Private Tales First Tour of Duty

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

"A rookie? Since when do they assign you rookies?"

It was about the reaction that Alyxander Quellchrist expected from his longest-serving lieutenant. Serrin always had an opinion on everything, and he wasn't shy about making it known even to his commanding officer.

The Knight Commander pulled his sword from his private rack, the sound echoing in the mostly empty barracks. Most of the men and women stationed this far towards the outer wall had suited up and reported for duty hours ago; Alyxander had planned to join them before his superiors informed him of a change in plans.

They had a new recruit, and they wanted him to show her the ropes.

It was an unusual assignment to be given on short notice, but as Alyx understood it, the recruit's acceptance into Dronoch's military wasn't exactly the norm either. Sheathing his blade, he turns to Serrin with a shrug. "Apparently they weren't expecting to have her. She just showed up in town a few days ago, and one of the Legionnaires spotted her fighting off some street crooks. Evidently, she can handle herself well in a fight."

Alyx repeated what he'd been told, but there was an unspoken truth between the two of them; both of the knights knew that the Matriarchy likely had their own reasons for picking the stranger up off of the street. There was always something more...

"Well hell, Alyx. If we took every woman with a set of workin' fists in the city, we'd be out of a job."

Alyx rolled his eyes, grabbing Serrin's helmet and shoving it into his old friend's chest. His mouth was going to get them both into trouble. "I know, but keep that to yourself. If they want her to serve, I'm obligated to give her a chance. You, my friend, are lucky enough to cover my patrols today, so have fun with that." Serrin glowered at him for a moment, before taking his helmet from his Commander's hands and slides it on over his head, leaving with a muted grumble.

Quellchrist looks after him, smirking a bit. He'd be sour for a day or two, but he'd get over it. Pulling black his raven hair and sliding on his own helmet, Alyx left the barracks and headed to the courtyard where he was due to meet his new 'charge'.

Aristeia Darke.

Well, let's see what she can do.



Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

A young woman stood in place, eyes trained on her worn boots as her interest waned terribly while waiting in a courtyard far from the public eye. There had been no predetermined time for her to arrive, simply instructed to be here and ready to meet the Commander. Even after her many protests, Aristeia was not awarded much more information, even less details on how to get where she needed to. Did she find the right courtyard? Perhaps she overshot and was keeping the Commander waiting at the right location? Her grip tightened around the strap to her pack, slung over her right shoulder and a helm tucked into the crook of her left arm. It was one of the remnants of her origin, a place no one would have seen except in a fever dream as their souls sought for a reprieve from the hallucinations created by their subconscious.

Her arrival to this city, Dornoch she would come to learn, was not her usual occurrence. Aristeia believes she had visited many cities and villages in her time serving as a Guardian, traveling through dreams by those in the Waking Realm. The first impression she had of Dornoch was opulence and admiration at the architecture, taking on her usual form as she followed her Dreamer through the crowds and waited to step in when it was needed. Fear could change a being, and Aris had seen her fair share of hopelessness and severity overcome many minds... It was why she was forced to walk about from her home and kingdom. The King's Army had no use for a soldier that preferred to fight in dreams than to monitor the barrier between the Dreamlands and the Corrupted.

Aristeia's Dreamer had awoken before she could fight the nightmare, finding herself lost in the Waking Realm. This had never happened to her, and she could not even return with her ability. It were as if a power blocked her from returning, keeping her trapped and disoriented here in this city. That first day, she was in her armour. It gathered her many looks as her gear was battered and dirty, and even as she took off her helm in order to see Dornoch's busiest sector, that startled expression on her face gave the impression the partially blind woman was fair game. It took no effort for the unarmed woman to dispose of the four offendors, and even in the aftermath, she did not make it far before she was stopped and questioned.

So here she stands, brows knitting together at the thought she possibly got the wrong courtyard, and still attracting stares from others as they walked past to go about their duties. Chewing on her lip, she lifts her head up higher and turns her head towards all possible entrances and exits. Which way had she come from again?

