AAAAAAAAAAAAAnd, more Helen stuff. I know if you get to know her, you'll like her.
The finishing touch, she placed the portrait down on her desk. It was a picture of her and her adopted father, William. It was the day she had become a full Officer. William had been the commander, and the pride in his eyes when she shook his hands showed through, even in the paint the portrait was done in.
She wished they had captured the moment after. He had stepped forward and hugged her, then whispered in her ear, "I am so proud of you." "Thanks, Dad." She had responded. She knew how much this meant to him. Two years later she was part of the Big Three. A year after that she was appointed as head instructor, and a year after that, William died.
George had a been a fair, smart commander. Aside from his arrogant mistake in attacking Salazen Grum, he had commanded wisely. Still, it was hard for her to think of this as anyone but William's office. It was his desk, the one he had kept his pictures on, including the one she had now. Next to the desk was his chair that he sat in when he told her stories, or lectured her on how she had made mistakes in training. The bookshelves in the corner were where he had kept his favorite books.
She braced herself and then sat stiffly in his old chair. It was far too big for her. She tried to sit up taller, but still the chair made her feel dwarfed. She leaned forward to adjust the other pictures on her desk.
One was a drawing of the Big Three. They stood tall, mighty. George had a strung bow in one hand and a gleam in his eye. Quinn held bandages in one hand, the other was a fist, showing her determined nature. Helen stood easily, her one hand resting on the hilt of her knife, the other relaxed at her side. The final one was a burnt sketch of Quinn. Done by George's inexperienced hand, Quinn had kept it in her pocket until her dying day. Helen could see why, love was apparent in every stroke of charcoal.
There, she had personalized the office as much as she was ever going to. It was time for business.
Her boots echoed loudly on the stone steps leading to the dungeons of Marmoreal. That was deliberate, she didn't want to startle anyone. She could move silently as a mouse if she wished.
"You're dismissed." She said to the guards, and they made haste to leave. Helen had a reputation for a short temper. Only partly earned.
"Ilosovic Stayne." She said, as she pulled the stool that stood in the corner over to the bars. He shuffled forward and sat against the bars.
"I'm confused." She told him. "I keep thinking, how could you blow up a part of this castle, if you're stuck in there? How could you even send a signal from way down here?" She leaned forward.
"I'm sick of coming down here to talk to you." She said. "I don't like this place, never have. Truth is, too many people have been in here because I caught them. Once upon a time, the Officers guarded this place. Those times are behind us now."
Stayne watched her with his good eye, not saying a word. He knew that soon enough, she would get to blaming him for all of her troubles.
"Are you innocent?" Helen asked. He didn't answer. "I don't have an answer either." She continued. "I recognize your features, your scars, but not you. Your looks, your gestures, the look in your eye. The way you speak. All these things are foreign to me. I thought I grew to know you in your prison of horrors, but now, I don't know you at all. Your arrogance is gone. Your bravado, and your air of invincibility just disappeared. Where did they go? Where did you go?"
Stayne stayed silent. He kept perfectly still. If she hadn't been able to see the rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought him dead.
"Talk to me." She commanded.
"What should I say?" he said in a flat voice.
"Anything." She said.
"Why? What's the point? You tell me all the things I've done, but I don't remember doing them. All I remember is being with my family, then on a battlefield, then here. Do you want me to beg? Plead for my freedom? What do you want? Why can't you just leave me alone?" his voice was sorrowful and defeated.
Helen stood, took a key from her pocket, and unlocked the door. She then took another key and freed his hands and feet.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I haven't the faintest idea. I must be mad. I really must be, but I cannot leave you to rot down here. Not when all my instincts are telling me that you're a victim. Don't get me wrong, you make one wrong move towards me, or any of my people, and I will kill you myself. I'm claiming you as my own prisoner. Come on." She lifted him up by his shoulder with surprising strength.
"Where are you taking me?" Ilosovic asked.
"I, am taking you to your new home. You'll still be a prisoner, of course, but it's more comfortable than being down here in my humble opinion." She led him by the arm back up into the castle, ignoring the protesting guards.