Hostage interrogation

The journey north of Achaemenid was a trial of endurance, the terrain as unrelenting as the merciless sun overhead. Jagged cliffs and treacherous ravines stretched endlessly before them, each step an arduous battle against exhaustion. Erebus and his men pressed on, their bodies heavy with fatigue. A deep canyon offered momentary respite, yet water was scarce, and their parched throats burned with thirst.

Aware of the dangers that lay ahead, Erebus dispatched his Kemetian riders to scout the path, wary of unseen perils lurking in the distance. As his weary soldiers erected a makeshift camp, his gaze fell upon his warbeast—a massive creature whose flanks rose and fell in labored breaths. It had carried him through countless battles, and today would be no exception.

Jin was still absent. No word had arrived from Wahrheit, and doubt gnawed at Erebus. Had his informant failed? Had the message even been received? The uncertainty weighed upon him. To ensure their communication did not falter, he sent two more messengers, praying that at least one would return.

By noon, the sun carved an unforgiving path across the sky. Then came a cry from the sentries—a lone rider approached from the horizon, a plume of dust billowing in his wake like a phantom's cloak. Zeraf, abandoning his task, sprinted to Erebus' side.

"General, a rider has returned."

Erebus frowned. Fate seldom granted him peace.

"Prepare for any engagement. We do not tread blindly."

The soldiers snapped to attention, hands tightening around their weapons. Zeraf led him to the scout, who slumped against a rock, his breath shallow. At Erebus' approach, the man struggled to his feet and pressed a fist to his chest in a rigid salute.

"Amenhotep greets the great General." His voice was hoarse, yet unwavering in reverence.

Erebus, unaccustomed to such praise, merely inclined his head. "Where are the others?"

A shadow passed over Amenhotep's face. "The army... the creatures with wings… they took Khuman and Anhur hostage. They claim we consort with devils."

A chill coiled through the camp despite the oppressive heat. Erebus studied the man before him, a warrior forged by the relentless sun, his ebony skin hardened by the desert's wrath.

"Amanécerians?" Erebus murmured, though he already knew the answer.

"We call them 'Ari-hetch-f' or 'Athpi' in short." Amenhotep's accent thickened, struggling with Wahrheitian.

Zeraf let out a guttural growl, golden eyes flashing. "General, send me. I can tear through twenty men with my bare hands."

"No," Erebus said, his voice cool, his decision absolute.

Instead, he turned to Amenhotep and Alessio. "Take a white banner to the Amanécerian army. If they refuse it… we attack."

A stunned silence followed. The notion of truce unsettled the soldiers.

"A truce?" Zeraf spat. "With those fiends? With Amanécerians? I will not accept this!"

"Shut up, Zeraf." Lu Yin, ever the sharp-tongued strategist, scoffed. "You think with your claws, not your mind."

Zeraf's gaze darkened. "Say that again, wretched shrimp. I dare you."

Erebus' glare was sharp enough to cut steel. "You still have energy to waste, I see?"

Tension shattered as the soldiers dispersed, eager to escape their commander's wrath. Amenhotep and Alessio departed with the white banner, their mission clear.

Erebus turned his gaze to the horizon, his mind a battlefield of its own. Somewhere beyond those distant hills, Amanécerian forces lay in wait. But his thoughts drifted elsewhere—to a name that refused to fade, a specter haunting his every step. A name entwined with a night of storm and loss, a name that tormented and beckoned him in equal measure.

"Perhaps… there is still hope," he murmured. "If only I can find her."

The whisper was barely carried by the wind, yet the name fell from his lips like an incantation.

"Luciana."

A name lost to time, yet still, he called it—as though the mere utterance could summon her from the void.

---

The Amanécerian camp lay two hundred miles to the west, its banners fluttering beneath an unforgiving sky.

Within the interrogation tent, Helios and Rudolf loomed over their captives, Khuman and Anhur, prisoners of war bound by cruel fate.

Rudolf scowled, pacing like a caged predator. "Damn it! The third one escaped."

"Patience, Rudolf," Helios chided, his voice laced with authority.

Rudolf clenched his fists before bowing. "Apologies, Your Majesty."

Switching to Kemetian, Helios leaned forward. "You expect me to believe you have no dealings with demons? How can I trust your words?"

Anhur scoffed. "You Athpi think too highly of yourselves to trust anyone beyond your own."

"Silence, Kemetit dog," Rudolf snarled.

"And yet you trust him?" Anhur nodded towards Rudolf. "How do you know he does not deceive you?"

Before he could finish, Rudolf grabbed Khuman's head and slammed it onto the table with brutal force.

Helios' grip shot out, seizing Rudolf's wrist. His voice was a low warning. "Enough."

Rudolf pulled back with a grunt before storming from the tent.

Khuman's eyes burned with rage as he muttered curses in his mother tongue, blood trickling from his nose.

"Fetch the healers," Helios ordered a nearby guard. "See to his injuries."

Khuman scoffed. "No need. We do not accept kindness where it is not welcome."

Helios studied him before offering a measured nod. "Regardless, I extend my apologies on my subordinate's behalf. Given our current plight with the demons, blind trust is a luxury we cannot afford."

Khuman's lip curled. "So you harm those who are not your own? Is that the justice you Athpi uphold? You take only what benefits you."

"We mean you no harm, even as hostages," Helios assured. "I swear upon the God of Seven Heavens and Seven Hells."

Khuman sneered. "Spare me your oaths. We believe only in what we see."

Helios exhaled, his patience stretching thin. Even though both of them were sharp- tongued, He knew the Kemetians to be fiercely loyal to those who showed them even the smallest kindness.

The healer arrived, but Khuman resisted until Anhur placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Our general will not sit idly if we are not returned by morning."

Reluctantly, Khuman allowed the healer to tend to him, the fatigue of their grueling journey easing with each touch of the physician's craft.

Helios turned to a guard. "Ensure they are given food."

Anhur's eyes narrowed. "How long do you intend to keep us here? Our general will not wait."

"Until your general makes his intentions clear, we will not release you." Helios rose to leave.

Khuman's voice followed him, low and warning. "Mark my words. That redheaded man beside you is a danger."

Helios hesitated but did not turn. He merely let out a weary sigh and stepped into the twilight beyond.