Before doubt could settle any deeper within her, a figure appears and she knew this was it. This was the Commander, his face absent of any indication of whether or not she had kept him waiting. Aristeia bows her head when he was a few feet away, regarding the man with a neutral facade as he comes to a stop.

"You must be the Commander." She states, verbally seeking that the directions given to her did not set her up for failure in this place. "I am Aristeia Darke. Did they tell you everything I told them?" Her voice turns sheepish, sure that her story was incredulous on the first day, but it still would have the same effect days later. With her ruined eye and scarring crawling from it's epicenter, it wasn't uncommon for one to think of Aristeia to have lost her wits and peddling falsehoods. The mere fact some were witness to her skills at her arrival, she had been hoping that their sound word would be her saving grace coming up to this day. "I can assure you I am more than I appear to be." She quickly adds, standing taller and meeting his gaze unwavering. Why sell herself so adamantly? Did she intend to stay?


Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

To say that his new trainee's demeanor was unusual would be putting it mildly. Alyx had arrived at the rear courtyard of the keep finding most of the few guards stationed there giving a wide berth to a singular figure standing as stiff as a board not far from the center of the yard. It wasn't uncommon for new recruits to be a bit nervous on their first day, but meat that fresh wasn't just tossed to a Commander, they were put through rigorous training first. It was a rite of passage.

So, they had either seen or heard something that made her an appealing prospect. It would be far from the first time those in charge played favorites, and it wouldn't be the last, either.

Whatever it was, Alyx could rule out sheer presence. The shifty eyes, uneven postured woman he saw before him now looked like a sheep in a field of wolves. Even so, when finally he did move within eyeshot of her, which was difficult to miss considering the glint of sun off of his armor, she assumed the correct position, bowing before leveling her head to his in respect.

The faintest hint of a smile came to his mustachioed lips. She wasn't completely clueless, after all. Turning to face her, Quellchrist salutes and removes his own helmet, tucking it underneath his arm as his long black locks fall over the side of his head. Alyx was a handsome man, as far as Dornoch men went, but his stern nature, love for his work, and the strange marking on his forehead precluded anything besides service.

"Indeed, I'm Commander Quellchrist. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darke." Alyxander offered his hand to her, a small smile on his lips. "You've made quite a lot of noise in very little time. It's not usual we give our new recruits such an impromptu crash course, but if they want you up to speed, that's what they'll get." The smile turned to a smirk as he shook her hand, lowering it to his side. "Long as you're up to it."

Alyx moved his hair up and slid his helmet back on over his head. Aristeia seemed confident enough, but there was something she'd said that confused him. Everything she'd told them? What did that imply? Whatever it was, the woman seemed rather bashful about it. Resting his hand on the hilt of his blade, Quellchrist shifted his weight to one leg. "They only told me to teach you how to serve as a Knight. Anything beyond that was skimmed over. Conveniently."

Great. What else had they left out?

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Surprise settles on her face, a brow raising at this piece of news. Should she keep it to herself then? No one else had told her otherwise, and Aristeia was new to this whole process. The army she had left in her home land had always treated her as new, and not as the princess they protected for years. In a way, she was appreciative of their extended kindness in that way, and kept things need to know.

Perhaps that will work in her favour again this time around. Aristeia simply smiles. "I only mean did they pass on to you of my experience? My last post I was in infiltration." Extracting information more like. Hardships made it easier for her to stomach what others could not do. The sad thought even no longer rendered her to tears with shame anymore, having come to terms with what she had suffered and what she could inflict. There was a mentality needed for such a task, and Aristeia found it too easy to fall into. For now, she looks either side of the courtyard and tilts her head curiously. "Right... what do we do to start? Is there somewhere I could leave my pack?" What did he have exactly planned for her, if he even had one to start with?

