His was a lush prison cell, but it was a prison cell. There were no bars on the windows or cold-stone floors, but even so it was practically austere by noble standards- one room, a single hearth, a guard by the door and a small window. Covers that had been made entirely out of poor quality cloth, and only a few sets of clothing… some nobles would have found the situation disheartening.

Luckly, Laeo wasn’t a noble.

He packed back and forth, movements quick with furth and subdued by the knowledge that he couldn’t betray himself. What would a noble do? What would a Sakaxhy noble do? The truth was, he didn’t particularly know what they’d do when imprisoned, so the best thing was to improvise, and make sure not to call attention to himself…

Also, however, to make the best of the situation… he eyed the guard, pondering whether he could bribe him onto his side. He could have as much gold as he needed beneath the watchful ministrations of Arctic… there was no resource that he didn’t seem to have access to in abundance.

It was concerning, how far beyond… pacing. One step after another, managing to look restless but also composed at the same time. It was incredible what people would just ignore while you were pacing- bumping into things, moving about the room. Guards didn’t care, especially when he was nobility.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t leave. He could- that would have been a walk in the park. They’d taken his weapon, the strange blade, but by then it had been just a normal dagger. Magic, perhaps? He didn’t know what caused it, and in the moment he had bigger problems to-

Pace. Heart beating in his ears, he knew that he had to do something or his prison visit would be a waste. Allies. He needed to make allies, somehow, grow friendships and make him seem like a lord the people could approach. Another prisoner, maybe? He paced beneath a shaft of evening time sunlight, summer here in the south of the world. Bright light, perfect for hiding his movement as he grabbed a pen that would serve as an ample weapon if he needed one. Thus armed, he paced around the room some more until he was beside the guard, muttering something nasty about Nola rebels that probably would have more accurately fit the Sakaxhy nobility.

He glanced up, eyes meeting the Orroyelan’s, the guard and all his weariness. In that moment he learned so much- from his posture, the way he held his weapon, the way he was exhausted. Perfect. “You, guard! Fetch me someone to talk to.”

“I’m-”

“Surely there’s someone else in these prisons worth conversing with. Or are prisoners in Orroyel treated with such a lack of civility as to deny them conversation?” Between those two statements he hoped to incense the guard, and it worked. Dark eyes glared, his hand tightened on his weapon. Hopefully he hadn’t pushed it far enough as to make him attack him-

Gleaming blades, and the guard stepped off into the hallways, muttering something about the nobility and how demanding they were. “Do you want me to grab a Nola so you can beat him? With your vitriol-”

“Grab the captain of the guard. The one who was with me when we went into that cursed darkness between…” The eyes of god. The force of Arctic’s will, though he did not say, could not dare say in front of an Orroyel who knew nothing about them. He hadn’t seen the captain imprisoned, but it was a decent guess that he had been, and much to his delight the soldier moved out of the way.

He stayed in the cell, of course. Running would abandon the mission, and as simple of a thing as prison hadn’t ever done much to stop anyone… he thought of Iri, and beneath the darkness of God- the door opened.

The captain of the guard one Orodel of Kutuohe’o was in a much worse shape than Laeo. His clothes were damp and he looked like he’d been thrown somewhere dark, eyes flitting around the room with an almost furtive suspicion. His gaze focused on Laeo, and in that gaze was a wrath, an intense hatred born out of you did this, this is your fault, no matter how irrational it was. Or, in this case, true…

Laeo strode across the room quickly, pulling out one of his four tailored suits of clothing he’d been given for the duration of his stay, handing it over to Orodel. “Here- it’s better than what you’re wearing at least. I’ll try and get you some food.” It didn’t quite fit him- Orodel was a fair bit broader than Laeo and a few inches taller as well, but it was a lot better than the tattered, soaked rags he was wearing right now. Actually, it was a lot better than the uniform had probably been before it had been tattered and soaked.

He turned around for a brief moment, allowing Orodel some privacy to change, and when he looked back Laeo saw a man disarmed. Hatred to nothing in a brief second- how malleable the human mind was. How easily…

It could all fall apart. “Here, sit. Are you well after those attacks? I know they were… brutal.” He knew of brutality. He’d seen the blood, the wrath of those burning eyes… “It must be cold where they put you. Apologies… perhaps we should sit by the hearth?”

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Enemies to friends, friends to enemies. It was what he needed to do. There was no right… Orodel shifted gratefully close to the fire, leaning in close to those hungry flames and how they consumed, fire brightness and orange, like eyes. Like engines, thrusters burning brightly under the force of power itself. Incomprehensible… “I don’t understand. The Nola were always peaceful before.”

