Old Friend

“He's dead then?”

“I'm afraid I don't know Ma'am, I just deliver the mail.”

With a hum Lady Arazmus gestured grandly with one lithe, kaftan cloaked arm toward the polished Iolite desk that sat centre stage in her office. She puffed on a cigarette and watched the courier scurry over the ebony floohr to place the parcel gently upon the beautiful polished crystal surface. With head bowed he practically ran from the room, wishing not to find his name added to the long list of citizens who incurred the wrath of Lady Viper. A nickname she was surely aware of and did nothing to dissuade. She blew a cloud of blossom coloured smoke into his face a he passed before slamming the door and leaning back against heavy gilded surface. 

Across the room sat the box and although the item itself was bland and unintimidating, Lady Arazmus felt her heartbeat jitter. After all the war and conflict something as a small and simple as a brown box somehow coaxed the faintest hint of adrenaline in to her bloodstream.

She took another heavy draw from her cigarette and twiddled the long holder betwixt two mechanised fingers.

With a muttered curse in old Ghrymarian she pushed off and crossed the length of the room briskly in but a few graceful and silent strides. 

“Get me Colonel Gerges on the line.” 

A hurried 'yes ma'am' replied from the implant in Arazmus' left temple. She seated herself elegantly onto the chair behind her desk, bracing her hands firmly on the intricately carved arms while she held unwavering eye contact with the package.

She regarded it as though it may lunge across the desk toward her, or burst aflame at any moment. But it just sat there, infuriatingly benign.

Her earpiece jingled and she quickly lifted a metallic finger to answer with a click.

"You called?"

"Peodren of the Blue Sands."

"Now there's a name from the old days, what's he done to annoy you now? Stole another horse?"

Arazmus laughed humourlessly at the man on the line.

"He's dead. Or so I think."

"Hmm, well he was on the losing side of a war, it's an occupational hazard."

"I want to find out when, and where."

Arazmus heard what she distinctly recognised as large and poorly disguised exhalation of breath.

"Halle... he could've died anywhere in Omen's Vale or beyond and by any hand-"

"Start with the jails, then the work camps, then the facility."

"An awful large task for a Colonel in the midst of war."

"And an incredibly small task for someone who traded their blades for a pen and stacks of paperwork."

A tense silence fell between the pair.

"Give me an hour." Click.

For those long sixty minutes Arazmus sat, fingers toying with the edge of the parcel but not daring to pull it closer or open it.

After the torturous long wait her implant beeped and she answered the call in a single swift movement.

"Intake documents have him logged as entering the Facility three weeks ago, last listed as entering Processing Room 7. I don't know if that's what you wanted to hear or not."

"It's an answer I'd of otherwise gone without... so thank you."

"No worries, Halle."

She disconnected their call as tears began to roll down her plump cheeks, hanging on her sharp jawline like stalactites. Nimble fingers dragged the package closer and trembled as she made to finally open the box.

"I'm sorry, Peodren, that you spent your years fighting like a lion only to be put down like a dog."

With a tear of paper the contents was revealed and Lady Viper began to wail.