The room was spacious and meticulously organized, with an almost imposing sense of order. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, their contents arranged neatly by subject and size. Maps and framed awards adorned the otherwise undecorated walls, while a large window allowed the evening sunlight to spill across the polished wooden floor.
At the far end of the room sat an older gentleman behind an imposing mahogany desk. His hair, once a light blonde, had faded to silver, and faint wrinkles lined his otherwise stern features. Dressed in a navy military uniform, he appeared entirely absorbed in his work.
A feathered quill rested between his fingers as he carefully wrote across a sheet of parchment. Several completed documents were stacked beside him, each aligned perfectly with the edge of the desk.
The only sound in the room was the gentle scratching of the quill against the paper.
That was until the door opened.
A young man stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties, with a head of curly brown hair that seemed determined to fall over his forehead. His hazel eyes surveyed the room briefly before settling on the older man.
Straightening his posture, the youth took a few confident steps forward before raising his hand in a crisp salute.
"Commander!"
Raising a hand, he signaled the officer to relax. Then putting down his quill, the older gentleman regarded the young man for a moment before his stern expression softened into a warm smile. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together atop the desk.
"Patri, how many times have I told you? You can call me by my name, you know."
Patri, seemed momentarily caught off guard. Nevertheless, he maintained his disciplined posture, his hands resting neatly at his sides.
"Mr. Ericks!"
A quiet sigh escaped the older man's lips. He shook his head, seemingly having long since accepted that the boy was rather stubborn when it came to formalities.
"Honestly, you're quite something."
He reached into one of the desk drawers and retrieved a small object wrapped in a piece of dark cloth. Carefully unfolding it, he revealed a silver badge. Its surface gleamed faintly beneath the light filtering through the window, and at its center was an intricate symbol of a raging whirlpool, seemingly engraved with considerable care.
Ericks held it between his fingers for a moment before extending it toward the young man.
"Take a look at this for me."
Patri stepped closer, his hazel eyes immediately drawn to the object. He leaned forward slightly, examining the unusual markings. His eyes lit up at once with recognition.
Being a navy officer, he recognised it immediately as his gaze shifted from the badge to the older gentleman.
"Of course I do. Where did you get it, if I may ask?"
Ericks' smile faded ever so slightly. He turned the badge between his fingers, allowing the silver surface to catch the light once more.
"It was found on that privateers ship amongst the stolen goods."
Patri's gaze snapped back to the silver badge.
"A Sairose emissary medallion was found on a war empire ship??"
His voice had grown considerably quieter. The implications were horrifying to say the least.
An emissary was no ordinary traveler or merchant. They were representatives of their domain entrusted with diplomatic authority and power afforded by the supreme they served. They were always to be granted safe passage to wherever they were going, less whoever messes with them faces a domains wrath.
Now, the domains had always been rather passive when it came to the war empire. But if the worst was what he imagined it to be.. and the empire really did kill and loot an emissary..
'War.'
Ericks knew it was inevitable. It was only a matter of when. But now it seemed to be right on the horizon. Not just a small scale skirmish where the Navy kept the empires growth in check, but one in which all three domains governing the twilight sea would get involved in. Almost matching that cataclysm from 300 years ago.
It didn't help that there was a legion of them posted right at their docks.
"There's something else that was strange with the former crew too. Especially that captain."
Patri raised his eyes.
"Strange, sir?"
Giving a small nod, Ericks reached for a nearby document, briefly scanning it's contents before placing it on the desk.
"When they were detained, every single one of them was covered in gruesome wounds. Fresh ones too. None appeared to be more then an hour old."
Patri's eyebrows drew together, his uncomfort very much visible. Ericks noted his reaction and continued,
"But that wasn't the strangest part. They couldn't speak. Not even a single word."
"They responded to external stimuli, they could move, follow instructions but they didn't react when addressed. Once questioned, they remained completely silent."
Patri looked down at the medallion again.
"Was it a refusal to cooperate?"
"We initially thought so. But after observing them for some time, the guards came to a rather different conclusion."
Ericks' fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"They were afraid, Patri."
A brief silence settled between them.
"Terrified, even. Their behavior suggested something far beyond ordinary fear. Whatever had happened aboard that vessel, it had left them deeply traumatized."
It wasn't all that uncommon for captives to get back at their captors. Especially if those people were the war empire, but the details in this case didn't make much sense for it to be just that. Apart from their initial wounds that they seemed to have sustained during their battle, these newer wounds sounded like professional torture.
Ericks own gaze then lingered, drifting towards the documents scattered across his desk. He seemed to be contemplating something before finally looking back at Patri.
"I heard that there were four exceptional individuals abroad that ship? I suppose you get what I'm trying to say, right?"
Patri's expression shifted. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications.
"One of them managed to elude my abilities?"
"Seemingly."
Ericks gave a light nod.
Patri's aspect wasn't absolute, but it was also immensely difficult to fool. Anyone who did it had to be truly exceptional, and powerful too.
"I know your Aspect is capable of it, but I don't recommend that you interrogate that man. Roswell. Or even anyone part of his crew. If the source of the fear in his mind is of mystical origin, it could effect you too."
Patri was far too critical of an asset to loose. Not many navy bases could boast of having an Awakened capable of what he could do, simply telling truth apart from lies was just a bonus of his abilities.
"You're abilities are impressive, Patri. But that doesn't make you invulnerable. I'd rather not have you become another victim of whatever happened abroad that vessel."
There was a certain kind of warmth between his otherwise authorative tone. He then straightened in his chair and waved a hand dismissively.
"That's all I wanted to talk to you about, you may leave."
Patri gave a small nod before turning toward the door.
"Understood, Commander."
He took a few steps before suddenly stopping.
"Mister.."
Ericks looked up.
For a brief moment, Patri seemed as though he wanted to say something. His lips parted slightly, but whatever words had been on his mind never came.
He eventually shook his head.
"Nevermind. Thank you."
Ericks watched as the young man gave another salute and departed, quietly closing the door behind him.
The room fell silent once more.
The older gentleman remained seated, his gaze lingering on the closed door. After a few seconds, he released a long, weary sigh and leaned back.
"That boy..."
A faint, somewhat exasperated smile appeared on his face.
"That kid is keeping things from me again. He isn't that rash though.. if he takes my words as a warning then I won't have to do anything drastic."
Looking back at the pages of documents before him, he took note a name he circled out earlier.
"Azdin... Azdin.. what a funny coincidence."