As Iroh walked out of the guard station and moved straight for the garrison, the capital night had grown deep and windless.
The torches along the wide road stood perfectly still, their light untroubled, casting long columns of orange across the stone.
He didn't slow his horse until the garrison gate came into sight.
The guards stationed at the checkpoint looked up at the approaching rider. One of them stepped forward, hand raised—then stopped.
He stepped back instead.
The other guard did the same. Neither man said a word or called out a question. They simply moved aside and let General Iroh pass.
He rode through without slowing.
Inside the garrison grounds, a figure appeared from the shadow at the edge of the stable before Iroh had fully dismounted.
The man moved quickly and without being asked, taking the horse's reins as Iroh swung down from the saddle. Another attendant appeared a moment behind him. No instructions were exchanged.
This was a place that understood what a general's late arrival meant.
Iroh moved forward without looking back.
He crossed the courtyard at a pace that wasn't quite running, found the entrance to the lower corridor, and descended the stairs.
The underground passage was well-lit, the familiar pale glow of the light orbs mounted along the ceiling filling the tunnel in steady, even intervals.
The stone here was cooler than the surface, and the air carried a feeling of separation from the world above, quiet in a way that wasn't peaceful.
He moved forward.
Then he heard it.
A shout, raw and sudden, swallowed quickly by the stone walls.
He kept walking.
A moment later, it came again, louder this time, drawn out and ragged at the edges in the way that only came from a particular kind of pain.
Iroh's pace didn't change, but his jaw tightened.
The sound grew closer with each step. By the time the corridor bent and the source came into view, he had already prepared his face.
The cell door was open.
Inside, a man's wrists were bound in chains that ran upward to a hook fixed into the ceiling, pulling his arms above his head so that his weight hung from them.
His upper body was bare, his trousers and boots still on. His back was a ruin, the skin raised and split in overlapping lines, deep red against the pale of the rest of him, and glistening in a way that made the damage clear without needing to look closely.
A man in white stood behind him, drawing his arm back. The whip snapped forward.
The chained man's entire body lurched with it, and the shout tore out of him before he could stop it, bouncing off the walls and down the corridor.
The man in white was Eylor.
Iroh recognised him immediately. The white was total, collar to boot, not a mark on it despite the work he was doing, and he moved with the unhurried precision of someone who was not angry, which somehow made it worse.
Beside the open cell door, standing a few paces back from the scene was a young woman. She too wore white, the same shade, the same cut. She was still and straight, watching with an expression that revealed nothing.
Eylor's voice carried clearly into the corridor.
"Where did your allies go?"
The chained man said nothing. He let a long, shaking breath out through his nose, his head dropped forward, and his shoulders rose and fell with the effort of staying conscious.
Iroh looked at his face.
He knew him. Not personally, but the profile had been circulating through every guard station and ministry office for hours.
It was Rael.
One of the confirmed kidnappers, captured earlier this day and being held here after an interrogation that had already gone on long enough to leave those marks across his back.
Eylor raised his arm again.
"Where did you take Princess Amera?"
No answer.
The whip came down again.
Rael shouted, but the sound was shorter this time, cut off at the end like he refused to give the pain more than he already had.
When the echo faded, only his breathing remained in the cell.
And in the corridor, Iroh stepped forward.
Before he could say anything, the woman looked directly at him.
"General Iroh."
Her voice was calm and precise, carrying no surprise, only the tone of someone trained to notice things before others did. The way she said his name wasn't a greeting so much as a quiet acknowledgment of his presence.
Eylor turned.
He looked at Iroh for a moment, then tilted his head slightly. The faint curve at the corner of his mouth wasn't quite a smile.
"General Iroh," he said. "What brings you here this late at night?"
Iroh stepped into the light of the cell entrance. He looked at Eylor first, then moved his gaze briefly to the woman, and kept his voice even.
"Sir Eylor." A short pause. "Miss Lilia." He straightened slightly. "I received a report."
Lilia's eyes didn't leave him. "What is this important report," she said, "that brought you here yourself?"
"One of the twenty patrol groups Minister Abed sent beyond the city walls," Iroh said, "made an arrest tonight. The man claimed involvement in the kidnapping of Princess Amera."
The words settled into the room quietly.
Inside the cell, Rael's head lifted sharply.
His eyes widened, and for one brief unguarded moment his expression became impossible to read, not fear, not anger, not relief, but the look of someone hit by too many thoughts at once.
One of us?
His mind raced immediately.
But they had time. I bought them time. They should've made it back to the base by now.
A flicker of disbelief crossed his face.
Who was it? Which idiot got caught?
He stopped himself before the reaction could go any further. His face settled back into stillness, and he lowered his chin again as if nothing had happened.
Damn it. Damn it.
Eylor's expression had shifted into something sharper. He turned fully from the cell.
"Perfect," he said. "Where is he? I wanna see this guy."
"Sir," Iroh said carefully, "we still haven't confirmed whether he's actually involved. The patrol group found him near the jungle road late at night. That alone isn't proof."
Eylor repeated the word softly.
"Proof."
