One of the guards shoots him a warning look.
“They don’t,” the detainee repeats more quietly.
I look at Kael.
“Violence is regulated,” he says evenly. “Captives are resources. Mistreatment reduces trade leverage.”
“That’s pragmatic,” I mutter.
“It is survival.”
A Reaper guard speaks up from the corridor wall. “Code restricts harm to detainees outside sanctioned duel or defensive action.”
“Code?” I ask.
“Clan law,” Kael says. “Written. Enforced.”
I step closer to one of the cell barriers, examining the energy lattice. “And if someone violates it?”
“They answer before council.”
“Punishment?”
“Varies.”
“Death?”
“Rare,” Kael replies.
That surprises me more than I expect.
We exit the detainment sector and reenter the main settlement corridor. The sound returns immediately—hammer strikes from a forge chamber, the murmur of negotiation, the echo of boots against metal decking.
I activate my handheld recorder discreetly.
“Personal log,” I say quietly as we walk. “Reaper settlement Ardyn Prime. Civilian infrastructure active. Market economy present. Detainment regulated under codified law. No visible evidence of indiscriminate brutality.”
A warrior overhears and lets out a low sound of disapproval.
“She documents us like specimens,” he mutters.
“I document what I see,” I reply without stopping.
“And what you choose not to see,” he shoots back.
I halt and face him.
“Then show me what I’m missing,” I say.
He hesitates.
Kael’s voice cuts in, controlled but firm. “Stand down.”
The warrior’s jaw tightens, but he steps back.
“You’re not making friends,” I murmur as we continue walking.
“I am not seeking them,” Kael replies.
