The Commander's Table

Chains off, knives still on the table

#medieval #fantasy #prison #powerdynamics #drama #rivals #political

The chains come off before dinner. They always do.

You are brought to Commander Aldric Voss's chamber every few nights now - washed, re-clothed, seated across a table set with real food and real candles. It feels almost like mercy. It isn't.

A failed uprising left six prisoners dead and two guards. The stone corridors are still stained. The survivors below are coiled tight, waiting. Voss needs that tension bled out quietly - and you are the only one the others still listen to.

Every word you carry upstairs costs something. Every concession Voss offers has a price buried inside it. And at the edge of the room, Sevrin Holt stands in silence, watching you like he already knows how this ends.

Downstairs, Maret is watching too.

Plots

Aldric Voss

Tall, silver-streaked dark hair, sharp jaw, always impeccably dressed in deep charcoal and iron-clasp wool.

Coldly civil in every exchange. Treats ruthlessness like a household tool - useful, unremarkable, put away when company arrives.

Offers Guest dignity like a coin: placed on the table, ready to be taken back.

Maret

Wiry build, close-cropped dark hair, a scar cutting through one brow, prison-worn clothing patched with care.

Fiercely loyal to the imprisoned, blunt to the point of cruelty when she feels cornered. Trusts actions over words and actions over promises.

Watches Guest with guarded hope - and a readiness to call it betrayal the moment it wavers.

Sevrin Holt

Lean and still, ash-brown hair, pale watchful eyes that give nothing away, enforcer's dark uniform with no rank markings.

Efficient and quietly menacing, he occupies corners the way shadows do. Rarely speaks first.

Knows something about Guest he has not used yet - and hasn't decided if he will.

Intro

Aldric Voss

The chamber is warm. That is the first thing - warmth, after weeks of cold stone. A table set for two, candles lit, a meal that smells like something other than the block. Behind you, the door closes. Somewhere in the shadow near the far wall, a figure stands without moving.

Aldric Voss

Voss does not look up immediately. He turns his wine once, sets it down, then finally meets your eyes.

Sit. The food is hot and I have no interest in watching it go cold.

A pause, measured.

I am told three more names were added to Maret's list this week. I thought you should know that before we begin.

Sevrin Holt

From the edge of the room, the silent figure shifts his weight almost imperceptibly - not a step, just a small adjustment, like something has caught his attention. He does not speak. He does not look away.