[H3]Swallowed by the Ocean[/H3]

Storm and Dervs Collab
[hr]

[I]6th Midyear, 4E208, Early Evening, Gilane Commercial District…[/I]

The streets of Gilane were golden at this hour as the sun was winding down on the horizon. The ocean was ablaze with a vibrant vermillion right at its edge which faded out into oranges and golds, to yellow and then back to a lush blue. A beautiful sight that the young Breton appreciated as she stared out towards it. She had always loved sunsets and sunrises, something about the familiarity of them reminded her that the world would always keep turning, no matter what was happening on the surface. She sighed dreamily and continued on her way, parchment in one hand of a map to a warehouse, and a package she was couriering in the other. 

Today she had managed to work up the effort to indulge in herself, she had bathed, had been massaged by the handmaidens of the Three Crowns, and they had even styled her hair. It was a common theme for Raelynn. Her method of cleansing herself of pain and upset was to put on a pretty new dress, don a new hairstyle, douse herself in fragrance... Today, every detail was merely a mask that coated the torment that had well and truly seeded itself inside of her, it had taken root and was growing every day. The longer she left it, buried it, ignored it… The more she seemed to feel it later. Her lip trembled at the beauty of the sunset, just watching it brought her a temporary relief.

But, she had a job to do yet. As she walked with languid strides throughout the district of warehouses,her eyes glanced from the map to the path in front of her, the distraction so consuming that she hadn't realised how far out from the busy streets she had gotten. 

A fool's error. 

Eventually she found it, she was surprised at how derelict it looked from the outside, windows boarded over and cracks in the walls. Her father had said his buyer would be inside, and she knocked on the door before stepping inside. If the outside was bad, the inside was worse. Dusty, dark, and even damp too. The sound of water dripping somewhere. A strange combination of things set her on edge and she immediately felt that something was amiss, knowing that she had been stupid to come here alone. 

The door closed behind her, the dark concealing the features of the one who had shut off her escape. “Hello, my dear.” a familiar feline voice drawled from the darkness. Zaveed stepped towards her, hands resting on his axes, an upturn on his lips suggesting either a smile or a smirk. “I see your father met his end of the bargain. Cooperate so I may meet mine, yes?”

She knew the voice straight away and hearing it here cut through her like a knife. She spun on her heel, finally looking upon his face. The face that had eluded her and yet had haunted her so prominently since the last time she had been with this Khajiit. Her face fell and her voice shook as she began to back away from his approach, “no, no, no…” was all that she could muster to whimper at him, fumbling backwards through the dark. “My father? No… He wouldn't do this.”

“If it’s of any comfort, he did it to protect you… and him. The price was simply an exchange for your little group.” Zaveed said, bringing a finger up under Raelynn’s chin to force her to meet his eyes. “A pleasure to finally meet you properly. No harm will come to you, so long as you play your part. You may even get to return home properly by the end of all of this. Come, have a seat.” he said, gently guiding the Breton towards the center of the warehouse with a hand on her shoulder.

Even though he was guiding her, she pushed back against him. A slight show of resistance as her heart raced in her chest. Part of her was ready to fight her way out and the other was accepting of it. “What do you mean?” she asked, “an exchange? Why? Tell me what's going on.” While she couldn't understand her father for doing this, she had to trust him, trust that he knew what he was doing. He would never put her in real danger. She let the thought of him having planned something settle her nerves just enough so that when she sat in the seat, she wasn't as shaken. 

The Khajiit pulled up a chair, setting it across from her and he set himself down with a sense of gravity, scratching his neck before resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. There wasn’t an intensity to his eyes, and in a lot of ways, the way they darted around made him seem distracted or at least unfocused. Eventually he turned his gaze back towards Raelynn slowly. “Your friends, the terrorists. Things are being set in motion that you are powerless to prevent, but are instrumental in seeing through. Soon, the entire house of cards will come tumbling down; we know about the Three Crowns, we know your leader is Daro’Vasora, and she’s on her way as we speak. I paid your father a visit the night after I let you escape… you led me right to where he was. Did you know he is an affiliate of the Governor?” he asked quietly.

