House Call. [Santhia]

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan gave her a sidelong, measuring glance.

"I am here to investigate Fverard and his home," he said in quiet, measured tones. "I said what I needed to say to draw him out. I work with Lysanrin in the Air Defense Corps. Show me the basement. If I find proof of his wrongdoing, your willingness to cooperate will allow me to commend you when I file my report."

In laying out his strategy with Fverard, he knew he gave her a reason not to trust him: he would say what needed to be said to get the job done. But he had found working with Albrecht easier than working with many people, and so he was as honest with her as he could be. Lysanrin she might be; she didn't deserve to be under the thumb of a criminal.

"My name is Eitan," he said, softening a bit. "I'm a licensed Warder, a Watcher of Purity in the Order of Reconciliation, and Commander of the ZADC Noble Gambit. All that I do is to protect Zaichaer and her citizens. I will protect you from him if you need protecting." He flashed a smile. He certainly looked like he could play the White Knight in a pageant play with his sharp jawline and the hint of something that might have been kindness in his dark eyes. But he knew better than most that nobody and nothing were what they seemed.

Just because he was an executor of the will of the High City didn't mean he was without compassion. The Lysanrin could not be allowed a second chance at a clockwork empire, but he did believe they could be integrated into Zaichaeri society and ought to have protections from illicit harm. Even second-class citizens ought to have rights.

[Santhia]

“I don’t need you to commend me.” She could finally see the man. The Lysanrin passed by him so many times only giving short enough glances to recognize the color of his skin and other features like his hair to give a short description if she needed to in a time of dire need. She could finally take note of his expression and the way he carried himself. The man looked so assured. It was hard to read his body language and give an estimated guess of who he could be outside of this situation. Santhia could usually tell something of a person yet this officer was too cool under the circumstances he was in.

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself. No need to worry about me.” She placed the tray down on a nearby table to cross her arms and think of her next words carefully. “I care a lot for others sometimes. Even if they may not feel the same way about me, I’ll care. So...do what you can for my...my people.” She wanted to call them family. The people she would show him were very much like it at this point. Nonetheless, calling them so felt like she would betray the family she already had back home--wherever that may be at this point.

“Follow me.” Santhia lowered her head as she led the man again through the foyer and underneath the stairs where a dark-colored door was located. Placing her hand on the door, she opened it slowly so that her master could not hear. Moving at the same pace she opened the door, she made sure to step on the steps that made less noise as she led him into what looked like a wine cellar at first. Santhia would halt by a wall lined with red wine, playing with a few bottles before that specific wall opened up to reveal another dark hallway.

“Do what you can.” Santhia did not lead him in but allowed Eitan to witness the horror on his own while she ran back upstairs to avoid any suspicion.

As Eitan stepped into the darkroom, nothing would be clear at first if he held no special capability. The room was dead silent and chilly. It would feel as if he were walking down an endless black hole at first, but he would eventually see a single flickering light that didn’t exactly reveal anything. If he stood there long enough, and quiet enough, someone would reveal themselves. It would be a single, tired-looking Lysanrin at first. An older-looking Ashborne woman wearing a uniform. She wouldn’t speak but stare at him as more slowly approached the light to do the same--each one different looking than the last. Some would look like they’re in decent condition and others looked as if they were on the brink of death. Like the small girl in a nightgown with blood on it that inched closer than most of her kind in that room.

When it was clear that Eitan wasn’t exactly a threat, a few candles would be lit to show many Lysanrin and a room of nothing but cold a cold stonewall hollowed out to make beds and a few shackles connected to that very same wall.

“Are you here to save us?” A young Lysanrin would speak up for the entire group.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Very well," he said after a moment, not certain yet what to make of her. There was a flicker of doubt when she didn't follow him, but she walked away and so his egress wasn't closed off to him. In any case, if he didn't report back, more Watchers would be sent to follow up. The initial complaints might not have been a priority, but the disappearance of a Watcher in the line of duty was taken quite seriously. He descended slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to what little light followed him down and what little light awaited him.

He was not certain how he looked to these wretched creatures as he took in their hopeless stares.

But at least one small soul was not without hope, and his eyes swung down to lock on the boy's. He weighed his answer.

"I am. You will all need to follow me," he said in a voice easy with authority. He was glad to see that none of the shackles were occupied. "Help each other, please. We will go up, I will deal with Fverard, and then we will send for medical help for those of you who need it and justice will be done."

