Yorell’s muscles were sore. 

There was a weight on him pushing his right shoulder down. It was Ma’an’s body lying still against him as they sat propped up against a stone wall. 

It was dark, only a faint light fell upon the floor before them in long strips. 

Yorell’s voice was gone, like his mouth was glued shut. 

The space around him was still a blur, but he could make out it was square and made of cold cobblestone. 

On the far side of the room were metal bars blocking the way to a hallway parallel to the wall of bars. Two figures were standing in that hallway, but he could not make them out. 

He attempted to move, but his limbs wouldn’t: his hands were tied behind his back. He looked beside him, at Ma’an. His eyes were closed and breathing deep. 

An instant anxiety brewed up in Yorell. He mumbled Ma’an’s name, but it was practically inaudible. 

When he moved, Ma’an’s head fell forward and revealed a thick bandage on his nape. Blood had blotted it. He swallowed, becoming a little nauseous at the sight. But right now he was unable to process what it really meant.  

Soon, the figures disappeared, and Yorell regained control over his body. He coughed as if a great weight was taken off of his chest. He breathed deep, feeling the water in it condense on his face. It made him feel stuffy.

'...!'

Ma’an’s body fell onto his lap. He too had his wrists tied together. 

'......' Yorell tried to prop him up again using his legs, but did not manage. 

Suddenly, Ma’an’s breathing became more audible, and he opened his eyes. Yorell was startled by a sharp gasp from him.

‘Ma’an, are you okay?’ he said.

‘I-I can’t move…!’ Ma’an said with a weak voice.

‘It’s all right, buddy. It’s not permanent,’ Yorell said.

‘Where are we…?’ he whispered.

‘Some kind of prison. There were people just now, but I couldn’t quite make them out. We’ll have to wait and see. Unless… you can use keiïa…?’

‘N-no, my breathing…’

‘Of course, let’s just wait.’ Yorell sighed. He pulled his knees up so Ma’an rolled more onto his back and was able to look at him. 

Ma’an’s eyes were blacker than the water of the Barlmay, and they looked straight into his. ‘I should have been more alert…’ He whispered, not blinking once. 

Yorell’s head bent down and looked back. ‘Etmeyn. People of the west. They shoot from afar. It’s not your fault,’ he replied.

‘Are they Kosocians?’ Ma’an asked. His voice was breathy and monotonous.

‘No, they are not. Kosocians only shoot with bullets. We have been sedated. I don’t know what their intentions are, but we are alive, so they will probably speak to us–'

Ma’an’s gaze drifted away and floated across the ceiling.

‘Ma’an, hey..! What’s wrong?’ Yorell panicked, but could not do anything. 

And Ma’an couldn’t either, for his voice was gone and his vision followed. He closed his eyes and kept breathing. 

Seeing his chest steadily rise and fall calmed Yorell a little. He noticed their coats, scarves, gloves, and luggage had been taken from them. 

The fabric that he had assumed to be attached to Ma’an’s corset and had covered his shoulders, chest, and neck, had been removed as well, allowing him to see the full pattern on the corset for the first time. White curls over a green fabric. 

The golden ornaments had been taken out of Ma’an’s hair, and Yorell’s hair lay loose over his shoulders. 

Yorell decided he could not do anything right now; his keiïa was too weak and his body too numbed to wield it anyway. So he just sat there for a while against the wall, slowly dozing into sleep.

・・・

When he opened his eyes again he was not sure how much time had passed, but Ma’an’s eyes were now half open, which was a huge relief. 

It appeared they had both been woken up by the same sound. Light metal against metal, and footsteps approaching. 

Four people appeared behind the bars again. This time Yorell could see them better. His earlier assumption was confirmed: they were Etmeyn, people living in the western highlands of Doku and well beyond its borders. 

He knew, for they wore their hair in loose braids and their clothing had strips of metal that shimmered in the light that one of them carried. 

One of them bore keys. A door in the bars was opened, and the four approached. 

Yorell wanted to pull Ma’an close. 

Ma’an lifted his head; he had regained the ability to move. But that wasn’t what he was concerned with now. 

The four people loomed over them for a minute, as if wondering if they were still alive. They spoke to each other in a language neither of them understood, but it sounded similar to Dokian, perhaps a bit softer. 

Ma’an sat up and looked up at the people curiously. They seemed taken aback, as if they had found unknown animals in their backyard. 

One of them kneeled in front of the wizards and spoke in Dokian: ‘How are you feeling? Have you regained your senses?’ They were a slender person with long, blonde hair in a braid. Their face was soft and old, their voice deep and nasal. 

Both wizards hesitantly nodded.

‘Good. I am Etanna. The commissioner has questions for you. I will bring you to them, but you shall have to remain restrained. My apologies,’ they said. They gestured to the others and they helped the wizards up. 

Yorell was reluctant to let them close, and shook their hands off him. He lost his balance, however, and fell against the wall.

‘Do not be afraid. We will not persecute until we know your purpose. Please follow,’ Etanna said. 

Ma’an was kept on his feet by one person holding him, while Yorell needed two. The Etmeyn were taller than the former, but shorter than the latter. 

They were taken to the commissioner. When they were led through the unknown building they were in, there were many people working at desks and walking around with papers and whatnot. 

They all looked at the foreign prisoners when they walked by, the two looked back with just as much confusion. 

They were taken into an office where they were seated in front of a desk. The three that had carried them stood behind them like a wall, and Etanna stood by them. 

At the desk sat someone of high status: dark uniform, golden jewellery, and neatly combed hair. Their face was freckled and a deep scar on their jaw caught Yorell’s attention. 

They spoke. Neither of the wizards understood. 

‘What are your names?’ Etanna repeated. 

They appeared to be a translator of some sort. 

The two stated their names, which were written down with raised eyebrows by the commissioner. All following questions went through Etanna too. Where they came from, where they were going, who they worked for.

‘I came from Kosoci, Ma’an comes from overseas,’ Yorell said. 

Etanna stalled, then slowly translated. There was a tension in the room that seemed to revolve around Ma’an. They were not quite scared, but did not know what to expect from these strangers. 

They explained their identities and the purpose of their travel, leaving out only what prompted Ma’an to depart. 

Yorell knew just enough about the Etmeyn to know that they were in conflict with the Kosocian government. Kosoci had attempted several times to expand its territory to the north, and had had plans to come into the highlands to set up mining facilities, for the ground is rich in metals and clay. 

To be in the same room as the one that killed all of their enemies in one afternoon was a strange experience for them, and they were unsure how to respond.

‘You will leave these lands as quickly as you entered them. You will be escorted to ensure your departure. Thereafter, neither of you will be allowed in the west again,’ Etanna finally said, after many words were exchanged with the commissioner.

‘Agreed,’ Ma’an said, ‘we wish to go as soon as possible.’ He too seemed distressed. 

Only Yorell seemed calm, perhaps just deep in thought. His hands were folded on the desk, one thumb rubbing over the other. 

It had been a while since Ma’an had seen his hands, they had been in thick gloves most of the time. Their knuckles were red, cracked and bruised by the cold.

‘You will. But first you must eat and sleep. Tomorrow morning you will leave.’ 

The two were taken away again.