Eryshae

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Lieutenant Rellis
Ocean City

The wheels of the carriage creaked beneath the weight of the city roads, a slow, steady rhythm that mirrored Rellis' heartbeat. Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp leather and iron, with the faintest trace of Mira's hair, still clinging to the braid she'd tried to undo. She sat across from him, wrists cuffed, feet braced, eyes flicking to him constantly. Not with fear; not exactly; but with assessment.

Rellis adjusted the strap of the harness holding her in place, his fingers brushing against the leather. He didn't look at her. He couldn't; not yet. Duty demanded focus, but the weight of her gaze pressed against him harder than any armor. "You're quiet," she said finally, voice calm but sharp, like a blade resting on his ribs. "I was expecting you to berate me. Maybe call me insolent."

"I have more pressing concerns than theatrics," he said evenly, keeping his tone low, neutral. Yet even as he spoke, he noted the way her eyes softened slightly at the edges of her words, a subtle shift in calculation. She tilted her head. "Oh? You worry about the carriage breaking down? Guards falling asleep? Or that your soldiers might accidentally kill me?"

His jaw tightened. All of the above. He kept his gaze forward. "You're restrained. The others are competent. There is no need for concern." Her lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile, but her eyes; those gold, calculating eyes; studied him as if searching for the crack in the armor he refused to show. "You're worried about me. Admit it. You can't help it."

Rellis didn't answer. He glanced down at the cuffed hands resting on her lap, fingers twitching ever so slightly. He noted the bruises that had begun to fade, the faint scratches along her forearm, the subtle twitch of muscle when the carriage hit a bump. All signs of her strength, all reminders of the chaos she could unleash if not controlled.

"And yet," she continued, voice quiet now, almost intimate, "you haven't said a word, even when you wanted to." I don't want to, he thought. But I do. He clenched his fists on his knees to keep the tremor in his hands under control.

Hours passed in silence punctuated only by the rhythmic creak of wheels and the muffled chatter of guards in the rear compartment. Rellis occasionally checked the straps holding her, adjusting a leather binding here, a buckle there, careful. Each small gesture, necessary or not, was noticed. Mira's eyes followed each movement, a silent conversation passing between them with no words.

At a sharp turn, the carriage lurched, and she caught herself, pressing her palm against the wall. He reached over instinctively, just enough to steady her. She flinched slightly; not from fear, but from recognition of the breach. Her eyes locked onto his, a question unspoken: Do you care?

He swallowed, forcing his mask back into place. Duty. Control. Soldier. All lines drawn sharp and clean. "Sit back," he said firmly. "Hold still." The words were clipped, final, but the tone carried a thread of warning he didn't intend for anyone else to hear.

When the city gates came into view, Mira's gaze wandered to the bustling streets of Ocean City, soldiers marching, carts rumbling, merchants shouting. Her eyes lingered on him again, even through the gag he would later insist upon, as if she were committing him to memory, measuring his reactions, his restraint, the small sparks of something unspoken.

The carriage rolled to a halt near the holding cells. Guards dismounted, busying themselves with chains and straps. Rellis moved with them, directing quietly but firmly. Mira's cuffs were removed, one by one, as he maintained the exact distance between them; a silent, protective boundary.

"You," he said to a young guard, voice low, precise. "Hand me a gag for the prisoner. We need to keep her quiet until inside." Mira's eyes widened, and for a moment, unspoken communication passed between them; a flicker of amusement, challenge, and acknowledgment. Even gagged, her gaze spoke volumes. I see you, Rellis.

The moment passed. Duty reclaimed him. He motioned for the guards to proceed as he took the gag from then and held it up to her lips. She parted her lips as he wrapped the leather straps into the buckle. And as they guided her into the disguised cell-carriage, he lingered at the edge, watching her settle, making sure the restraints were secure; but gentle. Caring, hidden beneath the armor of obedience.

This is not weakness, he told himself. This is control. Yet even as the wheels creaked again and the carriage began its slow roll toward the cell, the thought whispered in his mind: She unsettles me with every word, every glance, every small motion. Rellis took a deep breath, swallowed the edge of doubt, and followed, soldier first, man second, hiding the thread of humanity she had already begun to tug.

The carriage's wheels rattled over cobblestones as Rellis fell into the quiet shuffle of the guards behind him. Mira's gaze, though partially hidden behind the gag, lingered on him through the bars. He didn't meet it; didn't allow himself the distraction; but the weight of it pressed against his ribs like a physical thing, a reminder of the fragility and danger coiled into the woman he was charged to guard and control at once.

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By the time they reached the holding area near the eastern wing of the Amir residence in Ocean City, the city's bustle had begun to fade into the distant hum of the harbor. Guards dismounted and secured the carriage, murmuring among themselves about the size of the cage and the cleverness of its disguise. Rellis' eyes tracked every movement, every minor error, every hesitation. Nothing escaped him. Not now.

He led the way to the Amir's private chambers. The heavy oak doors loomed ahead, polished to a dim sheen from years of hands brushing against them. Lady Nerine's sharp silhouette framed the lighted interior, and the Amir lounged behind his desk, arms draped across its polished surface, casual yet commanding.

