The Dwarf's face turned grim. His eyes glowed like red-hot coals for a moment before dimming to a pitch-black void. Behind him, the children froze in fear, imagining the worst. Sensing the rising tension, the female Dwarf rushed between Lorian and her companion.
"Please, forgive him, My Lord!" she pleaded, "The long series of unfortunate events and the crushing uncertainty have made my husband... troubled. I beg you not to mind his words!"
"Hmm. I see," Lorian nodded slowly, "Then let us start with introductions. I am Lorian Thorne, Prince of the Great House of Thorne, rulers of Veridia- the crown jewel of the East Coast. And…" Lorian paused, his gaze sweeping over all four of them, "…your savior, as well as your host."
The male Dwarf nodded in acknowledgment and bowed his head low, "I am Thol….." He paused, catching himself, then resumed, "…..llion. My Lord, I am Thollion Hammerhold." He gestured vaguely toward the woman. "This is my wife, Irina… Irina Stone…" he shook his head quickly, "Irina Hammerhold." The lady shot him a sharp glare, which did not escape Lorian's inquisitive gaze even in the dim light of the cell. He felt a smirk rushing at his lips. It was clear that he was making this name up. The Dwarf was not very good at lying it seemed. However Lorian decided not to interrupt and let the charade continue for a while. Thollion continued, pointing toward the children, his voice trembling slightly, "These are my… my children. Daren and Gracy."
"Hammerhold?" Lorian repeated earnestly, "Daren and Gracy Hammerhold?"
Thollion's face darkened as he murmured a quiet, "Yes."
"My Lord, if I may ask," Irina interrupted, her voice possessing a soothing quality that made it easy to drop one's guard. "What is to be our fate?"
For a fraction of a second, Lorian felt the urge to respond as his true self- to be kind. But the suffocating air of the dungeon and the weight of his responsibility snapped him back. He collected himself, maintaining his air of cold authority, even if it felt a bit overdramatic in his own head.
"You ask what becomes of you?" His voice was now as sharp as cold steel, "That is a question for the future. For now, your existence is defined by one thing! And that is- your utility to House Thorne. I didn't pull you from that filth out of the goodness of my heart. No! I pulled you out because you are the key to dismantling a rival power."
Inside his mind, Lorian was screaming on himself, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting like such a prick?" However, the boat had sailed. He decided to play the part to the end. He paced slowly in front of the open door, stepping heavily so his boots would echo with a rhythmic, dramatic thud.
"If you speak truthfully at the trial, you prove your value. If you prove your value, I might find a place for you in the city where you can live in peace. But if you lie, or if you try to flee, you will find that my reach is much longer than the Baron's. Do not mistake my protection for friendship. I am the Prince of Veridia, not a charity."
Thollion's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at the human's arrogance. Irina quickly grabbed his shoulder, grounding him before his rage could boil over. Yet, beneath the sting of the insult, Irina felt a strange sense of relief. Arrogance was predictable. A human who claimed to be a "friend" was often a liar; a human who treated them as "assets" was, at the very least, being honest. A predictable enemy was always safer than an unpredictable stranger.
"We are not liars, O Great Prince," Thollion rumbled, "And we are not beggars. We seek no charity from you the ruler of Tall-Folk. Give us a fair trial and the safety you promised for the little ones, and you will have your testimony. But do not expect us to wag our tails for scraps."
The guard standing behind Lorian drew his sword halfway from its scabbard, the steel hissing as it rubbed against the leather and metal, "Behave, Dwarf! You are speaking to the Prince of Veridia!"
Lorian raised an arm to stay the guard's hand. He locked eyes with Thollion, allowing a heavy, oppressive silence to fill the cell for several seconds.
"I don't want you to wag your tails," Lorian said quietly, "I only and only want you to be an asset, not a liability. And I want you to be truthful- which you are currently not."
Thollion flinched, "I… I do not follow, Prince."
"Again, a lie," Lorian smirked. He had a hunch they were hiding something, so he decided to pull a bluff. "'Hammerhead' is a surname of the Western Ridge, yet your accent does not match the region at all." It was a total gamble. Lorian had read about ancient skirmishes between Western Elves and Dwarves in the library; the name "Hammerhead" appeared frequently in those records. He guessed that different Dwarven clans would have different accents, and though he had no real idea what those accents sounded like, his bluff hit its mark.
Before Irina could create a cover story and narrate, Tholme dropped to his knees, "Please, Great Lord, forgive my lies! I had no malicious intent. It was for protection- not for ourselves, but for these two children. We… we cannot divulge our true identities. Forgive me!"
Lorian's internal voice screamed in excitement, "Gotcha!" but his outward expression remained a perfect poker face, "So, you are rejecting my proposal to be an asset to House Thorne?"
"No, My Lord!" Irina protested, "We will testify! We will tell the truth about our captivity and the Baron's crimes!"
"And will you reveal your identities during the trial?" Lorian asked coldly, "Because that is the first question the magistrates will ask. A refusal or a lie on the stand will undermine the entire case- and it will go very poorly for you."
Irina realized the trap. If they lied under oath, the trial would fail. If they told the truth, their enemies would find them. They fell into a grim, heavy silence.