"Naught but conversation - let us check on our prisoner."
The three of you make your way to the cell where the sylph is located. Most of the Watch is sleeping off a night spent putting out fires and chasing rioters and looters. You pass by the snoring and body odor of the sleeping quarters, the groaning and vomit of the drunk tank, and the percolating and low conversation around one of the barrack's larger coffee pots.
There are six cells nearby the main entrance of the Watch. Five of them are packed to over-capacity with dozens of elens of all races, most men, all bloody and bruised.
The sixth cell has but a single sylph with pale blue eyes, huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth. There is an uneaten plate of food on the floor.
Odebie doesn't enter, but raps on the bars a few times to get the sylph's attention. Over the snoring drunks, he speaks. "Good morning, and hello again. If I was right about you being on something last night I'm guessing the hangover has hit you hard. Why don't you answer my questions, and then maybe we can do something about that. What's your name?"
Byron, while trying to stay out of the way of the interrogation, you fail to notice a greasy ifrit prisoner in the adjacent cell sneak toward you. He reaches out between the bars and grabs you around the neck. "Just stop yer breathin', pretty! Give me a taste! Just a taste!"
Byron is never the most observant man, save for the results of his experiments. Hence he is taken completely by surprise by the strong grip around his neck. His mind, however, quickly starts working.
Obvious Gasp addict. Unlikely to listen to reason. Sufficient pain stimulus might dissuade him. Quick action needed to avoid suffocation. Hands are free.
As quickly as he can while being choked to death, Byron draws his dagger and presses it to the ifrit's arm--not hard enough to break skin yet, but enough to be a threat.
As the wretch grabs Byron Fiordelise reaches for her dagger.
"More likely you'll be breathing your last than he will, let go."
The greasy ifrit looks up at Fi's words, his red-rimmed eyes unfocused. He falls back and lets out a squeal of surprise at Byron's gentle prodding. A few other prisoners kick him down and push at each other in an attempt to get at Byron, who has since moved well away from the bars. The greasy ifrit howls in frustration, petulantly pounding on the stone floor.
Still looking at the floor, the sylph points a long finger toward the neighboring prisoners, the greasy ifrit in particular. "That sound. That is my name."
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Odebie lets out a soft sigh of frustration. "Fearganainm it is then. Who owns your work? Who paid for your lab?"
"That's a terrible name," Byron snaps. "You should really change it."
With the ghost of a smirk back on his face, he looks sideways toward the prisoners. "I own my work. I own their misery."
"Then you own a debt to all those who have suffered from it. Tell us who your backer is in and you can put a mark against that debt."
Fiordelise speaks softly and gently, though it is an effort to do so.
A rasping wheeze-chuckle. "High probability this name will net you nothing, or your own brand own misery. Corazón."
And now we have a name... "Misery, you have already provided in herds. Where did your supplies come from - the alchemical substances, not the bodies?"
"Would you like to share some of my food with me? Oreads have stomachs as much as two-hundred and seventy-five percent larger than sylphs."
"No, thank you, I ate before I came here."
"Probably for the best. It's been poisoned."
Before any of you have a chance to react to this, a gravelly bellow erupts from around the corner. "Corporal Odebie! Am I to understand that you are questioning a prisoner without my explicit permission?"
Sergeant Gad. Though the impossibly loud voice and oddly accented speech are a dead giveaway, the true confirmation of the Sergeant's presence is the odor of sulfur, which the pot-bellied oread chews constantly.
Bristling, Gad storms into the room and points a stubby finger at Odebie. "And just what in the Dead Witch's black teeth are a couple of civilians doing in here? Explain yourself!"
Fiordelise steps forward, "Lady Incarna, at your service, I assure you that there was nothing untoward going on here. A thief stole my purse a few days ago and the good Corporal here was simply allowing me to check to see if I recognised the thief among those already caught and incarcerated by the valiant watch" Fiordelise attempts to bluster and distract the Sergeant.
The sergeant spits a glob of yellow spit near Fi's feet. "CORPORAL! One last chance to explain yourself and your lying girlfriend before I put you on desk duty!"
Odebie's nose wrinkles in distaste. Sergant, always a pleasure. I'm glad to see you weren't injured last night. Lady Incarna is here at my invitation, as are these others - they, along with this prisoner, were present when the fire began. If you'd like more information, I'm afraid you'll have to speak to the Lieutenant."
He makes a point of looking the ifrit up and down. I apologize for not speaking to you, but I assumed you would be recuperating like most of the watch. Especially since, if you are on duty, you would be in gross dereliction of your duty. This sylph's food has been poisoned."
Sergeant Gad's brown, wrinkled face turns a much darker shade, nearly black. You wonder if it is embarrassment, anger, or a heart attack. Cycling through his keys with precision despite his shaking hands, he opens the sylph's cell door and bellows, "Move one muscle and you get a boot up your ass, birdie!"
The sylph sits still, serenely contemplating the yellow glob of sulfur quivering near Fi's left foot. Without a word, Gad grabs the tray of food and slams the door behind him, double-checking that it is locked. "I swear on the Witch's very own malice if this is your volced up idea of a joke, I will personally nail your face to the nearest toilet!"
And with that, the oread leaves, the sound of his stomping boots fading.
"So... who do you think wants to poison you, or is this all a little ploy on your part?"
