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Rhys resisted the urge to switch his weight from foot to foot as he stood in the middle of a semi-circle table where at least three men stared at him with flat expressions. Hadn't Geradine handled this already? What was he doing here? He even left Reeca inside his given room when he was dragged out of bed that morning by soldiers in blue armor. Tendrils of fear curled at the base of his gut.
Was he going to die soon? He would at least like to know if it's a beheading or the bow-and-arrow treatment.
He was dragged into this nondescript room to find it occupied with people that were probably important in the grand hierarchy of ice sprite. He cast a wary look at the guards positioned at where the vanishing door was supposed to be. It's a clever way to hide from intruders. The ice sprites certainly learned from what happened to their people according to history.
"Planning on escaping, boy?" a voice bounced against the ice walls in a booming sound. Almost, it reminded Rhys of an impending doom.
Rhys turned his attention back to the men seated with their hands folded atop the shiny, wooden table in front of them. Was that tarquet wood or something? Either way, he loved those engravings that depicted ajilte flowers and leaves. Truly inspiring.
The man in the middle of the table raised his eyebrow as if expecting an answer. Oh, he must be the one who asked the question. Sorry about that. Rhys cleared his throat, hoping that his voice wouldn't come out squeaky. "Not that much...Your um, Grace? Excellency? Highness? I mean, what should call you—"
" 'Sir' is fine," the man from Rhys's left raised a hand to massage his temples. Well, he didn't want to be here either, sir.
Rhys bit the inside of his cheek. His mouth would surely run him into some trouble sooner or later. His father always told him that his smart mouth made him annoying to deal with, especially by the older officials. Moreover, he wasn't sure what ages these people before him were in. Best to keep his mouth shut for now. He had to live.
The man on the right bobbed his head. Judging from the absence of tiredness from his eyes or the slumped weight on his shoulders, Rhys judged this man to be quite young. He just couldn't pinpoint the exact decade...or hundred. "Is it true that you entered the Capital through the eastern stocks?" Right said, scratching his nose as he pored over a sheet of parchment laid out in front of him.
Rhys turned the corner of his lips downward as he thought. "If you call the place where we popped into the eastern stocks, then yes," he said. "I mean, I'm sure Geradine already told you—"
"You will address the honorable lady as General Draswist," Middle growled, thumping a closed fist against the wood. Rhys grimaced. Oops.
"The problem with honorifics is hardly the main issue here, Master Hornori," Right said. He faced Rhys again. Right's dark hair reminded Rhys of someone he saw lately. The real question was...who? "What do you have to say about this apparent act of trespassing? Remember that anything you say will be used against you so choose your words wisely."
