"The Square," Headquarters of The Guard

The acting warden of The Square stands before the cell containing Juniper , clipboard in hand.

Following a large fire near the gate on Empress Street, the firemen requested that this girl be questioned, suggesting that she may have committed arson. That was this morning, some hours ago. The healer said that given the lump on her head, she probably got hit pretty hard, but it isn’t bleeding, and hopefully, there won’t be any lasting damage. He did some sort of healing-fingers-magic routine and said to let her sleep it off. He also said that might be some manner of magical creature, though identifying what kind was beyond the purview of his skills.

With this in mind, the suspect was placed in a cot in one of the cells designed to hold the magically inclined. Runes engraved in the stone function to disrupt, dissipate, and otherwise disallow the manifestation of magic within the cell. With as rampant as magic is in Isra, these cells see much use.

And she seems fine enough in there—still asleep, so Prisoner #494 gets a checkmark on the warden’s list, and he continues down the hall.

It might have been only a few hours, it might have been several days. Eventually, someone comes to call on Kaelie. A guard in armor, flanked by three other similarly dressed soldiers bang on the cell door.

“Prisoner four-hundred and ninety-four,” he calls. His voice is soft and gentle. It barely echoes around the stone chamber. Prisoners in nearby cells retreat to the far back wall, as far away from the metal doors to their own cells as possible.

“Prisoner 494 will come with us. The prisoner will not speak, nor will the prisoner attempt to make eye contact or otherwise interact with any other prisoner or member of The Guard.”

The guards steer the creature out of her stupor, moving to clap massive manacles around her wrists. Her arms are to be bound before her, left arm atop right. If she wanted to resist, the guards are well trained in subduing noncompliants.

Assuming no fuss, the guards would then fasten chains around Kaelie’s legs. When properly tightened, these would allow for no strides longer than a truncated half-step. After the process of securing the prisoner is done, a square formation of guards will march Kaelie down the long stone hallway, between rows and rows of cells. No prisoners call out or make any noises.

The collected guards do not miss a beat. As Kaelie goes limp, they bodily pick her up and frog-march their limp charge down the hallway. They turn left, right, right again, climbing several staircases and descending a few others. The stone walls blur together, but their pace never drops below a quick trot. Eventually, the company stands before a wooden door.

One guard undoes the locks and throws the door open as the others carry Kaelie in and sit her down at a small wooden table. Two chairs sit opposite each other, and a small lamp sits off to the far right corner. Save for these four items of furniture, the room is empty. As with her cell, this room is also enchanted and protected against the use of magic.

The manacles come undone for a split second, long enough to allow for a guard to bolt the left cuff to the table with a short chain. The right cuff is bound behind the chair. The chains around Kaelie’s ankles are bound tightly to a small metal hook in the floor.

The guards leave without ceremony, closing the door behind them. Several latches fall into place behind them. At almost the same instant as the latches seal the door, part of the opposite wall swings inward. A woman enters, looks the creature bound to the table up and down for several seconds, then moves to sit at the table. Behind her, the section of wall swings back, no seams or cracks remain to suggest the entryway was ever there. The woman is slightly shorter than average, her hair done up and hidden under a dull grey breton cap.

“Prisoner four-nine-four,” the woman says after taking her seat, “currently being held for mass arson, reckless use of potent and deadly magicks with the intent to harm or kill, assault of a member of the fire brigade, disturbing the peace, and a heap of other charges.”

The woman places a stack of parchments on the table and surreptitiously arranges them, all while staring down the faerie across the table. Her gaze is clear, not directly malicious, but far from friendly. Some of the papers before her have charcoal sketches and diagrams, some are filled with only print. Next to the papers rests a steaming clay mug. A slight scent of lavender cuts through the dankness in the room, and the odors mingle together into a rather muddled mélange.

The interrogator continues. “We have dozens of accounts from those present at the inferno. You seemingly appeared out of nowhere and began setting buildings, refuse, and anything flammable alight. Members of our fire brigade arrived on the scene to combat the fire. You directly attacked one of them. After a brief struggle, you were subdued and brought here.”

A sigh. A sip of tea. The woman rubs her hands together in an effort to ward off the creeping chill of the room. She looks at her prisoner again and shrugs.

“And all I want to know is why. Why enter our city and immediately begin attempting to maim and kill?”

She is silent, now. If Kaelie has anything to say, now would be the best time.

Standing outside the front entrance to the Square, Montag was even more convinced of his decision to become a firefighter instead of a guard. The bleak building seemed to crush the spirit out of the body as one approached closer and closer, until one was little more than an emotionless husk. Still, he had business to attend to.

Walking up to the door to the offices for the officers of the guard, his back seemed to crackle and snap with every step. The worst of the damage had been repaired by a mage, as well as the worse effects of the concussion, but he still felt the bones trying to resettle with every movement. Finally, he found the entrance he was looking for, and walked into the main hallway that led to the officer offices.

Approaching a waiting window, he rang the bell at the front desk, and waited to be taken in for his interview of the events of the day.

