Having said everything that needed to be said to King Atlas, Jacob left the royal’s wing to check in on the security team at the palace. All he needed to do for the rest of the day in regard to the mess that had broken out at the seventh tower was wait for the call from the hospital confirming that Prince Caspian was out of surgery and transferred to a room in which he could be visited by outsiders. Until then, he planned to catch up on scheduling and assigning the guards to the needed posts around the building.

He made his way to his on-site office and spent about fifteen minutes skimming reports and entering the names of the guards into a digital program before his com device sounded with an alert that someone was trying to reach him. At the noise, he exhaled in exasperation, already guessing the call was coming from someone at the penitentiary. [i]Those dumbasses can’t handle anything without my help,[/i] he grumbled inwardly as he put on his earpiece.

In truth, most of the high-ranking soldiers were extremely competent. They had been rigorously trained and tested before they received their promotions, forbidden from advancing if there was any doubt that they wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibilities of a higher rank. However, the problem was that most of the finest men in the military were all concentrated in one spot: central intelligence and strategizing. Atlas had been so hyper focused on winning the war that he’d pulled the best of the best from almost every other area to command the army, leaving plenty of other roles to be manned by people who were underqualified for the jobs. Currently, the prison was in a similar state. Warden Walker was a competent man, but many of the guards under his command didn’t know what they were doing.

“Curry here,” he said into the receiver, leaning back in his chair as he took the call.

[i]Sir, the prisoner is being escorted to the interrogation room as we speak,[/i] a guard told him formally.

“Great,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “And why was this necessary to tell me?”

[i]Err… actually, I was calling to request that she be transferred to an isolation room after the questioning is over.[/i]

“What? Why?” Jacob furrowed his brows. Isolation rooms were reserved for prisoners who’d proven to be a threat to either themselves or the guards who looked after them. After seeing the way the girl had behaved when she’d been arrested, he couldn’t imagine that she was dangerous to anyone. He wondered if the guards were just trying to treat her with prejudice because she was a member of the rebellion.

[i]We have reason to believe she was going to utilize a weapon, sir,[/i] the guard explained. [i]We gave her water as you requested, and she broke the glass to make a shiv—[/i]

“Hang on,” Jacob interrupted irritably. “Did you say she broke a [i]glass[/i]?”

[i]…Yes, sir.[/i]

“How the fuck did she get her hands on a glass? I told you to give her a drink, not a goddamn build-your-own knife kit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Do you morons not have a single paper cup in that shithole?”

[i]I’m sorry, sir. It-It was an oversight.[/i]

“You’ve got that right,” Jacob growled. “Pay more attention to details next time, soldier.”

[i]I will, sir.[/i]

“Good. As long as you don’t accidentally give her another weapon, I don’t see any reason why you’d need to put her in isolation,” he said decisively, tapping his index finger on his desk. “Just keep an eye on her and treat her like you would any other prisoner… Paper cups only. Jesus. Put it on a fucking plaque if you have to.”

[i]Yes, sir.[/i]

The line ended, and he shook his head, returning to the work he’d been doing on the schedule. With any luck, he wouldn’t hear from the penitentiary again until they called him back to report on what kind of information they were able to squeeze out of her.