The end of an interrogation (Sephian’s perspective):

The interrogation was over at last, and Seph breathed a sigh of relief. His mind was still good to go, his power reserves barely touched, but his body was at its limit. One of his mindless attendants was holding him up. There was blood all over his hands and even a bit on his boots. The elf was a quivering and sobbing mess on the floor of the cave. He was glad he had been able to spare the heir from having to see this. The lad seemed like a good boy, and likely would not yet have the stomach for this. If the writings of the order were anything to go by, though, that would change soon enough. As the power in him grew, so too would the traits of the heir manifest more strongly. The lad was probably already feeling those effects. Possessiveness, expecting obedience and to get his way, and so on.

Seph’s attendants led him over to a chair, and he sighed as his knees creaked while he lowered himself. While they cleaned him, he thought some more about the heir. He really did seem a good lad. Sharp, academically inclined, strong, and fit despite his disability. As much as Seph loved his sons and was proud of them, he couldn’t help but think that Velas was just about everything a man could ask for in a son. His sons were capable or, in the case of Alyon, had been capable. None had inherited the power of mindmagic though. Neither had either of his daughters. That was to be expected, even in the children of mindmages, mindmagic was extremely rare. Even so, he had always hoped. He loved and was proud of all 5 of his children though, and not a day went by that he did not miss Alyon. That had been a brave boy, and oh so strong and fierce. He’d not inherited that from Seph, who had never been physically strong. No, Alyon had gotten that from their mother, the woman who fought and killed her own husband to save her first son.

Seph shook his head, seeking to shake off the reminiscence. He was growing dangerously prone to it in his old age, if he wasn’t careful, he could lose hours just staring into space and remembering. That wouldn’t do, so much work needed doing. The elf had revealed a few more things of import under both physical and mental ****. Most importantly, the leader of the diplomatic mission was no mere diplomat. She had not known exactly who, if she had, he was confident she would have revealed it. But she knew it was someone important, likely elven high nobility. That could be either very dangerous or an opportunity. Seph thought it was probably the former for now, the heir was not yet ready to take on a powerful elven noble or a singer. He’d need to send out a few more messages, try to secure reinforcements. The order was mobilizing, but thanks to their decentralized structure and need for secrecy, it was a painfully slow process. No one had the full picture of the order’s assets, which created problems.

His attendants finished cleaning him, and he mentally commanded them to put him to bed. It was early in the day, and he desperately wanted to keep working, but he knew it was pointless. His mind might be up to composing a letter, but his hands would not be up to writing it. And this was not a task to delegate to mindless attendants. He left them with clear instructions to wake him in 3 hours and then drifted off to dreams of his mother.