Nobody moved for a few moments. He didn't know if they were having trouble processing the idea that their lot was about to change or whether they doubted him. In any case, he added with as much gentleness and firmness as he could reasonably balance against each other, "Now."

The little boy responded, at least, and Eitan noticed him gingerly limp on an ankle that would look normal except he was so skinny it was clearly swollen.

"Up you go," he said, and scooped him up into his arms. The boy froze at first, but then clung to him as if nobody had carried him in recent memory.

"Follow me," he said, and led them up the stairs. They were used to being quiet, which was all for the best. He led them out of the wine cellar and into the first room of enough size to hold them. Quietly, he said, "I am going to arrest Fverard now. Do not leave the house, but you may eat from the larders, wash with his facilities, and make use of whatever clothes are in the closet. I will not be looking into how the premises and his belongings are used."

That said, he sat the boy down on a chair, turned, and strode back the way he had come. He hoped he didn't look any the less imposing for his wet pants. He began to gather power through his rune so that he could act immediately. Catching Fverard unaware, he dropped a quick anchor into the chair he lounged upon and then pulsed power into the ward so it bloomed into a bubble that caught all of the chair and the man as well. It was quick work, and he was tasking it against Fverard's flesh even as he began to speak.

"Gregory Fverard, by the power vested in me by the State of Zaichaer and the Order of Reconciliation, I am placing you under arrest for the illegal ownership of more than a dozen Lysanrin. Know that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, and if you grow tiresome, I will make this temporary prison soundproof. Struggle overmuch, and I'll make it airtight."

By the time he had recovered enough to move, the ward was set and he could not break free. Eitan began to weave a more powerful structure into it now that he wasn't worried he would have to wrestle the man to the ground.

[Santhia]

The lord was sound asleep when she returned to his lounge. It was strange how quickly elders could fall asleep, especially after such an event. Gregory had no idea whether or not Eitan had exited his home carefully yet he was snoring away on his big comfy chair. So there wasn’t a need for her to guard the human while he was downstairs. Santhia could’ve returned downstairs to see how the man was treating her friends. She had little trust in him even if there was a chance that he was setting her friends free at this very moment.

She sunk on the floor, keeping her eyes on Gregory as she waited. It took longer than she thought it would take for him to come back. But when he did come back, Eitan wasted no time. She wasn't sure what he was doing at first since her knowledge on magic was so limited. The officer spoke some words that seemed almost foreign despite being in common. Still, she was confused. Eitan continued was he was previously doing and it wasn't until Gregory awakened that she had an idea of what just happened. The old man appeared to be trapped.

It was satisfying to see Gregory beg for his life. Not only to the ranking officer but Santhia as well.

“Fuck you.” She yelled at him with a coy smile like she had done the deed herself. It soon faded and she began to pick up a few things in the room and throw it at him. “FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” Santhia began crying and screaming, dropping the last object in her hands. “I HOPE YOU ROT IN A FIERY PIT.”

[Eitan Angevin]

"Ever so sorry, sir, but you abdicated mercy when you lied to a Watcher of Purity."

He paused as the woman screamed her heart out at him. When it seemed she was done, he offered gently, "I'm going to make him deaf and mute to the world for a while, all right?"

Offering a tight smile, he turned his concentration back on the pathetic excuse for a man and wove another task through the ward, and then the sad sack's burbling ceased—or, at least, they didn't need to hear it. Angevin brushed his hands together, then remembered the state of his trousers. With a long-suffering sigh, he turned to the woman.

"I'm sorry, what was your name?"

Then, "Your friends are making use of the house's facilities. I suggest you do as well. Food, baths, spare clothes." He mumbled, "Going to have to send someone for backup. I'm not going out in public with wet trousers."

He offered her a hand up.

"Come along. The State will punish him severely. You had best clean up and prepare to go. You won't be stuck here for long, but the Order will need to process you all and take your statements."

With Fverard safely incarcerated for the moment, he went back to the other room to check in on the unwashed masses. The front door hadn't opened or closed, so he assumed those bodies that weren't present were doing what he had told them to do. When a woman returned looking clean and wearing something laundered, her eyes heavy-lidded from what he assumed was a full belly, he pulled her aside and quietly gave her a task. She would go to the Hall of Reconciliation, tell them Warder Angevin needed backup to remand a prisoner to custody as well as process a group of Lysanrin who had been imprisoned there. She would ask for medical help, as well.