“Sora? She is coming?” She asked with a wide eyed, fearful expression before quelling it with a seperate thought. [i]Of course he'd allied himself to Rourken[/i]. He was the perfect mole. Just hearing it from Zaveed first worried her but she was able to brave a smile instead, “of course I did.” She lied convincingly, noting the Khajiit's posture, a strain in his face. If he wasn't going to hurt her, she saw no harm in pressing him. It was a risky move but she was going to take it.

She rose from her seat and walked to him, her breaths slow and steady as she placed her trembling hand on him. “And what of your own house of cards? What does Rourken hold on you?” she of course knew, but she wanted to hear him say it. 

Zaveed allowed her to approach, and he tensed at her touch. “It matters not. I don't harbour loyalty to her, or the Dwemer. It simply wasn't my choice.” his jaw rolled, and he worked out a kink in his hand. “I do not wish to partake in this particular venture, but it is this or languishing in a cell or dying with the odds stacked against my favour.” he paused, his gaze meeting her own. The tension on his face was chilling. “I never play poor odds, understand?”

He reached out and took Raelynn's hand gingerly in his own, observing the residual bruising and scars. “You could have had this healed properly. Why didn't you?” he asked.

She too was forced to look at her hand as he touched it. Something about [i]him[/i] touching it turned a knot in her stomach and she pulled away. The reason being that the days following the attack had been too difficult. Her father and Zhaib had done the best that they could, but they had no magical ability - and after that, she had been too scared to show anyone else. She’d done the best that she could do with her own skills, but it had been too late to stop scarring and completely mend the nerves. “I thought the scars would… look good. I’ve never had one my whole life. I thought it was important to keep this one,” she lied again, bringing it back behind her in a fist.

She realised how close she was stood to him, and her nervous disposition in the face of her torturer made her step back, her eyes fell to the floor. “We all land in positions with unfavourable odds at some point, I --” she stopped herself, changing the subject, “you know, I still don’t even know your name.”

“Zaveed, of Senchal.” there was no hesitation in his reply as he stood to face her properly, not closing the distance. They both knew she wasn't going anywhere, and his posture was relaxed. “You are more right than you know, I've had a lifetime of unfavourable odds that I had to surpass, often such messy and brutal events that have formed me into the thing that's kept you up at night. No one dreams as a child they will one day be responsible for the torture and murder of others, and I do not take pleasure in it most of the time. It's simply something one has to do if it is required.” he looked down for a moment, his fingers tapping upon the blades on his hips. 

“Why are you involved in all of this?” he asked suddenly, scanning her face for answers. “You don't seem to be the kind of person who willingly walks into this sort of affair, this subterfuge and murder and torture. I make no apologies for what I am, or what I do, but you must be aware that the people you work with have far worse creatures lurking under their floorboards than I.”

“Truthfully?” she began with a sigh, before taking her seat again, sitting in as ladylike a posture as she could, legs crossed and back straight as an arrow. “I don’t know. I guess I got swept up in this growing hurricane of events… I used to be a simple tavern healer in Skyrim until I wanted a change of scenery. One of the [i]terrorists[/i] saved my life in The Imperial City, and I’ve… been with them all since.” She smiled as she thought fondly of Alim, and their first foray into danger. She placed her hands neatly in her lap and looked down, a smile still on her face. Forgetting for a moment where she was. “To me, you’re a terrorist. To you, I’m a terrorist. Morality and right and wrong is far more grey than that though, isn’t it, Zaveed?” She emphasised his name.

He remained standing for a few moments longer, chewing over her words. “It has been my experience that morality simply is too simplistic of a perspective, we each have in us the capacity for great altruism and great cruelty. It's our environment and the people around us who shape that, defining us along the way.” he returned to his seat, throwing an elbow over the back, a claw digging thoughtlessly into the wood. His face remained impassive as he lost himself in the sea of thoughts and memories.

“You understand, then, how a fateful event or encounter can change your life in ways you could never fathom. I grew up as a street urchin, my mother was a prostitute in some Septim a dozen brothel and my twin sister and I were discarded when her master decided we weren't worth the fish and bread to keep alive, so barely old enough to feed ourselves and suddenly, it was to the streets.” he exhaled through his nose, his lips creasing in annoyance. “I've seen people's callousness to the poor, the starving, even if their eyes hold pity, it's their lack of action and love for the filthy creatures that matter in the end. It was after my brother left us and she was caught by the Dominion that I took fate into my own hands. It was a decision that would turn a scared boy who wanted nothing more than to be an entertainer to make people smile at him into what you see before you.” he pulled his claw free, gazing disdainfully at the wood grains upon it. “You find yourself in a not dissimilar journey to the one I underwent.”

