voice fierce and protective. “We won’t be that.”

Ura just gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Listen to me,” Zebril insisted, her voice dropping.

“The crystal’s protection is… selective. It’s an ancient device, imbued with a fragment of Orivaneia’s own will. It can see intent. It knows the difference between a soldier doing their duty and a predator. If any of those guards were to try and harm us in that way… the crystal would strike them down. Orivaneia deemed such acts the most impure a soul can commit. They would be incinerated where they stand.”

Ura’s blank expression shifted slightly, a flicker of genuine interest in her green eyes. “So we’re safe here, then?” she asked.

“From that, at least. I guess that’s a good thing.” She paused, her analytical mind moving to the next logical inconsistency.

“Which brings me to my next question. Why are you here, Captain?”

Zebril looked at her, confused. “What do you mean? Olomyar had me detained.”

“No,” Ura clarified, her gaze piercing.

“I mean before. In the other cell. Why did you try save me?”

Zebril was silent for a long moment, the question forcing her to look past the current disaster and into the core of her own being.

“Because Olomyar’s actions were a disgrace,” she finally said.

“He attacked an unarmed guest from behind. His men were behaving like rabid animals. It was a violation of every code I have sworn my life to uphold.”

She looked at Ura, her expression softening with a tired, maternal strength. “And because you are a young woman, alone, and you were under my watch in my barracks. My own daughter is out there in the world, and I can only pray that if she were ever in your position, some other captain would have the decency to stand up for her.”

“It was my duty.”