His words earlier made it sound as if he definitely had not expected her, even the sizing up of his gaze during their introduction gave way that he knew nothing of her. Aristeia did not know yet if she should make do and work with them or just simply abandon this idea and try her luck to return home. Hmm... perhaps a week. She thinks after reaching out to anyone and was met with no links to their subconscious. So she was unable to pull someone into a slumber? Was she numb to her abilities in the Waking Realm?

Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

If Alyx had even the slightest reason to suspect the woman wished to lie to him, he would have caught the slick verbal maneuver disregarding the details of what she'd told his superiors. This time, though, he seemed satisfied with her answer. Infiltration... It wasn't a common specialty among the military. On the contrary, they rather lacked soldiers with such a specific skillset. Perhaps Miss Darke would be handy to have around after all.

With a small hum and the tilt of his head towards the building he'd exited, he nods. "Infiltration. We can work with that. Come, we'll put your things away in the barracks and find a horse for you. You'll be joining me on a prison transport job, and then we'll be following a possible lead on some stolen weaponry. Nothing too difficult or intense." Said lead wasn't likely to be solid, but somebody needed to check on it regardless, and since he was on training duty it might as well be him.

He quietly beckoned her to follow before leading her back into the barracks, still mostly empty. The bottom floor was full of equipment racks: Weapons, armor, and other tools of the trade practically lined every wall, aside from a few clear spaces for sitting and preparing, the actual amenities for the soldiers were on the second level, atop a wide staircase that the armored man slowly led her to ascend. "You'll be bunked in the west hall of this particular barracks. There are lots of them in the city, so don't get lost. The west hall is for all of our female soldiers; We're very stringent on giving the women their privacy and all that, so you won't see any men unless you travel to the east wing."

He didn't mention that the women's bunkrooms were far more spacious and well-kept than the men's, but then she didn't need to worry about that, did she? Besides, Alyx took care of his room well enough himself. Quellchrist led her into the west wing, ignoring the eyes of the few women who were prepping for their day. Aristeia would see multiple emotions in their eyes-- wariness, respect, spite and... some other things too.

Her room was near the back of the hall, her initials hastily engraved on a plate and tacked to the door. Inside was a bare-bones if not spacious room. A large bed, a chest, multiple armor stands, and a small bath were already prepared, but Alyx knew that with time more would be added with the respect she did or didn't earn.

"Make yourself at home here, later. The others will answer any questions about the barracks, I'm sure."

 

[Aristeia Darke]

As soon as he made a move towards the barracks, Aristeia was quick to follow him so as to not be left behind and to her own devices when it came to navigating. Out here, she was running blind without her abilities. The silver haired woman listened to him speak with intent, repeating them over in her thoughts before entering the West Wing. The lodgings reserved for her was made apparent as rushed penmanship spelled out A.D on the door, matching the others in the same hallway.

She did not think about conferring with the other women in the barracks, and perhaps even casting a displeased look Quellchrist's way before moving past him and dropping her pack onto the invitingly large bed. "I seem to stick out a little here in this armour, don't I?" With her back to him, she dropped her helm beside the pack and thought better of it once she saw the unclean and battered state it was in. Her whole gear was in the same condition, and Aristeia had lived in it for almost a week since the skirmish that resulted in her weary state. "Possibly even overdressed for prison transport, right?" Her silver head turned to look at him over her left shoulder, showing her good grey eye and sparing him to look at the scarred cheek and eye on her right.

Back home, rumours were spun on those very scars. A reclusive princess that was left on the boundary of the military camps, hand clutching her bloody cheek as a medic came to her aide. She never spoke of it, and never will. It was her own little tragedy, something she was too afraid of letting go. Bottling it all up gave her the drive to do her work, to get the job done by any means necessary. Infiltration meant Aristeia needed to become cold, and most soldiers from the Dreamlands feared of toying the line closest to what was considered corrupt.