Raelynn listened to Zaveed’s story. It wasn’t too dissimilar to her having listened to Gregor’s story. Zaveed’s words did not poke at her insecurities, however. “I will not become like you…” she hissed, “I may be greedy, and manipulative, and, God’s… Mean! But I [i]have[/i] real compassion. Nobody ever showed you any love did they?” Raelynn wanted to smirk, she wanted to wound him with her words but it was too dangerous a game to play. Instead, her tone fell halfway between genuine concern, and somewhere along a line of taunting malice. His story pieced together the puzzle that was Zaveed, though, and she understood and in some way felt the pain of it with every word he was speaking. It only made her realise that the two of them had a connection that was forged in violence. She looked at her hand again, gasping.


The Khajiit chuckled and winked. “Oh, I’ve been shown love, it just depends on how much they decide to charge for the night. I’m sure I’ve unintentionally sired a few more stories just like the one I’ve told you in the making, but perhaps they’ll fare better than I.” he said, his eyes taking on an impish glint. If her words tore at him emotionally, his face didn’t register it. His expression softened when she regarded her hand once more, the mark where he’d nailed her to the table changing her forever exposed to the world. “You may become like me, you may not. But I can see a look to your eyes, you’re changed now and there is no going back. You will not allow another to harm you like that again, you will do unspeakable things to ensure that.” He smiled, reminiscing about something or another that called to that particular experience. “If you wish to survive this war and weather the atrocities you have and will continue to witness, you will have to adapt. The fact you can sit here and even look at me, chatting away like we’re old acquaintances instead of something decidedly darker tells me enough. You are already adapting to unpleasant circumstances, am I wrong?”

“You don’t know me Zaveed,” her tone suddenly defensive and sharp, she leaned forward in her seat, her posture dropping. “Stop addressing me as if you do, as if I’ve been a project for you. I simply have trust that whatever this plan you have is, that it is not going to go the way you think.” She laughed quietly before leaning back in the chair once more, hands returning to her lap. Inside, she felt a searing, angry pain and feared that was going to simmer over at the surface before long. He thought that she was stronger, and changed. She was, but it was currently concealed under layers of pleasantry and a fake smile. She would not be able to hold this position for much longer. Being in his aura was enough. She closed her eyes and thought of Gregor, of his beautiful rage and violence. 

“Everything will go as I will it. It always does, even setbacks only prolong the inevitable conclusion.” Zaveed replied as he gazed at her with steady eyes, but his tone was one not of a boast, but almost as if it were resignation. “I was ordered to take you to her, the Governor. I've let you make the choice to go free, and I regret that you must spend time in my company in this manner once more. This… is a strange thing to admit, but I've never quite been in this position where I can see the aftermath of my actions quite so clearly. Life just simply moves on, but here I am forced to linger on it.”

“How truly benevolent of you...” she said with an ounce of spite to it. She ran her tongue over her lips and opened her eyes again. “I don’t think you see quite clearly enough what lies ahead of you. I really don’t think you know anything.” Her face darkened, and something in her eyes changed, while he seemed to soften and resign, she only felt more powerful in her position amidst the storm brewing within, she placed a finger in her mouth and bit down on it with a wry snigger. “What do you want from me here, Zaveed? You act as though you’re doing me favours and kindnesses. I don’t see it that way. You are going to pay a [i]heavy[/i] price for what you did to me, even more so for having the sheer audacity to do it again.”

“Oh, nothing much. You will sit there and watch the spectacle unfold. Then maybe, if you’re good, you get to leave.” Standing up suddenly, Zaveed was suddenly towering over Raelynn and he placed a hand on the back of her chair to lean over her, the other resting on his dagger at this back. “You can perceive me any way you wish, I am simply passing time until she arrives. Personally, I’d prefer a polite conversation to the tedium of silence, but it is what it is. You overestimate your allies and your sweet, darling Gregor.” A cruel grin crossed Zaveed’s countenance. He leaned further down and whispered in her ear, “What do you suppose the mad bull will do when he finds you’ve fallen into my clutches again? Will he plot his next steps with care to lure me into a trap that is to his advantage, or do you think he’ll charge after me with reckless abandon where he will be completely at my mercy?”