“The Nola of Royeleo, perhaps. I’ll give you that- they’re a different breed of people. The Nola of Nolabo, however…” He couldn’t express the relief that made him feel. This man needed logic. He needed a reason, and so he’d give him a reason no matter how false it was, backing it up with the sort of concessions that people loved to hear but never really stopped to think of how much the other side was actually conceding. “I think there were instigators there. Nola from Nolabo, or people who got paid a large amount of money. We need to be careful around the Nola… they lust for Royeleo, just as the Sakaxhy gripped your lands with the greatest force.”

It was a sore point among the Royeleans, that- nobody liked to be reminded that only three hundred years ago they’d been a bunch of disunified, squabbling provinces governed by the Sakaxy half a world away. Sakaxhy that were the newcomers to the global stage, younger than the Nola who were in turn younger than the Orroyelans. “It would make sense, with all their fleets and protectionism. Can’t think of why they wouldn’t want us to get into the steel business otherwise.”

Laeo nodded, pretending to know what he was talking about. It must be some local struggle, important to Norapt or perhaps Kutuohe’o. “Their navy’s the best in the world… think of how much better everyone would be without them in the picture. They’re a vice on the world, looking only for their own gain.” He neglected to mention that, by the very nature of their conversation, they too were only looking toward their own gain.

“Do you think the ambassador really did any of this? It’s a bit… sloppy for him. He’s never been known to be anything except incredible. He’s beaten two men in a duel with the sword, snuck into the princess’s bedroom to stop her assassination without waking her, and is one of the emperor’s favorites.”

Laeo frowned, looking for all the world as if he were just another confused gentleman whose assumptions had been proved wrong. Still, it was good to know… this man was almost certainly a Nola agent. One who liked the Orroyelans at that, or who had at least been ordered to protect them. It was useful information to know. “...given that, I can’t see how it would be. Still, the evidence points irrefutably to Nola interference.” He watched the guard nod, convinced, half by reason and half by the fact he was sitting in front of a warm fire after so long in the cold, darkness-

Useful information to have though. Just in case he ever needed to remove him.

“So if the Nola caused this, then…” Orodel turned his eyes to the possibilities, the fire and its roaring warmth, a discussion that was finally starting to bear fruit. For him he’d seen something he’d wanted to see all along. Atrocity had been thrown against him, and why…

To save, everything looked down on him, those orange eyes in the dark of mind and he shivered even as he discussed all the possible benefits to attacking Nolabo. He shivered even as he thought of forever-

Such a long time. The sibilant had been here for such a long time… the fire burnt down, and reluctantly Orodel took his leave. Coals, glowing orange in the darkness, the darkness itself, the warmth of the room just enough to remind him of a steamy day in Nolabo, glittering waves, brightnesses and two motes of light floating slowly down from above sky and darkness, gentle flashing… little-

Immensity.

He felt cold darkness touch his shoulder, shocking him into weakness in a completely pitch black room. It was dark, darker than any place with a window had any right to be. He reached up, gently feeling the contours of the thing that’d woken him, expecting, knowing- “Polarity Arctic. The Lord of Cold Places.”

“Space is cold. Those dark spaces, infinity shafts and the quiet of atmosphere less openness…” It was a little more than a whisper, a soft brush of air that moved without ever exhaling. Light, frigid. “You seem to have gotten yourself trapped.”

“Not trapped. Imprisoned. It’s a completely different thing. They’re going to hold me here until they can find proof of identity.” He looked toward the doorway where the guard had been standing, suddenly wondering if Arctic had gone so far as to kill him preemptively. That would ruin everything… no, he could hear breath beyond his own, and Arctic didn’t bleed. “What’d you do to-”

“Sleep. He’ll dream of bright places… do you want me to take you out? I won’t let you die. You’re too important. You know Siqxhe, and through the scion of Iridescence, you know Iridescence herself.” Arctic shifted softly, leaning in closer by the sound of it. “You won’t be able to hide. There’s no place on this earth where I can’t find you… there’s no place on this little rock besides the Eternity Falling itself immune to the fires of sky…”

“I don’t need to be rescued. I’m making progress here. However…” Now it was his turn to lean in closer, not quite trusting Arctic’s sleeping draught. If someone heard this, of everything… “...do that, and I’ll be in a position to get Iri to you in little less than a month or two.” It wasn’t a particularly truthful statement, but it was good enough. Close enough- he could do it. All he had to was keep pushing-

There was no right. He laid back in the chair, hearing only the faintest sound as Arctic climbed out of the window, seeing only the faintest flash of orange, seeing the moonlight as its pale luminescence streamed in through the window and lit the room in a gentle brightness.