“You fucking bitch! How could you?” Maureen shouted at Ahzma as the Mondarian guards dragged her out of the living quarters she had just spent so much time and effort cleaning.
The old woman looked up from the stack of currency in her hand as the human and her lover were hauled down the corridor.
“Ooh, that was a nice bit of cleaning. This’ll be my prime rental.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, you evil shit!” Maureen spat at her.
“Words. Just words,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Another lesson for you, girl. Always remember, currency has far more value than people.”
Maureen fought the guards, struggling to break free. If she could just get her hands around the old woman’s neck, she’d see what a person could do that no money ever could.
“Enough of this,” the lead guard grumbled. “Gag her.”
“Don’t you dare! I—”
Maureen’s words abruptly ceased, muffled by a thick gag drawn tight across her mouth. Her eyes shot daggers at the cruel woman who had caused this to happen, but there was nothing she could do.
“It’s your own fault, girl,” Ahzma chuckled as the pair was led away. “Careless, really. You’ll be inked soon enough. Enjoy your time with the Skrizzit. I hear the process is quite painful the further past childhood a person is.”
Maureen’s gaze was one of pure rage, but Bodok’s was calm. Calm in a scary sort of way that actually made Ahzma take a little step back. She had enraged the man, and the flash of something dark behind his eyes was nothing like the person who had rented the room from her.
His were the eyes of a restrained beast.
The guards were many and strong, and these two were unarmed and no match for them, especially not in a state of undress. There had been a brief discussion about parading the lawbreakers out in public as they were, the damaged one and the uninked one on full display for all to see.
Ultimately, the decision was made that it would be perhaps a bittoodisruptive, especially in this rough part of town. While the crowd enjoyed a spectacle, a riot was not something the Mondarians wanted to have to deal with.
As a result, Bodok and Maureen were forced back into their filthy attire, though in Maureen’s case it would not be for long. She was to be taken to the local Skrizzit held on retainer by the magistrate and marked in accordance with the law, as all citizens were required to be.
How she had reached adulthood without her runes was a mystery. One that could have been solved simply by talking to her. But the guards were not known for thinking. They followed orders, and this order had been to investigate the tip they had received and, if necessary, take the lawbreakers into custody.
A small crowd had formed outside of Ahzma’s place when the spectacle of a dozen fully armed Mondarian guards had come marching through the streets. Normally, when inside the city limits they traveled in pairs. To see so many together something interesting must have been going down.
As a result, word had spread quickly and by the time the guards finally emerged with their prisoners, curious eyes from all over the neighborhood had arrived to gawk at the free entertainment.
Maureen’s body was covered as she was led out into the street, so the commotion in the crowd was entirely because no one recognized her race rather than their seeing her lack of tattooed runes.
Bodok was something of a letdown. They had all seen plenty of Pokri before, and this one looked no different than the others. Whatever it was this pair had done to draw this many guards, it wasn’t going to be readily apparent to the curious, disappointed masses.
“Clear off, you lot,” the lead guard called out.
The crowd immediately dispersed, heading back from wherever they had come from. Bodok raised a brow at the speed they scattered. His suspicion was confirmed. Apparently, this Mondarian enclave was one of the little fiefdoms ruled with an iron fist.
He had heard of them, of course. Most people within the Dotharian Conglomerate had. But to actually spend any time in one was something else altogether. A world distant enough to slip outside of some of the more stringent Dotharian oversight. A place where a typically neutered magistrate could increase their own power at will, running the entire city like their own personal playpen.
Some were predictable, in it for nothing more than pure profit. Others had far more complicated desires, using their position to manipulate people as well as rack up a small fortune in the process.
Bodok watched quietly as the guards led him and Maureen down the streets, taking note of every detail about them he could. Who they reported to, how disciplined they were, and most importantly, how the public responded to them. So far, the average person seemed a bit fearful.
This was not good.
On that evidence alone, it seemed this could be a much more difficult situation than what he had initially feared.
The prisoners were marched through the city, walking right past a number of official conveyances that could have ferried them anywhere they needed to go. For some reason, however, they were forced to walk. Paraded, it seemed. A reminder to obey the law.
On the bright side, this afforded him the opportunity to learn more of the city’s layout.
More than once they passed a set of regular guards, drawing curiosity and nods of greeting. One pair, however, walked right up to them. The senior ranking of the two greeted the prisoner detail by name.
