Cage

I've never left this city even once. Barbaric tribes of elves and dwarves lived outside, unenlightened, unlike the ancestors who built this city on a foundation of knowledge and reason. In my previous life, the ability to travel to even the other side of the world within hours, assuming you saved up the money to do so, was something I'd taken for granted. I never even tried to leave the city I grew up in, let alone the country, so why is it I always felt trapped in this city? What was different? Before, I never searched for answers to these questions, too afraid to look at what I knew the solution would be, but now I knew, I acknowledged it: it was because I was trapped. By my parents, my father. He chose where I lived, what I did, what my dreams were and what was right or wrong. I'd finally cast off these chains, endless possible life paths I could choose from, and all of them began here, at Paolo's studio. Despite the fact that I just ran here, I was filled with energy as I swung the door open.
"Hello!" I shouted, "I'm he-"
As I made my way into the primary studio, a sight I'd never thought possible came into view: Gika with tears in her eyes. I studied her face more closely. Sadness, fury and helplessness were mixed together. 
"What happened?" I asked.
She looked me in the eyes, opened her mouth to try and say something, then let out a shriek of despair as more tears began welling up. I was flabbergasted, all the hopeful energy I'd had just a moment ago leaving me as I tried to console and comfort Gika without knowing the context for her breakdown. I glanced around. Paolo was nowhere to be seen. 
"Where is Paolo?" 
Gika wiped her tears away and calmed her breathing, though her eyes were still red and watery. She pointed at the corner of the room, where one of her paintings from a few weeks ago stood. It was the drawing depicting the Municipio. Why would he be there? The infirmary. The Uomo Universale had provided a place for the sick and elderly within the Municipio as a gift to the people of the city. 
"Is he at the infirmary?" I asked.
Gika nodded.
"Then let's go see him!"
Gika turned her face away from me and looked like she was about to cry again. 
"Do you… not want to go?"
She shook her head violently, stood still for a moment looking at the floor, then looked at me with newfound determination in her eyes, walking out the door while pulling me along. We made our way towards the shining beacon at the center of the city. Walking through the streets, I felt paranoid. I still thought it unlikely that my father would get the city guards involved in finding me, it would go against our family's pride, but I couldn't afford to view that as a given. Once we got to the Municipio it wouldn't be a problem, as the Uomo Universale have their own unit separate from the city's, but on our way there we had to go through every back-alley that would allow us to avoid the main roads. I felt uncomfortable taking these routes, but Gika was clearly familiar with them, guiding me through and navigating with great proficiency, until finally, we arrived. Inside, we made our way up a set of stairs, spiraling upwards, until we reached a hallway filled with a small squadron of guards, all wearing plague-masks. I wondered for a moment why an organization meant to care for the sick would require such heavy security. We were let in, and led towards Paolo's bed. As we approached, he slightly moved his head in my direction and acknowledged my presence.
"Ya really didn't have to visit me, y'know." He said, lacking much of the power that his voice normally held.
"Gika was in a hysterical state," I said, "so of course I had to see you. I had to understand what happened."
"Yer mom is what happened," Paolo said, "she's been bargin' into my studio pretty consistently while you've been away. The first time she came in she noticed yer paintin' of that metal-glassy thing, the gharati-somethin'-or-other Gika called it…"
"Gharatikuna." She budded in
"Yes exactly, that. Yer mom was fascinated. She started grillin' Gika 'bout it, threatenin' her. But Gika didn't say much. I don't even think yer mom figured out that Gika didn't paint that paintin', but you did. Realizin' that this didn't work, she switched up her strategy and began to bring bribes in the hopes of gettin' Gika to talk more, as well as makin' me less uncomfortable with, y'know, her constant trespassin'. Anyways, earlier today, she came by and treated me to some tea. It must've been poison or somethin', 'cause I didn't see her drinkin' any and a little after she left I started throwin' up and havin' this terrible headache, and then my arms wouldn't move. I begged Gika to bring me here, but she wouldn't. She tried to tell me somethin', but I didn't understand. Then everthin' went black and I woke up here."
"What were you trying to tell him?" I asked.
Gika discreetly glanced around the room, then subtly pointed at one of the guards.
"Were you afraid of getting caught?" I whispered.
"Tisoni ku." She replied, shaking her head.
She pointed again, this time using her left hand to visibly count the number of guards in the room. Ten.
"I still don't get it."
She pointed to behind the guards this time. All of them stood in front of either a window or the door. Every possible exit from this place was blocked.
"Are you saying that the reason that you didn't want Paolo to come her is because-"
Gika nodded. This place wasn't an infirmary, not really. It was a prison.