Now, Aristeia had to keep all of this to herself, once again. It felt like clockwork, keeping her head down and doing as she was told... just now she was in a foreign city in the Waking Realm. Alyxander would come to find out that the silver haired knight before him often kept to herself, and that once they retired for the day, her door would not open again until the dawn. "Do we have enough time for me to change out from this armour before I accompany you on the job?" She asked with furrowed brows. It was a good thing he hadn't asked her about the specially crafted armour she wore or the helm she held in her gloved hands, especially as it was designed with ornamental pieces that sat above the brow. Something befitting royalty.


Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Alyxander had noticed the battered condition of her armor, of course, but being a new recruit from gods-know-where, it didn't entirely shock him. She had nothing to worry about though, and Alyxander only seemed to half-listen to her woes about her appearance as he leaned on the doorway of her room, looking down the hall in his own thoughts.

"You should always wear your armor unless you're on civilian duty, but..." It was true that while such a practice was enouraged, it wasn't enforced. Many soldiers in groups other than the one he led valued a little bit of freedom from the usual restricting protections. "It's not a rule." He shrugged. Standing from the doorframe. "You'll be provided with new armor tomorrow anyways, Somebody will be along to measure you at dawn, I imagine. For today, go in what you wish. I'll wait out here."

Personally, he'd want the armor on for both the prison transport and the stolen weapons. The last time he'd done a prison transport job... he'd wound up chasing the transport through half the city on horseback. after a particularly wily inmate hijacked the damned thing, and even though her outfit was damaged, it still looked to be of a high quality. Nevertheless, Quellchrist exits Aristeia's room, closing the door behind him to allow her privacy.

Only when the door clicked shut did Alyxander allow his mind to ponder on the stranger he'd just met. First impressions meant a lot in this world, and the pale-haired woman was certainly an interesting one. The Commander was no fool; she obviously had quite a bit of history in lands far removed from his own. The battered armor and scars she bore were testament to that. She was awkward, unsure of herself, but far from unpleasant.

Of course, she could also just be playing nice to a superior officer. He wouldn't blame her for it.

Still, there was definitely more than met the eye when it came to Aristeia Darke. Alyx only hoped he wouldn't live to regret being around if and when the hidden sides to her character came to light.

Or that he would have to witness the Matriarch take advantage of her.

Aristeia Darke

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Aristeia was glad to have that door close behind him and leave her alone. Of course, she had been alone in the days prior to finally meeting the Commander, but this time she was sure of what was happening. For now, she was stuck in the Waking Realm, existing enough to simply agree to entertaining a position in the ranks of this army that took an interest in her. She would not come to learn exactly who gave the orders to apprehend her after defending herself against those thugs, but she also did not mind going about her day without that information.

She sat on the large bed, one that was much larger than the cot she had been sleeping on for over a decade with the King's Legion, and rifled through her satchel for that change of clothes she had desperately needed the past few days. Her bag had been returned to her only this morning, right before she was told to make haste and meet the Commander, leaving her no time to freshen up. With a sigh of relief, she stood up once more and began to work on the fastenings to her armour. Her fingers worked quicker, happy to be not be wearing her gear for another day and have full mobility again.

Just shy of ten minutes, her door would creak open and reveal a refreshed woman. Aristeia's attire consisted of dark slacks tucked beneath her worn knee-high boots she wore previously, and a strange material that seemed to glint in the light was fashioned to cover her torso, arms, and finishing high up her neck. It was material from the Dreamlands, enchanted to be molded however the wearer chose. It would resemble a thick cloth, akin to wool, but also a stronger defense than her armour provided. Her hair had been swept up into a braid that fell down her spine, leaving her face not obscured and staring steadily at the Commander, who waited patiently outside in the hall. "I think I am ready to face what Dornoch has to offer. Prison transport. Now is that more of an escort job?" She closed the door behind her, waiting for Alyxander to move on before abandoning her place before it. What a relief to feel the lightness of her attire, feeling no weight as she moved. This appearance was her accustomed uniform, the lutterme a Legion issued cloth for those working in stealth operations. It was expensive and rare material that allowed further enchantments, fluid enough to be molded in any which way. Aristeia was famous in pulling it up past her mouth and nose, that that only her eyes were visible. It was her way of ensuring her Father's sins were not to be forgotten, that he may one day hear of those haunting eyes himself.