Kaelie scowled venomously to hide the surging panic in her chest. It had only been a few hours locked in that wretched cell and she didn't think she would make through even another night trapped in that cell. She could feel her natural glow diminishing with every passing moment.

She stared at human, clearly seething, furious she even had to explain herself. "I mean exactly what I said you dim slugborn." She hissed furiously, wiggling in her bonds. "You humans come and destroy my home, slaughter, mutilate, and desecrate my brothers and sisters- and you expect no consequence? As a guardian and mother of nature, I will no longer sit idly by as you humans rampage. I dare you to spill the blood of the earth's brethern. Watch how quickly the world you live in will turn against you. A mere camping blaze such as the one I lit will look like nothing when my sisters discover what has become of me."

Kaelie was pratically growling herself back at the woman, seething even more as the words poured from her, anger rising again, her skin brightening as she gained steam before she deflated slightly as the manacles on her wrists drained her dry.

A confession. Potentially more than that.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Prisoner four-nine-four. Please, excuse me. I will return later and we can continue this conversation.”

“Progress. I have to go interview a member of the fire department. Keep our prisoner comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, the inspector makes her way back up to the surface. Along the ways, she mulls over what the faerie told her. This might have been a lone attack by a naive and youthful extremist, but how did other members of her species feel about Isran expansion? Could trouble be brewing?

She rounds the final staircase and exits through the double set of secure doors separating the lobby from the offices. There sits Decker. Compared to the short stature of the inspector, the fireman seems a giant.

“Mr Decker,” the inspector calls. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m glad you are feeling well enough to help us out a bit today.”

The clerk at the front desk hands Decker a temporary pass marking him as a visitor for the day before the inspector leads the fire chief back to her desk. The office area around them hums with activity. A few officers take note of the fire chief and give him respectful nods.

“Our prisoner is quite volatile. She’s admitted to starting the fire and even given us a motive as to why, but not before calling my parent’s union into question and insinuating I have a ghastly proclivity towards animals. Now, I’ve had my boys send notices to the city guards in an effort to help ward off future attacks from any of The Fae. If possible, having the fire department on high alert couldn’t hurt. Before we go much further with the prisoner, I’d like to hear your side of things. What exactly do you remember happening before and during the attack? I’m trying to piece together a more organized account than ‘a faerie showed up and tried to burn down an entire city block’.”

She offers Decker a hot mug of tea. From the smell, it’s a rich black tea with a touch of citrus and honey.

Kaelie fumed as she was basically dismissed. There was no reaction or remorse in the slightest. Humans were truly the worst beings the gods had ever created to roam this earth. They just destroyed, acknowledged their destruction- probably took pride in it even- and refused to face responsibility. They needed to learn and understand the consequences of their actions.

But to be a martyr for such a cause... That was something Kaelie was unsure she could face.

"I hope your souls suffer in eternal torment!" Kaelie screamed at the woman's' back, actually trembling in rage as she continued to struggle in the accursed chair she was affixed to. She realized she was rubbing the skin at her wrists raw and straining her limbs but she didn't care. What she really wanted to do was wrap her hands around that cow's neck and strangle her till there was not a breath left in her lungs then burn her so that not even a trace was left behind.

It was all that damn pretty eyed humans' fault though. The one with ash colored eyes. If only she hadn't gotten distracted, she probably wouldn't have been caught and she'd be standing atop a mound of ash where the awful city had been. The Cow first and then the pretty eyed human. He'd make a good pet if she could ever manage to get out of this place.

Montag took Investigator Iotapa's hand readily and gave it a hearty, firm shake. He let go when she handed him the first of the case notes, and as he read over them, he let out a low whistle. This Fae certainly had a mouth on her. "Well, it seems she can get heated in more than one way," he joked wryly, a snide grin coming at the Fae's expense.

He did have to take pause when she mentioned the further political implications of a Fae insurrection. Montag didn't have much a grasp on politics outside of the Firehouse elections, which pretty much came down knowing who to buy the ale for and to give favorable shifts to. He had been happy enough keeping his head out of politics that didn't extend out of the outskirts of the city.

Montag replied, "Well, I'm not much for international politics, I'll leave you guys to that. And as for the questioning, I know you'll do good, but it might help to have me in the room with you. Might make the Fae more talkative."

In the time that her investigator had left, Kaelie's physical state had deteriorated severely. Her natural glow was all but diminished and it left her skin looking a rather sickly gray and pallid. She had pitched forward slightly in the seat and was resting her weight on her chained limbs. Her chest was heaving with exhaustion and what could be assumed to be stress. From the silver blood that was staining her wrists, it was clear in the investigator's absence she had tried however she could to pull herself free or even just summon some reserve of magic to calm herself in the dark room.

From the way that she seemed to jump at the door opening, it was clear she hadn't managed to do so. Quickly as if they couldn't see her, she rubbed her face into her shoulder before she shot a glare at the investigator.

"Oh look, the cow's back. Your farmer ought to be getting worried about you by now. Why don't you run along back to pasture?" She taunted at her, trying to distract from the way her limbs were trembling and the fact her eyes were red with blown pupils. She was afraid, but she wasn't about to let that show in front of vermin.