"Do you want to?"
"Poison you? No, if I'd wanted to harm you I would have just finished you off last night." Fi seems annoyed by the very thought.
Odebie looks attentively for the answer to Fiordelise's question. He also couldn't help but notice that the Sargent had just taken any evidence of poisoning with him, but he couldn't both follow him and keep the other two supervised at the same time.
"Why don't you want to harm me? Lessening 'bad things' is axiomatically a good thing, isn't it?"
"No, I... I'm not here to discuss philosophy, can you tell us any more about Corazón, or what was happening in the Stadium, or are we just wasting our time here?" Fiordelise is getting noticeably more irritated, for some reason this Sylph reminds her of her brother.
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"Except when the opportunity cost of getting rid of the 'bad thing' is sufficient," Byron interjects. "For example if the cost of getting rid of one bad thing now is not being able to get rid of two worse things later wouldn't it be true that getting rid of the lesser bad thing is actually a bad thing in itself especially if you could later get rid of the lesser bad thing after handling the worse things?"
"People aren't 'bad things', they're people, if someone's directly threatening other people I care about I'll kill them without regret, but you don't just murder them, not for any reason. You try and make them better people... And we don't have time for this conversation now."
"I think those bold sylphs from last night would disagree with you. They seemed to hold very little compunction regarding all the deaths caused by the rioting and panic. Or is there a different metric for indirectly caused deaths? I'm very interested in the opinions of people who think they have morals."
"Please, stop avoiding the question. There will be more than enough time for a talk on ethics later."
"Indeed, if this is so important to you I will visit you to discuss ethics later."
The sylph shrugs, picking at a loose thread on his pants. "Many, many people would wish me dead. Some enemies, some allies, some people who think they would be doing the right thing." He licks his lips.
"What if I told you I ate some of that poisoned food? Would you rush to save my life, or would you allow my bowels and stomach to empty upon the floor? Would you smile, just on the inside?"
"Letting you die while your information still might save lives would be less than ideal are you perhaps familiar with utility theory while it has its issues it applies well enough at present I think," Byron replies, his tone exasperated. "I am beginning to wonder if perhaps you are stalling for some reason however in which case we should remain wary in case there's an attack of some sort coming."
"Or perhaps you have nothing to offer and nothing to threaten me with, and I've given you all salient information I believe has a worthwhile chance of harming you."
"I think we're done here, this cazzo is telling us nothing more, and he knows we don't have the authority to threaten or reward him. I see leave him here to wallow in his own wretchedness awhile." Fiordelise starts to head back down the way they arrived.
Quietly, the sylph says, "Goodbye, Lady Incarna."
Byron throws his hands up in the air. "Certainly I have better things to do as well than argue ethics with an elen whose morals dictate being complicit in murder is a great idea because not enough of us are dying fighting the darkness."
He leaves after Fiordelise. "If you have something more suited to my talents I'll be in my shop I'm sure my time will be better spent there."
He stalks off, heading back towards his home, planning to check on some of his experiments and maybe start work on something else. It seems like crossbow mechanisms could be improved somehow... hmm...
Snorting, Odebie makes to leave before pausing and turning around. "If you're food truly was poisoned, there may be other attempts on your life. I'll arrange a guard to be detailed; I hope that won't inconvenience you."
So saying, he went to find Leutenant and make sure no-one was going to try and kill the sylph before lunch.
You make your way out of the quiet desperation of the post-riot Dims, avoiding weeping crowds and smoking buildings where you can.
When you approach the Tareasca Mansion, Isabelle is just stepping out. Though her strawberry-and-chocolate hair is immaculately coiffured, her eyes are tired. When she spots you, she turns her back. Without looking at you, she says, "I'm surprised to see you here."
To your surprise, sitting at your footstep when you arrive home is Eldon, your old schoolmate. His heavy sylphan accent brings back old memories. "Well Oi'll be an are-eeads ooncle! There ya be, old boy, and still wid sanged oi-brows no doubt, eh?" He is a large, fresh bruise under his left eye, but no other obvious injuries.
"I have absolutely no doubt you bring the most important of news, Corporal, I simply request that you be brief." He sighs and rubs at his eyes with the palm of his right hand. "It has been, to put it mildly, a busy morning."
Fiodelise flinches at the rebuke, before pulling herself back together "I came to check you got home safely, did something happen after we... became separated?" Fiordelise is genuinely concerned for her friend.
Byron is brought up short by the sight of his old schoolmate. Memories bring a ghost of a smile to his lips.
"I never thought I'd see you again Eldon I hope you've been well though it looks as if you've been in some sort of altercation?" he says all in one breath, fully expecting to hear of some sort of zany escapade.
"You were right about the sylph being targeted; apparently his food was poisoned. Would it be possible to arrange a guard? I hesitate to leave him alone even this long."
"I am sorry. I..." Fiordelise' voice falters, she's not exactly sure what she can say. But then her fire takes hold, she straightens up "You saw what that Sylph was doing, if he'd burned those concoctions we would all have been blown to Volc." Fi's voice raises with her own righteous indignation.
Byron chuckles in response. "No that wasn't me that was actually..."
He pauses a moment. "Well I suppose I was a link in the chain reaction but I primarily just caused a brief pause rather than being the root cause but it's certainly a bad time to be in Hearth I'm afraid so what brings you here?"