"Lieutenant Rellis," the Amir said, voice smooth and amused, as if the weight of the world were a game he enjoyed more than its responsibilities. "How fares our prized guest?" Rellis straightened, posture precise, mask firmly in place. "She is secured. The carriage held. No incidents during transport." Lady Nerine's eyes flicked to him, sharp and assessing. "No incidents, or no trouble? There's a difference, Lieutenant."

Rellis inclined his head, voice even. "Neither, my lady. She was compliant when necessary. Resistant when allowed by her restraints. No harm done beyond what is unavoidable." The Amir leaned back, eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief. "And you, Rellis? Did she make things difficult for you?"

Rellis' jaw tightened imperceptibly. "She challenges my authority where she can. But that is to be expected from someone in her position. All necessary precautions were taken. She remains unharmed, and contained."

Lady Nerine's lips pressed into a thin line, almost a smirk. "Contained. Good. That is what matters. For now." Her gaze lingered on him longer than necessary, calculating, sharp as a blade. "You have handled this well, Lieutenant. But remember," she added softly, "we do not tolerate sentiment. Especially not from men who believe themselves capable of understanding the… dangerous."

Rellis swallowed, mind flicking back to the carriage, to Mira's golden eyes even through the gag, to the subtle ways she unsettled the careful balance of control he had maintained for months. He swallowed the edge of it. "Understood." The Amir waved a hand, dismissive but amused. "Good. Then prepare for the next stage. Security doubled. She must not leave the cell. That is an order."

"Yes, my lord," Rellis said, bowing slightly. Duty first. Everything else buried. Lady Nerine leaned back, fingers steepled. "And Lieutenant…" Her tone was quiet, almost intimate, but her eyes carried the same razor-sharp precision. "Do not underestimate her. Not now. Not ever."

Rellis froze just slightly before reclaiming his composure. "Noted." As he turned to leave, the whisper of doubt and conflict still threaded through his thoughts like a shadow behind every step. Mira was a danger in more ways than the physical, and he was all too aware of it. But she was also… something else. Something he could not name without breaking the discipline he had built over years.

He exited into the corridor, the echo of his boots sharp against the polished floors. Outside, the city hummed with life. Inside, the weight of his duty pressed heavier than the armor on his back. And somewhere in that weight, he felt her gaze; warm, defiant, human; and it unraveled him more than any enemy ever could.

Rellis descended the polished steps to the barracks, the clatter of his boots echoing in the quiet hallways of Ocean City's eastern garrison. Outside, the harbor wind carried the scent of salt and tar, a reminder that the city never truly slept. Inside, the low murmur of men speaking in muted tones and the occasional clink of armor created a rhythm that almost felt like sanctuary.

He found his squad gathered in the training yard, weapons stacked neatly at the edge, faces tired but attentive. Even here, amid the familiarity of procedure, the memory of Mira's golden eyes lingered at the edges of his focus, a small, persistent tug that unsettled him more than any battlefield ever had.

"Report," he said curtly, forcing his voice into the cadence of command. One of his men, Sergeant Halven, stepped forward. "Transport went smoothly, sir. Prisoner secured. No incidents beyond normal handling." Rellis nodded, unclenching his fists slightly. He had held himself rigid through the entire journey, every inch of restraint a mental exercise in discipline. Now, in this private space, the tension threatened to seep from his shoulders.

"Good," he said, voice quieter, almost to himself. He strode a few paces away from the group, letting the evening air wash over him. His eyes traced the horizon where Ocean City's docks met the sea, a muted gray line beneath the setting sun. He allowed himself a moment; just a flicker; to breathe.

The men respected the distance. They knew enough not to crowd him when he carried the weight of responsibility, the kind that didn't leave with the sunset or the changing of shifts. Rellis leaned against the stone railing, jaw tight, hands gripping the edge. He replayed the carriage journey, the subtle shifts of Mira's body, the way her gaze had dared him to falter even while gagged.

"You all did well," he said finally, breaking the silence. "Keep the perimeter tight. Don't let anyone near her without my order." Halven nodded. "Understood, sir." Once they dispersed, Rellis remained, alone but for the distant sound of the waves. He closed his eyes, letting the sea wind whip at his face, trying to push the image of her out of his mind. It was impossible. Even when she was gagged, restrained, and behind locked doors, Mira filled every quiet moment with a presence that undermined his composure, teased at the man beneath the soldier.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension coil and uncoil, and whispered under his breath, almost to himself: "Focus. Discipline. Soldier first." The mantra held for a heartbeat. Then, as the shadows lengthened across the yard, he allowed a subtle admission to slip through, even if only to the wind: "But she is… remarkable." A long exhale. A soldier alone, wrestling with the threads of control, duty, and something far more dangerous.

He glanced back toward the holding area, toward the disguised cell that held her, and felt the weight of every decision ahead. Every command, every precaution, every careful restraint. And beneath it all, an unspoken truth that unsettled him: Mira had already begun to claim a part of him he was not permitted to surrender. Rellis straightened. Soldier first. Man second.

Always?