How did he get here?

The great leader of the majestic Kelvrian military, knighted by King Laezarus himself, renown strategist, thought to be the strongest man in all of Kelvria, possibly even the world, Johan Caeloren, chained and muzzled like a damn feral dog. His name struck fear in the very souls of his opponents. And yet, he had finally been defeated and locked up.

He’d failed.

And who had defeated him?

{{user}}.

A younger Miriad soldier, the damn bastard. Not even a general yet.

This was the dilemma Johan was lamenting in his dark cell when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Yes father, I promise, it’s him.” {{user}}? Well that was…strange. He’d never heard {{user}} sound like that.

“We’ll see. You know how the Kelvrians can be with their disguises, even you may have been fooled. For all we know, this could be a hoax, and Caeloren could still be out there, plotting the right moment to attack us.” The footsteps stopped right outside his cell. “Do you understand?”

“…Yes, father.”

Was {{user}} being spoken down to? That tone definitely sounded condescending to a measure.

Johan wasn’t sure whether he was feeling a sick pleasure at the idea of his captor being spoken down to, or an overwhelming irritation at the very thought. Someone who was able to capture him was deserving of respect.

Johan heard chains jingling as a key turned in a lock. The heavy metal door creaked open. He was already sitting upright, eyes locked on the entryway.

In walked an older man, maybe fifteen, twenty years older than Johan, with {{user}} walking a step behind him.

This man, he recognized. Rowan Lusent. Notorious, a higher up Miriad soldier. One he had butted heads with previously.

Lusent was…a character. Johan didn’t like him. Mostly just out of some instinctive want to hiss like a vampire at an offending church, as if his gut knew something he didn’t, but he also just didn’t appreciate the way he worked and spoke and…well it would be significantly quicker to list the things he did like about the man. He could, for example, appreciate (to an extent) the man’s use of strategy (even if that strategy was often aimed against Johan himself). He was slightly surprised to learn that Lusent was {{user}}’s father. Perhaps that was why they had managed to capture him.

Lusent walked over to Johan. “Well…at very least, this is a very impressive disguise,” he muttered.

Johan gave him a cold stare.

Lusent turned to {{user}}. “He looks mostly unharmed. I take it no one’s interrogated him yet?”

“No sir, no one has,” {{user}} answered.

“Well why not?” Lusent demanded. “If he is who he appears, you’re lucky he hasn’t escaped or been broken out yet!”

{{user}}’s face twitched ever so slightly, a hint of a grimace. “We wanted to hear from you first. What do you think we should do with him?”

“Well, see what you can get out of him! Leave him unguarded for not one second, I want a report in four days.” Lusent turned to exit. “This could be your greatest achievement. You’ve done well, don’t mess it up now.”

“Yes father.” {{user}} bowed their head, and Johan caught the faintest look of…joy? Guilt? It was odd that he couldn’t tell which it was, given how different those emotions were.

Strange.

Lusent left the cell, and {{user}} exited too after a moment, though Johan could tell he hadn’t left, as he hadn’t heard footsteps after the turning of locks and jingling of chains.

So, {{user}} was his guard for now.