With Dimov doing his best to save the 'survivor' that Alarion had burned to near death, it was left to Alarion to interrogate the only conscious subject. To that end he'd dragged her into one of the adjoining rooms, a barracks from the look of it. There he'd helped her onto a bed, stripped her of weapons and her scant magical gear, then started asking questions.
It was not going well.
"Who are you?"
"The most recent incarnation of She Who Bore Riddles, obviously," the woman spat. She was younger than he'd thought, only a decade his senior. Her face and left arm were criss-crossed with severe scars, her brown eyes full of defiance.
"Who are you?"
"Do you think asking it for a fourth time is going to get a better answer?"
"Who-"
"I don't speak to Vitrians," she snarled.
"Do my eyes look blue to you?"
Whatever snide remark she had ready to go died on her lips as she met his eyes for the first time. She frowned, her gaze raking him up and down as though she'd missed something before she said, "You fight like one."
"My name is Alarion. We are Auxilia," he glanced back at one of the bodies, "they called you Lini, right?"
His question fell on deaf ears. She was staring at him, head canted to one side as if trying to be sure about something. When she spoke, it was a simple question. "The Orphan?"
Alarion bristled at the question, but kept his cool. "You have heard of me."
"You helped slaughter these butchers. Why are you fighting for them?!"
She wasn't the first Ashadi he'd met who'd bought into that twisted version of the story. The official story of the Trinity Massacre was that he'd been taken prisoner during the 'attack' and that Ruin and his forces had rescued him. The Vitrian media had floated rumors of his supposed complicity before Ruin's public declaration. Though that declaration ended public speculation in Vitria, it did nothing to quell the endless rumor-mongering in Ashad.
"That... is not what happened," he told her. He briefly considered telling her the truth, but Dimov's presence quickly vetoed the thought. "You know who I am, who are you?"
"Auxilia are Vitrians in a worse uniform," she told him.
"Where are the villagers?"
That surprised her. Her brows narrowed as she looked to the door, then back at him. "Those weird bastards. No wonder you got in so close. I've no idea where they are."
"Would you tell me if you did?" Her expression spoke more than she did, causing Alarion to sigh in frustration. "Why are you here?"
"You know why."
Alarion's jaw tightened as he resisted the urge to wipe that smug look off her face. "You are responsible for the infestation?"
"The Vitrians are going to have their hands full for months. You should desert. Kill him, heal me. Centre would love to meet you."
"Centre. Is that a person?"
Lina shrugged. "Could be. Follow me and find out."
"Orphan," Dimov called from the other room.
"Oh, daddy's calling," she smirked, then looked down at her broken hand, punctured shoulder, and twisted ankle. "Don't keep him waiting. I'll stay right here."
Alarion didn't like how easily she stirred his anger. Or how quickly she could twist it toward his ally. She should have been a [Wordsmith].
"Orphan!"
"I'm coming!" Alarion answered, trying and failing to hide the irritation in his tone as he stood from Lini's side and crossed the room. There he found Dimov crouched over the body of their last remaining prisoner.
Or what remained of him.
This one had been the weakest of the six by far, and it showed in his condition. His left arm was a melted stump, his left side cooked almost to the bone by the intense heat. Severe burns covered most of his body, with skin, fabric, and metal inexorably intertwined. Alarion would have thought it was a corpse if not for the slow rise and fall of its chest.
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"There is no healing this in the field," Dimov said, as if Alarion couldn't see as much with his own two eyes. "If I had more MP, I could stabilize him, but that fight bled me dry. Not that I would bother. Even if we brought him back, it would take weeks or months to deal with the worst of this. All so that we can hang him."
Alarion was in no mood for this song and dance. He knew where Dimov was going, what he was expected to say, and the back-and-forth they would engage in. Rather than engaging in self-flagellation and hand-wringing for the same endpoint, he asked the only question that mattered. "Do you need me to do it?"
Though he'd acquitted himself well in the battle, Dimov hadn't taken a life. To Alarion's knowledge, he might never have done so.
"I..." Dimov answered, his left hand idly tapping at a dagger on his belt. "I can do it."
Alarion studied the young Vitrian for just a moment, then shook his head and slid Echo from its sheath on his bracer. "Another day."
"I can do it!" Dimov insisted.
"I know you can."
You have slain [Human – UCL 22]
When the thing was done, Alarion cleaned his blade, re-sheathed it, and returned to Lini. Her face was pale as he approached, her neck craning as she tried to peer around the corner to where the body lay.