The way the Zaveed towered over her like that rattled her enough to unshackle something within, it was just like before - trapping her where she sat. As if by instinct she swiftly lifted her left leg and smashed his knee with the bottom of her boot with as much force as she could gather from her inferior positioning. In this situation of fight or flight, when threatened - Raelynn chose to fight. “Back off!” she snapped. They way he spoke about Gregor like that, it riled her up. She used her right leg to stamp down upon his foot. His intrusion upon her personal space - his threat - his words… “You will be at his, if you’re lucky.” She leaned up to meet his face - a fury coloured her eyes even in the darkness, and she began to wave her hand, summoning Magicka into her palm. “I tire of you now,” she spoke softly, almost seductively at him. 

A bit of fight, that was good. The kick to Zaveed’s knee stung, but the adrenaline was enough to dull the worst of it, but the stomp down on his foot was enough to hobble him momentarily; enough for him to catch a glimpse of the spell forming in her hand. He rolled his eyes, irritated as he closed the distance, dagger in hand. “This is why I don’t behave civilly most of the time, my dear.” he said, grabbing her wrist and smashing the pommel into her temple, making Raelynn’s vision start to blur. He caught her as she stumbled, and almost tenderly the Khajiit settled her down into the chair once more as her vision began to fade. “Stupid girl.” Zaveed muttered, the dagger slipping back into its sheath as the world went black. 


[hr]

[I]Earlier that day…[/I]

Couriers seemed to have this uncanny ability to find people anywhere, any time. So when Daro’Vasora, disguise and all, was back in the marketplace looking for oil suitable for opening doors silently, the man approached her from the side as to not alarm her. 

“I’ve been looking for you, something I’m supposed to deliver - your eyes only.” The man said, handing a parcel to the Khajiit before suddenly taking off back the way he came, as if she was one of many deliveries the man had to do today. She stepped off to the side into the mouth of an alley so she was out of the way, curious as to what the parcel was and who sent it. Anyone she knew from back home wouldn’t have known she was there, and the Poncy Man would have likely send a missive in the Three Crowns. It was something of a mystery, and at least it would be easy enough to solve.

Unwrapping the package’s carefully tied string with impeccable measurements and even lengths on each end that had been done by skilled hands, she found a small box inside where something definitely heavy was shifting inside. Curious, she lifted up the lid and nearly dropped the box when she saw the contents.

A pair of severed fingers were seated on a strip of burlap and upon one of the fingers was a ring she recognized immediately; it was Roux’s. Her heart sank, and a feeling of intense remorse and fear filled her as she dared herself to look at the package once more, seeing the corner of a note sticking out of the corner of the burlap strip. She carefully plucked the parchment out with pinched claws and unfolded it, and read the message.

Composing herself, the Khajiit closed her eyes as she folded the note and slipped it back in the box. There wasn’t much time to prepare for this, and the letter made it very clear that if she didn’t come alone, Roux was dead. A part of her still resented and hated the man, but after their history and time together, it was hard to set aside the stronger feelings that lurked in her core.

“Damn it all.” Daro’Vasora muttered.

She knew she was going to be walking into a trap, and she was going to have to go anyways.

[hr]

[I]Now…[/I]

Daro’Vasora scouted the outside of the warehouse thoroughly, looking for guards, lookouts, or even alternative entrances. The building lacked windows, save for small slits in the limestone that weren’t even large enough for a child to slip through, and apart from a pair of side doors on either side of the building, the main entrance way was a set of double doors large enough for a wagon to fit through comfortably.

Side door it was.

She worked the lock carefully, lubricating it and the hinges as she worked to reduce the amount of noise she could before opening the door, where it slid open nearly silently due to her precautions. She picked a door that was on the North side, away from the bright sun, and she slipped inside the building cautiously, mace in hand, and so began the nerve wracking steps into the unknown.

Nothing seemed amiss, just lines of shelves and packaged goods that one would expect from such a building, and the lack of enemy presence made her fur stick up on end; something was wrong here, she knew she had the right place but nothing so far even made a peep.

A groan caught her ear and cautiously, she moved like a serpent from cover to cover, her footfalls silent as she went. Rounding a corner, her eyes caught two figures tied to a pair of chairs.