Aristeia followed him to another small courtyard, and a thought began to form on whether or not she would truly become lost later. If she were to connect to her powers again, she would have no problem. Get through this first day, she thought to herself, and then we can try our best for connection when everyone else sleeps.


Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

By the time Aristeia had reemerged from her quarters, Alyxander had moved to the small bench at the end of the hall, polishing a silver dagger. It had gathered a bit of grime over the last few weeks, and up until today he'd been keeping himself so busy with work or training that he scant remembered to perform upkeep on the underappreciated tool of the trade. At the sound of Aristeia's door, he raised his head to greet her, noticably raising a brow at the strange material she now wore.

It resembled cloth, but... there was something strange about it. It gave off an energy that was quite foreign to the Dornoch Commander, subtle as it was. The strange mark on his forehead made him somewhat sensitive to such things. Nevertheless, he stood, quickly sheathing his cleaned weapon and giving her a once over. It didn't matter what she wore, so long as she was happy with it. To her credit, she seemed much less stiff and uncomfortable now that she'd changed into an outfit of her choosing.

Good. She'd need to loosen up if she wanted anybody to take her seriously off of the field. Nobody liked to spend off time with somebody who didn't know how to relax.

That was why nobody spent their off time with Alyxander.

"I guess we'll see how ready you are." He replied with a smirk. "But I don't want you to go into this thinking it'll be simple." With a hand, he beckoned her to follow as they made their way back out of the barracks and towards the stables, where the transport wagon awaited them on the other side of the courtyard they'd met in.

"Prison transport can sound like a simple escort job, but we're moving dangerous criminals from smaller, less secure jails to the large prison complex in the center of town." The smaller establishments were fine for minor offenders, but it wasn't worth the risk to keep anybody too threatening in such a vulnerable place. Alyx, looked at her through the side of his vision as he continued to explain. "Some of these people are volatile and unhinged. Things can and have gone wrong, so keep vigilant, so you don't end up with a shiv lodged in your ribs, alright?"

The wagon waiting outside the stables was a simple one, two horses pulling a pair of seats in the front and a large iron cage behind them. This was actually the backup wagon, the one they usually used had been banged up on the last transport job, coincidentally also headed by Alyx.

Hopefully this one went a bit smoother.

Climbing up onto the seat, he waited for Aristeia to join him before cracking the reins to get them moving towards the gate of the complex and out into the city streets.

"So tell me, Aristeia, where've you come from? With that outfit, and the unfamiliarity you display about Dornoch and the greater Dalriada area, I find it doubtful it's anywhere remotely close."

Oddly, before she could answer, Quellchrist added something.

"And if you don't wish to share, I would come up with a convincing lie now. People much more powerful than me will no doubt be asking you the same question before long, and silence won't be an option."

 

[Aristeia Darke]

She was able to follow him easily to the horse drawn transportation designed for prisoners, setting her boot on the step and hoisting herself upwards easily into the free seat before the horses were cued to move. Aris took this moment to look around, grey eyes wide with wonder at how different this city looked now than it did her first day. Albeit she was plunged into the streets, and now was her first opportunity at taking it all in.

It was accurate to say she was surprised her sprung the question on her, tearing her gaze from the street and to view the Commander a furrowed look, one that deepened as he continued to speak. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts for an answer, knowing that Alyxander would not mind that she was taking her time in preparation. Her gaze trained in on the horses before them, her scowl settling onto her facade as she thought it over. Should she tell him? Would he think she were lying? It was not lost on the Guardian that her origins were the unconventional type; who would believe that a young woman in gilded armour was able to walk through dreams and fight away the nightmares? And if he were to believe a morsel of what her truth was, would he take her seriously?

