How much of a problem will it be if I kill him?

He snorts, "If you did it here, it'd get Coen into trouble. She's alright. On the road, though... honestly the war would probably be better off." Warhawks like Maol are a drain on their resources, caring more about results than their people.

Does he truly deserve it, though, Stormsinger asks. He has been through worse than being called 'it'. Though, it is the case that such a man should not have the power he apparently does.

She nods.

And I haven't yet. But what do you think the odds are on him insulting my robot. Or trying to give me an order.

He seemed to be treating her as an extension of you, when she was translating. A servant. I expect he would simply ignore her - which is not good, but not terrible.

As for orders... he was being more suggestive than commanding, I think. A foreign ally, rather than a soldier he can command. Hopefully he is unlikely to make any attempt to do so.

He thinks he outranks me - I suppose nonSith are less likely to push the issue. We'll see.

She signs to Ilek again: Do you know what your brother will be doing now?

He sends his agreement. 

"He'll be tailing the Imperials to the border of Kiat territory," he says. "Istaim's invisibility is better than most, they'll be watching to make sure they don't turn back." 

She nods. Might be a good time to talk to the prisoner, if you can get her Artefact out of storage.

"I don't think I can, but I can get a captain to do it," he offers. 

He looks around at the still dispersing soldiers, eventually spotting one near the gates. He can ask him, and they can go get the prisoner's Artefact. 

She calms herself, while this is going on, though she doesn't quite return to her previous casual bearing. She doesn't look around the storage room when it's open, beyond noting where the Book is, but takes the Rod and has DZ lead the way to the cells.

The building isn't too far from the CC. It's a one story, square, stone building, with barred windows. Just inside the door is a guard station, where a bored guard comes to attention at their entrance. 

"Here to see the prisoner?" She asks, pulling a set of keys from one of her pouches. 

    "Yes sir."

Deskyl has a 'look' around, checking the physical and mental state of the prisoners in general and keeping an eye out for hers in particular - not that she remembers the woman, but it shouldn't be too hard to guess, even if there are two with broken arms.

There's not too many in here - a couple of men and a woman, physically healthy aside from a few scars, but bored, and radiating low-level anxiety; another man with a lot of fairly recently healed burn scars on his left side, also bored, but more relaxed than the others; and then a woman with a broken arm, slowly healing in a cast. She's much more scared than the others are, but physically unharmed aside from the arm.  

The guard unlocks and opens the door to the cells, waving them in after her and turning to the right, away from the other prisoners and towards Deskyl's. When they reach the cell, she knocks on the door, waits a moment, and then unlocks it as well, revealing a smallish room. A ward shimmers just inside, preventing entry or exit to unauthorized persons. 

"I can get you three chairs, sir, ma'am, Highness," she says, addressing Deskyl, DZ, and Ilek, respectively. "I can also cuff her so you can speak in the courtyard," she adds, nodding towards a door on the other side of the hall. 

    "She'd prefer the chairs, thank you, sir."

Deskyl shifts her grip on the Rod, cradling him in her left arm, and steps into the room, inspecting it as she approaches the ward rather than engaging with the woman immediately.

The guard leaves to get chairs. 

There's a few feet of space between the door and the ward, and a somewhat larger space beyond that. The other side of the ward contains a single bed, a side table, and a small, pale haired young woman, no more than nineteen in appearance, wearing a pair of thin white pants and a robe of the same material. 

She turns her frightened eyes to Deskyl as she walks in, quickly noting the Rod in her arms. Her arms twitch upwards as though to grab it, and then she winces at the pain in her broken one. She grabs it, holding it close to her body while she stares at Deskyl in scared silence. 

    "Hello, ma'am. This is Xaari Deskyl, Prince Ilek, and I'm DZ. Have they been treating you acceptably?"

Her eyes dart between the three of them, and then she averts them entirely, focusing her gaze on the Gardener's Rod. 

Ilek's eyes widen after a moment, "Oh," he says. He steps up beside Deskyl, and restates what DZ had (excepting his title - no reason to scare her), his translation effect translating it for the woman. 

"I can get you an Imperial dictionary," he adds to DZ, "Someone should have realized - sorry." 

The woman tenses when he steps forward, but listens. 

"...It's been. Ok." She whispers, eyes still focused on Gardener. 

(Ilek translates.)

That's good.

Have they explained what they ask of captured wielders?

("It's fine, sir, thank you," DZ answers quietly, and steps back.)

"No?" She half-asks.

"They were probably waiting to see what you wanted done with her," he says after translating the word. 

She nods. Well, it's a good policy, I see no reason to do anything different. She returns her attention to the prisoner. You'd be expected to stay in this country's territory or Sanctuary, and not assist the Empire. You wouldn't be expected to fight - it's an option, but having spoken to your Artefact, I don't recommend it. In return you get your freedom, within those limits, and the Rod back, and they'd send someone to get your brother. I'll have the arm healed either way. She looks back to Ilek: you can offer to do that now, if you feel comfortable with it.