It was Roux and Raelynn. Her heart pounded like it was going to burst; Raelynn was captured again? She had just seen her earlier, everything seemed normal and the Breton girl actually seemed happy for a change after the party. 

Daro’Vasora looked around for a sign of danger, the trap waiting to be sprung she was sure was there. Maybe whoever it was had stepped out, their timing off? [I]No,[/I] she thought, feeling very exposed all of a sudden. [I]They were very specific for the time.[/I] she thought, which is why she arrived hours before it was indicated. They had to be here, but where?

She pulled her dagger free from her wrist, deciding that if she was quick and quiet enough, she could probably cut their restraints quickly and have them out in only a few seconds. It was a risk worth taking; standing around and deliberating was only playing into the enemy’s hand.

[I]Riddle Thar, guide my steps.[/I] Daro’Vasora thought, and she headed into the opening, closing in on the pair of captives. 

Something clicked above her and to the right, and the Khajiit turned to the sound. From the top of one of the shelves and concealed between boxes came a figure that had one of the Dwemer pistols trained on her. “I see you received my invitation well.” he said, climbing down with relative ease and not taking his eye off the Khajiiti woman for a moment. She took in his full measure; he was a tall, handsome Khajiit with grey fur and a black mohawk of a mane and a pair of piercing blue eyes that were hard to turn away from. She turned to face him, both of her weapons at the ready; she didn’t like the odds; he could shoot her at any range and those axes on his hip were definitely something he knew how to use far better than she could fight with a mace. She gestured towards Roux, who hissed at her, “What are you doing here, Sora?! You fool!”

“Why did you let your fingers get cut off and your stupid ass tied to a chair?” she snarled back, looking back towards the Cathay. “Well, I’m here. What do you want?”

Zaveed grinned, gesturing towards her. “Your presence, of course. With that delivered, I suppose I don’t need quite so many guests. Only two hands, you see.” 

“So let them go; I’m here, do a trade. Take me instead.” She hissed. Whatever the outcome came today, she knew it would be a disadvantage. She knew what happened to Raelynn, and this was likely the same Khajiit that tortured her before. She was really banking off of the idea that he’d be treating her with a bit more kindness; they were both of the same race, after all. Khajiit had a hard time finding kinship outside of their enclaves, she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be different with him.

The sound of Sora’s voice, and of other voices pulled Raelynn back to consciousness - and her eyelids fluttered momentarily before she opened them fully to survey the room again. This was different now, she was bound to the chair which instantly caused her heart to pound in her chest, and returning anxiety pulsed through her with every heartbeat. This was as she had been before, she began to whimper in confusion and fear, turning her head to look at the blurry figures around her. She counted three.

“I could, but the Governor wants both of you lovely ladies in her company in an expedient manner, but accidents do happen.” Zaveed mused, stepping over to Daro’Vasora. “So, allow me to make this plain; you have a decision to make, Daro’Vasora. Which one of your friends will be coming with us? Your former lover and expedition companion, Roux, or your new friend and ally, Raelynn? It sounded as if you two left quite an impression on our dear Governor, she would really love the matching set.”

Daro’Vasora’s ears pulled back and her eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me to pick who dies. Are you fucking mad?”

Zaveed shrugged. “No, just a pragmatist. You’re a leader, you make difficult decisions all of the time. This is but one more, is it not?” 

She looked to the two Bretons aghast. Roux shook his head. “Sora… I’m so sorry for everything. If anyone has to die, let it be me. I… I told these bastards too much, they did…” he scrunched his eyes, recoiling at the memories. “This isn’t a choice. Take her and go!” tears flowed down his face as he fought feebly against the restraints.

“Roux, I…” Daro’Vasora began, her eyes darting to Raelynn.

She had paid attention to the conversation, and in this state, the concussion, the pain, the tension in the room -- her lips formed words she didn’t think about fully before they fell, exhausted and desperate; “It’s okay if it’s not me…” She could only just start to make out the figures now. Zaveed, Roux, Sora. She knew that she was looking her Khajiit friend in the eyes, “it’s okay if you have to save him, I understand… [i]It’s okay if it’s not me.[/i]”

“Shut up; you’re concussed.” Daro’Vasora said to Raelynn, her mind frantically trying to find a way out of the predicament. There was only one way, she decided. “No one’s going to die here today, I promise.” the words were empty, but this was no time to give into fear, nor madmen.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, girl.” Zaveed said, stepping closer. “Choose, or they both die.”