"I am afraid my home will sound a little farfetched. You are right, though. I definitely am not from around here... Not on this plane to be exact." Aristeia leaned back, lifting her boots to be tucked at the edge of her seat. "I am from the Dreamlands. I am not meant to exist outside, but here I am. I have only visited this city in Dreams, following this one woman and keeping an eye on her. I have fought unimaginable beasts on these streets, trying to pull them back to the Dreamlands and across the border to the Corrupt." Aris chanced a look at him before continuing. It had been quite some time since she divulged so much information to someone. Not even the guards that apprehended her had inquired so much.

"I do not know much about this city or the lands spreading from here. Not even enough to come up with a convincing lie. Actually... I am a terrible liar." She grimaced at how truthful that admission were. By now some people had glimpsed her sat beside the Commander, murmuring and whispering about her strange appearance. Her lutterme even caught some attention, earning gasps as they realised the fabric shone without light bouncing off of it. "Does that suffice for now, or is this a full interrogation you are conducting? Because, need I remind you, I am trained in infiltration and withholding information." Aristeia was comfortable. Able to let down that wall now that she admitted her origins to someone. Of course, she did not think he would be able to help steer her the right direction home, but Aristeia did not stress all that much in this moment that she was out of touch with her abilities. She had confidence they will return, and patience was a virtue she definitely practiced.


Alyxander Quellchrist

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Aristeia wasn't the first mysterious recruit to suddenly appear in Dornoch. To think that there were none before her who had enlisted with the intent to hide their past or identity would be decidedly naive. And as the woman herself had just admitted, she wasn't particularly skilled at deception, or playing coy for that matter. Needless to say, the story she told was quite outlandish. Regardless of how far-fetched it was, it was with a small huff of laughter that he met her words as they turned a corner into the outer districts of the city.

"For somebody trained in withholding information, you certainly offered up a bevy at my first request." Alyx pointed out with a smirk as he watched her through the corner of his vision. "You've struck me as neither an insane woman or one prone to flights of fantasy in the time we've spent together so far. That being the case, you claim you're from a land of dreams a world apart from this one, I'm inclined to believe you." Quellchrist wasn't going to pretend that he understood the majority of what she'd just told him, but in that regard they were on even footing. After all, she knew so little about this place that it suddenly made sense how somebody so oblivious had suddenly appeared in the middle of the city.

The rolling of the wheels on the cobble was loud enough that he had to raise his voice a bit as they reached an older, less well-maintained section of the road, he leaned slightly, slowing to allow a few pedestrians to cross. "I guess we're going to have to get you up to speed on things then, when you have more time. Until you can figure out how to get home, you can't go running around the whole of Epressa not knowing anything." Alyx wasn't being paid to be a tutor, but in this new information he tasted something on his tongue that he always yearned for; adventure. A chance to break out and spread his wings a bit. This city would drive him mad before he made any more progress, after all.

"For now, let's focus on our job. We're almost at the first jail." Indeed the street they now thundered down was surrounded by brutalist designs, less residential and more forebodingly industrial. "If I had to guess, I'd say the Matriarchy knows about your home more than I do. Turn enough heads and you can probably get an audience." Indeed, Darke seemed the type capable of impressing her superiors. Coming to a stop in front of a tall stone building with nary a peep coming from inside, Quellchrist dismounted and circled the Wagon, still glancing up at her. "You may be a mighty warrior in your Dreamlands, but here in Dornoch, you're my trainee. That comes first."

 

[Aristeia Darke]

Aristeia could not help the amusement tugging at her lips, her gaze facing forward as he made a good point of her training and easy admission of truth. It took a lot for her to keep from commenting back with a ‘you’re welcome to test my skills yourself’ and opted for a shrug instead. Her true admission meant she trusted him, despite making his acquaintance not even an hour prior. She had to put her trust in someone, especially in this foreign land.