Though she wasn't sure whether to trust him for a moment, he had freed them and so far been as good as his word, so she quit the premises.

And now he only had to wait for his trousers to dry and his backup to arrive. After offering several reassurances to different people as they wandered back into the room that led down into the wine cellar, he looked down to find the injured boy staring up at him with strange, color-shifting eyes. It was unnerving. He was getting an idea of how Albrecht's eyes changed with his moods, but that didn't seem to apply here.

"All right, little man?" he asked diffidently.

[Santhia]

“Santhia. Santhia Valkhaene, daughter of Shanteclaire and Vhiktor and a free woman from this day forward.” She was breathing heavily at first, but it slowed and the Lysanrin would let out a hefty sigh.

She ignored his kind gesture, holding on to the wall as she pulled herself. “I don’t need any of that. I was one of the best-kept slaves. A blessing yet a curse at the same time.” Santhia hinted, walking right past him to check on the others. Although the dark-skinned woman ignored his gesture and movement, she heard him. There was nothing other than joy throughout her entire body at the thought of the people she had spent so many years with taking care of themselves. She rushed to the kitchen first to pull out any baked goods and direct her friends to cabinets where they may find any ingredients. Once a majority was eating or preparing something to eat, the young woman dashed upstairs to redirect the traffic of dirt bodies to several different bodies. Towels were passed out, fresh clothes were handed out or laid out in private rooms and if needed for some of the weaker people, she did not mind lending a hand.

Santhia was exhausted yet still overjoyed. She carried a child on her hip when she met up with the man again. He seemed puzzled by one of the other children. “Many of the Lysanrin do not speak too often around here. We usually use our eyes to let each other know how we’re feeling.” She stood next to the young boy, leaning forward to get a look at his face. “I do not see an angry expression on his face. So guess at what he’s trying to say to you.” She rubbed the child on the head before giving the officer her attention.

“I want to express the same. I am happy to be freed from what felt like invisible shackles! If there’s anything that I can do for you, please let me know.”

[Eitan Angevin]

"Well, then," he said, diffident about the boy. He patted him on the head. "Why don't you go take a bath and put on some new clothes and if nobody else can be bothered, I'll wrap that ankle for you so there's no permanent damage."

It was a strange sort of kindness cloaked in his prejudices. The ruddy-skinned boy unnerved him, but he was neither blind nor unsympathetic toward suffering. An older man took the boy's hand and led him away, hopefully for that bath, letting him lean so he didn't have to put much weight on the injured ankle.

Eitan turned his attention to the woman.

"Yes, well, just doing my duty, Valkhaene, but your appreciation is appreciated." He flashed a white-toothed smile. Some might have called it dashing; he certainly thought so. "I would appreciate your help marshaling these folks. The cleaning and reclothing will make them seem more respectable, which will make their processing easier. I'll watch the reprobate. You be a dear and let me know when the troops arrive, hey?"

He smiled again, the matter obviously concluded to his mind, and then he returned to sit with Fverard. Let the unwashed masses wash themselves; he was a hero, not a nursemaid. And anyway, it was amusing to watch Fverard go apoplectic behind the warding while Eitan sampled his finest vintages.

When the little red boy peeked in, Eitan waved him in. The little lad had brought bandages and so Eitan obliged him, sitting him one of the lord's own fine chairs and kneeling to wrap his fleshly cleaned ankle.

"It has to be a bit snug," he warned, "so it doesn't move as much. You don't want to make matters worse while your body heals. Also keeps the swelling down. There you are." He stood up, brushing off his pant leg. The little boy pointed at Fverard, giggling. Eitan turned to look. The man looked ready to start frothing at the mouth he was so angry and scared.

Eitan laughed. There wasn't a knock at the front door, but they could hear it open from there. The boy was quickly up and hiding behind Eitan's legs.

[Torin Kilvin]

R E V I E W

Lore:

Eitan
Deception:
Leading Them to Think You Agree
Asking Advice to Gain Information
Making an Excuse to Be Alone With Someone
Faking Offense

Interrogation:
Put Them at Their Ease
Social Intimidation
Pushing Rank

Investigation:
Learning Neighborhood Demographics
Examining the Factors for Insurrection
Assessing Wealth
Keeping Notes
Noting Lack of Self-Care
Looking Into Complaints
Recognizing Cues

Santhia
None Requested

Points: 8 Each, can be used for Negation by Eitan

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: If Santhia would like lores just let me know =)