“Fuck. [I]You![/I]” Daro’Vasora shouted, and suddenly she turned on Zaveed, swinging her mace to bring it down upon his crown, to which he easily sidestepped the swing, grabbing her arm in his hands and using her momentum against her, flipped her hard onto her back, winding her. She barely had time to gasp when Zaveed pulled her arm tightly into a bad angle.

His boot came down a second later and a sudden blinding pain caused her to scream out in agony, accompanied by a sickening crunch.Tears streamed down her face, and for a few moments, she couldn’t make out words, just the impossible ringing of her brain trying to process what had just happened. She managed to get to her knees, sobbing as her arm hung limp at her side, and she feebly clutched at the throbbing pain. 

“You bastard! You fucking piece of shit!” Roux screamed at Zaveed, trying to wrestle his way out of his restraints; blood was pooling around his wrists as the rope grew tighter.

Zaveed crouched down beside Daro’Vasora, yanking her ponytail back. “It’s time to make your decision.” He purred.

She screwed her eyes tight, not daring to look. She was hyperventilating, not daring to condemn either of them. “[I]Please…[/I]” she pleaded. “Don’t. Please. Leave them.” her words came out as if they weighed as much as a bullion of gold a piece.

“Sora.” Roux spoke softly.

Her eyes opened and she focused on him through a veil of tears.

“I am so sorry.”

Zaveed released her suddenly, almost affectionately touching her shoulder. “I see you’ve made your choice.” he said, walking over to Roux, dagger in his hand.

“No! Fuck, no! You can’t, I didn’t!” Sora was suddenly very lucid and trying to get to her feet against to do anything she could. “You bastard!” she screamed. Zaveed turned and kicked Daro’Vasora hard in the chest, causing her to sprawl out across the floor, clutching her arm as she let out a pitiful moan. 

Zaveed turned back to Roux, leaning over him and grabbing him by the shoulder. His expression was soft, thoughtful even. The Breton bared his teeth at him. “Do it, you fucking coward.”

The knife slipped in between his ribs a few inches, and Roux felt the sudden blinding pain acutely. Zaveed whispered softly into the man’s ear. “I have punctured your heart. You only have a few moments to say what you need to before you lose consciousness. Use them well.”

Withdrawing the blade, Zaveed stepped aside, cleaning the blade on a cloth.

Daro’Vasora looked up at Roux and the crimson pool forming on his chest. “No, no, no…” she pleaded. Roux smiled sadly, almost dreamily at her.

“It’s okay, Sora. It is. I get to see my wife and little girl again.” He coughed, wincing at the sudden explosion of pain. “If I could go back and change everything I did to you, I… I would have, Sora. You never did wrong by me and I fucked up, I got… so… so greedy.”

His eyes grew heavy and he struggled to keep them open and his head upright.

“You’re… better than I ever was. For me, be better than us both.” he said, a weak smile forming on his lips as his eyes shut for the last time. “May your roads…”

And he was gone.

Daro’Vasora screamed and Zaveed stood impassively, not looking at any of the figures in the room. “He was brave, even at his worst.” He said solemnly, as if for his own benefit. “It’s time for us to depart, my dear.”

He walked behind Raelynn, and the knife cut into the rope at her wrists, enough that a bit of work would do the rest. “Your chance is coming.” he said quietly to her as he walked away, scooping up Daro’Vasora’s dropped weapons as he sheathed his knife and holding her mace as he pulled her up to her feet. “Well done.” he said to her, forcing her to walk towards the double doors, which now opened up to reveal a troop of Dwemer soldiers. 

“Zaveed?” The sergeant at the front of the column said, looking at the mess behind the Khajiit. “What happened here?”

“Things got a bit out of hand; this is their leader, Daro’Vasora.” He smiled at her. “She resisted.”

“Very well. What of the girl?” the sergeant asked.

“Guard the building, and clean up the mess. I will be back to interrogate her later. I believe she has more information and leverage that will draw more of her associates out of their holes.” Zaveed pushed Daro’Vasora forward, past the sergeant. “No one lays a finger on her without my permission, understood?”

The sergeant muttered under his breath. “Fucking goon.” before issuing orders to his troops. Four fell into line with Zaveed, and they stepped out into the Gilane evening.