Escape from Whitestone Hold

Short Negotiations- Chapter 2

Sapphira once again began to hear the sounds of nearby armored footsteps as she approached the intersection, so she slunk into the shadows behind some of the goods and debris lining the alley and proceeded as carefully as possible.

"One of your men dropped this, by the way... Here, I'm sure you'd have a better chance of returning it than I do." She heard the voice of Maltheus echo down the street. A gruff voice barked back something she couldn't make out, to which Maltheus responded: "Do I LOOK like a threat to you? Get real. I've had a rough day, and I'm just doing my best to get home alive." Sapphira edged up to the intersection, peeking one eye around the corner. Maltheus was standing in the middle of the street, hands empty, while 5 Magistrate soldiers in light armor pointed their swords at him, except for the leader, who seemed to have taken Maltheus' sword from him. Looks like Maltheus didn't get very far...

"Do you realize you're breaking curfew by being out like this?!" The gruff leader laughed. "I have orders to kill anything on the street that moves, threat or not."

"Do YOU realize that your sonic-cannon-thingies have been blowing up houses every time you miss your target?" Maltheus responded, sounding annoyed. "The place I was TRYING to stay at collapsed on my head, so I had to leave. You can escort me home if you like. I don't care." Maltheus' boldness seemed to surprise the Magistrate soldier, who remained in stunned silence for a moment, apparently not used to being talked back to.

Sapphira took their distraction as an opportunity to scan the intersection, trying to figure out what she was going to do next. She had originally planned to visit the docks to look for supplies, but the city seemed to be crawling with more and more patrols each day, so she figured a trip down there at this point would be a bad idea. Luckily, she did hear more fighting coming from a lower street to the south, so perhaps there were some fighters she could aid? The only problem with that idea was that traveling south would mean she'd have to sneak past the same patrol Maltheus was currently talking to. In fact, it seemed that if she entered the intersection at all, she would likely be spotted by the guards. Sapphira considered climbing the alley wall and sneaking across the rooftops, but her arm was still throbbing in pain with every beat of her heart. She didn't want to risk hurting herself further or falling and attracting attention to herself by crashing down onto a pile of junk.

"You're not the one giving orders here, wyrmling!" The leader yelled loudly, clearly offended that someone had dared to question his authority.

"I apologize, I just was hoping that the respected soldiers of the Magistrate would be willing to let an innocent citizen get back home so I could return to following the curfew," Maltheus responded with the smallest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Again, the Magistrate soldier seemed flabbergasted and enraged but had trouble coming up with a suitable response. Maltheus used the opportunity to keep up his momentum. "I completely understand if you still want to kill me, but please keep in mind that I had no choice but to leave a collapsing building... What would you have done in my situation?" Maltheus concluded, tiredly putting his hands on his hips and standing fearlessly in the face of the soldiers, who were hesitantly looking to their leader for guidance. Maltheus seemed completely relaxed, or even impatient as he shifted his weight to one foot, waiting for a response. The leader sputtered for a moment, clearly angry at Maltheus' brazen attitude, but hesitant to order his execution. Sapphira marveled at the situation, wondering if she'd be able to capitalize off of it with a similarly-stupid idea, assuming his sweet-talking worked. Or was it honesty? She couldn't tell.

"And what are those scratches on your face from, eh? Looks to me like you're one of those freedom-fighters." The leader finally sneered, pointing both the swords he held at Maltheus' neck, who was forced to take a small step back and break his imposing stance. The other soldiers took this as a cue to regain their confidence, pointing their swords more aggressively again.