"He is dead," Alarion told her flatly.
"And I'm next?"
"Not so long as you can walk," he answered. "I would have preferred to take all of you alive, but given where we are and what you have done, it was never going to be an option."
"He still has to sell me on taking you," Dimov said as he followed a few steps behind Alarion.
"It is past your bedtime, and the adults are talking." Dimov's face flushed with anger, his sword scraping the scabbard before Alarion placed a hand over its pommel. Lini merely laughed. "You think you can intimidate me? I was dead the second we lost. Your sword or a noose, it doesn't make a difference to me."
"I can make it hurt," the Vitrian retorted.
"Worse than this?" Lini asked, nodding to the open wound on her shoulder, then to the scars on her arm. "You aren't even the first Vitrian to torture me."
"We do not-"
"Oh yes, the great moral empire. Mother, what I wish I could have lived long enough to see it burn."
Alarion put a hand on Dimov's shoulder, but the boy brushed it off as he stalked forward, leaning over the defeated woman. "So you admit it?"
"Proudly!" she grinned.
"Scum," Dimov cursed.
"Dimov," Alarion said. Again, he reached to pull the man back.
"Do not touch me!" Dimov growled back at him before he turned his focus to Lini once more. "This collaborator-"
"Us?" Lini laughed. "Shae-Yevan, Shae-Ivies, Shae-Talii. They're the collaborators. All of them smelting ore for your blades, growing grain for your troops and raising whores for your army. But not anymore. Now everyone will think of those names before they ever consider filling your quotas."
"You are confessing?" Dimov asked, nearly nose to nose with the Ashadi.
"I'm bragging," she replied with gleeful enunciation.
Then she headbutted him.
"Mother of-" Dimov shouted as he stumbled back. Blood was rushing from his nose, but Alarion paid the superficial wound no mind as he stepped between the two, his eyes focused on the gleaming steel Lini held in one hand.
"I follow the living and bury the dead," she told him, then plunged the dagger into her chest.
She was dead before Alarion reached her.
"What have you done?!" Alarion shouted as he turned on Dimov.
"What are you..." Dimov trailed off as he saw what had transpired. As he saw his dagger sticking out of the woman's chest. "How did she... dammit. Dammit!"
The young Vitrian began throwing what could only be called a tantrum. He paced around the small barracks, swearing and striking any piece of furniture that offended him. Twice he hurled invectives at the dead woman, but was wise enough not to try to strike the body. Not with Alarion standing over her.
Alarion gave him time to work through it, but after two minutes, he'd had enough. He collected a sheet, retrieved Dimov's dagger, and covered the body before addressing his superior. "The Sergeant will expect us to check in shortly. We should search the rest of the rooms."
"The Sergeant can..." Dimov bit his tongue as Alarion's expression tightened. Whatever he'd intended to say was left by the wayside as he nodded. "You are right. We should see if we can salvage this."
"Mm," Alarion agreed, carefully schooling his expression. The fit didn't bother him nearly so much as the boy's reason. He wasn't upset that a woman had died, had killed herself right in front of him, but that he'd lost his prize. Bringing home a live collaborator, especially one who had caused so much damage, would have been a political coup for everyone involved. It would have given Dimov a name among his peers. That was what he cared about.
Their search didn't take long. This part of the complex was small, with only a few additional rooms all spreading off from the initial chamber where the battle had taken place. Most were purely functional in use: a lavatory, a kitchen. There was a room stacked high with discarded goods, including rings, books, clothing, and coins. A treasury of sorts. Another, the largest of all, was a long white room filled with shelves. The only room with a door, Alarion understood why the moment he opened it, and an utterly foul smell assaulted him. He had no idea what to make of it and chose not to linger.
It was the last room that solved a mystery.
Alarion had wondered why someone with Lini's conviction would be so open to bragging about her plans. Provoking Dimov did not seem especially hard, and if she'd been set on suicide, she likely would have had other chances to take her own life before they could have delivered her to a proper interrogation. Spilling secrets seemed excessive. But with the benefit of hindsight, he now understood.
The walls of the last room were plastered with maps depicting Western Ashad, its shelves lined with propaganda and illicit reading material. There were log books detailing the cell's activities and testing kits similar to the ones they'd been using for days. It was a veritable treasure trove of intel.
The Ashadi boy he'd killed with his [Void Crush] hadn't been trying to flee, for there was no way out of their planning room. He'd been rushing in to take up the conspicuous canisters of lamp oil and set the entire room ablaze.
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