So why not the person charged with showing her the ropes?

If that were not the case, and her trust in him was misplaced, Aristeia knew ways to extract herself from the situation… but usually that yielded more success when working as a team. She was a part of a team of six, specializing in stealth operations and working under a cloak of darkness. Aristeia was the only one that was able to stomach the worst of things. Were they looking for her? Was anyone wondering where she had gone off to?

Would they dare cross into the Waking Realm to retrieve her?

She was glad to be distracted from her thoughts, her attention called by the Commander promising to educate her on the area before she eventually went. Aristeia’s interest was piqued, curious to what this world had to offer in comparison to the world she knew existed in the Dreamlands. Of course, that would all have to wait after the task at hand.

The soldier made to move from her seat, landing on her feet quietly. Her head turned to stare at the building that seemingly dwarfed all others simply by its design. “This looks cold and depressing.” She had seen only a couple of prisons in the Dreamlands, and none compared to this architecture. Whereas the Dreamlands had prisons kept in cold and appalling conditions, they were not made in a structure crafted in cold stone. Even the dungeons of her father’s castle offered warmth by putting prisoners to work in lighting the fires to keep the Corrupted from creeping into the heart of the castle. “At your command, sir.” Aristeia stood up straight, nodding her head curtly in Quellchrist’s direction. He was right. She was his trainee, and this was not her usual line of work. Attentiveness and taking direction was best for the Guardian to thrive in her new life in Dornoch.

 

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Cold and depressing. Alyx didn't even try to hide the smirk her brief appraisal brought to his face. She was absolutely right; these outer city jails were a joke. However, they were a necessary one. As he moved to the rear of the cart to unlock the wagon door and pull open the iron bars ahead of time, he told her as such. "The laws here can be strict, and the dichotomy between genders here tends to lead to heightened tensions. Hence why most of the crime here is perpetrated by men. We get so much rabble committing petty crime and disturbing the peace that we've always got the large prisons in the inner city full."

He let the iron door hang open and secured his gear before moving back to Aristeia, gesturing towards the metal door of the building. "These jails aren't pretty, but they're cheap to get up and running. We just tidy up a vacant property and install some cells." Quellchrist began walking towards the door, his heavy armor clattering quietly as he moved. "Plus, working as a jailor is a simple enough job that we can give the task to people who would otherwise be out of work. It's a good way for people to get back on their feet, working in one of these places."

Alyxander obviously didn't agree with the methods, but he did believe in the silver linings present within them. Raising a metal clad fist and rapping on the door, the small slide on its face slid open briefly, before closing just as fast, before the clicking of the lock on the door could be heard, and it swung open slowly. Ont he other side was a young man, certainly no older than 20, dressed in dirtied clothes that were in need of a wash, but certainly far from the tatters that he'd be wearing if he hadn't accepted this position a few months ago.

"Hello Sir, Miss." The fellow took a quick bow and stepped aside to let them enter the cold stone building, the keys that hung from one of his wrists jangling as he hurried to stay clear of the bulky armored man, having been rather focused on Aristea's striking appearance for a moment. "I--I have em' all ready for you, but they're a nasty lot. 'Specially the woman."

Alyx stopped in the empty, narrow hallway lined with old wooden doors that led to rooms used for storage and the Jailor's quarters, turning with a raised eyebrow at the young man. "Really now?"

The boy's face may as well have melted with how red hot it became, realizing he may have said something that could be considered offensive to the Matriarchy, but Quellchrist merely shook his head at his apparent anxiety, smiling. "Ease yourself. It's just not usual here is all. Trust me, there's nothing that we can't handle. Go collect their paperwork while we load up, young man."

The young jailor quickly slid the keyring from his wrist and handed it to Alyxander before slipping into one of the side rooms with steam still rising from his face.

Alyx smiled, glancing at Darke.

"I think he likes you. Popular on your first day. Come on now, let's see what we're working with."