Delia awoke to a cold and dark cell.

"What the hell," she muttered as she looked around. Dark stone walls surrounded her and she was faced by metal bars. The only light in her cell was the one shining through the small barred window above her, indicating it was still daytime. The only company she had was a stool beside her and a bucket before her with an unbearable stench emanating from it.

The woman scrunched her nose as she became aware of the horrible smell and grunted in disgust.

Lowering her gaze, she realised she was sitting in hay, which was presumably used as a bed, and noticed the shackles on her wrists. She cared less about her chains and more about the hay she had laid in as she discovered the dirt and feces buried beneath it, immediately standing up and stepping as far away from it as possible. The chains that bound her rattled as she did so and soon after, the sound of footsteps reached her ears, stopping before her cell.

"I see you're awake." Delia's eyes rose to meet the Commodore's, turning into a glare as soon as she recognised him.

"Couldn't you have at least put me in a cleaner cell?" She growled, much to his amusement.

"You care more about a clean cell than being imprisoned at all?" He asked, a sly smirk creeping up the left corner of his mouth. Before she could answer, he continued, "I'm afraid a prisoner does not deserve such luxuries."

The woman rolled her eyes, fixing her posture as she now stood upright, raising her chin at him defiantly. "You have no right to imprison me," she spat at him, "and this-" she gestured at the dirty hay and her shackles, "- is no way to treat a woman-"

"A witch," he cut her off and she scoffed, throwing him a belittling gaze. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," she retorted calmly, staring at him with a look you would give someone who has lost their mind, "are you alright? I think you might have hit your head."

The Commodore furrowed his brows at her passive insult. "Then how do you explain your appearance out of thin air?"

"How should I know? If I knew, do you really think I would still be here and not disappear again?" She countered and he fell silent, his gaze shifting to the ground as if in contemplation. "You may be right," he uttered to himself, then met her eyes again.

"If you're no witch, then what are you?" He asked and she averted her gaze for a moment, pondering how she should explain it to him. He observed her face closely for any suspicious changes in her expression, though she gave him nothing to work with.

"I'm a saleswoman," she finally spoke up, meeting his gaze confidently, "I own a successful company which specialises in unique fashion and interior design."

"A company?" He asked. "But you're-"

"What? Too young to lead a company?" She cut him off, her annoyance evident as she had heard that way too often.

"A woman," he ended his sentence. Delia was baffled. She was about to throw the nastiest remarks at him until she remembered that she had ended up in a time where a woman assuming a leading position was not only uncommon, but nigh impossible. Thus, she took in a deep breath to calm herself and explained, "Well, where I come from, men and women are considered equal. In fact, there are quite a lot of women running businesses."

"How interesting," he murmured, raising his hand to stroke his chin and placing his elbow on the back of his other hand. "Pray tell, where are you from, exactly?"

While he indeed seemed interested, his voice had quite a mocking tone to it as he asked that question.

"Aren't you curious?" Came her reply, evading his question. "This is turning into quite an interrogation, isn't it? How about we discuss this in a more pleasant environment? Over some tea, perhaps?"

The Commodore broke out in a low chuckle. "Nice try."

Delia's eyes narrowed, irritated by his arrogant reply and he then added, "I will think about it." Hearing that, she relaxed slightly.

"I'll have your trial postponed for the time being," he announced curtly. He would have to investigate her origin and occupation before coming to a conclusion, because if she told the truth, he could not risk going to war with a foreign country for executing her.

The woman who was so defensive and hard to read before, now flashed him a smile as she thanked him. He returned her smile briefly with a nod, before turning to leave.