Battlemage Second-Class Adella Darr was not having a very pleasant morning.

Being informed that one of the usual patrol had been taken ill with a fever and that prison duty had passed on to you was never a good way to be awoken, especially if you had had the late watch the night before. 

That reason saw the Yulian in a less than chipper mood as she stepped out of the driving rain and descended the steps to the dungeons. 

Small, plain-looking, coat and mantle indicating a second-class magus. The kind trained for combat. She stood up to her full (somewhat unimpressive) height and carried herself in a manner that implied she felt above waiting round in this grim place.

Mage Adella adjusted her mantle, the silver feathers glittering in the guttering torchlight. The dungeons were inevitably disgusting and she was never exactly keen on venturing down there unless expressly ordered, however needs must. You had to sometimes demean yourself a little in order to reach new heights. 

This, she decided, would definitely be the year she achieved her promotion to first class. And if it involved being the watchdog to the filthy degenerates of Midgate prison, then so be it. 

The dungeons were extensive. Shortly after the end of the wall the Yulians had shipped a large consignment of Pradian prisoners to extend the old store-rooms of the fort out underneath the town. It was easy to get lost if you did not know your way around. Fortunately, Adella did. The armed guard at the entrance saluted,  an she returned the gesture, before stepping into the dungeons proper. 

The air was cold, and damp. For some cells, gratings ran across their edging with glimpses of the yard above. This gave their unwilling residents view of the sky, though also meant that the storm was currently draining into their quarters in full force, leaving them stnding or sitting in pools of water. 

Her particular area of expertise were not these places though. 

The prison was not sparsely populated, even aside from the prisoners. Soldiers patrolled from time to time. Jailers made their rounds. From time to time staff from the Inqusition could be glimpsed in their black uniforms, flittering about like shadows, their presence causing many of the wretches inhabiting the place to shrink away. There was no lack of understanding of the fear the Yulian Inquisition brought with them, and what terrible things lurked in their domain, behind locked doors. 

Adella wasn't naive enough not to know what they did. 

It was for the greater good though, the young woman told herself. 
Sometimes you had to scorch the brush to grow something anew. 
It was not an easy task, nor a pretty one, but it was necessary. 

The role of mages such as herself was a very particular one.  At the end of the hallway, down a second flight of steps, the furthest away from light and weather, was the part of the prison reserved for the magical heretics. Degenerates who had still received the gift of magic were one of the most dangerous things they'd encountered, and needed to be dealt with with a certain level of caution.  The place still had its guards, but it also required a mage in place at all times. 

Whilst most prisoners were sufficiently debilitated by the potions added to their water to be too much of a threat, there was always  chance that one might attempt to escape. That was where mages came in. 

Adella strode up to where the aster on the previous shift was stood. Upon catching sight of her replacement, the woman gave a brisk nod and left without a word. From there Mage Darr, stood, and for a moment, closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them again, the once brown irises were glowing a luminous blue. 

Magesight was a secret weapon to dealing with the treacherous prisoners. Like a viper sensed heat, so one of their class could sense the tiniest hint of magical energy. One slight sign of a casting and she would know it.

With that, Mage Darr started to walk. Better to get a look at these wretches early to know what she'd be up against.