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[Harry Baldman]

"A Jade. Figures. You reckon anyone would miss you?" He asks sarcastically.

"Not at all," he mentions. "But what anyone would gain from my death I cannot say. There are many scenarios in which it would not be desirable at all."

[Dwarmin]

"I suppose we would have to kill you, then figure out what we gained, right? *chuckle*. Anyway. How about you follow us, to the back here. We need to...see someone about what we're going to do with you. Will you go quietly, friend? Make no trouble? I can only promise you that whatever we are, we're not murderers..."

"Of course, a murderer would say that right before he murdered you..." The young woman interjects.

"Not. Helping."

The leader motions for you to step into the shadows of the stable with him.

Immanuel sees no one at the back at the stable, but it is very dark. There may also be an office, or side rooms.

[Harry Baldman]

"A very sudden change of tone," Immanuel Jade stiffens, tilting his head. "One that would be best paired with a lowering of weapons."

[Dwarmin]

"You're in no position to argue, friend. And, if you don't appreciate my brand of humor you best keep it to yourself. Now, get inside here! We need to talk to the general. Or-we can shoot you down here. Either way, I get to go back to sleep." He says calmly.

[Harry Baldman]

"You're in no position to argue, friend. And, if you don't appreciate my brand of humor you best keep it to yourself. Now, get inside here! We need to talk to the general. Or-we can shoot you down here. Either way, I get to go back to sleep." He says calmly.

"Very well," Immanuel Jade nods, his expression blank as he glides forth in a level gait, eyes darting about.

Action: Immanuel Jade follows carefully, trying not to step into anything too much like a pit trap.

[Dwarmin]

Immanuel is lead to the back of the stable, guns pointed at his nether regions.

The woman moves slightly ahead, using her boots to clear away some old straw on the ground...revealing a trap door. They don't push him down it, thankfully. The silent, unnamed third man takes hold of the ringbolts and opens it, revealing a sizable cellar stair, leading downward into a well lit tunnel.

Jonah slides the door to the outside closed with an ominous bang. They begin moving you through the tunnel, guns drawn at your back.

Hey, at least you're out of the rain.

...

Nudged and prodded forward, Immanuel watches carefully as he is lead through the caverns. He notes he seems to have stumbled onto a covert underground fort. There are actually quite a few people here, very well armed people with a military air about them-all of military age, more or less, with no children or old folk. He passes by armories, bunks, food halls, even underground stables with horses! He also sees stacks of weapons, armor, arms, and gear neatly piled with military precision at various. This place seems too well stocked for simple bandits...strangely, none of them seem to care to meet your eyes. It makes Immanuel feel uneasy.

He is led finally to a heavy steel door with a wheel on it, set deep in the back of the caverns. He vaguely recognizes it as a sort of air, or water hatch. Usually there are two doors, sealed by turning the wheel-airtight from the inside out. Good for keeping people out. After a few moments, the wheel begins to spin...

...

The smell of very fine incense from an ancestral altar set into a small office niche. Soft, colorful rugs and furniture from Delian-by-the-sea. Fine hardwood desks and chairs from far away Harbyon. A richly embroidered map on the far wall depicting the entirety of the Far West...and a small, seemingly harmless woman sitting across from you with a strong features, but showing her age. Her long black hair rapidly greying, her green eyes losing luster. Unlike the others, she shows no sign of being tired or flustered despite the hour.

The others explain the situation...that they were settling up for some quick 'R&R' before the 'recon'-till the storm passed, and got interrupted by a 'civilian', who couldn't give good reason as to have been there except for the most obvious one. They certainly talk like soldiers.

Finally the general speaks, her voice very soft, and very commanding. The others stand behind you, perhaps more at ease then before in the presence of their leader-but. still ready for action.

"...So, you're nothing, you know nothing, you're doing nothing. Does that about sum everything up?" She says to you.

[Harry Baldman]

"Categorically untrue, in fact," Immanuel Jade corrects, looking right past the general's head. "I am Immanuel Jade, I know a little, and I am seeking shelter."

After saying this, he coughs in his hand, a small, blackened, unidentifiable grain-like thing landing on his palm. Rolling it between his fingers, he brings it up to eye level, his gaze fixating on it a moment. He then pops it back into his mouth.

"But I am flexible, and all of these can change if you so desire," he then says, his brow furrowing.

[Dwarmin]

"We can use you? Are you offering to sell your services? We're not in the habit of hiring mercenaries...and frankly, you don't seem the patriotic type...

Can I ask if you ever saw any action in the war? And where? It's a good way to find common ground..." She says calmly, pouring herself something to drink from a glass carafe on her desk. It smells fairly good, whatever it is.

You notice she does not offer you anything to drink.

[Harry Baldman]

"The war...?" Immanuel Jade pauses, eyes narrowing. "No. I was an... intellectual, a shapeless thing in a dusty academy. Less so now. Now I am an expert. I find work and space where I am able, and operate diligently and loyally to make my living."

[Dwarmin]

"Hmm. So, let's go back to basic, then.

What does the Empire mean to you?" She says plainly, with the air having given this phrase many, many times.

[Harry Baldman]

"The Empire is a place and an institution. Distant and obscure in every sense in this part of the world. We see it in the Chartered Houses most of all. I am halfway its subject," Immanuel Jade rattles off, scratching his chin, a few small hairs on it coming loose. "The Empire is. I wonder if an Emperor is. One always speaks of the Empire, but never an Emperor. There is no need? The Empire informs all that is known. The world as we know it hinges on it. To ask what the Empire means is to ask what the earth means. Can one answer such a question?"

[Dwarmin]

"Let's put it even plainer. Do you think the Empire is ultimately a force for good, or evil? Understanding that it brings both, which do you think it does better? Do you think the Rebels should have won the war? Surely, you know your philosophy." She asks, sipping her drink.

[Harry Baldman]

"The Empire defines what we know of good and, unlike a man, is incapable of good or evil. It is a framework, not a force. Take it away and the world becomes senseless, and we must learn to walk on blue sky and live like ignorant horsefolk. A rebel wants to rule the Empire, or create the Empire they envision," Immanuel Jade continues to say, his features softening, seemingly losing definition. "What the difference in vision was this time I can only begin to guess. Salt tax, probably."

[Dwarmin]

"It wasn't much of a difference. They just thought they could live without the Empire. Didn't pan out...

You must be curious, yes? As to why I'm chatting comfortably with you? Why all this is here? What we intend to do here? Maybe you're afraid if you ask too many questions, we won't let you go?"

[Harry Baldman]

"Salt tax, yes," Immanuel Jade nods at the remark on differences. "And no, not particularly curious, if only because any answers are bound to be profoundly disappointing."