He fell quiet for a moment, his gaze resting somewhere distant. Then he slowly turned back toward Rael, and the faint curve returned to the corner of his mouth.
"We have the proof-giver right here."
Iroh's lips parted slightly.
Eylor walked back toward Rael with slow, unhurried steps, like a man with all the time in the world.
He stopped behind him and reached down with one hand, gripping both sides of Rael's face and forcing his head upward.
Rael's back stayed pressed toward him while his face was turned toward Iroh and Lilia in the corridor. His expression tightened slightly, held together by visible effort and control.
Eylor spoke over his shoulder.
"General. Tell me what the man looks like."
Iroh kept his face composed. "Yes, sir. The man appeared young. Brown-red hair. I didn't see him standing, but from what I could observe I'd estimate he was tall."
Inside Rael's mind, the details landed one at a time like stones dropped into still water.
Brown-red hair.
Tall.
His thoughts immediately began moving through the faces of his people, the ones who had escaped beyond the walls, the ones who should have had enough time to disappear.
Could it be Rynold?
His chest tightened.
No. No, Rynold's smarter than that. He wouldn't be out at night when he's wanted. He's the boss after all. He's always the most careful.
But the doubt stayed there anyway, cold and patient in the back of his mind.
Eylor's fingers were still gripping his face. He leaned closer, his voice lowering near Rael's ear.
"Recognize something?" he asked softly. "Who is this red-haired guy? One of your allies?"
Rael said nothing.
Eylor let go of his face and stepped away, crossing the cell toward a low table against the wall. Several tools and supplies rested there.
He picked up a small paper packet of salt, the kind used for preserving meat in large amounts.
Then he walked back to Rael, tore the packet open, and slowly dragged the salt across the wounds on his back.
The sound that tore out of Rael was different from the ones before. It was completely involuntary, dragged from somewhere deeper than thought.
His body twisted hard against the chains, and for a moment his legs nearly gave out beneath him.
Eylor waited calmly until the sound faded.
Then Eylor reached for a second packet from the table. He emptied part of it along the leather end of the whip and struck him again.
Rael's shout this time was the loudest of the night.
It tore through the corridor, echoed against the stone walls, and rolled upward through the ceiling while the rest of the garrison carried on above, completely unaware of what was happening beneath their feet.
When Rael's breathing finally steadied again, Eylor stood in front of him and asked the question once more.
"Is the guy your ally?"
Rael's eyes were half-closed. His thoughts were still moving, even now, pushing through the pain like a man walking into heavy wind.
If I say yes, they'll bring him here, and the whole plan falls apart.
If I say no, and it isn't Rynold, then their attention stays on whoever they caught instead of me. At least until the boss comes to get me out of here.
A brief pause.
But if it is Rynold...
His jaw tightened.
No. It can't be. He wouldn't be that careless.
Trust your instincts. Trust the boss. But if I just tell them outright, they won't believe me, so I need to put on a little act.
In front of him, Eylor slowly drew the whip back again.
Before it could fall, Rael flinched hard, his whole upper body tightening against the chains.
"No, wait," he said quickly. His voice came out smaller now, faster than before, stripped of the control he had been holding onto. "Please. Don't. That hurts—"
Both Eylor and Lilia went still for the briefest moment. From the doorway, Iroh watched quietly, though something shifted behind his eyes.
Eylor lowered the whip slightly and allowed the silence to settle over the room.
"You're finally talking. Good," he said softly. "Now answer the damn question. Is the red-haired guy your ally, yes or no?"
Rael's head was bowed. His voice came out rough and unsteady.
"I—if I tell you, will you stop?"
"If you tell me," Eylor said, "I won't hurt you."
A long silence followed.
Come on. I can do this.
He's not Rynold. He is not Rynold.
Rael swallowed once.
"...Yes," he said quietly. "He is."
The word had barely left his mouth before Eylor's entire posture changed. The tension eased out of his shoulders.
He stepped away from Rael with the calm satisfaction of someone who believed he had gotten exactly what he came for. He set the whip back onto the table, then walked out of the cell as casually as a man leaving a room after finishing a quiet conversation.
Just outside the door, he stopped for a moment with his back turned to Rael, his eyes resting on the corridor wall.
He's lying, Rael thought, his forehead lowering against his chained arms. He knows I gave in too fast. He saw through the act.
A pause.
Or maybe he didn't.
Either way, now they'll focus on whoever they caught. And that'll buy time.
Please, he thought quietly, to no one at all. Let it not be Rynold.
From outside the cell, Eylor turned toward Iroh. "I want that guy here by tomorrow morning," he said. "I want to see him myself."
"Understood, sir."
Eylor held his gaze for one more moment, the kind of look that revealed almost nothing on the surface while suggesting far more underneath. Then he turned and walked down the corridor, his white clothing gradually disappearing into the tunnel light.
Lilia remained where she was for a few seconds longer, her eyes still resting on Rael.
Then she quietly stepped away from the cell and followed after Eylor without saying a single word.
Iroh remained at the entrance of the cell for a moment longer.
He looked once at Rael, at the torn back, the exhausted stillness of his body, the chains keeping him barely upright, and said nothing.