This is a part of the Speaker’s Chamber that the Captain has never seen before.
Mavuika’s been silent this entire time, walking purposely a few paces ahead of him. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to expect—half of him is on high-alert, mapping the place for exits and escape routes on the slim chance she was going to trap him in some underground dungeon for a good, old-fashioned questioning. He is still a Fatuus after all, ranked first at that; as much as he’d like to believe that his contributions to Natlan might save his skin from her wrath one day, he’s not about to risk finding out the opposite.
So as he follows Mavuika through the torch-lit corridor, the Captain takes mental notes on the building’s interior, any exits, windows, staircases, should he need to make a quick escape. By the time he’s noted the seventh staircase they’ve passed, he starts to wonder how vast the Chamber might actually be.
The space was built into the rock that made the entire Stadium, and the cavernous halls make for quite the menacing echo—the stones amplify even the slightest brush of his cape. The Stadium was ensconced in a canyon basin that might not have been entirely natural; and if the underground markets had lower floors, he’s sure that the stairways they’ve passed by lead somewhere even deeper.
They reach what seems to be the top floor of the Chamber’s levels, and they’re greeted by an embellished door at the end of the short hallway. Mavuika enters, and the Captain follows suit, shutting the door behind him.
A strange feeling settles on the Captain like a fine layer of dust as he surveys Mavuika’s study. It’s much better described as an attic, he thinks, his eyes following the circular curve of the shelf-lined walls filled with various mementos. Precious stones and jewelry, a colorful wooden rocking horse, headdresses, antique-looking swords… Mavuika has just about everything in here, and the Captain cannot yet understand why.
In the middle of the room is a circular sand pit, one he can only assume is used for fire-related activities. Mavuika never struck him as the…spiritual sort, but even with his deep bias against gods, he can’t blame her if she called upon one to defeat the Abyss.
In front of it, a carved, stone desk that looks more akin to a shield than a table sits under a huge, round window where the shelves would have met. Mavuika heads directly for it, and lets the stack of papers she was holding drop ominously on the table, echoing when it hits the stone.
“So,” Mavuika starts, perching on her desk, “Why were you on my balcony last night?”
The Captain stops in his tracks and stares. “What?”
