Both guards eased a little when Ulric appeared from thin air. Some tension on their faces vanished, lines growing a bit more shallow, though there remained a hardness in their eyes. The one banging on the bars stopped, dropping their hand back to the pommel of the blade on their hip. The larger one crossed his arms and planted his feet at shoulder width, adopting a no-nonsense façade. They scowled at the prisoner.
“Blah blah blah. Mind games won’t work on us either, so don’t waste your breath on trying.”
The one with crossed arms nodded slowly, mouth pursed in displeasure. “And drop the attitude. We can make your life a lot less pleasant, should we so wish.”
His companion gestured, beaming Ulric a smile instead. It didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Oh, we just wanted to know the reason for your incarceration. It’s not every day someone gets brought in here without as much of an explanation given, let alone three of you.” They sighed. “You know how it goes. Top brass is a bunch of pompous arses, think they don’t need to provide justification for their actions. ‘Confidential’, they say. Just a fancy way of telling us its none of our business.”
They shifted position, leaning their shoulder against the bars, one foot only touching the ground with its toes. Casual. “But you see, that’s incorrect! We might just be no-rank guards, but who keeps the inmates locked up, you think? Flaxxo? The warden? Nah, nah. They do the logistics, delegate the tasks. It’s us, we no-ranks run the prison. Without us, there’s no-one to keep an eye on you lot.”
A pause for assessing Ulric’s expression, and for realizing he really did not care either way. The guard cleared their throat. “Anyway, what I mean to say is this: this is supposed to be none of our business, but it clearly is all of our business. We really should be briefed by the higher-ups, but since they refuse to, you’ll have to do. So, here’s the deal: you let us know why you’re in here, and--”
They swished their eyes back and forth, scanning the hallway for a while, then leaned in a little closer. “—we can make your stay a little more enjoyable. Of course, we can’t let you out, but we might be willing to listen to requests for luxuries. Desert. Maybe some entertainment. Ciggies.” They raised an eyebrow.
Rather than wait for a reply, the guard stepped back from the cell. “You don’t have to answer right now. If you need some time to jog your memory, we can provide it. But no ‘oh, I’m innocent’ bullshit, okay? We all know you’re not.” They looked thoughtful. “Although, I suppose you’re not guilty yet either. Not until you’ve been tried at least.”
A shrug, and their hand returned to their hit, searching its position atop the hilt of the blade. Only, it found nothing. The smile vanished, a frown darkened their brow. Where the sword once hung from their belt, now there was an empty spot. No blade, no sheath either. “What the--? Where’s my--?”
The large guard stepped forward, beating stick drawn. He cracked his neck and fixed Ulric with a stare harder than steel. “Right, that’s enough. Return the sword and we forget this happened. That’ll be best for all of us. Don’t, and… well, there will be consequences.”
If in his confusion Ulric looked down, he would see the missing blade laying at his feet, even though it hadn’t until about ten seconds ago.
“Don’t try any funny business,” the unarmed guard spoke, all joviality having disappeared from their tone of voice, “Don’t bend over, don’t crouch. Kick my sword towards the bars and step backward to the wall.”
, so there had to be antimagic measures to the prison. Still, Oberan has more tricks up his sleeve than even Sintra's agents were able to pick up on, and thus he was left largely unguarded.