Commander Titus poured wine from an aged, iron-bound cask into his pewter goblet, a mix of relief and weariness etching his face. The long night spent orchestrating the departure of several contingents, one secretly harboring Prince Zane, had taken its toll. As he ambled back to his desk, the heavy aroma of old wood and ink filled the air. His office was a testament to military efficiency — a large, rugged desk cluttered with maps and scrolls, walls adorned with ancestral weapons and banners, and a single, narrow window that offered a view of the barracks.
He sensed a presence and turned to find Lady Elara at the door. With an elegant twist of her wrist, she closed the door and slid the iron latch into place. Her eyes, usually calm pools of aristocratic grace, flickered with an uncharacteristic cunningness. "I needed to speak to you in private," she said, her voice a hushed whisper in the quiet of the room.
Titus let out a chuckle, his voice laced with a mix of arrogance and contempt. "I knew one of the King's Advisors would come skulking in like a rat, desperate to sniff out the Prince's travel routes."
"You are right," Lady Elara replied, her voice ringing with an unexpected confidence. "I am indeed here to learn about the Prince's travel routes. But before that..." She carefully lifted a glass dome, revealing a breathtaking butterfly beneath. Its wings, a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues – cerulean blues blending into fiery oranges and emerald greens – fluttered delicately, a stark contrast to the room's austere ambiance. "Have you ever seen the creatures that emerged from the Thrayan Black Fire?"
Titus, caught off guard, instinctively reached for his sword, his stance shifting to combat readiness. "Seen them? I've fought and slain many of those abominations." he retorted, his voice a blend of caution and bravado.
Lady Elara, moving closer with the butterfly still in hand, reminisced, "I was but a child when the black fire spewed forth demon after demon. Each creature was more vile than the last. But this one," she gestured to the butterfly, "we called her Seraphina, was a rare beauty amidst chaos."
Titus, sword now unsheathed, held his ground. "Stop right there. You're a Thrayan? That's impossible. No Thrayan could ever enter this city."
Her chuckle was cold, devoid of humor. "I was young when I came here, all I had to do was open my legs for the city gates to open for me. I climbed from the depths of your brothels, uncovering secrets, leveraging them to ascend to the palace."
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"You'll never find the prince," Titus protested, his voice a mix of defiance and disdain.
"We shall see," Lady Elara replied calmly. With a swift movement, she dropped the glass dome. The dome shattered on the ground, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber. The butterfly, Seraphina, a whirl of iridescent colors, darted towards Titus. He swung his sword in a futile attempt to defend himself, but the creature's agility was unmatched. In a flash, it latched onto his neck, its touch sending a paralyzing venom coursing through his body. Titus's massive frame crumpled to the floor, immobilized.
"Seraphinas were always my favorites, though their life is tragically short once they taste human blood," Lady Elara mused. Standing over the paralyzed commander, she demanded, "Tell me, is the prince traveling through the mines of Kolar or the mountains of Vindhya?"
Titus, struggling against the toxin's grip, managed a defiant whisper, "You'll never find out."
Lady Elara sighed, "You misunderstand, Commander. This isn't about extracting information through pain. Soon, the venom will compel you to speak."
"Soldiers," Commander Titus strained to call out, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.
"Just a few moments more," Lady Elara said, sitting casually. "How tragic the King will find his greatest fighter succumbed to an alcohol overdose."
As the toxin's influence deepened, Titus's words slurred into incoherence. "The King will..."
"...never find out, tell me where the prince is traveling from?" Lady Elara completed the statement, a tinge of frustration creeping into her voice.
Titus fought against the venom's grip, his loyalty unwavering. "Prince... safe... I trust General Idris... will never.." His words trailed off again, garbled and unclear.
Lady Elara, now visibly frustrated, kicked at Titus's motionless form. "The prince's travel routes! What are they?"
As the toxin took full effect, Titus's words became slurred, his resolve waning under its influence, "White Sand... enemies from afar..." Titus mumbled, his voice fading.
A triumphant smile spread across Lady Elara's face. "The White Sands of Rann, a salt marsh - an astute choice. Its vast, open expanse is perfect for spotting enemies from a distance, and ideal for a swift escape." She plucked the now lifeless butterfly from Titus, who, regaining a momentary flicker of movement, was suddenly gripped by a sharp, agonizing pain in his heart. Lady Elara turned, walking towards the door with a composed gait. Behind her, Titus convulsed briefly before his body stilled, lying motionless and lifeless on the floor.