CHAPTER 118: ELINA GLIMOR [2]

Up ahead, Elina was conversing with her guard, their voices too low to catch.

But she glanced back frequently, and each time her golden eyes lingered on the prisoners with growing suspicion.

These men are too calm, she thought.

The old one has military bearing, and the younger one... he acts like this is entertainment.

Then she faced ahead again, mind racing.

Could they be spies? Testing our defenses? Mother needs to know immediately.

Then she looked back again, her gaze locked with Alaric’s across the distance.

He was watching her with that same infuriating smirk, like this was all some grand joke only he understood.

Is he mocking me?

Though behind her, Alaric caught the guard’s eye again and mouthed silently, without turning fully to make it seem like normal conversation.

"How long to the garrison?"

The guard held up three fingers. Three streets.

Alaric nodded.

"I do appreciate the guided tour of the city." He said loud enough for others to hear.

She stiffened in her saddle but didn’t look back.

Fredrick finally spoke, his voice low to a whisper, only Alaric could hear.

"You’re enjoying this too much."

"When else will I get this chance?" Alaric replied, keeping his voice low.

"Being arrested by my own guards, no less."

"Yeah, your own guards." Fredrick repeated flatly.

"I’m learning how well they follow protocol when they don’t know who they’re handling."

The old knight shook his head but Alaric caught the hint of amusement in his eyes.

Then a few minutes later, they arrived at a stone fortress.

Thornwick Garrison rose like a gray fist from the cobblestones. Its walls were thick granite, windows narrow enough that even a child couldn’t squeeze through.

Elina dismounted at the entrance, her boots clicking against cobblestones. She strode toward the main gate.

"Captain Morris!" she called. "I need these prisoners secured in high-value cells."

Then she paused, considering.

"And send word to the manor. Lady Selene should be informed we have... a situation."

"Yes, my lady."

She glanced at the prisoners one more time then back at the captain telling him all about the charges.

"No visitors should be allowed without written permission. From me or Lady Selene directly."

The captain nodded and gestured to his men.

"Take them in."

Two guards flanked Alaric, two more surrounded Fredrick.

They were led through a narrow entrance that opened into a processing chamber, all stone and iron, designed to intimidate.

A clerk sat behind a scarred wooden desk, already pulling out ledgers.

"Names?" he asked without looking up.

Alaric stayed silent, forcing the clerk to raise his eyes.

"Your names," the clerk repeated, irritation creeping in.

"John," Alaric said pleasantly. "John Smith."

The clerk’s quill paused. "John Smith."

"That’s right."

"And you?" The clerk looked at Fredrick.

"William Baker," the old knight said with a completely straight face.

The clerk stared at them both, then wrote the names down with exaggerated care. "Charges?"

"Assault on nobility," one guard supplied. "Disrupting law. Illegal use of essence techniques in public."

"Quite a list for John Smith," the clerk muttered.

The guard who’d recognized Alaric earlier shifted uncomfortably but kept quiet.

"Take them to the cell three."

The guard nodded and then took them deeper inside the garrison.

The interior was all stone corridors and flickering torches.

Their footsteps echoed past armories and barracks where soldiers looked up from their duties.

Then they stopped in front of the cell.

It was larger than Alaric had expected, more of a holding room than a dungeon.

Stone walls on three sides, iron bars facing the corridor. Two wooden benches, a bucket in the corner, straw scattered across the floor.

The guards remained positioned outside, including the grizzled veteran who kept shooting worried glances at Alaric.

"Get in," the lead guard said, unlocking it.

They both entered, casually.

Then Elina also followed them inside, flanked by her guards who positioned themselves strategically around her.

She remained cautious, treating them like dangerous animals, that might strike at any moment.

"Now," she began, golden eyes sharp. "You’ll explain who you really are and why you attacked Lord Risvolk’s men."

Alaric didn’t even look at her.

Instead, he walked to the window, examining its height with the casual interest of someone touring a manor.

"How old is this building?" he asked the grizzled guard.

The guard shifted nervously. "Uh, about sixty years, my lor—sir. Sir."

"Interesting stonework," Alaric mused, running his hand along the wall.

"Pre-reformation style, isn’t it? They don’t build them like this anymore."

He paused at a darker patch on the stone.

"How’s the structural integrity holding up? I notice some discoloration here."

The guard glanced nervously at Elina, then back to Alaric.

"Some... some water seepage in the lower levels, sir. From the recent rains."

Alaric nodded thoughtfully.

"And the armory ventilation? Old stone buildings like this tend to have moisture problems in enclosed spaces."

"They... they upgraded the system last year, sir," the guard replied, sweat already beading on his forehead.

Elina’s eyes narrowed.

Alaric traced his finger along a crack in the mortar. "So, having issues drainage? This kind of settling usually have foundation problems."

The guard was practically shaking now. "Yes, sir... we’ve been working on that. The architects say it’s not structural, but..."

"Stop." Elina’s voice cut through the conversation like a blade.

She stepped closer to the guard. "Stop answering his questions."

The guard fell silent immediately, but his nervous glances between Elina and Alaric continued.

"And you..." She then turned to face Alaric directly.

"You’re in no position to make demands or conduct inspections—"

"Is that mold in the corner?" Alaric interrupted casually, pointing to a dark stain near the ceiling.

"Might want to check before it’s too late. Stone foundations are expensive to replace though."

Fredrick coughed, poorly covering what might have been a laugh.

Elina’s face flushed red.

The prisoner was completely ignoring her authority, treating her garrison like his personal property to inspect.

"You think this is amusing? You—"

But before she could respond properly, rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

"Lady Elina!" A messenger appeared, breathing hard.

"Lady Selene has arrived. She’s coming down now."

Elina’s head snapped up. "Mother? Here?"

She glanced once more at the prisoners, then back at the messenger. "Where is she?"

"She’s in the main hall, my lady."

"I’ll be right there."

Elina backed away from the cell, never taking her eyes off Alaric.

"Double the guard. No one speaks to them without my permission."

Then she turned and followed the messenger up the stairs.

Sigh!

Fredrick then sat on the bench and looked at Alaric who was humming that tone again.

Then, minutes later, footsteps echoed again on the stone stairs.

A woman descended into the torchlit corridor, wearing emerald silk.

Her dark hair was perfectly arranged despite the journey, and her green eyes took in the scene with the kind of analytical precision that missed nothing.

"Mother, they hadn’t given their real names yet, and the younger one." Elina spat to the side.

"He acts like this is all entertainment."

"Mmm." That was Selene’s only response.

"They are completely unhinged."

They reached the cell door.

Selene looked through the bars at the two figures inside—Alaric now sitting casually on one of the pallets, Fredrick standing with his arms crossed.

Selene sighed deeply.

"Yes," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "They are absolutely terrifying."

Then she turned and gestured to the nearby guard.

"Open the door."

The guard hastily unlocked the cell. Selene stepped inside, emerald eyes fixed on Alaric.

Who then opened his eyes, and smirked, raising his shackled hands.

"Quite the welcome."